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temptress-writes · 10 months

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📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #hes #anon #hs #hslot

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aaronhotchswife · 4 months

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Behind the scenes

Drew Starkey X Female Reader

You and Drew catches feeling while filming a love scene

Warnings : mentions of sex

"I would get it if you say it makes you uncomfortable to do a sex scene with me," Drew said, looking at the ceiling.

I had invited the cast for a movie night. Everyone was mostly gone, leaving Drew in my living room, laying down on my sofa. I was sitting on the floor next to him, fidgeting with the glass in my hand.

"Not uncomfortable, just stressed," I answered, letting my head fall down to the sofa behind me. "I've never filmed a scene like that before, completely topless I mean, and plus, I don't really have a choice, Rafe and Charlotte are finally going to have sex," I laughed.

"True. After 2 seasons of hating me, you finally fell for my charm," he said dramatically.

"That's must be it Starkey," I chuckled, rolling my eyes in the air.

As I got out of the shower, getting ready for bed, I hear my phone ding. I check it, seeing a text from Drew.

You ready for tomorrow ?

A bit nervous

You'll do good ;)

I smile to myself, putting my phone on my nightstand. I'll do good.

"Alright ! 3-2-1, action !" the director yelled.

Drew is walking towards me, in Rafe's character.

"You don't get it Charlotte," Rafe says, walking towards Charlotte.

"No ! I don't Rafe. I don't get it. I don't get why you can't let me flirt with other guys when you're the one who says that he was not interested in me."

Drew in his front of me, his hands grabbing my face.

"Fuck, I love you so much Char," Drew says, his hands grabbing my face, kissing her. "I'm sorry that I've acted like that, but I just wanted you for myself."

He led me on the bed, hoovering over me. His hands caress my body, lifting my shirt. He looks at me before taking my short off and unclipping my bra, his lips all over my mouth and my neck. His lips make their way to my breast, kissing them. I try to control myself, putting myself in character, trying not thinking that Drew's mouth is kissing my breast. I moan, as my character is supposed to do. I'm doing good. His mouth makes its way down my belly, his fingers working my jeans. He takes my jeans off and I can feel the camera being back to our faces. I kiss him, letting him the chance to place himself as he supposed to. To place himself as if he was going to have sex with me. He's kissing me everywhere in my face and in my neck, his finger making its way to my mouth, wanting me to suck it. I feel Drew moving his body to create an impression of us having sex. I can feel him against my core, his breath getting heavier. I moan, he moans. He looks at me and at that moment, I can see Drew's looking at me and not Rafe. It's Drew looking at me, with something different in his eyes.

"Fuck, Y/N..."

He says, before the director yells cut.

I finish the scene, a sick feeling in my stomach. Drew left the set quickly, nothing saying goodbye to anybody.

"Drew !" I yell, seeing him leaves his dressroom. "Drew!"

"What? I don't wanna talk," he says.

"What ? What's going on ?"

"You know what's going on."

"The fact that you moaned my name ? C'mon Drew, it's okay. It could happen to anyone."

He looks at me, his face breaking before leaving. I don't know what to do, but I know that he will come to his senses by himself.

A couple of days later

"...Hi ! My name is Y/N, and we're the cast of Outer Banks, answering fans questions !"

"So," Chase said, "the first question is: what is your favourite scene from season 3 ?"

"Mine would be when the Pogues finally found the gold !" Madelyn answered.

"True! Especially when you see them a couple of months later, where they all have what they wanted," I answered, getting a few approbations look from my castmates.

"Mine is definitely when Charlotte and Rafe had sex," JD said laughing. I can see Drew hitting him gently on the arm, making funny eyes.

"Omg true! After 2 seasons, it was time guys!" Madison laughed, looking at me and Drew.

I blush, feeling Drew's eyes on me.

"It is a great scene," Drew responded, his eyes still on me.

"Next question !" Lacia spoke, feeling something weird between me and Drew. "The most embarrassing moment you had on set."

Drew looks at me and I give him a shy smile, the question making us both very uncomfortable.

"I think mine would be when I had to run from the police for a scene and that I tripped, in front of everyone," I say.

"Yeah, that was funny. I mean, not really for you, because you had all your knees and elbows scratched," Drew said, smiling softly at me.

Because the interview finished a bit earlier, it was a great occasion of having coffee with the girls.

"Do you see how Drew looked at you ? He was blushing everytime you looked at him !" Madelyn asked me.

"What ?"

"So true! He couldn't keep his eyes off you during the interview! My guy was mesmerized," Lacia added.

"Now that he kissed you he can't stop thinking about you. I mean, I would be the same if I were him," added Madison.

"You're sweet," I say. "But, I don't think. I mean, sometimes I feel like it could be it and I would love I think but I don't know, I don't want to imagine things and get disappointed."

"Well, in my point of view you should definitely check his version because that man is hooked on you," Madelyn added.

I'm at Lacia's, a movie night going on. Since the movie is over, everybody's talking in different corners of the apartment, while I'm outside, taking some air, a drink in my hand.

"Can I sit with you ?" A voice asks

I look over, seeing Drew closing the patio door.

"Of course," I add, smiling to him.

"Having a good night?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted these couple of weeks. I shouldn't pin it on you the fact that I got kinda excited during our sex scene...I'm sorry but I just cannot manage to make it through the day without thinking of you lately."

I look over him, my eyebrows scrunched together, as I'm trying to process the fact that Drew just admitted his feelings to me.

"It's true, Y/N," he says, his eyes leaving my gaze. I reach for his hand, this move forcing him to look at me.

"I feel the same," I answer before reaching his face to kiss him.

#drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey angst #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine

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perseruna · 8 days

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heyyyy do you have any details/sources for the ca*ill being a jackass thing? ngl i watch twn for yen and jaskier so i was already planning on continuing to season 4 but i'd love some reasons to be actively excited for the actor switch. but i haven't kept up on the behind-the-scenes stuff so i'm kinda lost on that front if you're up for sharing any of what you know!

okay guys buckle up this is THE anti henry cavill megathread xoxo

First of all him dating a teenager as a 33 year old fully grown man literally gross and disgusting.

Also as this quote implies they started dating a year prior and only went public when she was 19 so they supposedly started dating when she was 18.

His entire dating history is a MESS. Sure the women he dated are not him, but he chose to date them, I wouldn't even associate myself with people like these let alone be in a relationship with them. He dated the infamous transphobic TERF Gina Carano, albeit before her loud controversy, but I doubt her harmful views were any different back then. His current gf has a history of doing black face.

His "Me Too" comments.

His comments on the Me Too movement are literally so vile. If you don’t want to be called a rapist, just don’t rape women, it’s literally as simple as that. They’re even more foul because they’re promoting the idea that women lie about their abusive for fame, promoting that harmful rhetoric especially in our times is incredibly dangerous.

Now onto his on set behavior.

We can't talk about his set behavior without mentioning the deuxmoi set leak. Here's the transcript of it:

[Transcript:

There’s something I really really wanted to read to you guys--it has to do with why Henry Cavill left The Witcher. I know that was something that you guys were super interested in when it happened, and I just recently got this message. Somebody was like “Hey, do you want to know what really went down?” And I was like “Sure!” So let me just read it. It says:

“At the beginning of the show, Henry was good to work with. A lot of difficult demands that made people feel like he wasn’t a team player, but that’s not unusual for a really big star. Though in TV it truly usually doesn’t happen until the second season. But in season two and three something shifted and he became really impossible for women to work with, which is always a big problem, but even worse here because the showrunner is a woman. He would try to overrule her and try to get changes made last minute across the board without her knowledge, which, if you know anything about showrunning, is completely fucked. The showrunner has to sign off on every miniscule detail down to the buttons on a costume. Female writers and directors were suddenly being completely ignored on set, unable to do their jobs. Every department head was complaining. He started making comments—it wasn’t a sexual thing, he wasn’t grabbing anyone or being lewd, but it was disrespectful and toxic all the same.

“He is deeply addicted to video games, to the point where it was like working with any other addict. He was distracted, he was late, he was obsessive, and a lot of people think the misogyny came from gamer world. Video game bro language is not how you talk to coworkers, and he wouldn’t stop. Someone on the show compared it to watching someone get brainwashed by QAnon, like his whole personality shifted. Eventually his disrespect escalated. He would rewrite scenes without even alerting the other actors in the scenes until it was time to shoot. He decided that he didn’t want any romantic scenes at all—no kissing scenes, no shirtless scenes, et cetera. He wanted complete control of storylines but really had no idea of the limitations of TV, structure, budget, et cetera. He formed a weird alliance with one writer who was also a gamer, who eventually got fired after multiple HR complaints were made and after that writer left, Henry did anything he could to hold up production and cause problems.

“Eventually top brass at Netflix was tired of him costing them money with delays and HR investigations and the showrunner was asked to construct a potential exit for him. Netflix reached out to him personally and he was given one final warning, and violated that warning with an email he sent to the entire writing staff right after that meeting. That was it. It’s very disappointing.”

End transcript.]

Now believe me or not, but I know from a really good source that the leak was indeed real.

There's a lot of patterned behavior that tracks with what we know of him and his past controversies.

After that leak came out, there was a lot of people from different places coming to comment that ‘yes’ they’ve heard a very similar story adding a little bit more details of their own.

this quickly deleted tweet from one of the writers/producers:

there were rumors about him being an asshole to Anya specifically.

He went on record that he doesn't "understand" sex scenes. Which I know the sex discourse is rampant nowadays and each to their own, but he specifically signed up for a role that requires those scenes and then refused to do them and was allegedly nasty to Anya about it and with the way he talks about women...

Also it’s important to touch upon the “writer he had a weird alliance with” that man in question is Beau DeMayo of the recent fame of getting fired by Marvel from X-Men ‘97. He was previously allegedly fired from The Witcher for being emotionally and physically abusive. And he allegedly got fired from X-Men for being abusive as well. One of The Witcher writers tweeted this after Beau smeared them for “disliking the books” Beau was literally the first person to start that narrative.

The fact that it was HIS idea not to say lines of his dialogue in S1 and instead grunt. To the point that Joey had to take Henry’s lines and make it his own, so the plot would make sense, he talks about it in this interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=Oyh0t117t0U&, and then once S2 press arrived Henry was talking about how he was trying to fight the big bad writers to give him more lines. Ridiculous.

Everyone is already pointing out that the cast looks so much happier without him, and it’s very true. Henry was never present on close to any BTS pics from filming the previous seasons, or on any cast dinners or birthdays. He wouldn't even do any shared interviews with the other three mains but only had solo interviews which to me was giving disrespectful like you're an ensemble you’re not the only lead here. It felt like he was above them to sit down and answer questions with them. When they were doing press junkets in Brazil and Poland Anya, Joey and Freya would always arrive together and leave together with that man leaving all the events early and by himself. And like people who post quotes from the cast about him being perfect from press junkets as “proof” are insane to me like Obviously they’re going to say nice things about him, not only they're newcomers, and he's an established industry name, but they’re doing PRESS for a show that he’s a STAR of (well, was lmao)

The fact that he never defended Anya from the racist trolls, even though most of them were HIS fans. Like she had to go through so much and that man couldn’t make a single comment about it as a leading man BUT he could make a whole IG post because people were being mean to his gf and calling her out for doing blackface.

And sure people might say that a lot of these are unverified sources, and I’d get it if it was a singular case, but there are a ton of these accounts that all match each other. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #mega thread

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absolutebl · 10 months

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Genuine Question: Given how much people hate problematic topics in BL eg: kp, mame, love syndrome, etc. why is everyone so damn excited about Only Friends? Like we know nothing about the show. It's GMMTV so how sexy is it going to get? you know, like it's GMMTV. I like the cast as much as anyone and particularly FirstKhao but I don't see this 'sexiness' everyone is going so crazy over? Is it some bts thing like I know the director is jojo and he's gay. Is that why everyone so excited? Is it because we just haven't gotten anything really brilliant this year that gets the whole BL fandom together and that's why people are hoping this will, is that what's going on? I like everyone involved well enough but 'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'... I don't get it.

Only Friends & Jojo

Genuine answer.

Okay so this question got me invested enough to get off the phone, over to the laptop, and onto hotel wifi, which means typos rather than dictation homophones, but there it is.

I guess what I am saying it...

mistakes will be made

From the tenor of your question methinks you have not watched Friend Zone? It's a 2 part series. Mostly messy hets but...

Also a TON of broad spectrum queer rep (lesbian, bi, ace, demi). Real queers, not sanitized for straight consumption.

Because yeah, GMMTV will get messy and go into higher heat levels in a late night way (not in a KP way).

But actually what has most people excited about Only Friends is it being sourced in this man:

Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

Jojo is a screenwriter (originals) and director, openly gay, multifaceted and a little experimental, naturally talented (on the job trained - he's an archaeologist originally), and he is behind:

The Warp Effect, Friend Zone and MOST importantly (IMHO)...

3 Will Be Free

There are others too, but for the purposes of this post, those are the 3 that count. I think of him a little as the GMMTV director version of Ohm's acting.

Jojo specializes in:

ensemble pieces,

good chemistry (NOT necessarily high heat, so by this I mean actor chemistry with each other all around - couples, cast, team, production)

working with and finding actors within GMMTV's stable who work well together (even if that means busting up a pair),

a queer lens,

queer rep,

and often very messy story (as in he is not invested in the traditional beats of a romance, let alone a BL).

AND he can shoot action (this is a specific skill set for directors and it's NOT easy),

thus he will shoot his sex/intimacy & COMEDY scenes as if they WERE action sequences.

This makes his stuff particularly exciting to watch. It's dynamic, there's a lot of movement, the eye is caught and dragged places. He doesn't use dirty/peekaboo framing or central aperture or manga style (not with INTENT the way trained directors do). In fact he does none of those things I harp on about because I like the romance stuff.

He's not being clever with us. He's being honest, but still applying skill. His stuff not quite raw, but also not really directed. You can tell he gives his actors a script, throws them together and then instructs them to just BE THOSE CHARACTERS. He has a light touch, he trusts them. He's not fussy or nit-picky. He's not doing a million takes to get that sene exactly how he envisions it. His ensemble pieces are just that, group projects.

His eye is wide, even for intimacy, by which I mean: he controls and watches for multiple actors at once when there are a lot of them on screen together, without them feeling stiff.

His style is quite organic but not too gritty.

Struggling to understand what I mean?

For example, watch a Jojo "group of friends chatting" scene where everyone is just standing around then watch the same thing in, say, SCOY. You'll see what I mean. SCOY is also a very queer ensemble piece, but it will feel quite stiff, unnatural, and "planned" (staged) by comparison.

For the giffers out there you might notice that Jojo's stuff is particularly difficult to gif cleanly? This is why.

I find him an exciting director. I didn't cover him in my directors overview because at the time he hadn't done much BL (and frankly, he still hasn't). It's not his focus.

I think Only Friends is actually not likely to be very BL. Queer = yes, BL = NO. He won't hit the tropes and there is no reason to assume it will end happily for all couples (if any). That's not Jojo's point of view.

He doesn't play our game. As a result, some of those excited by the idea of this show (or excited the general enthusiasm & anticipation around it), may be doomed to disappointment.

It's one of the reasons you don't see me getting excited about it.

I'm a fan of specifically the fluffy side of BL, this will NOT be that. And I can appreciate a director without necessarily liking the stories he tells.

I am industry enough to acknowledge Jojo's skill (and I LOVE 3 Will Be Free - just not as a BL), but I don't always like his narratives. No matter how good he is, his stuff is not why I personally watch Thai BL.

It's GMMTV, so how sexy is it going to get?

Again, see Friend Zone. GMMTV has a late night pantheon, mostly for het, but they will get salacious. Lots of cheating and terrible decisions. There will be no archetypes. Characters will exist in grey areas, even the "good" characters. There will be no paladins in this show. No seme/uke.

To answer this frankly?

Only Friends will get soap opera or telenovella sexy but no more. So we will be in Midnight Chicken territory, not Bed Friends.

I think the words being bandied about:

'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'

are used here on tumblr (and in fandom) as an attempt to articulate expectations set up by Jojo's style.

Most viewers only react emotionally to the tenor of a director with this set of skills. That's fine, that's what the production company wants: A visceral emotional reaction.

But I hope I've managed to clarify from a film-critic perspective what's bringing this sensation about?

But ALSO seeing a bunch of, essentially, lower heat pure BL pairs, have to push themselves into messy queer spaces? (Notice GMMTV only let the more established actors into this one? No JoongDunk, no GeminiFourth)

This is probably really what everyone is excited about.

They are gonna see their favorites cheat, sleep around, be gay (not BL gay, but actual gay). Some are legitimately excited about this, some are shipper excited, and the BL-stans who don't know Jojo are doomed to disappointment.

I'm mostly excited by how messy this is gonna make the fandom.

Su su na.

(source)

#only friends the series #forthcoming bl #watch ABL eat crow #bl director #bl film ciritc #bl analysis #industry insider #messy gay #bl fandom #upcoming bl #2023 bl #khaotung thanawat #firstkhao #GMMTV #friend zone 2 #3 Will Be Free #The Warp Effect #Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

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reotheworld · 1 year

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all the world's a stage as you like it

❝ the one and only you, you're my celebrity ❞

➜ how yandere!manager!alexis ness is with you

➜ fem!reader (idol!fem!reader)

sugar level: 20% & 100% | cw: knife, possessive and obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, cursing, controlling tendencies, let me know if i missed out on anything!

an: i was supposed to make this with kaiser but all my creativity budget went to ness-

• behind his sweet smiling facade is the most loyal, devoted and dedicated manager ever to work with you. he's not leaving his position anymore. why should he? he knows you like the back of your hand, even with his eyes closed, he knows what your curves and breast size are. • despite the gender cross of work, you'd think ness is the strict type of manager. the ones who'd scold you if you show up on set or studio late, not getting your lines or choreography correct, but actually he's the opposite! • has these little stars and hearts in his eyes as he watches you behind the scenes. he'd clap his hand happily at you when you've done a good job. • he makes it a point to get along with you. wanting to know the big and small details of your life. • never ever leaves your side. he follows you like a dog follows it's master. it's okay, he gave you the handle of the leash anyway. • highly speaks of you! every time you're brought up or at least someone mentions your name, all words of flowery praises and compliments roll out of his lips. • doesn't handle criticisms thrown at your way very well! if the director of the commercial or photographer you're working on tells you that you're not doing a good job, you can bet alexis is already cursing at them. saying that they're the ones not doing their job perfectly. • behind closed doors, he's already threatening them that if they talk down at you again, he wouldn't hesitate to slit the knife he's holding against they're neck. • you could just be standing there, wearing the ugliest clothes or your hair is not cooperating with you but alexis ness would still look at you like you're responsible for the sun, moon and stars in the sky. • ultimately hates fan signing! he doesn't see the point why you have to smile, hold hands and talk to your fans, especially the male ones. • he's the one who is clearing and leading you to the path of fame you oh so deserve. so please only smile, hold hands and talk to him. fans are only to admire you from afar. • as the event ends, he is quick to sanitize your hands with wet wipes and alcohol. • he's responsible for the fans' gifts not reaching you too. they're only good decorations when it comes to taking pictures. after that, he'll take them away to never be seen again! • absolutely loves it when you share your personal life to him! even when he doesn't ask for it, it feels as if you're letting him inside your heart. don't worry, he'll be the one to close and lock the door! • have a male idol or actor sending you a love call? alexis is already besides you, whispering manipulating negatives he made up to your ear. • "he's no good at all. i heard that he's actually responsible for tearing apart his female lead star's family." • the paparazzi complimenting your dress on the red carpet? thank alexis for that! he's always responsible for the dresses and other outfits in general you wear! • he knows what's good for you. listen to him. • one time, when a certain media outlet spread a rumour about you and alexis are dating, he did nothing at all to shut it down. in fact, he prompted the rumor to keep going! • reason for that? the fans found out his personal instagram and all the posts are nothing but with you and about you, captions that contain "fleeting" emotions and cryptic messages that one can interpret on their own. • the type to offer to put lotion on you and massage it across your skin when you're tired after a long day at work. • but honestly he's just looking for an excuse to be able to touch you! getting to stand by your side is one thing, but to be able to touch you in sensitive and sensual areas is another. • "i-is this okay...?" • "yes, y/n. does this side of you still hurt? come and let me massage it for you." • also the type to give you those types of hugs that lasts longer than intended. • doesn't care about his salary. money comes and goes, all he wants to do is to be by your side forever. • but you don't know all of that because in your eyes, alexis ness is the best and most caring manager you have!

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk headcanons #bllk hc #yandere blue lock #blue lock yandere #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness headcanons #alexis ness x y/n

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ghibli-collector · 5 months

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Another interesting article about the new Ghibli film Boy and the Heron with great insights into Miyazaki’s relationship with Joe Hisaishi and Toshio Suzuki making films over the years. Again it has a few spoilers

What’s it like to work with Hayao Miyazaki? Go behind the scenes.

News of Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement can’t ever be trusted.

The Japanese animation master’s repeated claims that he’ll give up filmmaking are a response to the strain that creating each of his largely hand-drawn universes entails. At least that’s what Toshio Suzuki, a founder of Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki’s right-hand man for the past 40 years, believes.

"Every time he finishes a film, he’s so exhausted he can’t think about the next project,” Suzuki explains. "He’s used up his energy physically and mentally. He needs some time to clear his mind. And to have a blank canvas to come up with new ideas.”

A decade after 2013’s "The Wind Rises” was heralded as Miyazaki’s final film, the 82-year-old auteur’s newest feature, "The Boy and the Heron,” is being released in the United States after major success in Japan over the summer, where it opened without any traditional publicity.

Though the director hasn’t given any interviews about "The Boy and the Heron,” Suzuki, 75, who is also a veteran producer, and Joe Hisaishi, 72, the longtime composer on Miyazaki’s movies, describe in separate video interviews the master’s working process and how their collaborations have evolved — or not — over the years.

Suzuki is casually dressed and speaking, via an interpreter, from Japan, where he sits next to a pillow emblazoned with Totoro, the bearlike troll that serves as the studio’s logo. He says the new fantasy film is Miyazaki’s most personal yet. Set in the final days of World War II, the tale follows 11-year-old Mahito, who, after losing his mother in a fire, moves to the countryside, where a magical realm beckons him.

"At the start of this project, Miyazaki came to me and asked me, ‘This is going to be about my story, is that going to be OK?’ I just nodded,” Suzuki recalls with the matter-of-factness of someone who’s learned it would be futile to stand in the way of the director.

For a long time, he says, Miyazaki worried that if he made a movie about a young male, inspiration would inevitably be drawn from his own childhood, which he felt might not make for an interesting narrative. Growing up, Miyazaki had trouble communicating with people and expressed himself instead by drawing pictures.

"I noticed that with this film, where he portrayed himself as a protagonist, he included a lot of humorous moments in order to cover up that the boy, based on himself, is very sensitive and pessimistic,” Suzuki says. "That was interesting to see.”

If Miyazaki is the boy, Suzuki adds, then he himself is the heron, a mischievous flying entity in the story that pushes the young hero to keep going. Director Isao Takahata, Studio Ghibli’s third foundational musketeer, who died in 2018, is represented onscreen by Granduncle, a wise but weathered figure who controls the fantastical world Mahito ventures into.

Suzuki first met Miyazaki in the late 1970s, when the animator was making his first feature, "Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro,” an amusing caper. Back then, Suzuki was a journalist hoping to interview him.

But Miyazaki, who was working on a storyboard, had no interest in talking and ignored him. "Out of kindness, I thought it was a good thing to introduce his works to my readers, and for him to be very cranky and disrespectful, I was very angry,” Suzuki remembers.

He stuck around the studio for two more days of silence. On the third, Miyazaki asked him if he knew a term for a car overtaking another during a chase. Suzuki’s reply, a specific Japanese expression for such action, finally broke the ice and kick-started their long-term relationship.

"Miyazaki still remembers that first meeting, too,” Suzuki says. "He thought that I was a person not to be trusted. And that’s why he was very cautious about talking to me.”

Over the years, Suzuki has become increasingly indispensable for Miyazaki. "He always tells me, ‘Suzuki-san, can you remember the important things for me?’ And then he feels that he can forget about all the important things not concerning his films. I have to remember them for him,” Suzuki says.

Best friends more than mere collaborators, Miyazaki and Suzuki talk every day, even if there’s nothing urgent to discuss, and make it a rule to meet in person on Mondays and Thursdays. "What we talk about is very trivial most times, I guess he feels lonely or misses me, but it’s always him who calls me. I never call him,” Suzuki says, adding with a laugh, "Sometimes he even calls me in the middle of the night, like at 3 a.m., and the first thing he says is, ‘Were you awake?’ And obviously I was not. I’m in bed!”

In contrast, Hisaishi, the composer who first worked with Miyazaki on the 1984 feature "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind,” has a strictly professional relationship with him.

"We don’t see each other in private,” Hisaishi, wearing an elegant sweater, says through a translator. "We don’t eat together. We don’t drink together. We only meet to discuss things for work.” That emotional distance, he adds, is what has made their partnership over 11 films so creatively fruitful.

"People think that if you really know a person’s full character then you can have a good working relationship, but that doesn’t necessarily hold true,” Hisaishi says. "What is most important to me is to compose music. The most important thing in life to Miyazaki is to draw pictures. We are both focused on those most important things in our lives.”

On "The Boy and the Heron,” Miyazaki didn’t provide Hisaishi with any instruction. The musician watched the film only when it was nearly completed but still with no sound or dialogue. At that point Miyazaki simply said to Hisaishi, "I just leave it up to you.”

"I feel he was just thinking that he could rely on me and expected me to come up with something,” Hisaishi says. "I feel like I was very much trusted to do this.”

For all of their previous collaborations, Miyazaki would bring on Hisaishi to discuss once three out of the four or five parts of the storyboard for a new film were ready. That the process changed this time was possible only because of their shared history.

"It’s as if we’ve been Olympic athletes making a film once every four years for 40 years,” Hisaishi says. "It’s been a long time of training and performing. When I look back I’m amazed that I could write music for these very different films.”

In his contemporary classical work, Hisaishi had been working on minimalist compositions with repeating patterns, and he took that approach to the new film.

While he maintains they are just colleagues, every January for the past 15 years, Hisaishi has composed a small tune, recorded it on a piano and sent it to Miyazaki as a birthday present. This tradition has now become the seasoned musician’s lucky charm.

"After about three times I thought, ‘This has probably run its course,’” Hisaishi recalls. "I didn’t send one the following year. That whole year I wasn’t able to work very well. It was sort of a jinx that I had not sent him something, so I started sending him the music again for his birthday,” he adds with a laugh.

Both Hisaishi and Suzuki say their interactions with Miyazaki have not changed much over the decades. On the contrary, the men have become staunch creatures of habit.

Asked why his profound connection with Miyazaki has endured so long, Suzuki says: "I don’t necessarily agree, but he once told me, ‘I’ve never met someone so similar to me. You are the last person that I will meet like that.’”

BY CARLOS AGUILAR

THE NEW YORK TIMES

#ghibli #studio ghibli #boy and the heron #hayao miyazaki #spirited away

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reaper2187 · 13 days

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Jenna ortega x co-star reader x Mikey madison

As you walked onto the set of your new horror movie, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and thrill. As a horror lover, being a part of this film was a dream come true. But what made it even more thrilling for you was the fact that you would be playing a killer on screen, a character that you could embody and unleash your inner darkness.

Your co-stars, Jenna Ortega and Mikey Madison, were also known for their love for horror and their ability to quickly slip into a killer persona. The three of you were starring in a new horror movie, 'Blood Moon', as a trio of killers who terrorize a small town.

During rehearsals, you had noticed the chemistry between the three of you. There was a certain intensity and playfulness in the way you interacted with each other, which only added to the dynamic of your characters on screen. But as the cameras rolled and the director yelled 'action', the three of you transformed into ruthless killers, giving your all to make the scenes as terrifying and realistic as possible.

Off camera, the three of you bonded over your shared love for horror and your passion for acting. You spent hours discussing your favorite horror movies and exchanging tips on how to perfect your killer personas. Despite playing villains on screen, you found yourselves becoming good friends behind the scenes.

One day, during a break in filming, Jenna suggested watching a classic horror movie in order to get into the right mindset for their next scene. The three of you huddled around Jenna's laptop, watching intently as the characters on screen were brutally murdered. Instead of feeling disgusted or scared like most people would, the three of you were engrossed and even took notes on the killer's techniques.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves wandering around the set, still hyped up after the movie. Suddenly, Jenna suggested a game of 'tag', with a twist. The three of you would take turns being the killer and the others had to try and evade being 'killed'. As soon as Jenna tagged you, you could feel your body shifting into your killer persona. Your eyes narrowed and your movements became more calculated.

You chased Jenna and Mikey around the set, relishing the thrill of being the one in control. The game went on for hours, with each of you taking turns being the killer. As the night grew darker and the set became eerier, it was almost as if the line between reality and fiction was blurred.

When it was your turn once again, you had a brilliant idea. Instead of just 'killing' them, you would actually scare them. You hid behind a prop and waited for Jenna and Mikey to pass by. As soon as they did, you jumped out and let out a blood-curdling scream, causing them to scream and run in the opposite direction.

The three of you collapsed into hysterical laughter, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. As you lay on the floor, catching your breath, you couldn't help but think that this was exactly where you belonged – in the midst of horror and chaos.

The next day on set, the three of you were still buzzing from the events of the previous night. As you filmed a particularly intense scene, your co-stars couldn't help but comment on how convincing and terrifying you were. But what they didn't know was that it wasn't just acting for you. As you stood over them with a fake knife in your hand, you felt a sense of satisfaction and power, knowing that you had the ability to make others feel fear.

But as the cameras stopped rolling and the director called for a break, you immediately snapped out of your killer persona and rushed over to Jenna and Mikey, making sure they were okay. They chuckled at your sudden change in demeanor and you all shared a knowing look, understanding the duality of your roles as both actors and killers.

As filming continued, the three of you became known as the 'horror trio' on set. Your chemistry and ability to slip into your killer personas quickly made for some of the most chilling and memorable scenes in the movie. But for you, it was more than just a role – it was a way to embrace your love for horror and unleash your inner darkness.

As the final scene wrapped and the director shouted 'cut', the three of you hugged each other, knowing that this experience had brought you closer both on and off screen. You couldn't wait for the world to see the terrifying trio that you had created, and for them to witness the bond that had formed between three horror-loving, killer actresses.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #mikey madison #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #mikey madison x reader #female celebrity #celebrity

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h-c-u · 1 year

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Uncertainty

Summary: You're a 3rd driver for the Mercedes team, in a secret relationship with the team principal and you fill in for Lewis during the race. The car malfunctions, you completely lose control over the steering and can't avoid crashing. And it's bad.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!driver!reader

W/C: 6.1k

Rating: M. Car crash, talk about injuries and surgeries.

TWs: Car crash, near death injuries

A/N: I swear to gods, my mood when it comes to writing changes so quickly -,- It's dark, sad, and heavy. Also - like 90% of the fic is happening when the reader is in surgery, but the idea just dug it's claws into my brain and didn't want to let go.

Masterlist | List of tags

- Bono, something's wrong with the steering, there is a slight delay in response, and I'm unable to predict how much I should correct. - you were honestly getting scared. You didn't want to lose the 5th position, especially this late in the race. You knew yourself well enough that you could get at least 3rd before the end, but not with a car that behaved like that.

- I'm running the diagnostic now to see if we'll be able to do something about it remo... FUCK. CRASH. Be careful. - you instantly felt cold, but it wasn't your first time in a dangerous situation. When Bono told you about the crash, you hadn't seen it just yet, because it was hidden behind a turn, and as soon as you turned...

- Breaks are not working. And I completely lost control over the steering. - everything was happening in slow motion, and you couldn't do anything. There was no fancy "eject" button like in a James Bond movie; you were able to just watch and brace for impact. - Bono. I'm going to crash into them. Don't let me die. - you whispered, tears very slowly gathering in your eyes under the helmet.

You didn't say another word. You didn't swear, you didn't scream. You knew what was about to happen and somehow you managed to remain calm. You just fastened the straps holding you to the seat even more and held your arms close to your chest.

You heard people screaming over the comms, familiar voices full of panic and desperation but the one voice you were hoping to hear... wasn't there. So whatever others were saying didn't matter.

And then you were flying. The nose of your car wedged under someone else, and it sent you into a barrel on the track. You closed your eyes, not to get nauseous, but it was a small comfort, especially when the car turned to its side and continued to barrel toward the wall. How you were able to stay conscious for so long - you weren't sure, but then suddenly... there was nothing.

- TOTO, NO! YOU CAN'T GO THERE! THERE IS PROTOCOL!

- FUCK PROTOCOL!!! - he was trying his best to get from Bono's and Ricardo's strong arms, but they held him steady and didn't let him run out of the garage.

- Medics and the crew are already at the scene. She will be in the ambulance before you get to that part of the track. - James stepped in front of the man, blocking his way, and put his hand on his boss's chest stopping him from moving any further. No one ever saw Toto this distressed. Sure, he could get angry, but this... This was different. - Calm down and think.

- I... I can't. - his shoulders slumped and even though he wasn't trashing and trying to get out anymore, his thoughts were galloping at the speed of light, running through every possible scenario. - I just can't... - Bono and Ric loosened their grip on his body and exchanged a worried look with the technical director. - I don't know what to do... - he admitted, his voice completely broken.

- We're gonna get to the hospital and we'll go from there. - James realized it was his turn to think about everything, and even though he didn't completely understand why Toto reacted this way - he wanted to help in whatever way he could. All of the people in the garage were shaken up, but this... This was new. Toto was oozing fear and desperation from everywhere. His posture, his voice, the frantic look in his eyes... - Toto. - the technical director wasn't sure if his words even reached his friend, but Wolff finally nodded slowly. - Yeah...? - he made sure.

- Yeah. Hospital. Let's go. - he whispered eventually. He was in no condition to drive, so he let his friend do that. He didn't take his eyes from the view behind the window once, even though he was seeing none of what they were passing. He dug his nails into his knees, bit his lower lip until he drew blood, and tried his best not to break down completely. Not before he knew if you were dead or alive.

When they arrived at the hospital, Toto didn't even wait for James to park properly, he was out of the car as soon as they reached the entrance. He run into the emergency room and quickly located the admission desk, but before he said anything, he took one last, deep breath.

- Hello, my name is Toto Wolff. I'm the emergency contact for Y/n Y/l/n. I would like to know in what condition she's in. - his voice was surprisingly calm. Even in such a state, he knew that whatever happened wasn't the nurses' fault and he didn't want to take out whatever he felt on them.

- I have to confirm your identity first. Can I see your ID? - the old nurse asked, but she was already typing something on the keyboard. Toto frantically patted his pockets in search of a wallet, momentarily mortified, because he got afraid that he left it in his bag, in the garage, but James came to his rescue with said wallet. He quickly fished out his ID and presented it to the nurse.

- She was admitted about 10 minutes ago and is being prepped for the surgery. She already had a head CT, but there are no results yet. There is also no information about planned procedures. - she explained with a soft tone, even though the news she was sharing wasn't exactly... good.

- What does it mean...? - Toto asked, fearing the worst.

- It means there was a head injury and she's unconscious. They don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's serious enough for emergency surgery with neuro, orthopedic and cardiothoracic surgeons. - she added, quieter. Sure, she could have omitted a few facts, but something told her that it would have the opposite effect on the man in front of her.

- Her... Her heart...? - if he weren’t holding the high counter in front of the admission desk, he would have slumped to the floor.

- Or lungs. - she clarified. - I'm sorry I can't give you better news... But she's in the best hands in the country. I will ask one of our interns to take you to a waiting room... - she waved at one of the young men, who was currently filling out papers, and quickly told him what to do. - And sir... - she added, just when they were about to leave the area. - It will be a long surgery, but the longer the wait, the better. It means that she's still fighting. - that was the first thing that gave him hope... You were still alive. Still fighting. And you weren't the type of person who easily gave up.

Toto Wolff was not a religious man. He honestly couldn't remember when was the last time he visited any place of worship, but now... Now he was going through every prayer he knew. He begged every god, every angel, every demon, every saint he could think of, not to let you die, and if that's necessary - to take him instead. Logically he knew that wasn't possible, but he was willing to try everything, no matter how stupid it seemed at the moment.

James left his side only once, to get some shitty coffee from the machine, but it was left untouched in between Toto's feet. He didn't know what to say, what to do... Other people came and went. The pit crew, engineers, other team principals, drivers... A few stayed. Mostly other drivers, and from the closer circle - James, Bono, George... And Lewis - without even saying a word was on a video call with Bono, feeling extremely guilty.

- Did... - George finally broke the silence. - Did anyone call her family? - he asked, and Toto just clenched his fists.

- She doesn't have one. - he whispered eventually. - She's an only child and went no-contact with her parents just as she started racing. - he added and the others looked at him trying to hide the surprise. - She will kill anyone who’ll let them know about anything even remotely connected to her life. So as far as things go... she doesn't have a family. - he ended in a harsher tone than he intended and almost immediately sighed.

He was still in the clothes he was wearing during the race... The track pass was tucked in the pocket on his chest, and the headphones were still around his neck, but he didn't even notice them, and no one in the room dared to say a word.

Just as three hours passed since they arrived, a young-looking woman called out your last name, and the four men immediately stood up, three with hope, one in fear, because it was much too quick for the surgery to end.

- Hello, my name is Alex and I'm one of the residents helping with your... - she stuttered for a second, realizing she didn't know the relationship between her patient and the men in the waiting room. - With Y/n's surgery. We were able to stop the bleeding in her brain and remove all the debris lodged there without major issues. The head of neurosurgery is currently reversing all four of the aneurysms, but compared to what we already did - it's the easiest thing. - she started explaining and everyone except Toto sighed with relief.

- What else...? - he asked, afraid of the further news. - Please tell us everything, no matter how small or ugly. I need to know... - he pleaded, and James put his hand on his boss’s shoulder. There was some hesitation on the young doctor’s face, but eventually, she continued.

- Eight of her ribs are broken... Two of them were lodged in her right lung and the cardiothoracic surgeon was able to remove one and is working on the second. One pierced her kidney, but due to the positioning... The lungs take priority. Her spinal cord is intact, but three of the lumbar vertebrae are fractured and we will have to realign them later. Her right femur is broken in six places, left in two and our head of ortho is currently working on that. Both of her tibias and feet are by some miracle intact. All the bones in her shoulders, arms, forearms, wrists, and hands are also free of any injuries. She didn't sustain any burns or lacerations because of the suit, which will help during her recovery. - with every word the relief disappeared more and more from the men's faces, and Toto's lips became almost invisible.

- Her heart...? - he asked eventually.

- Intact and strong. She's not on any assistance during the surgery, although we're ready for that if the need arises. She's a fighter. - the young doctor added with a gentle smile.

- You've mentioned her recovery... Does that mean...? - he was afraid to finish the question, especially when he saw Alex's face drop just a little.

- I... I shouldn't have said that. I can't promise you any type of outcome, especially with such severe injuries. - her voice softened. - We know what's wrong. We know how to fix it. And we will do our best to do so. Three of the best surgeons in the country are currently working together to keep her alive, so objectively - the chances of success are high. But I can't promise you that everything will be perfect. – Toto nodded, acknowledging the situation.

- Thank you for taking the time to explain everything to us. - he whispered, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. - Would it be too much if I asked for an update after every major stage? Doesn't matter if good or bad... I just need to know... - George was the one to notice how shaky Toto truly was, so he helped him sit down, so the man wouldn't fall over.

- It wouldn't be too much at all. I was planning to do so anyway... But it... - she started, but Wolff cut her off.

- It's gonna be a long surgery, I was told. I will be here. - his voice was stronger than his body, and the young doctor gave him one last smile before she turned around and went back to the operating block.

None of the men knew what to say, so they just sat in silence, trying to process what has happened.

There was a moment when George started quietly sobbing, and without even thinking, Toto put his arm around him and pulled him into a hug, trying to give him the comfort he so desperately needed himself. But the only person who could give it to him was currently lying cut open on the operating table.

- George, you officially got second place with 18 points... - James eventually broke the silence, but none of them were able to say after how long, because time had become something immeasurable. - Congratulations... - he added, but that was the last thing on young driver's mind. Few other drivers in the waiting room took out their phones to check the results, but in the end - there were more important things than that.

- Holly shit. - someone whispered and almost immediately added. - Y/n crashed after the red flag. She got 5th. With the fastest lap. - all heads turned to Carlos, who was sitting on the floor. Even Toto couldn't believe what he just heard. He knew you were good, damn... He believed in you since day one, that's why he was so quick to sign you. And now... Now Y/n Y/l/n was officially the first woman since 1975 who scored points in F1, which was a historical achievement.

- She got 11 points... - James confirmed after checking his email once again. And then there was silence again. There should be a celebration, all of them knew that. And even though someone will contest that, because technically you wouldn't be able to finish the race if it were resumed, and your team would fight tooth and nail for that not to be taken away... But for now, in the official FIA statement, you finished in 5th place.

There were some murmurs and whispers, but none of it mattered to Toto more than you actually living, so when he saw the familiar face of a young doctor again, he almost jumped from his seat.

- Hello again... - she smiled, which he took as a good sign. - The orthopedic surgeon finished working on her legs and we were able to close them. There was no additional damage to the thigh muscles, so we didn't have to take any part of them, which means that she will be able to regain a full range of movements, in time of course. The neurosurgeon just finished reversing the aneurysms, and the new head CT didn't show any additional injuries, so we will be able to slowly close her skull as well. We were also able to remove the other rib from her lung, and the head of cardio is currently working on repairing her right lung, but we don't know for sure if it is viable, which means... - she stopped for a moment, not sure how the man in front of her would react to such news.

- That there is a chance you will have to remove it. But she could live with just one lung, right? - he made sure.

- With some restrictions, but yes.

- Then in the end it doesn't matter. How about her kidney and spine? - he asked, eager to know more.

- The kidney is being worked on as we speak, but the spine... - she stopped for a moment, trying to find the best words to explain the situation to someone unfamiliar with medical jargon. - The best way to get to the lumbar vertebrae would be from the back, which would require a change of position. And since the injuries on the front of her body are so extensive, the new position might be dangerous for her, so there will be benefits to closing her up, letting the body rest and regenerate for a few days, and proceeding with second surgery later in a week.

- Wouldn't leaving it as it is, be dangerous as well? I mean - is there a chance of the fragments moving and injuring her spinal cord?

- That's exactly why we haven't decided on the best course of action just yet. We still have to finish working on her kidney, lung, and ribs, while the neurosurgeon assesses which option would be the safest and does more scans to see if going from the front would be possible. It's unconventional, but it has been successfully done. - she explained and Toto nodded.

- Thank you for explaining that to me... - she just smiled gently and walked away.

It was the first time he looked at the clock, and it was almost midnight, but he didn't feel that at all. Time was weird, because he felt like the crash had happened just a few seconds ago, and at the same time as if centuries passed since he saw your car barreling down the track. And then he heard an unfamiliar voice calling out your name. He instantly turned around in that direction and saw a medical responder in full gear. She repeated your name once again and Toto finally put his hand up.

She quickly came closer and sat in front of him.

- Good evening, sir... I was one of the first responders to the crash, and I was responsible for intubating Y/n. - she started explaining, and Toto was too exhausted to ask what it was about, or even to introduce himself. - But before I did that... She was awake for just a moment. And she asked me to pass the message, the problem is... I don't know to whom. - it was like he caught a second wind because he instantly focused on the woman in front of him.

- What did she say...? - he asked, leaning forward. He knew everyone was listening, but he didn't care.

- She said... "Why didn't I say it back... Please tell him that I love him." - Toto blinked a few times as if the words had trouble reaching him, but when they finally did... He started to laugh like a maniac, and everyone looked at him in worry that he actually snapped or went crazy.

Earlier today, when you were both just waking up with the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon, he said those three magic words for the first time... Three words, eight letters... He didn't expect anything in return, because he knew how hard expressing any emotions came to you, but it was important to him to assure you that he, indeed, loved you and wasn't planning to go anywhere. He also knew that you loved him, because you had your own way of showing that to him...

So, to hear that when you were convinced you were dying, the last thought in your mind was telling him something he already knew for a while was... a bit absurd. But then it hit him... You did that because you thought that he didn't know you loved him. And your possible last thought was letting him know that you weren't in it just for fun, that you were serious about your relationship. And that made him freeze.

- Sir...? - the lady in front of him reached to touch him but stopped last second.

- I'm sorry... I know who that message was for... Thank you for passing it on. - he gave her a weak smile, and she just nodded. - And thank you for what you did for her... It means a lot to me. - he added quieter, and just like that, she was gone.

The atmosphere in the waiting room was still extremely tense, but that didn't stop a few of the drivers from dozing off. Someone even ordered pizzas, but Toto didn't move... He didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't say anything... He was a shell of himself while his heart was being cut open, stabbed, prodded, and stitched back up on the operating table just a few meters away.

And while at first people were brushing it off as a team principal caring for his driver, the few closest to him realized that there was more. Finally, Bono had enough and sat right next to him.

- How long...? - he whispered quietly enough that no one else was able to hear.

- I don't know what... - Toto immediately wanted to deny everything and play stupid, but one look from his friend and he folded. - 5 months... - he said, barely any sound leaving his lips.

- And the thing the paramedic said...? - he asked, but only got a nod in reply. - Shiiiiiiit... - this time Toto looked at him confused. - I lost the betting pool.

- What?

- We have... Well, now had... A betting pool because we noticed that you were much happier for quite some time. The most popular option was antidepressants, and I bet on that, not gonna lie. - Toto just blinked a few times, still trying to process what was being said. - There was also a winning streak, therapy, someone you hated dying, that you got laid, but Lewis was the only one that bet on a new relationship. I mean - there were a few more people who bet on the relationship, but Lewis nailed the 5 months. - Toto still couldn't believe what he was hearing, but somehow, the absurdity of the situation helped him relax just a little.

- You make bets... about my private life? - he was genuinely curious if it was the first time.

- Well... Yeah. Because you're all mysterious and shit. It's easy to make up some crazy stories just for fun. - Bono just shrugged. - None of us suspected that you and her... I mean, in public, you were equally close with... - he stopped and pointed with his chin in the direction of the familiar face in blue scrubs.

- We were able to save the lung and a kidney. All ribs are secured in their places. - Toto sighed with relief for the first time since he saw the car tumbling on the tracks. - The head of neuro managed to find a way to repair the vertebrae from the front, but it will be a long procedure. The angle he has to go in from is very unusual and taxing, but we will be able to do everything today. Her vitals are stable, her heart is strong... She's doing well, sir. We still don't know the extent of her brain injury, which will have to wait till she wakes up, but we are optimistic that she will. - she smiled softly and gently squeezed his arm.

- Thank you... - and with that, she was gone again, and Toto looked around the waiting room... It was almost 3 AM, and the surgery started... around 10 hours ago. And yet the whole younger generation of drivers was here, most of them still in gear... Some were on the uncomfortable chairs, some quietly talking, and few even fell asleep on the floor. Even though you were all competitors, and you weren't even a full-seat driver yet, they still respected you and your skills a lot. - Guys, I think you should go back to your hotels and get some sleep... Or just rest... I'll let you know in the morning how the surgery went. - few heads turned in his direction, but no one moved. Lando finally broke the silence.

- With all due respect sir, she wouldn't leave any of us... - Toto couldn't help but feel... pride. Not just for you, but for them. Just 10 years ago this type of situation wouldn't be possible... After the crash, maybe one or two drivers, who were the closest to the injured one, would be in the hospital, but never for this long... And never this many... They were good kids, and it meant that the times were changing.

- I can't disagree with that... - he smiled. - Thank you all. - he added and sat right back. Now, that most of your injuries were under control, he let himself think of anything else, and that turned out to be those boys behind him. He quickly wrote a few messages to the other team principals, letting them know where most of their drivers were and asking them to arrange at least a change of clothes, because the majority of them still had sensors under their gear, and that must have been uncomfortable. He also took time to bring every single one of them a cup of that awfully sweet hot chocolate and spent a few minutes talking with them one on one about whatever they needed to get off their chests. And next to being worried about you, most of them were scared...

It took a while, but he finally came back to his original chair and for the first time - leaned back in it and stretched, but that wasn't near enough for him to release all the tension collected in his body. But now... Now he allowed himself to hope.

The next time he saw Alex, she was with another doctor, and it was already getting bright outside. All of the drivers - now in regular clothing - were sleeping on each other in different combinations, and only George was awake beside himself.

- The operation was a success... - she started, and Toto felt as if someone finally took the weight of the whole world from his shoulders, the relief of it forcing tears out of his eyes. - She's already stitched up, and soon we will move her to a recovery room, where you will be able to see her - for the first few hours, just through the glass and then in person. - you lived. That's all that mattered. - She will be in a medically induced coma for at least a few days to prevent her brain from swelling more. We will continue monitoring her, and based on the results we will decide when will be the best time to wake her up. - the young doctor explained and when she looked over the waiting room, she added. - She... She's stable, but she doesn't look well... - the tone of her voice was enough to convey what she really wanted to say.

- They won't take no for an answer... They will want to see her. - he quietly said. - They look young, well, they are young... It's hard to explain, but they need to see her. They need to see for themselves that she's alive... - Alex looked at the older doctor who gave silent permission. - Thank you for all you did... For saving her...

- I can take you to see her now, but the rest... Groups of 3 the most. - Toto nodded and another sigh of relief escaped his chest. He still couldn't believe what happened. When he saw the crash, he was mentally preparing for the funeral, but now... Now you were alive. Still extremely injured and with months if not years of therapy in front of you, but you were alive. Fuck everything else.

- Can you give me a minute...? I'd like to tell them myself. - he explained and after getting a quiet “sure”, he went first to Bono and James, who were sleeping in the chairs next to each other, and very quickly explained what he just heard. After that, he went around the room and quietly told everyone else. Some of the younger ones immediately started crying from relief, and he couldn't blame them, because he did the exact same, so he just pulled them into a wordless hug until they calmed down. It definitely took more than a minute, and he felt a bit bad for keeping the young doctor awake, but when he took a quick look in her direction, she smiled at him, letting him know that he can take as long as he needs. This was definitely an unusual situation.

But eventually, everyone was up to speed, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed a bit. There were even a few awkward laughs, but Toto wasn't there to hear them. He was walking a couple of steps behind the young doctor who was kind enough to update him over the last fifteen hours, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see. You were alive. That's all that mattered.

It wouldn't be the first time he saw someone after the crash, hell - he was in one himself. Albeit not such a serious one... He was around the track long enough to know that even the nonlethal injuries weren't pretty, he saw what could happen to drivers who either weren't careful, skillful, or lucky enough. But you were definitely careful and skillful enough. But today, well... yesterday. You didn't have enough luck. A mechanical failure. Two of the things that had so many fail-safes, he wasn't sure he could count that high. But somehow all of them failed... He knew there would be an investigation, but that didn't matter. Because you were alive.

So, when he finally saw you through the thick glass... He broke. He had to hold himself on the metal barrier in front of the window just not to fall over, and the young doctor put his arm under his, trying to assist him until he'd be able to stand straight. You looked so small connected to all the heavy machinery in the room. A thick tube down your throat, a bag of full blood connected to the IV port in your arm, all the cables coming from under the bandages on your chest... The draining tubes coming from under the bandages on your thighs... Your face was swollen, with bruises in multiple places, and your head was shaved and covered in bandages. He couldn't help but laugh at that one detail... You wanted to shave your head for ages but never found the right moment with all the press and photoshoots.

And your hands... Somehow, they didn't fit the picture... They were pristine, not counting the IVs... No bruises, no bandages, no anything... Your long fingers looked exactly the same as they did this morning when you intertwined them with his, just as he was about to tell you he loves you.

- I'm sorry, it's just... - he started, but he couldn't finish, so he just rested his forehead on the cold glass in front of him, trying so hard not to let tears into his eyes.

- It can be a lot, seeing a loved one like this... I understand...

- She's alive... - he failed. He tried to convince himself that it was enough, but seeing you like that... So small, so... weak. It hit him. He wouldn't be able to live without seeing you wildly dance on the roof of one of the many hotels you stayed in during the racing season... Without hearing your broken singing from under the shower in the morning... Without your contagious laughter at something stupid, he said... He needed you more than he needed to breathe, and it scared him.

He wiped the tears with the back of his hand, straighten his posture, and did his best to compose himself. Not for himself, but for the people who were about to see you like that. You lived... and for now that had to be enough.

He didn't leave your room since he was allowed to enter it for the first time... Sitting at your bed, holding your hand, putting on the music he knew you'd like, reading aloud... And with every passing day, you started looking... stronger. The color started returning to your skin, and the bruising and swelling on your face slowly started healing. The drivers kept visiting you, and when they had to leave to prepare for the next race - they kept sending you gifts.

Lewis stayed the longest after he finally got well enough to leave his room... He spent the entire day at your side, holding your hand, apologizing profusely, and praying... And after he didn't have any more tears left in him, he started telling you stories he knew you'd love. He was also the one to bring that perfume you bought in Egypt and which you absolutely adored; he put a drop of it behind your ears and on your wrists and left the bottle on the nightstand.

George was the one to take it the hardest... Even though he tried his best not to show it when he was visiting, Toto knew. He knew how close the two of you were, and all the crazy adventures you shared. You were like siblings on crack and the things you could get into when let out of the bullpen... He honestly couldn't believe that you haven't been arrested yet for some of the stuff you pulled... That's why the last time he visited before leaving the UK, Toto suggested talking to a therapist and George agreed.

It took more than the few days Alex mentioned after the surgery, but the decision to wake you up was finally made a bit over two weeks after the crash. And he felt like a babe in the woods the whole morning; happy that the medication will be out of your system, but afraid of what would happen if you didn't wake up.

Alex was the one who sat with the both of you in the room, watching your vitals like a hawk, and as soon as she saw any change, she explained to Toto what exactly it meant. Around noon, she made the decision to stop intubating you, because it looked like your brain took over that function. She of course was ready with a new tube, just in case, but it ended up not being necessary; even though one of your lungs wasn't fully healed, enough oxygen was getting to your brain.

Around noon he started to get antsy, but Alex quickly calmed him down and explained again that it might take even a few days because there is no way to tell how your brain would react. It didn't help much, but having someone to answer his every question was a godsend because he wasn't able to think about worst-case scenarios when there was a professional who said otherwise.

He wasn't able to eat, but he didn't care... He didn't want to miss the moment when you woke up. But the day ended and nothing changed. In the evening one of the other residents took over for Alex, but Toto still didn't move and didn't let go of your hand. Not even when he rested his head on the bed next to your legs for just a moment. But the moment became a bit longer when he closed his eyes...

A familiar sensation woke him up... Long, cold fingers running through his hair, and he couldn't help but smile, at first - not realizing what it meant. But then it hit him. His eyes shot open, and he immediately sat up.

Your beautiful eyes were open and full of tears, while your hand found his, and squeezed it tightly.

- You're awake... - he whispered the obvious... - She's awake! Get a doctor here! - he shouted when he realized you two were alone in the room.

You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat due to pain.

- Shhh... Don't say anything just yet... You were intubated and the doctors said it might take some time for it to heal... - he said, without even noticing he started crying, but you decided to ignore him; your determination was much stronger than a little bit of pain. Well, ok... More than a little bit.

- I... - you started, but the rest of the sentence didn't want to come out...

- I love you... And I know you love me too... I have known it for a while now. You never had to say it... I knew... - he said, brought your hand to his lips, and started pressing soft kisses to the back of it. You extended your finger to wipe one of the tears from his cheek, and his other hand quickly followed, wiping the rest. You looked around the room and noticed all the flowers, the teddy bears, the toys... There was even a... Tamagotchi...? And a brand-new Nintendo Switch...?

You looked back at Toto with a question painted on your face.

- The other drivers brought most of this stuff... They still keep sending things even though... - you nudged your head forward, urging him to continue. - Even though they had to leave for the next race. The accident was over two weeks ago, I'll explain everything later, I promise... But now the doctors will have to run some tests, ok...? - you nodded in response and shifted your gaze to the doctors that came into the room just a moment ago. They started simple, asking you to follow the light with your eyes and look in certain directions. And you did whatever they asked, not letting go of Toto's hand.

You were scared and in pain... But somehow you knew everything will be all right, because despite everything - you weren't alone. And that was certain.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤

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loveyourownsmiilee · 1 year

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Talking Buddie Language: Ep 6.11

I want to start off by saying Oliver Stark truly blew me away with his acting in tonight's episode. He truly has main character energy in this episode and he did this storyline such justice. This coma!Buck dream was everything I envisioned and more. I know the big problem I'm seeing is the lack of Eddie. However, I hope after you have read my meta, you can understand why I believe the lack of Eddie was so damn loud in this episode and what it can mean going further. As always, thank you so much if you take the time to read this! With that being said, let's get into it.

The Firefam Rushes Buck To The Hospital

It was such a prominent moment where the entire firefam, Buck's literal chosen family, all rush him to the hospital. From the literal second Eddie is out of the driver's seat, he runs towards his partner and pushes Chimney out of the way. There is no way in hell Eddie isn't going to do whatever he can in his power to bring Buck back to life. You can even hear it in his voice when he says, "Chim I'll take over" that he is hurting but trying to mask that hurt to get what needs to be done. He made a promise to Buck that he would always have his back and he was not going to go back on that promise now.

The visual of Eddie on top of Buck's gurney, doing compressions, will be something I will never get over. It was such a deliberate choice having it be Eddie who got his heart beating again and I am side eyeing these writer's and directors for those choices.

There's something that needs to be said about how Eddie is the one who starts Buck's heart again. Out of everyone there, even the two most trained medics, it was Eddie of all people who got his pulse back. Something about how Buck entrusted Eddie with his heart back in 5.14, so Eddie felt wholly responsible for safekeeping it.

After Eddie gets Buck back to them, they wheel him away and we hear Bobby telling the doctors about Buck's allergies and the doctor telling them that they would do their best. What is Eddie's reaction through all of this? He is following behind Buck, almost as if he is tethered to him by a string. He gets the furthest and yells back "DO MORE!" Because that is his partner and he doesn't do too well without control. This is out of Eddie's hands and he can't sit there and trust that these doctors, who are doing their best, is enough for his Buck. They need to go above and beyond, they need to do more than their best because Eddie can simply not handle a world without his partner. The devastation and pure fear in Eddie’s eyes hurts to look at because it’s so rare that we see him like this. He’s so defeated and the camera focusing on his reactions really tells me there’s a reason for it.

After Buck is whisked away, everyone is devastated in their own ways. Chimney is catatonic, Hen is understandably sad, Bobby is in shock but trying to keep it together for everyone else. Eddie? Eddie is crying. You can see the single tear rolling down his face when he screams at the doctors to do more. You can tell this usually stoic man is barely keeping it together. He turns around, walks up to Chim and let's his tears fall as he embraces him. You hear the loud sniffle and you see he is not holding back any of his emotions.

Why is this important? Because it is such a massive difference to how he acted when his actual wife died in season 2. Going back to rewatch that scene, the differences are so distinct that I find it fascinating to see how he reacted to his wife dying vs how he reacted to his partner dying. With Shannon, Eddie is a soldier, he doesn't cry and he knows the severity of the situation. He goes into that ambulance fully knowing there is nothing he can do to prevent the inevitable. He holds her hand and tells her to "Just be silent" so she doesn't use up her remaining breath. This is such a difference to last episode where Eddie ran after Buck and kept calling his name, begging him to just talk to him. He also jumped in and did whatever he could to help save Buck's life even when he was dead. There was something he could do and he was going to do it.

When Shannon is wheeled into the hospital, he doesn't follow her. He stays where he is frozen in place. With Buck, it's a different story. He is almost pulled after him and if it were up to Eddie, he would have followed him behind those doors as well.

The final comparison is Eddie's crying. When his wife dies, he steps out and sees his team. He is containing those tears and walks up to Bobby. It's not until he embraces Bobby that he lets his tears fall. With Buck, he is already crying as they wheel him away. He turns around and lets his entire team see him at his most vulnerable because that's Buck. Buck is someone so dear to him and Eddie is a different person now than he was when Shannon passed. His reluctance to let others see him cry when Shannon died indicates heavy repression on his part. Now, thanks to therapy and a little to Buck, he is embracing those emotions and allowing himself to feel things. He is not repressing those emotions and that is a beautiful thing to remember for his storyline progression this season.

Buck’s Coma Dream Begins

I love love love how the first thing Buck remembered when he woke up in coma world was Eddie. He wakes up and sees a random doctor, who’s really his dead brother, and feels like things are weird around him. The conversation then prompts the idea of Eddie is what I’m holding on to for a few reasons.

D: Maybe the next time you decide to go up a ladder, you should have someone there to spot you.

B: I did.

Buck’s facial expression here indicates immediate disbelief. He can’t fathom the idea where he does something dangerous and there’s no one there to have his back. And not just any one but his specific someone. Since we know this coma dream is basically his subconscious, it just cements the fact that in any universe and in any world, Buck is content with the fact that there will always be someone who has his back. Even though he’s not saying Eddie’s name out loud, just showing that flashback to Eddie telling him “Alright cowboy go get em” proves that he’s thinking of him and only him.

Another thing to note during this moment with his siblings is the importance of who and what family means to Buck. When Maddie tells him about the family dinner, you once again can see it in his face that he’s confused, prompting him to question “what family?” Because he has three distinct families he can think of and consider just that.

(1.) His fire family which includes all the spouses and kids.

(2.) Maddie, Chim, Jee-Yun + Buckley’s???

(3.) Eddie and Christopher.

The last family dinner before he was in a coma was that weird Buckley/Han dinner. But what was the one before that?? Oh yeah the Buckley-Diaz family dinner back in 6.01, which was very significant and foreshadowed a lot in my honest opinion.

I most definitely think in another life (hah), if Buck wasn’t a firefighter, then he would have a career dealing with children. So a teacher makes sense for this alternate reality. I was really hoping for him being Christopher’s teacher but beggars can’t be choosers. I will say however, it’s so important that the second person he remembers in this coma world is Christopher. One look at that ferris wheel figurine in his loft and his thoughts immediately flood with the tsunami and Christopher yelling for help! That begs the question: why Christopher? Why is he so important to Buck that his subconscious is forcing that memory upon him?

Buck Knows Something Is Not Right

I want to reiterate something before I continue, and that is all of this coma dream was conjured up of Buck’s subconscious. These are not things that are true in real life and it’s just how he views certain things based off of information he’s received.

Seeing the Buckley’s trying to be a happy family is really troublesome because it’s not as natural and organic as you would think a real family interacting should be. Buck, from the beginning, knows that something is not right and he’s having difficulty trying to figure out what it is. It’s not until the introduction of Doug that he realizes he’s in some sort of weird alternate life.

I love that his first reaction was to seek Chimney because in every life, he will be the one person that will, undoubtedly believe Buck with anything he needs to say. As he tries to further convince Chimney that he knows him, you see him starting to really lose out on this hope that Chim will be the one that helps him get answers. I think Oliver’s acting was phenomenal because he just uses certain tactics where you see a slight tick of his breath or a slight downturn of his lip that changes how he’s feeling. That entire scene where he’s having a heart attack because Bobby is dead?! Holy hell terrific acting!!! But I don’t want to focus too much on his interactions with Chim or Hen because at the end of the day, this is meant to focus on the Buddie of it all, so apologies in advance friends.

Christopher Visits His Dad

I do not think I have fully recovered from the severity of this scene nor do I think I will for a really long time. The fact that it was Christopher's idea to go visit Buck in the hospital and he was so damn adamant reminds me of how he woke Buck up from his sleep so that he could talk to his father, who was also in a coma. If these two scenes are not meant to parallel one another and signify that both Eddie and Buck are seen as Christopher's fathers, then what is it meant to be?

Eddie, my sweet Eddie, was dressed in all black. I'm talking black shirt, black jeans, black button up. He was clearly meant to be in mourning with his grown out stubble and his dark circles. This is such a vast difference to the grieving Eddie we saw in 2.18 after the death of his wife. He was wearing a white henley and he was sad but not as devoid of all feelings as he was in this episode. But numb or not, one thing Eddie will always be is a wonderful father who loves his child and cannot say no to him. I think it was so sweet that Eddie had to put his own feelings aside and allow his son to see Buck, even if he had to sneak him in to do it.

Eddie in this entire scene was everything and more. I know a lot of people wanted a bit more from him. But this is Eddie Diaz we are talking about. The same Eddie Diaz that barely let Buck in last season and let him see him at his most vulnerable.

H: Christopher?

E: I couldn't tell him no.

C: Is he sleeping?

He is so very clearly devastated and trying to keep it together for his son's sake and it shows. He is avoiding eye contact with Chris because he doesn't want him to see the level of sadness he's holding in his eyes. He turns away and wipes his eyes because this is him trying to be strong but failing because it's Buck. He has to compose himself a bit before he can even answer his son. Ryan’s acting here was so amazing. The man really knows how to do broody and devastated haha.

(Gif by @agentoutofdiaz)

E: Something like that. He's resting. So the machines could do all the work. Make him feel better.

You can actually hear how broken he is by his voice. It sounds like someone who has been crying. Even his eyes are red and teary, which proves this man has been going through it. When Christopher asks him "What are all these tubes?" You can literally see Eddie in the back, closing his eyes and shaking his head. This is where he gives up. He is not strong enough to go on and explain to his son the severity of Buck's situation. He wants to wake up from this nightmare. You can see him struggling so hard when he closes his eyes and accepts defeat. This then prompts Hen to explain why the tubes are needed to Christopher.

Once again, this is how Eddie mourns. He is barely holding it together and you can clearly see the emotions on that man's face. It is the most difficult task in the world telling your child that their other parent is ill and may not wake up. So it goes to show how different it was when Buck had to break the bad news to Christopher vs how Eddie simply could not go into details on the severity of Buck's injuries. Another thing to remember is that Eddie didn't struggle this much when he told Chris about Shannon's death. They hugged while Chris cried, but he did not let Chris see him crying over Shannon. Instead, he went to the beach and cried by himself. It's such a massive turn of events because Eddie simply cannot even hide his tears from Christopher even if he wanted to. He is standing in the background, struggling to explain to his son what is happening with Buck, while having tears rolling down his face.

C: Hey Buck, it's Christopher, I know you're sick but it's only temporary. You're gonna be ok. That's what all the machines are doing, making you better. But wherever you are, you have to come back. Wherever you are right now, you have to come back.

(Gif by @matan4il)

I have no words, I am simply inconsolable. Christopher Diaz ripping out my heart with his words. Not only mine but you can clearly see how affected Eddie is in the background. He cannot look at his son talking to Buck like that. His eyes are diverted and he is openly wiping his tears while crying. Once again, that is a man grieving someone so fucking close to him. You cannot look at Eddie's reaction to Buck and compare it to the others’ because it just feels different. Yes everyone is emotional in their own ways, but none of them are acting like the love of their life is dying BUT Eddie. No one is wearing all black, no one is avoiding looking at him because the simple look of Buck so lifeless will break them, except Eddie. There is so much in his quiet mourning that screams volumes and people are just choosing not to focus on it. Especially when you go back and look at Eddie right after his wife actually died. The differences are night and day.

Christopher’s words to Buck also tie in two important events in the Buckley-Diaz family and that is the tsunami and Eddie being buried in that well. When he tells Buck “You’re gonna be ok”, that’s a direct callback to him telling Buck the same thing before the tsunami happened. That was ironically what saved Buck while he was in his little funk. Christopher saved Buck. Christopher’s “Wherever you are, you have to come back” is also a callback for when Eddie was buried and he was remembering his family. Sure that was what Shannon said to him but I think essentially, the idea of Chris and Buck is what saved Eddie. So here we have Chris once again saying a few choice words in the hope that it brings Buck home and I am too emotional about it all.

Buck Tries To Go Home

I’ve already written my thoughts on what the main purpose of this episode was, so if you’re interested in reading that, you can find it right here.

It’s clear as day that this whole coma dream was supposed to be a catalyst in Buck realizing who he is and that he doesn’t need a job or something else to be accepted and loved. Because the people who matter to him will always love him for being Buck.

One thing I do want to mention is that even in this coma world, he still knows and thinks about Christopher and Eddie. He literally runs into Chris in his coma dream and that small interaction killed me.

C: Can you help me find my dad?

B: Sorry but you're not real and I got to go. I'm really gonna feel guilty for that one.

At the end of the day, there’s a reason as to why Chris is asking for help finding his dad. Even though it breaks Buck’s heart to not help him, he knows to an extent that he will always be there helping Chris and Eddie if they need him. That this dream world doesn’t really exist and out there in the real world, he’ll help them every time.

I’m not thrilled about this weird parental redemption arc. It was too forced and not organic enough to be believable but that’s just my opinion.

When Daniel tries preventing Buck from going back, he throws it back in his face that he was literally made for spare parts that failed. That is literally Buck’s subconscious and his own issues being voiced. When he responds, “Wasn’t my fault”, it further proves that what Eddie has said to him resonated with him. So even though Eddie is missing in this coma world, the impact he in turn has had on Buck is extremely present.

At the end of it all, he finally realizes that he’s Buck and that his family who already love him, truly love him for the person he is. He doesn’t need to change anything about himself, doesn’t need to injure himself for that love because they already just do.

Buck Will Always Be Buck

I believe there’s definitely a long road to recocery ahead for Buck and I can’t wait to see him struggle with the after effects and the ptsd. I love the final team moment in which they all come to visit him in the hospital.

Eddie is clearly much happier than we’ve seen him all episode and he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Buck. His eyes still have dark circles but he looks a bit more put together. But the moment the camera zooms in on him, you can tell he once again checks him over with his eyes fully, before urging his son to hug Buck. You can hear the elation in his voice when he tells Chris to hug Buck. He sounds less broken and like he’s on the mend himself. He’s giggling and trying to enjoy the fact that Buck is alive.

The Buck and Christopher hug literally symbolizes a father and son reunited and no one can convince me otherwise!!! So wholesome and it really goes to show how different Christopher is to Buck. No one else’s kids came to visit, not even his own niece. And in an episode where the theme is, predominantly, fatherhood/parenthood, I think this is a huge choice to include their special bond.

Bobby and Buck: Father and Son

The ending scene with Bobby and Buck was very heartwarming. This episode really did highlight how close these two are and finally confirmed what we’ve all been saying for years and that is Buck is Bobby’s son. A few things that they said during their conversation really stood out to me.

B: You know you were still Bobby actually. You helped me figure some things out. Find my way home.

BN: Good. Though I still find it hard to believe that you voluntarily left a world where you could fix everything.

B: Not everything, uh trust me it's better here.

Once again, I am very convinced that there will be some kind of foreshadowing here in which Bobby helps Buck figure some things out. Like I mentioned in my last meta, I knew Bobby was going to help Buck figure some things out and in tonight's episode, he ultimately did. He helped him come home. But the way Buck is reserved and doesn't tell Bobby the whole truth tells me that he clearly still has some work to do in his life.

Yes he could have stayed in that world but at what cost? He wouldn't have Eddie or Christopher in his life, he wouldn't have Bobby in his life. So in his most ideal dreamt up world, he is missing the 3 most important people to him after his sister. He was unable to help fix things with Eddie, which lead to him losing his custody battle with his parents. He was unable to help fix Bobby's addiction, thus leading to his death. A world without the Diaz boys and Bobby is not a world in which Evan Buckley wants to be a part of and that speaks tremendous voices.

The Couch Conversation

I am still very annoyed at this weird parental redemption act and I don't know how much longer I can buy that those people have truly changed for the better. One thing that is very important to note is the couch conversation.

When his mother asks him if he plans on getting a couch, Buck is quick to reassure her that "Eventually. I'm good with the chair for now." That's his way of being fine being single for the time being. He doesn't need a relationship, especially since he just came back from a serious injury. Then his mother insists on pushing it further and tells him that she will be getting him a couch. Once again Buck reaffirms that he is "Good with the chair." His mother then seems very adamant on making his loft more homey and he seems ok to let her do it, going so far as calling it "nice."

Now if we all remember the conversation from 6.01, a couch symbolizes a relationship to Buck. He told Eddie and Christopher that he didn't want to pick the wrong couch again and here we have his mother just going out and choosing one for herself. This will backfire eventually because Buck stated multiple times he doesn't want a couch, that he's good with his armchair. So I think this foreshadows his parents, his fire family forcing their support and care to Buck after his recovery, where the man just wants to be left alone to recuperate. It would make sense in that way.

I don't foresee a new legitimate love interest appearing and having us focus on the development of that, especially knowing that there are good moments set to occur between Buck and Eddie. I say this because Buck is on a road to recovery and he will be suffering from some ptsd. Who do we know that just recently went through his own struggles with ptsd? Oh yeah the same person who turned to Buck for support: Eddie. So I strongly believe Eddie will be playing a more important role in Buck's recovery. I also think the couch of it all is very open ended and that it can symbolize many different things. For now, I am choosing to wait and see what the symbolism of this new couch is going to be. Surely it won't stick around forever since we all know who has Buck's perfect couch...

Once again, thank you so much if you read all of this. This one was a tough one for me considering how emotional this episode was for me. Thank you to @aa-lionheart for all the other wonderful gifs. All my love to you darlings 💜

#buddie #buddie meta #911 meta #911 spoilers #christopher diaz #911 on fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #chimney han #bobby nash

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itshermocrates · 27 days

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POISON- Ep. 4 Analysis

I have no idea if someone has already done something like this but these two unfortunate souls have been in my mind since I watched the show TWO WEEKS AGO. So I'm gonna share with you this personal analysis of what we saw during the Poison scene in Ep. 4 of Hazbin Hotel.

Again, I don’t know if anyone has already talked about this (I’m not very active on tumblr), but I think that what we see as Angel sings Poison is made not only to tell us how the relationship Angel has with Valentino is but ALSO how it came to be thanks to everything that's happening on screen while he's singing.

Of course the lyrics are also important so I’ll make some reference to those as well, but I’ll focus mainly on what we see. Since I can only add 30 pics in this post this will be a bit difficult but I will try my best.

SOME CONTENT WARNINGS! I'm not sure if this is even necessary but anyways,,, Pychological abuse, abuse, violence, domestic violence, drugs, addiction, sex work, dubius consent, sexual violence, abusive relationship, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, suicidal ideas (hinted), etc.

Now, without further ado, let's begin!

Before the song, Valentino and Angel have a fight in his dressing room. I want to start here because during that fight Angel gets a black eye and we get to see how the walls of his room are filled, not only by security cameras, but also by a lot of eyes that follow Angel wherever he goes inside the room. We will see more of these eyes soon enough.

After that fight Angel sends Charlie back home and we see a bit more of what we could expect from Valentino with his manipulation tactics. The sweet tone and the praise as he embraces Angel from behind, too close and too intimate considering he will be soon forcing him to go back to work.

These are the tricks every abuser uses to manipulate and control the people around them, and it’s what Valentino uses all the time with Angel.

This is the behavior of an abusive boyfriend, a dynamic they have in the present, but once Poison starts, we are presented with their backstory. Now we will get to see how that dynamic is even possible, how these two ended up together and how their relationship started and evolved.

Valentino sits next to the movie director and everyone starts moving to prepare the scene they are about to film. He is the one in control here, the one calling for action again and deciding who does what and when. And just like that we see how Angel's black eye is concealed by makeup, erasing the marks of what had just happened and metaphorically erasing the violence of the relationship he is in now.

Angel closes his eyes in displeasure, focusing on what Valentino wants from him. When he opens his eyes again, his expression is completely different, this Angel without bruises, is not only a version of him from minutes ago, before the fight with Val, or even prior to the abuse… This is the Angel before Valentino.

He walks backwards, as if he was going back in time, moving easily with the playful shamelessness that characterized him back then. When he sings “I’m not above a love to cash in” he was most likely referring to his past as a sex worker or at least, as someone who didn’t mind to sell his affections to get what he needed/wanted. During this time, he would most likely go clubbing every night, since it offered a good way to earn easy money while he had a great time, partying, drinking, consuming…

Angel probably was the type of person who used those who desired him to get whatever he wanted, a game he knew how to play. Even if it could get risky or inconvenient, he was a free soul, he was still in control of what he did or didn't do with all those people, so at the end of the day, he always won. That’s what he believes as he playfully lays back on the setting’s bed again.

That had always been true after all, or at least it was until he came across someone that beated him at his own game. Someone who would take that freedom and control over his own body away from him.

His expression changes again to one of terror when a shadow looms over his body from outside the frame. That’s the silhouette of the men he was previously filming with, but we can also imagine that this figure suddenly changing the way he moves, reacts and feels, was meant to represent Valentino.

After the other actors surround him, and the scene fades to black, we are shown what could have been Angel's previous workplace. A stripclub where he danced for money and probably engaged in sex work in a somewhat safe and controlled environment. Back then he had become popular enough to be "the star" of his own show, and a performer good enough to get a reputation that would eventually reach the ears of one of the most powerful overlords in that district.

Valentino discovered him maybe by chance, or maybe not. Maybe he had heard of Angel Dust and wanted to see for himself if this dancer was as good and pretty as all those people said. And after watching him perform Valentino was the furthest from disappointed, he had enjoyed the show so much that he decided to take a closer look at this Angel Dust’s skills.

He approaches him, maybe as a client, or maybe just as a guy interested in what he had to offer, and although Angel doesn't trust him at first, he ends up entering his game.

He was just another man who wanted to fuck him, one that had enough money to spoil him all he had ever wanted and more. It was quite the opportunity for someone as low in the food chain as him, and Angel had already played with rich men like Valentino before, he knew what he was doing.

So Angel took the bait, and had sex with Valentino. Probably a blowjob in that same club he danced at that served as a test for Valentino.

Now we have a scene with two Valentinos, one that is about to get head from Angel with a video camera on his hand, and another Val standing behind the cameras and lights of what we now know to be another movie set. The first Val we saw, extending his hand before Angel when he finished his performance, was the Val of his past, the one he sucked off the night they met. That was someone Angel thought to be somewhat honest, or, at the very least a man he heavily underestimated.

It's the playful man that winks seductively at him in the set from afar with those red hot eyes he fell for, the same that quickly turns into a different guy with similar clothes (red jacket and white fur) now recording him on set. Someone who quickly became a stranger to Angel, just as he is for us, since we can’t even see his face.

The second Val it's the real one, the one standing next to the movie director watching everything with calculating eyes and a dangerous smile. That's the man who told Angel all those red hot lies he believed to be true, and the one judging with this first meeting if the spider was a worthy investment or not.

Angel proves to be good enough. Valentino likes him, and after that night he starts to actively pursue Angel but he didn’t do that as a simple client. He can tell Angel isn't a common whore, he has talent, charisma and he's been playing this game for long enough to know all the tricks. One can only become so successful in this world knowing how to play their cards well.

It’s obvious then what he has to do to turn Angel into his next movie star. Valentino needs to make him fall in love with him and make him believe that Valentino can love him just as much. This is exactly what he is going to do.

On screen we see how Valentino's sex pollen (he's a moth guys, it has to be sex pollen) starts to fill the scene, and as it expands it engulfs Angel, making us know just how captivated, how absorbed he will end up being.

Note: I know there’s a theory that says that Valentino’s power comes from his saliva or something like that and I haven’t read it or anything, but I do believe the smoke/fog that surrounds him has the same effect as the “sex pollen” trope. Or at least it’s similar.

The red fog expands all over the frame, emphasizing Valentino’s overpowering skills and charisma. When it clears, we see Angel in a different place while he sings the second line of the lyrics “What’s the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself”.

His expression is one of pure anguish and regret, and he’s saying this while standing in front of Valentino in his apartment. He's talking about how naive he was for believing all of Valentino's lies, to truly believe that what he felt for Angel was love. He blames himself for buying this love story and falling for him so hard it made him very easy to manipulate. He regrets not having seen it before it was too late.

Because when Valentino’s back appears at the left corner of the frame, with an extended hand and smoke-made chains, it’s Angel the one who finally cuts the distance and accepts the chains Val is offering him.

Angel was too blinded by Valentino’s courting, by his sweet words and lovely gestures, but also by the constant push and pull of their dynamic, the flirting, the teases, the seduction. He loved the attention and he loved the sense of control, of power, he could feel when he was with Valentino, an overlord no less, a demon so rich and powerful he could have anyone he could have ever wanted. But Val had chosen him, him of all people.

This brief initial moment represents the regret he feels when he remembers how it all started, when Angel thinks about the beginning of their relationship, a time when everything seemed fine and their sexual chemistry made him lose all sense of reason. Because with Val everything ended up leading him to his bed.

After this short display of regret, we are presented a sequence made to represent the fantasy Angel indulged himself in, an illusion tinted in pink colors and fun costumes. This is the story Valentino had carefully created for him to make him fall in love with him, a story that made the spider feel so good when he was by his side, he could easily excuse any warning sign in his sight.

Because Angel would obviously want to be with Valentino when all he knew about him was his lover persona, a facade that portrayed him as a passionate lover and playful partner, his (soon to be) poison.

They had fun and even when Valentino showed little fragments of his true intentions and personality, Angel was too blinded to notice that he was starting to lose the very game he had considered himself a master of. Valentino and the relationship Angel had with him was addictive, so it didn't matter what happened, Angel always came back. You can think of this as the result of Valentino’s sex pollen, his charisma or a combination of both, depending on what flavor of angst is your favorite.

What we can know for sure, is that they were both performers in their own ways, both players in the game of love, so Angel could have excused and normalized a lot of things he shouldn't have. Knowing their line of work, of course that they could get a bit too intense every now and then, of course things could get a bit out of hand between them, they were just sooo dramatic.

It was that rollercoaster of emotions, the raw intensity of it all what ended up hooking Angel so much. The playfulness that could get a bit dangerous really fast, even if the Valentino he thought he knew would never really hurt him. Right?

A few little details I like about this sequence are the way we get to see Valentino’s home in the background and how the colors of his clothes and body are darker than usual but still lighter in comparison to what we will see in the following scenes, indicating how this was still the “nice” version of Valentino.

In the same way, Angel is playing with the chains bounding his wrists together, not his neck (yet), telling us that he’s playing with fire, quite literally dancing with the idea of being owned by Val, but he is still a free soul. In this moment he was falling hard and quick for Valentino’s lies, but he wasn’t his captive yet.

He’s having fun while being manhandled by Valentino, both physically and emotionally, but he still thinks of it as a game, another part of their sex life and how they naturally work as a couple. It’s exciting, it’s new and Angel loves it.

Not knowing that the longer he stays the more power is giving Val over him. Valentino is starting to show his true colors, in these last frames we can see that his figure is getting darker as Angel is slowly discovering the manipulative side of Val, the controlling and abusive nature he had been hiding from the spider since the beginning.

The push and pull continues as we see their silhouettes dancing, even if in reality this is Valentino pulling from his side of the chain to keep Angel close, to keep him with him.

After the shadows sequence, we get back to the playfulness Angel had shown when he took the chains for himself and started to tease Valentino. Only that this time, Val’s colors are darker and his touch more possessive, more aggressive. He’s groping him and even choking him while Angel sings “I made my choice and every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” with a grin, showing us how this was still a game for him.

He made his choice staying with Val because he loved him and he thought he was loved in return, when the moth had been only toying with him from the moment they first saw each other. This is Angel’s greatest regret, the fact that he truly believed Val’s lies, that despite all the warning signs he kept choosing him over and over again.

Choosing to stay, to kneel before Val, to obey him with the promise of a new wave of pleasure, a new high. Just as Valentino wanted him to do as we can see the vicious smile he wears during this entire sequence.

I think the next couple of seconds tells us how, for a while, they were together and Angel was still able to keep his job at the club. He was still allowed to see his friends (his coworkers most likely) and spend time with them, while Valentino made sure to feed all his previous bad habits and addictions, giving him gifts (we know Fat Nuggets was a gift from Val), a lot of money he could spend on a whim and eventually, probably the substances to use as well.

The smile on his face, the smugness of it, makes me think he’s telling his friends about this rich guy that pampers him in every way and treats him like a prince. He has found the ultimate Sugar Daddy, a man that has changed his life forever in the best way possible. Now he can have whatever he wants, party for days without having to worry about not having enough money to eat at the end of the month or a place to stay.

Angel would have used drugs before, maybe occasionally, maybe only at parties, maybe to get the worst bits of his job done, maybe he was already a bit of an addict, but it’s now, when he has the means to consume every night that he definitely becomes one.

Valentino made sure of it.

During this time, Valentino would secure the control he had over Angel, weakening his mind and will by worsening his addiction problem while continuing convincing him of how much he loved him. The parties were incredible, the sex was amazing, and Angel felt on top of the world at every moment. He was “living like there’s no tomorrow” without realizing the higher he raised above the ground, the hardest would be his fall.

And maybe this is just me over analyzing a kinky moment, but after this, after Valentino bites Angel causing him a wince of pain and maybe even making him bleed, everything changes.

They are having sex, far from the flashing lights, they are together as Anthony and Val, as the real person who oftenly hides behind his stage persona. The person who is deeply in love with Valentino, who is vulnerable and allows his lover to hurt him however he wants because he trusts that the pleasure that follows will be worth it.

But after that bite, he’s no longer in bed with Val, he's in the same bed from the very beginning of this music video, surrounded by lights, disoriented and confused… As if he was expecting Valentino to be between his legs and not this stranger.

When he finally comes to his senses and sits, we hear for the first time the line “My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison”. This was the beginning of the end of their honeymoon phase and the point of no return. Valentino had considered Angel weakened enough to take a step further, and a new part of him is finally uncovered when he carefully introduces Angel to the porn industry. He would do so (probably) while Angel was too intoxicated and definitely too blindly in love to know what he was doing.

Valentino becomes this overwhelming shadow that covers Angel’s body, a silhouette he can’t escape from, and when we are shown what Angel sees, we can no longer see the color of Valentino’s clothes. His colorful persona, his facade of playful lover it’s no longer in place, he has stopped pretending and acting as the good boyfriend the spider had always wanted. Now before Angel there’s only the demon that owns thousands of souls, a vicious drooling smile and sharp red eyes. An overlord to fear and be intimidated by.

The background is filled with filming equipment, and even if Valentino’s body language is meant to appear welcoming, Angel feels terrified. This is not the Valentino he knew, and now he is completely trapped. He can’t refuse now, this is a choice he is being forced to make even if his soul still technically belongs to him.

After being pressured, Angel becomes part of this industry, and although he doesn’t really like it, he still trusts Valentino enough to not run away. The overlord can be scary, but he still believes that he’s safe with him, that if Val is by his side nothing wrong could ever happen to him. And after all, he had done sex work before, right? What difference did it make to fuck strangers for money in front of a camera now?

He’s not comfortable, and every day that intimidating side of Valentino that wasn’t really there before grows darker, fiercer and scarier. Angel had seen the ugliness of Valentino before, as a man, as a possessive boyfriend, as a controlling partner, but never as the powerful demon he truly was. So he still obeys Val and features in a few movies of his choice.

We can see these doubts, Angel’s discomfort and even a bit of his trust in Valentino at the beginning of the next sequence, when they appear on the set of a different movie.

Angel was a performer, he had faked his own pleasure before, he could do it again now, and he could do it while earning way more money. He could do so, because he knew Valentino was there, guiding him, helping him, making sure his lover was safe. He always thought that Val was looking out for him, making sure he was getting the right roles in the right movies, the right contracts, and when he was nervous, Valentino was right by his side to comfort him.

But Valentino had never cared about Angel’s safety. And once Angel started to voice his doubts or show his discomfort, he made sure he couldn’t do it for much longer. The comfort Angel sought for was quickly replaced by something chemical, something that eased his nerves but also left him dazed and disoriented.

It was then that Valentino drugged him, tricked him and made him sign the contract that would leave him with only half a soul inside his chest.

Valentino had fed Angel’s addiction for a long time, adding to the mix not only the illusion of a love story, but also his own drug, his sex pollen, something that numbed the spider’s mind enough to go through all the things Valentino wanted him to do in front of the camera. Oftenly Angel was left too intoxicated to respond, too vulnerable and weak. In his last moments of lucidity he always could see Valentino, his lover, the man he thought would always take care of him, turning his back to him and leave him.

Valentino is the last thing he sees before everything fades to black around him, before he disappears. He’s no longer Anthony or Angel Dust, the stage persona, now the lines between those two different identities blurry beyond repair, and the person he becomes is a little more Angel Dust and a lot less Anthony.

I don’t think that it was just a coincidence that they used a BDSM scene to represent the moment Angel definitely lost control of his actions, his body and most likely also his soul. BDSM is all about power dynamics and the control that’s exchanged between consenting partners, only that, in this case, Angel didn’t really have a choice and there was no consent. This lack of control and safety is emphasized precisely by the type of session Angel is forced into.

He’s restrained in every way possible, he’s tied up, a blindfold covers his eyes and a gag is forced onto his mouth, one that would prevent him from closing it no matter how much he tried. He has no way to end the scene, no way to say a safeword, to complain or to stop what other people do with him or to him.

This is meant to represent the moment he signed the contract, and how he felt every time he entered the set of a new movie after he signed it. He stopped being his own person, he had disappeared, and what had been left of him was nothing but a sex toy for Valentino to control in each of his productions.

Now we see the Angel Dust that survived this state of numbness and dissociation, the one that has consumed Anthony just so he could keep himself alive.

While Angel Dust dances, seemingly enjoying the show, performing as he has always done, in the background screens we see what’s left of Anthony, of the boy feeling trapped and used with no single way out of it. This is accompanied by more fragments of that BDSM scene that changed it all, since that was a traumatic event that repeats itself in Angel’s mind every time Valentino forces him into a new role, a new movie, a new lie.

These frames show us not only the stress Angel is feeling, but also how Valentino is always there to exploit his body in the way he deems more profitable. We know this because he appears in between Angel’s anguish, but also because the same eyes that covered his dressing room walls are in the background while someone fucks Angel from behind.

While this happens we hear again “I made my choice”, a reminder of Angel’s regrets, shame and guilt. In addition the line “Every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” now has slightly changed, indicating the shift in Angel’s life and condition as no longer a free soul. What we hear now is “Every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow”.

Where once he was happy, he’s now desperate, begging to get a way out.

We see a bit more of the playful performer, Angel Dust, and the pain of Anthony in the background before Valentino approaches him again like a great imposing figure, putting an end to his show.

The second Angel notices Valentino, distress becomes clear all over his face. He points to the left, outside of what we can see, and when he tries to escape, Valentino grabs him and pulls him closer.

He has finally come face to face with the real Valentino in all his twisted glory and he wants to run away. He knows now that what they had wasn’t love, it had never been, and it’s painful. But he’s afraid of Valentino, he can’t do anything to escape his contract and he now belongs to him (at least while they’re on set).

That last frame with Valentino embracing him, a vicious smile on his face in contrast with Angel’s terrified expression puts an end to their story, to the narration of how they came to be what they are now. After that, we are presented to the aftermath, the Angel that’s no longer intoxicated by his poison and can only dread the many past choices he would like to change.

He is now fully aware that there’s no way out of his hell, that for as long as he is alive he will be Valentino’s toy. He’s destroyed in every way, his mind is a mess too dependent on the drugs Valentino has been feeding him to properly think, and his body has stopped to feel as his own a long time ago.

How could he consider that pile of bones, fur and chemically loosen up muscles as his own? He’s disgusted, drowning in this feeling of helplessness.

And he’s even more grossed out when he notices the remains of Valentino’s poison, his drug, still lingering on his tongue. He’s so lost, he doesn’t even recognize himself. This is not where he was supposed to be, he shouldn’t be in Valentino’s apartment, he doesn’t want to be there anymore.

The substance that once had brought him so much joy, such a delicious bliss, now slips past his lips burning his skin like acid. The itch reminds him of the reason why he’s there, and he can only feel pain. The only cause for most of his problems had always been his addiction. To Val, the sex they had, his poison, the drugs he bought for him…

No matter how hard he tries to get used to this life he has with Val now, he simply can’t do it. It doesn’t matter how many movies he appears in, they are never enough, they will never be enough for the overlord. Because he’s nothing but a tool to make Valentino and the other Vs even richer and more powerful.

That’s Valentino’s business and what initially made him get close to Vox. They complimented each other and together they felt capable of ruling Hell like that was their birthright. A power Angel would never get to know firsthand, because for Valentino he was nothing but another whore to use, exploit and eventually discard.

Angel is sick of it, is tired of living a life he hates, a lonely life full of pain and abuse, all caused by the person he loved the most.

He has spent years trapped in the V Tower, watched by the countless cameras placed in every wall and every corner of his prison. Even when he’s not on set, controlled by Valentino and his team, he feels Vox lenses following all of his movements, and despite the luxury he lives in, every day he goes to sleep wishing to never wake up.

That's all, folks. I hope you liked it, or at least got as sad as I felt while analyzing this. Again this is all what I could understand from that segment of the episode I don't know if y'all already knew this but I did wanted to share it. If you liked this check my bird app account bc there is where I spend most of my online time or my Ao3 profile, although I post mostly Skfs content now <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel episode 4 #valangel #valentino x angel dust #hazbin spoilers #hazbin spoilers ep 4 #I could't remain crying on my own so I came to share #valentino's sex pollen is real #poison hazbin hotel

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cool-fancier · 1 month

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Behind the Glamour

Synopsis: In the dazzling world of entertainment, Y/N, a makeup artist, navigates secrecy and jealousy while dating actress Jisoo. Can their love survive the spotlight?

As a makeup artist in the bustling world of entertainment, you had seen it all – the glitz, the glamour, and the drama that came with it. But nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind romance that had swept you off your feet and into the arms of Jisoo, one of the most talented actresses in the industry.

It all started innocently enough – a chance encounter on the set of a music video shoot, where you had been hired to do makeup for the cast. From the moment you laid eyes on Jisoo, you were captivated by her beauty and grace, her infectious laughter filling the room with warmth and joy.

But it wasn't just her looks that drew you to her – it was her kindness, her intelligence, and her unwavering dedication to her craft. As you worked together day after day, you found yourself falling harder and harder for her, unable to resist the magnetic pull of her presence.

And it seemed that Jisoo felt the same way, her eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary, her smiles a little brighter whenever you were around. You tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest, telling yourself that it was just a silly crush, but deep down, you knew that it was something more.

So when Jisoo finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date, you didn't hesitate to say yes. And from that moment on, your lives became intertwined in ways you never could have imagined.

But as thrilling as it was to be in a relationship with Jisoo, it also came with its fair share of challenges. As two public figures in the entertainment industry, you had to be careful to keep your relationship under wraps, lest it attract unwanted attention from the paparazzi and fans alike.

It wasn't easy, sneaking around behind closed doors, stealing moments of intimacy whenever you could. But for Jisoo, it was worth it – worth the risk, worth the secrecy, worth everything.

And so, you found yourself standing on the set of Jisoo's latest film, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched her prepare for her next scene. She was a vision of beauty in her costume, her hair and makeup flawless as always, her eyes sparkling with excitement and nerves.

You had just finished applying her makeup, your fingers lingering on her skin a little longer than necessary, when the director called for the actors to take their places. Jisoo shot you a grateful smile before hurrying off to join the rest of the cast, leaving you to watch from the sidelines with a mixture of pride and longing.

The scene was a pivotal moment in the film – a tender, romantic moment between Jisoo's character and her love interest, played by a handsome actor named Daniel. As the cameras rolled, you held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold before your eyes.

But as Jisoo and Daniel leaned in for the kiss, your stomach churned with jealousy, a pang of envy shooting through you like a bolt of lightning. You knew it was just acting, just a job, but seeing Jisoo in another man's arms made your blood boil with rage.

Your grip on your makeup brush tightened, your knuckles turning white as you fought to control your emotions. You knew you had to stay professional, to keep up appearances for the sake of Jisoo's career, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing second.

As the scene came to an end, you forced yourself to relax, plastering a smile on your face as you watched Jisoo and Daniel exchange pleasantries between takes. But inside, your heart was aching, torn between the love you felt for Jisoo and the jealousy that threatened to consume you whole.

And as you watched Jisoo return to your side after the scene was finished, her eyes shining with excitement and adrenaline, you knew that you had to find a way to overcome your feelings of jealousy before they destroyed everything you had worked so hard to build.

— — — — — — — —

The days that followed were some of the most challenging of your life, as you struggled to come to terms with your feelings of jealousy and insecurity. Every time you saw Jisoo with another actor, whether on set or in public, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest, a constant reminder of your own inadequacies and shortcomings.

But despite your best efforts to push those feelings aside, they continued to plague you, festering like an open wound that refused to heal. You tried to bury yourself in your work, throwing yourself into your role as Jisoo's makeup artist with renewed fervor, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape the nagging voice in the back of your mind.

It wasn't until one fateful day on set that you finally reached your breaking point. Jisoo was filming a particularly emotional scene with her co-star, a talented actor named Alex, and you found yourself struggling to keep your emotions in check as you watched from the sidelines.

The scene was intense, filled with raw emotion and vulnerability, and as Jisoo and Alex locked eyes, you felt a surge of jealousy wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew it was ridiculous – that it was just acting, just a job – but try as you might, you couldn't shake the feeling that something more was going on between them.

As the cameras rolled, you felt yourself growing more and more agitated, your grip on your makeup brush tightening with each passing moment. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand that Jisoo stop filming and come to you, but you knew that would only make things worse.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened. Jisoo and Alex leaned in for the kiss, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that sent shockwaves of pain shooting through you like a bolt of lightning.

You couldn't take it anymore. With a cry of anguish, you turned on your heel and fled from the set, tears streaming down your face as you ran blindly through the corridors of the studio.

You didn't stop until you reached the safety of your dressing room, where you collapsed onto the floor in a heap, your body wracked with sobs as you struggled to make sense of the storm raging inside you.

How had things gotten so out of control? How had you let your jealousy and insecurity drive a wedge between you and the woman you loved?

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, a soft knock sounded at the door, followed by the sound of Jisoo's voice calling out your name.

"Y/N? Are you in there? Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to face her after your outburst. But then, with a deep breath, you nodded, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come.

The door swung open, and there she stood, a look of concern etched on her face as she rushed to your side, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

"Y/N, what happened? Why did you run off like that?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.

You sniffled, wiping away your tears as you tried to find the words to explain. "I-I'm sorry, Jisoo," you stammered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just couldn't... I couldn't watch you with him anymore. It hurt too much."

Jisoo's expression softened, her fingers gently brushing the tears from your cheeks as she leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Oh, Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You silly goose. Don't you know that you're the only one for me? That no one else could ever take your place?"

You looked up at her, your heart swelling with love and gratitude as you realized the depth of her feelings for you. "But what about all the other actors? The kissing scenes? How can you stand it?"

Jisoo smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Because none of them mean anything to me, Y/N. They're just actors playing a role. But you... you're the only one who holds my heart in your hands."

And as you melted into her embrace, the weight of your jealousy and insecurity finally lifted from your shoulders, leaving nothing but love and devotion in its wake.

— — — — — — — —

From that day forward, things were different between you and Jisoo – in the best possible way. You no longer let jealousy and insecurity cloud your judgment, knowing now that the love you shared was strong enough to withstand any obstacle that came your way.

Sure, there were still moments of doubt and uncertainty, days when the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head and threatened to tear you apart. But each time, you and Jisoo stood together, united in your love and commitment to one another, stronger than ever before.

And as the years passed, your relationship only grew stronger, deepening with each passing day as you weathered life's ups and downs together. You laughed together, cried together, and leaned on each other for support when times got tough, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything that came your way.

As for your career as a makeup artist, it continued to thrive, with Jisoo by your side every step of the way. Together, you worked on countless projects, from blockbuster films to high-profile photo shoots, each one a testament to your talent and dedication to your craft.

And through it all, your love for one another remained unwavering, a beacon of light in a world filled with darkness. For you and Jisoo, there was no greater joy than being together, no greater blessing than the love you shared.

And as you stood together on the set of Jisoo's latest film, her hand clasped tightly in yours, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, you would always be happy.

From that day forward, a newfound sense of freedom and trust blossomed between you and Jisoo, strengthening the bond you shared in ways you never thought possible. No longer burdened by the weight of jealousy and insecurity, you embraced each moment together with renewed passion and devotion.

One evening, after a long day on set, you found yourselves alone in Jisoo's trailer, the soft glow of the lights casting a warm, intimate atmosphere around you. As she removed her costume and makeup, you couldn't help but admire the way the light danced across her skin, illuminating her features in a soft, ethereal glow.

"You did amazing today," you said, your voice filled with genuine admiration as you watched her move about the small space.

Jisoo smiled, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she turned to face you. "Thanks, Y/N. I couldn't have done it without you," she replied, her voice soft and sincere.

Stepping closer, you reached out to gently cup her cheek, your fingers tracing the curve of her jawline with featherlight touches. "I'm so proud of you, Jisoo. You're incredibly talented, and I'm lucky to be able to witness your brilliance every day."

Her smile widened at your words, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she leaned into your touch. "You always know just what to say, Y/N," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to her lips, savoring the warmth and sweetness of her embrace. It felt like coming home, like finding sanctuary in the arms of the one you loved most in the world.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you locked in a moment of pure, unbridled passion. It was as if time itself had stopped, frozen in place as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace.

When you finally pulled away, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gazed into Jisoo's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and affection. "I love you, Jisoo," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," she replied, her voice soft and tender as she pressed another kiss to your lips, sealing your love in a moment of pure bliss.

And as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of a love story that would last a lifetime.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink jisoo #blackpink fluff

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sahyoluvr · 10 months

Text

proximity - huh yunjin x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

(requested by anon)

____________________________________________

you’d think that being idols, it was extremely important, at least to the company, to keep away from dating rumours. especially within the group. hence yours and yunjin’s reaction to the directors words at the day of shooting on set.

you were prepared to have your comeback in a few weeks time and you were at the set of the mv shoot. the other girls were attending their own separate, individual schedules but you and yunjin were asked to film a section of the music video together. you are filled with utter excitement; until what the director had mentioned.

“we are shooting a kissing scene” he says, crossing his arms.

“sorry?”

“w-what?”

you and yunjin look at each other baffled, before blush becomes to creep up both of your cheeks’.

the director continues, giving a sheepish look towards the two of you, “i know it might be a little uncomfortable, and we apologise for that, but we’ll make it as quick as possible.”

this wasn’t how you imagined your first kiss with yunjin.

this wasn’t how yunjin imagined her first kiss with you.

no matter, a kiss with each other was a dream come true.

you prepared for the shoot, and your faces edged close to each other. you breath halted when you could feel the soft drought from her mouth against yours. you heart felt as if it were to fall out of your chest.

“yunjin-shi, please put your hand behind yn’s neck.”

“okay” she complied.

goosebumps form on the surface of your skin as she gently brushes her hand against your flesh. unbeknownst to you, she can feel your pulse beating in an out-of-control way.

she smirks to herself in satisfaction.

you feel her lips brush against yours and you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment but follow through anyway.

you mentally collapse when the moment occurs, losing all sense of time and perception. her lips felt as though they were a drug, making you feel dizzy; in a good way.

after what felt like hours but were truly only minutes, the shoot had wrapped. you struggle to hold yourself together. you were slightly hyperventilating and your hands were shaking uncontrollably.

yunjin clasps your hands in her warm ones. she looks into your eyes and with no thought, gives you a short sweet kiss on the lips.

that wasn’t going to help.

____________________________________________

an: okay so i’m back but this was sitting in my drafts and is so bad it’s just a little fill-in for the time i went missing. not expecting to get good response, but it was an anons request either way, had to get it done. :)

#huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines

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ashensgrotto · 11 months

Text

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 1)

Characters: AzulAshengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 (You are Here) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author's Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui 's annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don't write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will had links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Cruel and cold like winds on the seas

Will you ever return to me

Hear my voice sing with the tide

My love will never die

Over waves and deep in the blue

I will give up my heart for you

***

If someone were to tell you that you’d eventually be pulled into the wrong end of the sea by, not one but three, unknown sea creatures - you’d probably laugh your head off, thinking they’ve lost their mind.

But how wrong you’d be.

When you had initially applied to work at Twisted Wonders - an emporium of oddities that were collected and studied by the greatest minds in existence - you thought you’d be taking an everyday desk job; answering phone calls, scheduling tours, directing visitors… that sort of thing.

Never in your right mind would you believe that you would be working alongside the Dire Crowley - director and owner of Twisted Wonders. Mr. Crowley was an acclaimed renowned genius with an air that was both mysterious and alluring. He was approximately 170 cm in height (five feet, seven inches) and wore rich tailored clothing made of silks and leather with gold embroidery and jewels embedded into the vest and belt; of course, he upped his strange allure by consistently wearing a heavy leather overcoat that hung to his frame, decorated in black feathers - real or faux, no one was sure, a top hat that perched on his head, and a mask of black that reminded you of a crow - his arched nose hidden under the long rim of the mask that poked out like a beak.

“Here’s the deal, (Y/N),” Mr. Crowley spoke, reclining back in his desk chair as a pair of golden eyes peered out from behind the mask, “We’ve recently acquired three creatures that need to be observed. My team, however, has been unsuccessful at getting remotely close to studying them. They seem to think that an outsider might have a higher success rate at being able to approach them more than any of us will due to their knowing who we are.”

“So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“I want you to observe them,” Mr. Crowley spoke, pushing a contract towards you, “You will work with my group of scientists for about three months as well as the three creatures. You are to notate anything and everything you see the trio doing - how they eat, sleep, react with each other, and so forth - and document everything for our records, no matter how insignificant it is. If you prove your worth and competence within those three months, you will be moved to another position within the facility of your choosing.”

“And that’s it? That’s all I need to do?”

“That’s it.”

‘Seems pretty easy for a payment of twenty dollars an hour…’ you thought as you looked down at the contract before, “And this is my… compliance, right?”

“That would be correct, as well as a safety and confidentiality agreement,” Mr. Crowley answered, offering a pen in your direction.

You took the instrument and wrote your name across the bottom of the page on the dotted line.

“Alright,” Dire Crowley took the contract and stood, pressing a buzzer on his desk, “with everything in order, I’ll have Grimsley take you to meet Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein - the overseers of our aquatic project.”

“I’m sorry, did you say aquatic?” your eyes widened in surprise.

“Dear me, did I forget to mention that part?” Mr. Crowley tapped his chin, his glowing eyes looking up toward the ceiling before returning to rest on your features, “Our newest arrivals are of the oceanic nature - I’ve never met or seen them myself, however Professor Crewel and Professor Trein will be able to go over the basics with you and introduce you to the trio in question.”

“As long as they don’ forget the good stuff!” a snarky voice spoke from behind.

You turned in your chair toward the door to see the man who must’ve been Grimsley.

He was about 163 cm in height with pale skin and dark gray hair with tufts of flame blue poking out in random directions. His eyes also were flame blue and held mischief in their depths that matched the smirk on his face as a set of sharp teeth peered out from behind thin lips. He wore a suit of black with a vest that matched his hair, a black and white-striped tie, and a white dress shirt. Leather loafers padded softly against the carpeted flooring of Crowley's office as he held out a black leather gloved hand in greeting.

"Grimsley Overblot," the man smiled like a Cheshire cat, "I'm Mr. Crowley's henchman and errand runner here at Twisted Wonders."

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you answer, taking Grimsley's hand with a shake, "pleasure to meet you."

“Grimsley, go ahead and take (Y/N) to see the good professors,” Dire Crowley spoke, a satisfied smile on his features, “I’m sure the two are more than ecstatic to meet her.”

***

As it turns out, both men were ecstatic to meet you - though Professor Trein was a bit more reserved about it versus his partner.

Trein's appearance matched his personality - his posture indicated a "no nonsense" aura as did his unchanging features. His lips would quirk into a small smile before they would fall to a straight line as his dark eyes settled on your uneasy form, as if he enjoyed watching you squirm like a germ under the microscope. He was dressed as any scientist would; a heavy white lab coat that fell to his knees hung around his frame that covered a white dress shirt and charcoal-colored dress pants and loafers. His hair was gray with streaks of white and wrinkles covered every inch of his face and neck. He also wore a set of white pristine gloves and had a cravat around his neck with a singular emerald gem that held the cloth together.

As for his partner, Professor Crewel was a bit more… eccentric. Crewel had a sort of energy about him that reminded you of a young dog - not a puppy, but not an adult either. He was always cocking a smile that bore teeth, chuckling when he patted the top of your head as he called you "puppy." His clothing matched his laidback ideals too - a heavy black and white fur coat with a red silk lining covered the charcoal gray dress shirt and pants. His vest was black on one side, white on the other, and wore a red tie that matched the gloves on his hands.

“So,” Crewel spoke after introductions, pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket and lighting the object, “any questions before we get you set up?”

“I guess my big question is what exactly will I be working with?” you ask.

“We believe the trio to be mers, but they’re not your typical ones,” Trein explained with a sniff as his features twisted at the smell of Crewel’s smoke, “All three of them have the upper bodies of men, but lower halfs of sea creatures. Two of the three half the lower half of what we believe to be that of a moray eel and the third the lower half of an octopus. The twins are typically more curious of the three, though they can be aggressive. Several of our closest colleagues were attacked by the duo after accidentally disturbing them - their bites have left scars and one of our colleagues actually lost their leg from their attack.”

“... and you don’t think I will?” you had to question, the comment coming out high-pitched.

“Well, moray eels - specifically - will attack only if they have been disturbed,” Crewel answered nonchalantly, “We believe there are similarities between the animals and the mers, which is why we are gathering as much information as we can. We want to know what the similarities and differences are between moray eels and the twins.”

“Okay, but I still don’t see how I won’t get attacked by those two. And what about the third?”

“You won’t be attacked as long as you stay still and don’t make any sudden movements,” Trein answered, “Once they get used to you, you’ll know.”

“As for the third,” Crewel answered, “he’s a cecaelia - half man, half octopus.”

You blink, “Don’t moray eels eat octopi?”

“Typically, yes,” Trein answered, “which is strange, in this case. The trio were originally found off the coast in the Coral Sea - living in harmony with each other. When we brought them here, the moray mers have consistently been surrounding the grotto that is in the enclosure - the cecaelia hiding within and rarely comes out. We think that the cecaelia may have raised the morays, but we’re not completely sure.”

“And it’s been a devil of a time trying to get a glimpse of him too,” Crewel shook his head, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“You mean you haven’t seen him? Not once?”

“I saw him when he was first brought into the enclosure,” Trein sighed, “however, it was dark and I couldn’t see him very well - the eels could be seen because of the bioluminescence that exists within their bodies, allowing us to see their figures.”

“Speaking of which, come,” Crewel rested a hand to the small of your back, “let’s get you acquainted with our aquatic trio, hm?”

Crewel and Trein led you to the opposite end of their laboratory where a large glass wall stood with a set of double doors that led to what appeared to be the edge of a massive pool. Once inside, the smell of fish and humidity tickled your nose as the sound of lapping of water reverberated in the slightly dimmed room; the only light being illuminated from the pool itself. The gray walls stretched high, the ceiling covered by long triangular beams that permitted the echoes of voices and lapping water in the room. One the far left was a coat rack and a small freezer with a large fan blowing the heated air around the room.

“When you come in - which will be about six-thirty each morning, you’ll hang your coat on the rack and put your lunch in the freezer before feeding your charges,” Crewel explained, walking over to the freezer and lifting the lid, “We always restock the food the night before, so you don’t have to worry about not having anything in here for the day. There will be nine buckets total in the freezer - three for the morning, three for noon, three for dinner - so make sure you dump all three buckets in the water, but don’t toss the actual bucket into the water.”

“What’s in them?” you ask, wrinkling your nose at the mixture within the buckets.

“A collection of shellfish - shrimp, crab, clam, lobster - and assorted fish are what they primarily eat,” Crewel answered as he closed the lid to the freezer, “We’ve tried feeding the moray twins octopi - but they refuse to touch it and often threw it at the feeders when they came in. Also, feel free to wear something comfortable. The water temperature varies from 45℉ to as low as 39℉ so we have to offset that with the atmosphere in our enclosure here at approximately 77℉ to 85℉ - never mind that one of the twins likes to splash newcomers right off the bat.”

“So, shorts are ok?”

“Shorts would be preferred, so yes,” Crewel nodded.

“But not too short - lower thigh length to knee length is acceptable,” Trein chided, “you are also permitted to wear sandals within the enclosure as well as a t-shirt or tank top due to the humidity. However, if you do choose sandals and tank tops - please bring a spare pair of tennis shoes to wear on the way in and on the way out as closed toed and heels are required within the labs and main building as well as something to keep your shoulders covered; this is a place of employment, not enjoyment.”

When you nod, Trein continued.

“After you feed them their breakfast, take a seat and use the notebooks over here to document any findings,” Trein walks to the opposite end of the enclosure, opening a locker filled with office supplies, “Take whatever you think you might need for the day and have a seat at the edge of the pool and begin your observations. It might take a few days before one of the twins actually approaches you, but once they do, you should be able to start the observations with no problems. During your first few days, remember to stay still - morays attack when startled or provoked, which we don’t want to happen. You’ll let them come to you and, hopefully once you get acquainted, you’ll be able to do your observations with no trouble at all.”

“Alright.”

“Your shift will be twelve hours total,” Trein also explained, “you will be expected to eat lunch with the trio and feed them their supper before you leave for the night at six pm and place any of your notes back in the locker here for Crewel or I to collect at the end of the day. When you leave, make sure the door is locked. Typically, we will be here until eight, so we often check the door on our way out - but just so you are aware, the door does get stuck on occasion; you may need to knock on the door a few times and one of us or our staff will get you out.”

You nod again.

“Alright, are there any questions?” Crewel asked.

“No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Very well,” Trein smiles, “We’ll see you tomorrow at six sharp - no later.”

“Thank you very much for this opportunity,” you bow your head to both of them before shaking each of their offered hands as the two escorted you out of the enclosure - none of you aware of the two sets of heterochromia eyes that watched your figure from below the water’s surface.

***

One week passes slowly as you go through the motions as the Twisted Wonders aquatic observer.

Every morning, you arrive at quarter to six and greet Crewel and Trein at their laboratory doors. After they unlock and head into their own offices, you make your way to the enclosure and place your bag on the coat rack and the brown paper bag that contains your lunch in the freezer before hauling out the three of the nine gallon-sized buckets one at a time and dump the contents into the water, watching a little bit to see if anything will appear to snatch up a meal as the fish disappear into the murky depths of the pool. After watching the last piece of morsel disappear into the depths, you turn toward the locker, grabbing notebooks, pens and anything else you think you need and take a seat at the edge of the pool.

As the hours pass by, you jot notes down about anything you see - which is nothing.

7:30am: Ripples of water, no sign of the creatures

10:30am: Still no sign of the creatures

12:30pm: Fed mers, no sign of breaking the surface yet - maybe they know I am waiting for them and want nothing to do with me?

2:30pm: Still no sign

4:30pm: I heard a splash, but saw nothing. Maybe they’re nervous?

6:00pm: Fed the mers their supper - Hoping to get a sign of them before I leave today.

Day after day after day, the notes were the same: No sign. No sign. No sign.

By the end of the first week, you were beginning to wonder if you actually would ever see the creatures or if they even existed - or even, heaven forbid, if you were a test subject yourself for believing that there were mers that lived in the enclosure.

When Saturday morning came, you trudged into the enclosure with a heavy sigh and slowly began to begin the day’s events. Everything you did now seemed slower as the hope of seeing something otherworldly began to diminish like smoke. You pulled the first bucket of food out of the freezer and brought it to the edge of the pool, dumping the contents in before standing to return the bucket to the side of the freezer when something slimy and light hit the back of your head. Your hand instinctively reached up and brushed the hair behind your head, feeling traces of water and slime. You looked down to see what hit you, finding the bottom half of an unidentifiable colored fish laying behind you.

Your eyes shifted to look out into the pool - but no movement or any indication that something had thrown the half of the fish at you could be seen.

‘Maybe I’m just imagining things,’ you thought as a sigh escaped your lips, picking up the fish and dropping it into the second bucket before it was dumped over the edge of the pool as well.

As you turned your back to grab the last bucket, again something smacked against the back of your head, a clicking sound following shortly afterwards.

‘Ok,’ you thought, a slight smirk appearing on your features as you picked up the large hunk of lobster from the ground, ‘whoever or whatever you are, I’m assuming you want to play. Well, let’s play.’

You grab the last bucket and dump the contents into the water and kneel at the edge - watching like a cat watches a mouse before pouncing. A few moments pass before you feel your back begin to strain, forcing you to stand. As you do, a whole king prawn nearly smacks you in the face as another round of clicking echoes in the enclosure. You whip your face toward the pool, just in time to see two sets of eyes watching you.

Silence defends the enclosure as the three of you stare in silence at one another.

Your heart races as you realize that the creatures staring at you must be the twins.

You can’t see them completely - their entire bodies are hidden under the water while the tops of their heads and their eyes are the only thing being seen from your position at the edge of the pool as they regard you from a few meters away - but you can see that they are nearly mirrors of each other.

They both have skin the color of seaweed with short hair to match - a longer piece the color of deep sea teal arching in the front of their faces. Instead of human ears, they have fins - likely hiding the gills they use to breathe underwater behind them. The one on your left appears to be more cautious than their twin on the right - their eyes are sharp, their right colored brown and left colored gold, and watching every movement you make as if calculating whether to attack you or not. The one on your right appeared to have more of a droopy expression on their face, their lower eyelids dropping into a bored expression, but their gaze is still sharp. Like their twin, their eyes are different colors - the left colored brown and the right colored gold instead.

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to do exactly.

Moray eels attack if provoked, you recalled Crewel saying, so you didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case they read it wrong and attempt anything. However, it seems that the decision is quickly made when the one on your right slowly approaches the edge of the pool. You stay as still as possible as they approach, their eyes locked on yours as if in a trance.

When they reach the edge, you can see the length of his body in the murky depths. His skin is a darker seaweed teal with little stripe patterns on his cheekbones and arms - with likely more on his lower body hidden deeper in the depths. Large fins poke out from his lower arms, giving him and his brother the ability to glide through the water quickly. You couldn’t see his tail, but if you had to guess - you thought he could be approximately six feet in length or longer.

Then, salted sea water covers your entire body, causing you to sputter at the surprise at getting splashed as the moray mer peeled in laughter. His brother follows up with three sharp clicks before the duo disappear under the water, leaving you to wonder what in the world just happened.

#twisted wonderland #twstファンアート #azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere #yandere jade leech #yandere jade x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #twst wonderland #twst jade #twst floyd #twst azul #fanfic

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joshs-big-toe · 5 months

Note

CAN YOU PLZ DO DOM! MIKE IM BEGGING

Hey guys, this request basically gave me free rein to do whatever I want, so please enjoy this toe-curling story I write here. This is going to be a longer one (word count: 4,919) so sit back and enjoy. This is basically pure smut so if you don’t want that, keep scrolling :) (also, Abby is not relevant in this story, so just pretend she is staying the week at a friend’s house if that’s something you're concerned about I guess lol)

Cw: heavy smut, dom! Mike, sub fem! Reader, deprivation, edging, jealous mike, possessive mike, sweet mike, dirty talk, HELLA EDGING, slight degradation, slight praise, mentions of CONSENTUAL somnophelia, slight fluff toward the end

Mike Schmidt, your boyfriend, supported your acting career with his entire being. Actuality, he was damn proud of you. No matter the role, he was on board, flooding you with support and affirmations. However, you had just gotten a role, your dream role, in this Blumhouse film, starring alongside an actor you loved: Evan Peters. You have loved Evan Peters since you saw him in Kick-Ass. When you got your script, you read through it. The storyline was amazing, but there was a lot of sex between you and Evan’s character. For the first time, you didn’t want to tell Mike about a role. You knew Mike more than likely would support your decision to take on this role, but nervousness filled you. Before you told Mike, you decided you wanted to think about it, hiding your script under your bed. Soon enough, the thought of the script slipped your mind and you moved on with your day. The day consisted of a tabling, meeting Evan for the first time, and getting to know the cast and directors better. It was almost time for Mike to go to work when you finally got home. You sighed, putting your bag on the table by the door after closing it behind you. “Mike, love, I’m home.” Silence. You were confused, his shift at the Pizzaria didn’t start until midnight. It was only 11:00 pm. “Mike?” You strolled past the living room into your room, seeing Mike on the floor, holding your script.

He looked up at you, a mix of sadness and anger filling his eyes. “What is this, y/n?” You were speechless, mouth hanging open slightly.

Your mouth opened slightly, trying to come up with what to say. “Mike, um, it's just-“

He cut you off. “When were you going to tell me about this? Clearly, you’ve had this for a couple of days now.” His voice was monotone, showing clear frustration.

“I was going to tell you,” you mumbled.

“Why didn’t you?” He set the script down on the ground.

“I was nervous, Mike. I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“I wouldn’t have been upset if you would’ve just told me. Now I just feel like you lied to me, y/n.” He flipped the pages. “And of course Evan Peters. Really?” I nodded, feeling guilty for not telling him. Now keep in mind, Mike was never rude or controlling when it came to you, he just was extremely attached. He typically wouldn’t mind sex scenes, but he knew about your love for Evan, and immediately he was filled with jealousy.

“It's not real sex, Mike.” You said, hiding the redness that filled your face. He put his face in his hands, groaning.

“That’s not the point, y/n. The point is, you felt the need to hide this shit from me.” He looked down at his watch. “I have to go to work, this,” he holds up the script, “is coming with me.” He stood up, loading his pockets with his essentials and then grabbing highlighters, note tabs, and sticky notes from your desk drawer. Without a word, he kissed your cheek and left your room. His skin was hot against yours, making your body shudder. You stood there, unsure of how to even react. You heard the door shutting and the lock click as Mike left. You knew you were fucked, that you'd be in the doghouse tomorrow. Why did he want my script, you thought to yourself. You began to overthink the whole situation, making it difficult for you to fall asleep. You lay on your bed, tossing and turning. You texted Mike, no answer. You had no idea how long it had been before you heard your phone ding. It was Mike.

Mike: I hate how you kept that from me, not only is it one scene, but three? Multiple make-out scenes. Nobody else but me should be fucking touching you like that. All I can imagine is that angry sex scene, fuck y/n people are going to see you, hear you make the sounds only I can hear.

You read the text over and over again, slightly turned on by the jealousy but guilt-ridden. You knew you should’ve just told him. After a few seconds, your phone let out a ding again. You look down, seeing a video. You clicked on it, blackness filling the screen at first. You heard soft grunts and whimpers coming from the other side. Eventually, an image came into view making your hand fly to your mouth. The video consisted of him fucking his hand in the bathroom, rubbing his dick in a rough manner. You couldn’t make out what he was saying except for an exasperated ‘Is this what you fucking wanted?’ You felt an immediate heat pooling between your legs at the sight, at his moans and whimpers and unintelligible grumbles across the screen. Your body buzzed, you had never seen anything hotter in your life. Fuck. You knew this was the start of something you didn’t know if you were worried about or extremely excited about. He continued to write messages to you throughout the night. ‘I know you’re ready to take me. You’re such a naughty girl. You’re going to listen to me like the slut you are.’ You knew you weren’t going to sleep tonight, so you decided to go to your desk and work on some of the scoring work for the movie. Your mind is so stuck on the video, that you didn’t notice Mike walking into the house before he dropped the script onto your keyboard. He is home early. He kissed your neck, running his mouth down it before whispering, “I’m gonna show you, think about what you’ve done,” before mumbling something about a shower and disappearing again.

Looking back down at the script, you saw that it was annotated. Sticky tabs marking certain pages, as well as color-coordinated highlighted marks. You flicked through the script, realizing it was every single bit of dirty dialogue, make-out, and sex scene. On the back page, you noticed a sticky note that decoded his highlights. There was a yellow highlight mark, an orange highlight mark, and a pink highlight mark. The yellow one read ‘tonight’, the orange one read ‘tomorrow’, and the pink one read ‘day after tomorrow’. Fuck.

The First Night

Mike came out of the shower, only boxers covering him. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, drops of water slid down his chest. You stared at him, a deep red covering your cheeks. “Did you think about it?” You nodded, barely visible.

“Yes, Mike, I am so sorry I didn’t-“ He cut you off with a ‘tsk’ and shook his head.

“You need to learn your lines, don’t you? Knees, now.” This wasn’t him asking, you knew he was serious. He grabbed the script on his way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. You comply to his demand, getting on your knees and facing him. He handed you the script, repeating, “You need to learn your lines. So read them. The ones highlighted in yellow. His jaw was set, eyes an impossible shade darker. You took the script from him, scanning the pages for the yellow highlights. All dirty talk. The only thing highlighted for tonight was dirty talk. You were fucked. You let out a shaky sigh, beginning to read the lines aloud.

“P-please baby,” you began reading. He reached down, grabbing your jaw to make him look up at you.

“The only way you’ll learn is if you do it right, no stuttering. Again.” You could see the hardness in his boxers. “My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he slipped them off, grabbing his length. You cleared your throat, embarrassed.

“Please, baby I need you,” you started again, your tone was shaky. He stroked his cock slowly, shaking his head.

He stopped, mumbling a curse word. “You’re supposed to be begging, y/n,” he teased. “I thought you already read the script. Probably touched yourself while reading it too, huh? Again.” Your face was impossibly redder. You watched his hand run over the tip of his dick, squeezing it before pumping it faster. He let out a quiet groan, letting his head lull back slightly. You glanced back down at your script.

“I-I’m sorry, Mike, I-“

“If you make any noises or movements other than your lines, you’re starting over again. Now read it, y/n.” You nodded again.

“Please, baby,” you began, making your tone more whiny, needy. “Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Please f-fuck me,” you stuttered out the words. A moan escaped his mouth, his mouth open slightly as he kept his gaze on you. You wanted him so fucking bad. Instinctively, you reached up to touch him. With his free hand, he slapped yours away.

“If you fucking touch me,” he paused his movements, letting out a shaky breath. “If you fucking touch me, I'll make you start over again.” He started up again. You could see his body shaking, telling you that he was close.

“Please,” you begged, it sounding more sincere than before. You started to reach down to touch yourself, trying to ease the aching in your core. He grabbed my jaw again, making me look up at him.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? As far as I know, I didn’t give you fucking permission. Again.” Once again, you relayed your line to him, not breaking eye contact, finishing them perfectly. You watched him, a loud moan echoing your room. “F-fuck,” he groaned out, letting out whimpers as he came, beads landing on your face and script, causing the letters and highlighter to bleed. He laid back on the bed for a moment, his dick still tightly gripped in his hand, chest heaving. Finally, sitting up, he pulled up his boxers and found a shirt to wipe his hand off with, tossing it back to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled. “Now get cleaned up.” With that, he kissed your forehead and got into bed, turning to face away from you. You continued to look at him, watching him breathe from under the covers. Looking back down at your script, I realize that you needed a new one now. You grabbed the shirt that Mike had thrown at you, wiping your face clean, and getting into bed. You turned toward him, he refused to look at you. You groaned, turning onto your side. You weren’t going to let him win this little game he decided to play with you. Throughout the night, Mike periodically woke you up, rubbing his hand along your heat, and kissing your neck. By the third time, it was 5 am you were fed up, grabbing his hand and putting it back. “Im not sure you’ve learned your lesson, y/n. So, no.” He rolled over on his side, falling asleep again. You groaned, willing yourself to go back to sleep. This was going to be a long few days.

The Second Night

Today consisted of a few more table readings, as well as a couple of preemptive press interviews to promote your movie. By the time you got home, it was 7 pm. You walked into your room, seeing Mike on his phone, barely glancing at you before going back to his phone. Seeing as your day was rough, you decided today was the day to officially apologize to him. You drop your stuff to the floor and make your way over to the bed. You sit on the edge, looking toward him. “Hey Mikey,” you start. He set his phone, sitting up to face you. “I um,” his eyes meet yours. You were unable to read him this time. “I think we should talk,” you mumble, refusing to look away from his eyes. He grabbed your neck, not too hard but hard enough to hurt you. His lips connected to yours, kissing you with a force that sent you spiraling. Your mouth gaped, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth, making you moan as your tongues danced. Without breaking the kiss, he got up, shoving you down on the bed. He finally broke the kiss and walked over to your desk, grabbing the script and tossing it at you.

“In the orange. Tell me what happens next.” You look at him, your eyes wide. You pick up the script, flicking through the pages until you reached the orange. “Out loud, sweetheart.”

“In this scene,” you pause, allowing yourself to read before you spoke. “Evan’s character and I um, he and I are supposed to make out while he…” You pause, not wanting to say it.

“Hmm?”

“He is fingering me while we ma- while we kiss.”

“Wrong. Try again.” He gave off a devilish grin.

“While w-we make out, Mike.” You whisper.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled as he made his way over to you, immediately attacking your neck and working at your jeans, sliding them off of you. You gasp, immediately grabbing onto his hair. You could feel yourself getting wet under his touch, aching for any sort of friction. You push your hips up against him. “Hands to yourself, love,” he growled against your neck. He grabs the script, shoving it into my hand. “Read it, tell me what it says.” His breath tickled my neck, sending chills down my spine.

“It- look I-“ You are unable to get the words out as his lips latch onto yours. He kisses you like he’s starving, taking you in as much as he can.

“Come on, sweetheart, read your little script. Memorize it. Know every noise, every movement you're supposed to make. And if you forget,” he pauses, twisting a finger around your panties, pulling them aside. “I’ll make you remember.” He grumbles, connecting his lips against yours again, sliding a finger inside you. He moves in and out impossibly slow, making you groan. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, letting himself in as your tongues danced together aggressively. You moan onto his mouth, prompting him to quicken his movements. He was holding you against him as he inserted another finger, curling them upward, hitting that special spot that made pleasure jolt through your body. Your head lolled back, a moan escaping your lips.

“F-fuck, Mike,” you whine.

“You're so fucking wet, baby. Fuck look at you, helpless under me.” He whispered. You allowed your eyes to close. He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, very gently. Your eyes opened, his eyes were full of lust. “Oh no, you're going to look at me as I show you the effect I have on you.” His lips connected to your collarbone, sucking on it until a purple mark appeared. His fingers kept hooking up into you, and you could feel the heat building up in your belly. You buck your hips forward as he whispers, “You really think you get to cum tonight? Not until you’ve learned your lesson.” Right before you were granted a release, he pulled his fingers out, standing upright and looking at you. You were a mess before him: face red and eyes glazed over. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, licking your arousal off of them. You lost.

“Oh god please Mike, please no I promise I won’t do it again Mike please I miss you I need you so bad-“ You rambled on, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, eyebrows strewn together. Instead, he chuckles and crosses his arms.

“You haven’t learned anything, so you don’t get me, nor do you get to finish. Understand?” You whined, laying back on the bed, covering your face. Your body ached for him, you wanted to feel him inside you again. He leaned over you, planting a soft kiss on your temple. He moved to your ear and whispered, “And y/n? If you even try to make yourself cum, you’ll regret it, trust me.” He kissed your cheek again before getting off of you and heading to the bathroom to take another shower. You groaned, rubbing your legs together trying to give yourself any kind of friction. As he was showering, you devised a plan. You could try and ride his thigh when he gets back to bed. Yeah, that should work. You laid in bed, and after about 30 minutes he finally returned, climbing in bed next to you. You smiled, rolling over and straddling his thigh, kissing his face. You slowly started to grind your hips against him, but he grabbed your hips before you could derive any sort of pleasure. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing, love?” You decided to play dumb.

“What do you mean, Mike? I’m just kissing you.” Who were you kidding, you weren’t even convincing yourself.

“As good as you look doing that,” he paused, studying your face and biting his lower lip. “And as badly as I want you to continue, you won’t. Like I said earlier. No lesson learned.” In a swift movement, he hoisted your leg off of him. You were extremely embarrassed. He got what he wanted from you: You begged. Eventually, you were able to will yourself to sleep.

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

You woke up with a sensation on your thigh. “Mike?” You mumble in your sleepy state. There was no response, his arms were wrapped around your thighs as he trailed kisses down to your core. He pressed a kiss against your aching clit through your panties, causing you to groan out. Your hands found his hair, grabbing a fistful of it.

“You’re intoxicating, y/n,” he grumbled against you. He slid your panties to the side, running his tongue along your slit until he reached your clit. “Fuck,” he breathed out against you before sucking on you, causing your body to jolt. You were extremely sensitive, but god it felt so good. “God you make me so fucking hard,” he groaned, grinding against the bed.

“P-please mike,” you moaned out. “Please, I n-need to come.” You threw your head back in frustration as he pulled away, leaving a small kiss on your thigh before crawling back up next to you.

“Not yet,” he grinned before turning over and falling back asleep. You were on the verge of tears at this point. You were so fucking horny but you were afraid to do anything, you didn’t want to prolong the punishment longer than it was planned to be. Finally, after what felt like agonizing hours of laying and staring at the ceiling, you were able to finally fall asleep.

The Final Night

The next morning, you woke up to Mike on his phone. He looked over at you, an innocent smile on his lips. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. You were buzzing, your body craving some sort of release. You needed Mike. You were tired of whatever he was playing at. You just wanted to feel him, you craved the feeling of him inside you. He shifted his body to where he was on top of you. You felt his hard cock pressing into your lower belly. “Do you remember your lines we went over?” He ran his hands under your shirt, grabbing at your tits, causing a pleasure-filled sigh to escape your lips.

“I do,” you lied, trying to get him to finally fuck you.

“Good girl, I'm glad you remember.” He leaned down, kissing your neck. “Let's see if you still remember after I fuck the words out of your pretty little mouth.” He was quoting the script. Your mouth falls open slightly as you watch him remove his boxers, his dick springing free. He gave you a look, as if asking if it was okay. You give a soft nod.

“Please, M-Mike, I’m desperate,” You beg. He smiles, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“You don’t get to look at me, understand?” He asked, slipping his shirt off and putting it over your eyes. “Only I get to look at you, looking at me would bring you too much pleasure.”

“Please mike, just fuck me please,” you groan. Without a word, you feel his cock slide into you. You throw your head back, gripping at the bedsheets and moaning. You hear soft groans and whimpers coming from Mike, making you impossibly hornier. He’s attacking your neck as he's thrusting into you with no mercy, “F-fuck mike please!” You cry out.

“Now’s your time, say you’re fucking mine, y/n.” You weren’t able to get the words out. You feel his thumb circle your clit as he continues ruthlessly thrusting. The familiar heat is building up in you, making you throw out a string of incoherent pleas and whines. You grab onto his arms, praying he’s going to let you cum. “Looks like I’m fucking the words right out of your mouth, huh? That’s such a shame,” he said, taking deep breaths in between his words. With that, he pulls out of you, moving his thumb off your clit. He removes the shirt off your face and looks down at you, seeing tears forming in your eyes. You groan, silently begging him to let you have your release. He wipes the tears from your eyes before giving you a soft kiss. He puts his boxers back on, getting off the bed and making his way out of the room, you presume to the bathroom to ‘finish himself off.’

“Mike p-please,” you whine. “I don’t want to wait any longer p-please,” He only shakes his head in response.

“Look at your script, love. Patience is key.” He walked out of the room, leaving you aching for him. You got up, stumbling over to your desk and picking up the script. You scanned over the highlighted parts. He is recreating this almost identically, you think to yourself. You look over the pink highlights, blushing at what you have coming for you tonight. Thank god you have nothing to do today.

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

Your legs were buzzing and your skin was on fire. Mike called out of work tonight, making you hopeful. You weren’t sure where he was though. You were laying on your bed, reading a book when he came in, panting. You looked up at him. “H-hey Mikey,” you say sheepishly. “Where have you been?”

“I was on a run,” he walked over to you, picking you up and attacking your lips with his in an aggressive kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picked you up. “Enough is enough,” he grumbled, pushing you up against the wall. His tongue pushes past your lips, you greedily taking him in as he roughly kisses you. As he uses the wall as leverage, he manages to peel your shirt off, grabbing at your tits as he is kissing and sucking on your neck. You lean your head back against the wall, letting your mouth fall open, small moans escaping. “You’re so fucking needy, you need this soooo fucking bad don’t you?” He teased you in between kisses. You were useless, seeing stars as he groped your tits. He’s basically eating you, lips traveling from your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone, gingerly leaving kisses on the marks he gave you the previous night. His hand reaches between the two of you, pushing up against your core, rubbing you through your clothed cunt. You’re a mess at this point, your body reacting exactly the way he wanted it to. “Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he grumbled. You are nearly at your breaking point, that heat building up inside you once again.

“M-Mikey please, please just this once please I need-“ Those words cause him to speed up. You moan, feeling yourself come undone in his arms.

“Oh baby no, I’m going to make you cum however many times I want to make you cum,” he groans.

“Oh f-fuck, Mike!” You cry out. Your body tenses as you finally get your release. You grab onto mike, clawing at his back as you ride out your orgasm, moans and whimpers escaping you. Immediately, he brings you over to the bed, laying you down gently with your ass hanging over the edge. He strips you, immediately attacking your entrance with his tongue. You grab his hair, your hips bucking up onto him. “M-mike yo- this is too much, i-im so fucking sensitive I-“

“Its enough when Ive had enough,” he mumbles against you. His tongue runs over your folds, flicking against your clit periodically. He pushes your legs apart as far as they could go, spreading you open as he tongue-fucked you. You feel your orgasm building again, causing you to pull back slightly. It was almost too much for you to handle. Mike pulls you against him again. You whine and squirm under his touch, your vision hazy with pleasure. “if you don’t fucking be still Im going to extend your punishment, and I don’t believe you want that, do you, you pathetic mess.” Mike goes at it again. You tug his hair, making him whimper into you. His tongue flicks over your clit a couple more time before you finally tip over the edge, coming on his face. Your back arched as you rode out your orgasm, him planting soft kisses and nips on your inner thigh. Your body ached, but it felt so fucking good. Mike pushed you further up the bed, taking off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his cock, twitching in anticipation. He gets on top of you, planting sloppy lazy kisses all over you before kissing you, sliding his tongue in your mouth. You immediately tasted yourself on his tongue. “Bet you can fucking taste what I do to you. Yeah? You understand you’re fucking mine right? Those pretty noises? Mine. Those pretty faces you make? Mine. The obscene words you say when you’re close? ONLY mine. No one else’s” You nodded your head quickly. “Use your fucking words, love. Put that pretty mouth of yours to use.”

“I-I’m yours, mike,” you moan through kisses. You continue to repeat those words when you feel him push his cock into you spreading you open, making you gasp. Fucking, finally.

“Fucking right you are,” he growls before attacking his lips to yours again. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. He thrust in and out of you at a sloppy yet quick pace, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room. Mike was letting out small whimpers here and there, struggling to speak. “What did you learn y/n? What did you learn from this experience, hmm? That’s you’re a slut for me? How you make me fucking horny by you just looking at me? How I want to fuck you so hard that the only word you can say is MY name?? Tell me my love, what did you learn?”

You start babbling “I- I learned never to keep things from you, fuck, H-how no amount of fake sex on the screen will change the fact that we fit perfectly together. How- holy shit M-Mike,” he didn’t let up. He was pounding into you. You were unfolding again. “how you know me so well. How you love me so well. How I’ll never lie about anything ever again. How I’m only yours. Only, y-yours, Mike.”

“Good girl. Goooood fucking girl” he said as he started peppering kisses all over your face. “My sweet girl. You’re so perfect, fuck. I want to breathe you in always.” He slowed his pace down, becoming more gentle. “I want you to feel safe to tell me things, fuck-“ He’s a groaning mess. In fact you were both a fucking mess. “I fucking love you so much.” You felt him twitch inside you, his eyes screwing shut. You felt it too, and finally, you spilled, clenching around him, moaning out his name. You felt him cum inside you as he tried to stifle his whimpers. You two stayed there for a moment, catching your breath. You wrap your arms around him in a bear hug, holding onto him tightly. He chuckles, kissing your cheek. “You did so well, you took me so well. You were so patient, you’re so fucking good,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. He rolls off of you, taking off his shirt to clean you and him up. He pulled you against him when he was done, wrapping you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest. He rubs your back, making random shapes against your skin.

“Mike I’m really sorry. I never should have done that. I got in my own head and got worried. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He hugs you tighter.

“Love, I forgave you after night one. I just wanted to have some fun. See how you could come undone under me. It was fucking mesmerizing. Fucking beautiful.” He paused for a moment. “Y/n, you’re going to do so good in that movie. You always do. I can’t wait to see it.” Mike kisses your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, love. You never fail to amaze me with what you can do. Whether it’s school, your thousands of movie jobs, or how you take me…you always do amazing.” You smile against his chest.

“I love you, Mike.”

“I love you too, more than anything.” His words were sluggish. “Sleep?” You nodded, already drifting off. “Goodnight, my love.” You hum a response into his chest before fading into a, finally, peaceful sleep.

If yall made it to the end, thanks for reading, I appreciate your support for my page. You guys are literally amazing! Please forgive me for any typos, it is in fact 6AM lmao. Anyways, thanks again if you made it to the end!

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