my own pace

So my really close friend [Risa] has an amazing DBZ oc named Batata (pictured on the left) who’s an elite saiyan, and after seeing some art of her, I couldn’t help but bring back a really old DBZ OC I had in the form of a Majin named Lux. Really it was just for the sole purpose of teaming them up together as a dysfunctional duo that’s ripe for all sorts of shenanigans that I will probably never draw. But at the same time it was fun to do an update to a super old fandom OC I had from years and years ago.

They’re both world-destroying level entities but one is short, angry, and weak to food, and the other is tall, goofy, and gives off distinct “your friend’s one hot aunt” vibes.

While they kinda already posted it on their blog, I guess I’ll just put it up here too on mine ahahaha. GO GIVE THEM A FOLLOW IF YOU DON’T ALREADY.

Do you ever think about the other Hufflepuff first years who got sorted with Tonks? Like they were probably thinking “This is so great, everyone’s gonna be so nice and chill and this seems like the non-drama house, I’m gonna be able to kick back and relax and take my education at my own pace with understanding and support from those around me and—”


Like there is no way these children could have prepared themselves for Nymphadora Tonks, there is no way.

witchy affirmations

❥ not all my spells will succeed, but each one will teach me something new

❥ i do not need to know everything at once, witchcraft is a journey and there is no flaw in learning at my own pace

❥ other’s crafts don’t have to make me feel inadequate or not witchy enough, rather i can find inspiration in them

❥ every day i learn more and have more faith in my abilities

❥ my craft is a part of me and i will treat it gently

It is interesting how people feel the need to rush through life as a way to prove maturity. People will rush into relationships, love,sex, marriage, education, careers, etc just to show that they are grown. As a person who is grown, I find myself understanding that there is maturity in saying “I’m not ready.” There is also maturity in saying “I want to wait.” And there is maturity in saying “let me take some time to prepare.” Being in tune with where I am and making decisions based on my own needs and not the pressure to prove that I’m grown, that I have it all figured out, that in perfect is important to me.
I move at my own pace. I move at the speed that works for me. I move in a way that doesn’t cause me to be impatient with God or myself. I have learned to be still, or wait, or take as much time as I need.

Day 17: Prom Night

Still running Adrinette Month at my own pace. So long as I get all the drawings done I’m fine with it :) 

You know these cuties would dance like goofballs with no rhythm. 


Samurai Patrol.

Stricken Knight.

Thank you to the new followers and for those that stuck around :) A brief update on what I’ve been up to. I’ve been busy with some freelance work (still am), but I’m taking it at my own pace and doing personal work here and there. 

Also an announcement, I’ll be selling art at Otakuthon in Montreal. There will be both fanart of my favorite video games/ anime/ movies as well as personal work. So expect to see new work of mine soon :) I’m still working on opening my shop which will happen sometime after the convention (Been doing some prep work for that ;)) 

Thank you again and sorry for the long wait. I lose track of time easily so don’t mind me.

Friday Affirmation ✨

*I am bold and impactful. 👄

*I will take life at my own pace.

*I am the master of my fate.

*I am the captain of my soul.


*I am to be envied. 💁🏿

*I deserve ALL that life has to offer and will not give those who sit and wait.

Say it with me! And don’t ever forget.

Reblog for good fortune this weekend. 🔮

Originally posted by caterpie

Who knows? I’ve said it before: Never say never. If I wanted to come back in 10, 15 years time, then yeah, why not? I don’t know. If I didn’t want to [be in the band] then, I might not. It just depends on how I’m feeling at that time.

We were basically going at, like, 500 miles per hour. We did everything to an extreme in the band. [Now] it’s not as full on, it’s not as extreme, it’s not as in-your-face. It’s at my own pace. So this way, it feels 100 times more manageable. It’s just easier. It’s a lot less work.

It’s kind of a blur, but I’ve also had a bit of time to process it and take it in and understand it for what it was and appreciate a lot of the things and opportunities that we were given the chance to be able to do at that time. I just look back at it as a positive thing with good memories.
—  Zayn on a One Direction reunion (for Us Weekly)

MODEST needs your help- Emergency Commission” October edition

I don’t have money anymore.. i can’t pay my doctors + i am saving money bc i wanna get out of here (i am not in the best situation i guess …i just really need to move out of my parents house and find my own pace)

commission info:

  • you need to provide me with some references  
  • i can draw anything you want (gore is welcome)
  • If you are interested message me here (or on my e-mail:
  • peyment before i strart drawing (only via PayPal)
  • don’t be afraid of asking questions

reblogs are welcome (thay can help a lot)
tips are very welcome ❤

thank a lot in advance :3



Perfect Wife x Woman of Dignity parallels

Zayn opens up about conquering touring anxiety, prepping album No. 2 – and why he’s been living on a farm

There aren’t many places in New York, or anywhere else for that matter, that feel as cocooned from the ­outside world as the live room in Electric Lady’s Studio A. Designed to Jimi Hendrix’s ­specifications, the curvy space is stocked with shiny vintage gear, faded Persian rugs and a cosmic, wall-sized mural. On this Sunday night in September, a little after 9 p.m., the room’s sole occupant is a slight, ­strikingly handsome 24-year-old, whose unique ­combination of global fame and acute anxiety can make life outside of insulated creative oases like this one ­challenging, and who is currently kicked back on an overstuffed leather sofa, pulling ­meditatively from a joint and watching the smoke curl toward the sound-­deadened ceiling.

For the last nine months, Zayn Malik – who in his solo career goes by his first name – has lived in similar womblike rooms in New York, Los Angeles, London and even rural Pennsylvania (more on that later), ­crafting the follow-up to his debut solo LP, Mind of Mine, which bowed at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 last spring and spawned the Billboard Hot 100-topping ­single “Pillowtalk,” which has racked up over 750 million YouTube spins. That album, with its Frank Ocean-esque ­moodiness, bedroom vocals and, “Pillowtalk” aside, resistance to radio-friendly sonics, demarcated a clear line between Malik’s grown-up second act and his beyond-famous first one.

Seven years ago, Malik was plucked at age 17 from a small city in Northern England, teamed up with four other boys as One Direction and ­tornado-ed into the most intense global teen craze endured by a crew of British kids since Beatlemania. The ­experience left him unmoored – he abruptly quit the group in 2015 – and as a solo artist, he’s devoted to serving his own muse. In the 18 months since the release of his debut LP, he has deepened his ­relationship with his supermodel girlfriend, Gigi Hadid, started taking better care of his health, corralled collaborators ­including Taylor Swift and Sia, and determinedly honed his sound. For an artist so shaken by his time in One Direction that he has yet to launch a tour, the intensely private star has found a way to navigate, even thrive, in his highly public life. Or, as Malik himself puts it, “I don’t do things that I wouldn’t buy into. I try to explain that to people and hope that they understand – it doesn’t come from a place of being arrogant or above anything.”

It’s probably not intentional, but Malik seems dressed to match the room in an ­outfit you can easily picture Paul McCartney rocking in the early 1970s: a dark-red cable-knit sweater that looks both cozy and off-the-charts expensive, a subtly ­patterned button-down shirt, earth-toned, jean-cut pants and a pair of black Chelsea boots. His left hand is covered in a ­mandala-like tattoo; his right is adorned with a pair of red lips ­billowing smoke. His hair, which evidently grows quickly, has already returned to an ­appealing fuzz less than a week after he made headlines ­worldwide by ­shaving it bald. He’s in New York to take some meetings and work on the album, but the trip also lines up with New York Fashion Week, which means that he and Hadid get to be in the same place at the same time. The pair, says Malik, “pretty much live together,” whether it’s at his homes in Los Angeles and London or at her pad in New York. “It’s actually not that hard for us [to line up schedules],” he says. “It helps that she’s really organized. Thank God! Because I’m really not, so she helps organize my ­schedule around seeing her.” (Hadid is also one of a small group of people, including Malik’s parents, siblings and management team, who get to hear in-progress music. “She’s in the studio quite a lot,” he says cheerfully. “She likes to cook for me and stuff – when I’m here late, she’ll come down and bring me food. She’s cool.”)

The new album, says Malik, mines two main moods: one more rhythmic and pop, the other more downtempo. “The last album veered into a much more nighttime kind of thing,” says Peter Edge, chairman/CEO of Malik’s label, RCA. “This one is more of a mix than that.” The young star has been back in the studio with ­his first album’s main ­collaborator, Malay, well known for his work on Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange and Blonde. Veteran ­producers like Timbaland and Rob Cavallo have contributed, and Malik also has made a bunch of songs largely by ­himself. He has been toiling away at the disc for months, blowing past deadline after deadline; ­originally slated for a late-­September release, the album now won’t be out until the first quarter of 2018.

I got a preview of two tracks in late October. The first, which is built around Malik’s velvet vocals, a heartrending ­melody and spare, sonar-plink sonics builds – and improves – on his debut album’s sound. The other, all synths and ­effortless vocals, feels directly aimed at pop fans’ ­pleasure centers. “What impresses me about Zayn is the vision he has for his music,” says Timbaland. “How he looks at it, takes his time with it – just really thinks it out.”

Most recently, Malik has been ­collaborating with a musician that his management declines to name, saying only that he’s “unknown,” from Brazil and that Malik met him through friends. “I think I’m like 90 percent of the way there,” says Malik in September of the LP’s process. “But I’m still working on stuff and trying to decide what goes on the album and what comes off.”

Cavallo, who worked with Malik and a killer crew of session vets to grow a spare, downtempo demo into a Michael Jackson-inspired funk-rock tune, was most impressed by the young star’s calibrated ear. “He kind of reminds me of when I was in the studio with Fleetwood Mac,” says Cavallo. “His instinctive impulse to know what’s good or not good is like an ­incredibly precise laser beam. He knows which lyric to sing, he knows when the guitar part is good, he knows when the beat is right. It’s all right there at his fingertips.”

In person, Malik is polite, friendly and willing to answer ­questions. But he’s not exactly a chatterbox, and he’s more likely to reply ­cryptically than with a concrete ­anecdote. Even softball questions ­sometimes elicit strange responses, like when I brought up a recent Instagram post of his that ­compared two images of Game of Thrones’ Iron Throne – one as it’s depicted in the books, the other as it is in the show – along with the caption “Tru.” (The throne is apparently described in print as taller and spikier.) So he must be a huge fan of the show, right? “Ah, I’m not too into Game of Thrones,” he says, ­shrugging. “I just put that picture up because [it ­represents] the difference between a book and a movie. The ­overproduction of things is always hilarious.”

There is at least one HBO series that he genuinely loves. “I watched Girls – the whole thing,” he says. In fact, one of the stars of that show, Jemima Kirke, appears in the action-blockbuster-style video for the new album’s lead single, “Dusk Till Dawn,” which features guest vocals from Sia and is more full-bore pop than ­anything on Mind of Mine. Malik thought Kirke seemed cool and reached out to see if she’d be ­interested in playing his femme fatale co-star in the video, which was directed by Marc Webb, who helmed the 2012 Spider-Man reboot. In its first day, “Dusk Till Dawn” got over 10 million views on YouTube. Malik was enthused by the ­reception, in part because he wrote much of the song ­himself. (The video raises another ­question: Does he have any ­interest in ­acting? “I do, yeah,” he says. “It would have to be a good script and something that was a bit ­different, like an art movie. Something people wouldn’t expect.”) Malik’s a huge admirer of Sia, not only for her talent as a singer and hitmaker, but also for the way she has ­navigated the perils of celebrity and figured out how to perform live, ­on her own terms.

Malik ­himself has yet to tour – or even play a single major concert – since he left One Direction. During the last two years, he has canceled shows in London, Dubai and Japan, citing extreme anxiety. “The band was like being in the army for him,” notes his manager, Sarah Stennett, adding that the last few years have been a time for Malik to recalibrate. “You lose your sense of intuition and instinct about what you really need, and what’s right for you.”

In Zayn, an autobiography-slash-photo book he published in 2016, Malik made it clear that his time with 1D wasn’t just ­stressful – it was damaging to his mental health. He opened up about having ­developed an eating disorder triggered by the endless grind and total lack of ­anything resembling a normal life. “I’d just go for days – sometimes two or three days straight – without eating anything at all,” he wrote. “Food was something I could control, so I did.”

Today, he insists that he’s in a much better place. “I’m taking things at my own pace, eating well, not going too crazy,” he says with a wry little laugh. “Making sure we have dinnertime.” (He’s clearly not on a rabid health kick, though. At one point a member of his team delivers a pack of Marlboro Lights, and he spends several minutes trying to get one lit by holding it in his hand and toasting the end with a lighter.) One of the ways that Malik has achieved a more serene mind space has been by ­spending much of this ­summer and fall in the last place any fan would think to look for him – on a working farm in rural Pennsylvania, with a private studio nearby. “[The farm] is just out of the way and feels grounded,” he says. “There’s not a lot of things around. I do a lot of farm work.” Really? “Yeah, yeah, I take the horses out and feed the cows and that kind of stuff. It’s cool. I’ve always been ­interested in animals.”

The farm reminds him, he says, of the countryside around Bradford, England, the town between Leeds and Liverpool where he grew up. A rotating crew of friends, family and collaborators – including Hadid – join him in Pennsylvania and listen to music and offer opinions. Zayn’s father, Yaser Malik, a British-Pakistani hip-hop fan, gravitates toward lyrically ­sophisticated songs. “He likes the more meaningful ones,” says Malik. “He’ll be like, ‘Read more, do this, work on this lyric.’” His mom, Tricia Malik, who ­converted to Islam before she married Yaser, “likes anything that’s clubby and upbeat. She’s hilarious to me. All of what I call my proper ratchet songs, she loves.” He cracks a big grin and laughs.

Malik isn’t the only ­prominent Muslim star in music – rappers from Ice Cube to Q-Tip share the faith – but his religion was one of the clear ­markers of difference between him and his 1D bandmates. He has made a few ­tentative political gestures around his religion (including tweeting the hashtag #freepalestine in 2014) but generally avoids the topic of intolerance in the era of Donald Trump and Brexit. He’s ­cheerful when talking about his father’s family’s culture, though. Malik understands Urdu, although when he speaks the language, it’s a ­hodgepodge of Urdu and English and slang. He has never been to Pakistan but is ­interested in visiting someday. And he’s a fan of Pakistani food, music, poetry and movies. “My grandparents would always have that going on the TV,” he says. “So I’m pretty in the know.”

According to Malik, he no longer has any contact with former 1D bandmates Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Niall Horan or Louis Tomlinson, all of whom have also released solo music in 2017. He says this without malice, and if he feels ­competitive with his old crew, he’s certainly not letting on. “Our relationships have definitely changed since we were in a band together, but I think that’s just life,” he says. “Everybody grows up; two of the guys have got kids now. But no, I don’t talk to any of them, really.”

It might help that he has edged out the others on the Hot 100, especially when you count “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever,” the No. 2 smash that he recorded for the Fifty Shades Darker soundtrack with Taylor Swift – another artist for whom he has major respect. He personally recruited Swift, who is tight with Hadid, for the track. “I worked with her because I felt like she was the right artist for the song,” says Malik. “And of course she’s also a massive artist, so that brings its benefits. I get to let her fans know that I’m doing this kind of music, and she lets her fans know she likes my kind of music – there’s no opposition, for real. Everybody can like everybody’s music.”

While nothing has been booked yet, Malik is planning on launching a major tour behind the new album. His anxiety around performing, he explains, wasn’t just a 1D hangover – some of it came from not ­having figured out how to do a solo show that felt natural, especially with only one album’s worth of material from which to draw. “Like, there were a lot of upbeat dance [songs on the album], and I don’t dance, so it would have required a lot of extra dancers and stuff going on, and I don’t necessarily want to do that.” (Fans hoping to hear Malik perform 1D hits, as they can on Styles’ recently launched tour, are likely to be disappointed.)

Part of the solution, it turns out, came from that session with Cavallo and ­seeing how one of his studio creations could take on new life with a great band. “It definitely helped identify in my own mind where I want to be as an entertainer,” says Malik. “For a long time I’ve struggled with, ‘Where is Zayn as a performer?’ I don’t want [my show] to be too eccentric or out there, because I’m not that kind of ­personality. I’m quite a reserved person, and I feel like [the vibe of that session] sort of fits me and what I want to do onstage.”

Near the end of our time together, I ­gently float an idea: “If there are any songs you’d feel comfortable playing for me,” I ­suggest, “I’d love to hear them.” Malik seems totally into it. “Yeah, of course, man,” he says emphatically. “Cool. I’ll play some stuff.” He gets up from the sofa and heads to the ­studio door. “I’m just going to get the songs off my manager.” I tell him I appreciate it. “No worries, bro,” he says, before he disappears through the door. And then, in probably the most Zayn-like move of the night, he never comes back.


Daddy Devil  { Dominance }

<– [Prologue] | [Submission] –>

Words: 5,630

Genre: Smut/Demon!AU

Warnings: Daddy kink, bondage, bdsm, etc.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM NAMJOONNNNNNNNNN!!! Love of my life, seriously. I have some many feels towards this man, ahhhhh

Anyway! Please enjoy this story! I’m not sure if there will be more following this, but if there is, I’ll be writing it at my own pace, whenever I feel like it, so ^^ fair warning~

In the meantime, please enjoy! It’s been a while since I posted the prologue, so if you need a refresher, or haven’t read it, I suggest you go and do that~ <3

You’re too tipsy to deal with anyone else tonight. Dragging your friend’s home from the bar had been trouble enough—especially when multiple male demons had paused you along your route to flirt and offer companionship for the night. Somehow you’d managed to convince them to turn down the strange offers, and had finally managed to shove them through the front door of their apartment building. You hadn’t even bothered walking them up to their floor, too fed up and tired and horny (you blame it on the alcohol) to even think about wasting another second on their drunken asses.

Managing to hurriedly walk home to your own apartment, you tumble inside and lock the door behind you. Third level rarely has many crimes, but you can never be too safe—especially when the residents of each level are allowed to travel freely…for the most part.

Dragging yourself through the tiny kitchen of your studio style flat, you pad into the main area and pull your tight fitting shirt over your head, shivering as the soft fabric brushes over perky nipples. Despite your minds weak protests, you’d decided to be a little…adventurous in your evening out, and had ventured around town without a bra. It excited you—like your own little secret…unless someone was sharp enough to notice, but at that point they’d earned the treat of knowing anyways.

Sighing blissfully, you sensually coast your hands across your chest, gripping the soft mounds. The artificially made moonlight illuminates every inch of your body, but on the third story of the building with no one else around, you can’t be bothered to draw the curtains, far too occupied by the way your vagina aches for more with each tug of your nipples between your fingers.

Head lolling back, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks, you continue to pleasure yourself, crafting an imaginary scene behind your eyelids to aid the growing pool of heat between your legs. Immediately, like all the other times, a tall, dark figure comes to mind. You can’t see the face of the man, but his body is sinful—his hands possessive as he grabs at you. You imagine him feasting on your breasts—all tongue and teeth—his vocabulary sinful as he stakes his claim, making you his.

“Fuck…,” you breathe hotly, your panties becoming soaked, and you hurry to undress yourself. Looping your thumbs under the band of your pants and also your panties, you tug them down in one fell swoop, kicking them from around your ankles and tossing yourself onto your bed.

One of your hands coasts down the expanse of your chest and stomach, migrating between your thighs. Your wetness immediately covers your fingers as you pull apart your folds, clit throbbing with anticipation.

Digging your heels into the messy sheets, you arch upward, a wanton gasp leaving your lips the second your fingers touch your most sensitive bud. Rubbing the swollen area slowly, you dip your digits down towards your opening, coating yourself in your wetness.

However, before you get the chance to touch your clit and pleasure yourself to your release, you’re interrupted. There’s a tap at your balcony window, and your eyes shoot open, blood running cold when you see a man sitting there, smirk on his face.

And not just any man…its Jungkook.

“Yah!” you screech at him as he innocently tugs at the glass door wall, happiness apparent on his features when he finds that it’s not locks. Sliding it open, clearly not caring of your state of undress or the fact that you’re bounding to your feet, haphazardly wrapping the white bed sheet around yourself, Jungkook steps inside.

“Maybe I should hang around your apartment more often,” he comments teasingly as he glances you up and down, and you scowl, knowing that he can tell how red your face has turned.

For the most part, you’re unfamiliar with Jungkook, but you know him. Everyone does. And for the most part, in return, he knows everyone. It’s his job to keep track of third level residents, after all, so he’d made a point to become acquainted with everyone. So, in the most basic sense, you know him. You’d encountered him maybe about a dozen time during your stay, and none had been unpleasant—in fact, you’d actually sort of taken a liking to his fun yet somewhat shy personality. But now—with him approaching you slowly, hidden intent marking his gaze—you’re wondering where that dash of shyness went, and if you’d ever known him at all.

“Y/N,” he beckons, voice calm. Jungkook extends his hand towards you, and your heart thrums, fingers twitching at your side because even though you have no goddamn clue as to why he’s here, he’s…tempting.

But you hold your ground, not giving in, your eyes narrowing at him.

“Why are you here?”

Jungkook grins and rolls his eyes. “You ask too many questions.”

Before you can blink, Jungkook is suddenly chest-to-chest with you, your nipples poking through the sheet and pressing into his sculpted chest.

“Hey–!” you begin to protest—because that’s the first damn question you’ve asked!—but Jungkook silences you with his lips, his tongue lapping up your surprised gasp and contented moan. Sadly, your contentment doesn’t last long—shattering the moment Jungkook grabs the end of the sheet you’re using to shield yourself and tugs—hard.

His strength obviously inhuman, you’re sent spinning and are only saved from sure disaster to yourself and your apartment by the fact that Jungkook grabs you—his hands steady on your waist as he waits for your head to stop spinning.

“You asshole!” is the first thing you cry, pounding your fist against his chest, knowing that he probably doesn’t even feel it. Having the balls to laugh at your futile efforts to detach yourself from him, Jungkook slips his hands down your sides—causing you to shiver—and grips each of your ass cheeks. He then proceeds to lift you up, leaning backwards so your chest is pressed flush to his, and without warning launches backwards and flies from your apartment window.

“Jungkook!” you scream, goosebumps prickling your skin as the night air rushes over you. Down below you can see buildings and a few scarce people in the late hours of the night, but that doesn’t fix your embarrassment in the least. Jungkook—the goddamn little shit of a guardian—is holding you by your ass, naked, and flying you over the entire damn city.

“Yes?” he finally responds, humor in his voice, and you match his gaze, eyes ablaze.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you hiss in a harsh whisper, not wanting to be seen or heard, dear god. “Put me down this instant!”

“Yeah?” he grins, licking his lips, and all of the sudden his grip on your ass disappears. You startle, eyes going wide as you fall away from him.


Before you can even finish there’s a strong hand on your ankle, and you squeal as you flip upside down, hair falling down towards the fading city below.

Jungkook!” you scream, attempting to clench your legs together, but it seems Jungkook has already gotten a perfect eyeful of your attributes, his teasing gaze now filled with undeniable hunger.

“I’m jealous,” he says, flipping you with ease, cradling you in his arms as if you’re a princess. “But He’s already asked for you, so I can’t lay my claim.”

You blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What the hell is he talking about?

“What? Who asked for me? What the fuck is going on, Jungkook. You literally just came into my home and stole me away—while I was naked, mind you, which is unkind—to me and everyone, considering no one needs to see what it is I’ve got going on.”

Jungkook snorts a laugh. “What you’ve got going on, Y/N, is something I wish I’d noticed sooner—”

“Oh hush. You’re a baby.”

Pausing, Jungkook’s gaze darkens, tinting with dominance, his eyes flashing a hypnotic color of red.

“If you ever come back to third level and are returned to my domain, I promise I’ll show just how wrong you are…”

You gulp, thighs tightening as the threat tugs on the orgasm which you had been unable to reach just a few minutes earlier. You want to ask him what he’d do—because dear god the thought is suddenly so wonderful to imagine—but more importantly…

“Why would I not come back to third level?? Jungkook, where the fuck are you taking me?”

“To your daddy devil.”

Keep reading

Afterparty [G.D]

Summary: After attending the EMAs, you and Grayson tiredly go back to your hotel room with plans other than sleeping.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut! Daddy! Belt!

A/N: When ur man looks like a full course meal and no one (not that I know of anyway) has written a smut after the emas yet so u take matters into ur own filthy hands. I think the belt Gray wore was Gucci like E’s but idk I’m not a rich bitch. I wrote this on my phone in like 2 hours so it’s a short/quick one. Enjoy babes x

Grayson Dolan was absolutely gorgeous. Not only that, but he was also mine. Attending something like the award show was always a bit risky due to the crazier part of the fandom, but he wanted to bring me along and I couldn’t say no to him. He’d bought me a beautiful dress even, coincidentally matching his dress shirt, that showed off almost all skin. It was odd, due to the fact that he was very overprotective, but once he told me to walk between him and Ethan the entire time, I felt safer than ever between my boys. I’d worn heels and yet they were both still enormous, which I loved. Pictures were taken of us, even if I wasn’t famous so to speak, more the one who filmed the boys because I loved working with cameras. And once I held the title of Grayson’s girlfriend, they were thirsty for more and more pictures of us.

The show went well, it was a fun experience, and even afterwards, some fans wanted pictures with me. Although tired, Grayson and Ethan went along with their own fan pics. I could tell E was starting to get sick due to the sound of his stuffed voice, so right when he finally got back to our hotel, he went off to his own room to sleep it off even though I insisted on making him some soup. Originally, we were going to fly back after the show, but decided it was better in the morning.

However, I knew Gray and I would not be getting much sleep.

We quietly got back to our hotel room, and I slipped off my heels before unpinning my hair. Grayson immediately went to sit down on the end of our bed with a deep sigh as he rubbed at his loopy eyes.

“Tired?” I asked the obvious. He only hummed, removing his own shoes and socks. I smiled warmly at him and went to my beautiful man, towering over him and placing my hands on his broad shoulders to squeeze them a bit. Leaning in, I gave him a short peck. “Want a massage?”

Before he could give me a definite answer, I moved to straddle him, innocently moving the palms of my hands up and down his hard chest. Either way, he didn’t answer, instead watching me with dark eyes.

“How dare you look this good, Dolan,” I wondered aloud with a little laugh, causing him to chuckle as his eyes roamed all over me whilst I pushed his spiked hair further back using my fingers and the places in between.

“Right back at you,” he replied in a tired, husky tone, letting out a tiny hiss as his eyes nearly burned through me. I rose a brow at him, realizing I’d moved slightly over his crotch. Grayson had been tightly tucked into a pair of pants that showed off his bulge a little too much and although I wasn’t the type to get too jealous, even loving how endearing and close he was to his millions of fans, once I caught someone staring down at his dick, I grew protective as well. "Had to hold myself back just seeing you.“

"Oh? Well what’s stopping you now?”

He didn’t respond as I began to unbutton his shirt a little, rocking against his crotch again. I could feel him hardening beneath me, causing my underwear to soak up at the thought of him fucking me.

“Tired,” was all he said, moving his arms to place then behind him as he leaned back a little. The dim lights helped me see his stubble, that only drove me crazier as November continued on. His eyes were beautiful, just like him, sparkling at me almost. His lips, full and plump, were something I wanted all over me, especially while he looked this fucking handsome and irresistible. He never looked bad, but seeing him tonight just… it gave me a lot to think about. Guiltily, I couldn’t pay much attention to the show when he was sitting right next to me to give me even more dirty thoughts with the way his pants hugged his thighs, how tight his shirt was to show his muscles, and even the way his hands looked resting on my thighs.

“Can I help you then?” I asked, cradling one side of his face to have his stubble prickle at my skin. It was supposed to sound innocent, but he knew better. Grayson was often very dominant in bed, of course it matched with his overprotectiveness, but he would also let me have some of my own fun seeing as I also liked to be on top pleasuring him. It worked because we both felt incredibly good in the end.

“What’d you have in mind, sweetheart,” he all but whispered, making my insides tingle as I smirked and started to move back and away from him. “If you were just fucking with me, I–”

I cut him off by placing a finger against his soft lips. “Shh.” I moved my finger and my lips replaced them, giving him a longer peck. I breathed him in and we both smiled against the kiss. “Just enjoy the afterparty, daddy.”

Making him grow harder with just one word, that I rarely used on him except for when I wanted my way or wanted to tease him, I went down to my knees, right in between his legs to start rubbing his thighs. He let out a breath when I got ahold of his belt and started to undo it, nibbling on my bottom lip. I was starving.

“Gucci, huh? Why don’t you spank me with it later…”

Grayson clenched his jaw at my dirty words, knowing fully well that I was doing it all on purpose. It was pretty laughable, but I wanted to know if he had enough in him to end up fucking me straight into oblivion once I’d gotten him to the edge. I knew exactly what to do with him.

I didn’t fully take the belt off, I didn’t even fully take his pants off, too eager to have him in my mouth already. Instead, I just unbuttoned the rest of his pants to let his cock spring free, gripping it in my hand as it grew harder within my touch. Already moaning at the sight with my mouth watering, I leaned in to kitty lick at the tip filled with precum, causing him to take an intake of breath and grip the sheets at the reach of his palms.

Smiling up at him, I took the tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around at a slow-burning pace. I let out a tiny sound of satisfaction when I took him in deeper with every bob my head gave, letting my hand jerk off what couldn’t fit yet in my mouth.

Eventually, after spending seconds just sucking the upper half, I went all the way down to touch his pelvis with the tip of my nose, feeling him tightly at the back of my throat. Eyes watering, I slowly came back for air, feeling the throbbing vein leave from my lips as I stared up at him, spitting on him and moving my hand up and down quicker.

One more time, I took him all the way inside of my mouth, feeling him grip the back of my hair to keep me down. I choked on his cock, but stayed down even when he let me go, before going back to pay more attention to the head.

An idea came to mind, so still sucking him with hollowed cheeks, I brought my hands over to the neckline of my dress before pulling it all the way down. Grayson managed to look despite being immersed in pleasure, twitching in my mouth.

“Oh don’t you fucking–” Grayson cut himself off as he moaned once I managed to put his dick in between my tits, squeezing them together and moving myself up and down his length with innocent eyes staring up at him. It was the first time I’d done something like this, so I knew it was driving him absolutely crazy.

“Don’t what, daddy?”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

“Do you want me to stop–”

No,” he said, voice deeper and more demanding than ever.

Fuck me, I thought as I decided to stop, only to go back to my spot in straddling him. Luckily, he didn’t say anything - but he still seemed angry as he gripped my panties to rip them apart before going to grip my tits in his large hands that had gotten a little cold, going to kiss the skin all around them. I let out a whine once he placed a nipple into his hot mouth, his jawline straightened to perfection as he sucked on it, making me shiver.

“Grayson,” I moaned as I started grinding my hips, feeling his hard cock in between my ass, slapping and bouncing against it since he wasn’t inside of me yet. I was eager to have him, but even while being under me, he was teasing as he brought a hand down to my pussy, letting the fingertips drag along my slick folds until he let two fingers slide inside, already thrusting as quickly as his tired body would let him. I’d let out a squeal and gripped tightly onto his shirt as his long digits tried going as deep as they could.

Me being the next one to grow angry, I removed his hand from me and gripped his dick, running the tip along my entrance until I was able to get him fully inside, his cock tucked right against my walls. Moaning yet again, I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold myself up as I bounced myself up and down his length with no warning to give to him, grinning mischievously when I watched Grayson’s eyelids flutter as he clenched his jaw and gripped so much tighter onto the bedsheets. That wasn’t enough, since he gripped me next, his hands sure to leave bruises.

“Daddy’s too tired, so I’m in charge,” I said breathlessly, pushing on his chest until his arms gave out and he dropped flat on his back with a groan.

Grayson threw his head back when I slowed down my pace, my own eyes fluttering at how good he was filling me up. Then, torturing only myself, I placed my hands flat on his chest and moved up until his cock easily slid out of me and hit his stomach. I went to grip him to place him back inside, only to repeat the gesture, my pussy throbbing just as much as his cock. Grayson slowly realized what I was doing, and before I knew it, he had gripped my hips and flipped us around, throwing my limp body against the bed.

I smirked up at him and spread my legs wide open for him, touching myself a little before placing my fingers inside of my mouth, watching him as he ripped his shirt off of his chiseled body. My body grew excited and I felt wetter once he gripped his belt with one hand and took it off from its loops, grabbing my hips with his other strong arm to turn me around to lie on my stomach.

My dress was practically shriveled up to my waist as he made sure my ass was high up while my cheek rested against the bed. He gently touched my round ass, letting his cock glide between my wet pussy.

Fuck me,” I begged.

“Did you really think I was that tired, baby?” He asked me, and I didn’t answer as my heart sped up when he was gently letting his belt touch my skin as if warning me of what was to come. “Riding my cock like that and then teasing the fuck out of me… that’s not going to work out well for you.”

I whimpered when he finally entered me, but he was much much slower. Slow enough to make me hear how my arousal was coating him up with each movement.

I could hear the belt moving, and I got distracted once he started thrusting faster, making me forget about everything else but how good he felt.

Suddenly, I felt a hard sting when his belt snapped against my skin. I let out a tiny scream when he did it again before gently touching the place he’d hit, keeping his quick thrusts going.

Grunting, he grabbed me by both my waist and my throat to bring me flush against him, my ass up on his thighs now and our skin sweaty. Grayson went to grip a hip but kept one hand tight on my throat, giving my ass another hit with the belt somewhere in between that, which caused me to knit my brows together when tears welled up in my eyes.

Oh my God… I hadn’t expected this.

“Do you like it when I choke you, sweetheart?” He asked me, kissing the back of my ear as he still slid in and out of me. I was shaking and clenching around him, breath hitching when I felt him wrap the belt around my neck after I managed to nod as an answer to his question.

He tried not to tighten it too much since he didn’t want to actually hurt me, so with just enough pressure applied, he held tightly onto the belt at the back of my neck, thrusting mercilessly into me. I let out a scream, which caused him to place his other hand over my mouth as he continued his pace, moving fast enough to let my tits bounce in the air and hard enough to have me shaking and gripping back onto his thighs.

Eventually, getting closer to our climax, he let go of the belt still around my throat and gripped hard onto the flesh of my hips with both hands, thrusting balls deep with all the energy he actually had. Sneaky fucker. My voice got caught in my throat as he hit the right spot, over and over again, driving me over the edge. The amount of pleasure he was giving me made me feel like I’d pass out at the end of this, and then he was using his hand to spank me.

“Right there, Gray– Grayson!” I shouted, causing him to push me back down. I felt a bit dizzy as he turned me back around, slamming back into me repeatedly. He tried his best to move at a certain angle, keeping my legs tight around him as he gripped my tits and moved again and again until I had my eyes rolling back, not even being able to tell him I was coming.

Fuck,” he grunted, stopping to dig his fists into the bedsheets at my sides as his cock twitched inside of me. I felt every spurt of his cum and sighed almost dreamily when he finished and leaned in to give me a rough kiss, heading back down south to kiss my neck and heaving chest.

Once he made it down to my pussy to clean me up with his mouth, the door was knocking very hard, and we knew already who it was.

“Ethan was next-door,” Gray reminded me, blushing and trying to catch his breath.

“He had a bigger belt, wonder what that could mean,” I joked, but Grayson glared up at me before thinking.

“Well if you want to find out, Daddy won’t stop you.”