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#This post is for me and like...two other people
drvscarlett · 2 days
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Let him cook pt 2
Charles Leclerc x Masterchef!reader
Series Part: 1
taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life
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CharlesLeclercUpdates posted a photo.
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CharlesLeclercUpdates Charles Leclerc appeared in MasterChef Australia episode "Cooking to Survive"
User1 Ariana what are you doing hereeeee??
User2 I thought only f2 drivers were allowed for that, why was Charles wandering around
User7 In his defense, Ollie was with him. Maybe Ollie got invited and Charles tagged along.
User3 Okay but did anyone notice how his eyes lit up when Y/N talked to him. The boy was whipped!
User8 Charles can't get Y/N, he can't even cook User9 Agree User8! Besides Y/N has a long-time boyfriend, they are super cute. Do you all not watch the different challenges she dedicated to him?
Y/NCooks posted a photo.
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Liked by Charles_Leclerc, friend1, and 255,000 others.
YNCooks what a stunning day! We won today as the captain of the red team and coincidentally there was a red team 1-2 as well??? #AlwaysBetOnRed
User1 Mother you slayed!!! I was so surprised to see you at the GP!
YNCooks me too!! This is one of the best team challenges ever.
User2 Charles is on the likes. Charles is on the likes.
Charles_Leclerc Congrats on your win!!!
Y/NCooks Thank you! You too, you did great!!!
User3 The collab of this masterchef and f1 community is not on my bingo list.
User4 Y/N's boyfriend how are you feeling that Charles is stealing your girl away??
"Are you seeing this right now? They thought that I am stealing you away" Charles grumbles over the phone. You can't see him right now but you can actually visualize the frown lines forming and the soft scowl that he has on his face "Why would I steal my own girlfriend?"
"Oh mon ami"
"And did they even watch the episodes? Like couldn't they piece it together that I'm the one that you are referring to I mean the cake and then the adopted italian narrative" Charles continued to rant on
It was adorable to hear Charles like this. How you wish that you weren't just conversing over the phone, how you wish that you could be there for him right now.
"Y/N you still there?" Charles' voice brought you out of your musings.
"Yep, I'm still here. Just a little bit tired" you explained
"You had a really long day mon amour."He says "I'm really so proud of you. You are slowly achieving your dreams"
"As I am very proud of you Charles. You always shine the brightest when you are up on that podium. I wish I could be there on the front lines cheering for you"
"One day you will be"
There is a peaceful silence shared between the two of you. The thing about you and Charles was that you both understand that this is a better situation than being under scrutiny by everyone. Charles had his fair share of public relationship and he learned a lot from it. He just wanted to keep this as his for a little while longer.
"I love you, I'll see you soon" "Love you more honey"
Risotto challenge
You were not always having a good day in the kitchen and this is one of those episodes that you did not do well hence the elimination challenge. The judges commented that there was no problem with the dish that you made but it was simply not as risky as what the others did. So you are really driven to show them creativeness.
Charles was watching the episode with so much dread as he hears that the elimination dish is a reinvention of a risotto. He watched enough MasterChef season with you to know that this dish is the death dish aka the dish that usually sends people home.
He understands the dilemma that you are facing right now, play it safe and stick to the classic which means it won't stand out or play it risky and be booted for elimination.
"I'm making Quinoa risotto" that was your bold decision and Charles couldn't believe his ears.
"Mon amour, risotto is rice. Quinoa is not rice" Charles mumbled to himself
"I know its a big risk but I have to show them that I am a risk taker and that I am a MasterChef winner material"you confidently state in the interview.
It was a stressful few minutes to Charles as he watched how the judges has already decided that the idea of a quinoa risotto would be an utter disaster. Nevertheless, he saw the determination in your eyes and how you defended why you opted to go for a risotto.
"Do you often cook quinoa at home?" Matt asked as he and Jean Pierre White scrutinize your table.
"I don't really" you replied with a shy smile "Well truthfully I don't even know what quinoa is before my boyfriend introduced me to it. It was a part of his diet so I went ahead and learn how to cook quinoa so he could eat"
This was new information for Charles and he felt warm with this new fact. He remembers how every time he visits you, there will be a variation of his diet meals that will ensure that he won't get bored of food and still be on track with his diet. He takes note that he will be grateful for that when she comes back.
"We're looking forward to taste that risotto" Matt says
Time went by and Charles let out a small sigh of relief after knowing that you completed your dish. Charles have full confidence with the dish that you made and he hopes that the judges will take a new perspective with this quinoa risotto.
"Quinoa is not a risotto" Marco Pierre White stated. It was all so menacing how he said it with flat emotions and a monotone voice. Charles could feel himself sweating as they tasted the dish.
"But this is another take that I will welcome" Another sigh of relief for Charles. He knows that you got this in the bag.
Cooking for a special someone
"We're now down to a challenge for the top two spots in the MasterChef kitchen, are you excited?"
Everything was so surreal. Starting from 20 and now they are down to the last 4 contestant. You were so grateful that you are another step closer to your dream of being a MasterChef winner.
"For this week, we will be bringing in some important guests who you will need to impress in order to secure a spot as a MasterChef finalist."
The contestants were asked to step one by one. You started to notice that they brought in their loved ones and you were fidgeting a bit because you don't know who they will bring out.
"Last but definitely not the least, Y/N step forward" Gary says "Are we gonna meet the boyfriend?"
"Oooh the boyfriend. We have been hearing about him for ages now" Matt teased
"The boyfriend is very busy" you replied as you remembered that he is probably in America right now.
"Oh cmon, cant he miss out a day or two"
"Its a job hazard to miss out a few days" you answered. It's all about the points so you really can't fault Charles not wanting to miss a single day at work.
"Okay in that case, our mystery guest for Y/N is............."
The MasterChef door opens and you were surprised to see not one but two Leclercs.
"What are you doing here down under?" you asked as you gave them a hug
"We're going to support you obviously!" Arthur grinned
It was weird because this was the first time that you will be with Arthur and Lorenzo with cameras rolling. You were nearly in tears when you hugged the two of them. Without even asking, you knew right away that Charles sent them since he will be busy with the races.
"And who are they to your life Y/N?" the judges asked
"This is Arthur and Lorenzo, they are very close friends. They treat me as if I'm one of their own" you smiled.
"I'm sure you are going to be inspired to cook now that you have them around"
The pressure was definitely on especially when you were told that there is a need to present 2 dishes, one sweet and another savory in 75 minutes. However, you were pumped to hear the cheers coming from the balcony as Arthur enthusiastically showers you with compliment while Lorenzo takes photos.
Charles, on the other hand, has been constantly checking his phone, now that he is done with free practice. He felt quite jealous that his brothers were able to see you and support you in person. Although, he was quite happy that they are having the time of life supporting you.
Lorenzo texted him about 30 minutes ago that they will be judging and eating the food that the contestants made. He was slowly getting impatient of the results, he wanted to know what's going on.
1 new text message.
Lorenzo: She got in! She's a finalist!!!
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ruefortherealm · 2 days
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The Way I Loved You
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➸ synopsis: he is your best friend, and yet, everything hurts when a certain Baratheon girl comes to your lives and Aemond starts neglecting you.
➸ word count: 7.95k (she’s long but worth it)
➸ warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, best friends to lovers, angst, love confession, inspired by Taylor Swift’s song, fingering, oral (F! Receiving), fluff, happy ending, Floris Baratheon, supportive Targtower family, mentions of Otto, Aemond is a bit of an ass at some point, creampie, nicknames (Sugar & Freckles). English isn’t my first language<3
➸ an: ohh so I don’t know if you remember or not, but this was one of the first posts on my blog! But anyway, I hope you enjoy it because I LOVE it especially when I turned the lyrics into my fave scene from this fic! Enjoy, reblog and tell me your opinion!
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“Aem, I can’t find you,”
You look around the airport, groaning when you can’t find him. The coffee in your hand is long forgotten as you search for him, sighing in defeat when you can’t spot his tall frame.
“I am outside, silly girl,” he says over the phone, chuckling when he hears your frustrated whine.
“Couldn’t you say it from the start? I have been looking for you forever!” You make your way to the exit, dropping your cold coffee in the trash on your way out.
“And miss on how you would curse me for wasting your coffee? Never, you know me better.” He replies, waiting for you to find him.
“I thought I was the teasing one, Mr. Targ, not the other way around.” 
“Call me Mr. Targ once more and I’ll leave you here,” he threatens playfully, “you know better than to mess with me, Sugar,”
“You won’t do such a thing,” 
You spot his significant white hair and his leather jacket instantly, smiling to yourself, heart hammering in your chest.
“How are you so sure?”
“Because you just love me too much, Aem,” 
He turns around at the sound of your voice, grinning when he sees you. He ends the call, opening his arms for you when you run towards him, picking you up and twirling you around as if you weigh nothing.
“Missed you, Aem, missed you so fucking much,” you say, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he held you up by your thighs.
“Missed you too, sugar. Even Vhagar misses you,” 
“Targaryens and naming their vehicles,” you roll your eyes playfully when he puts you down, faking a pout, “be grateful that I only have a backpack with me and not a big ass luggage.”
“Oh, trust me, Vhagar can handle ten luggages.” He says, handing you a spare helmet, as he puts on his own, his gorgeous sapphire eye hidden behind his dark sunglasses.
“Have you taken any girls on motorbike rides while I was away?” You tease him, expecting him to laugh, but you can see the hesitation in his voice when he answers.
“You know me,” he clears his throat, helping you up on his motorcycle before he sits in front of you, “I can’t woo women, Sugar.”
“Oh, please, you have already wooed me! Don’t underestimate yourself!” 
He chuckles, putting his own helmet on before he starts the motor. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your head on his back as he starts the ride to their house.
You truly have missed moments like this; so peaceful and comfortable. Aemond has that effect on his closest people, and you consider yourself lucky enough to be his best friend and experience that side of him that is always so open and kind.
It has only been two months since you left to spend time with your parents over the summer break, but even in those two months, you thought of him and updated him on your daily activities — even though Aemond hates using his phone, he always makes an exception for you.
The wind blows, and Aemond swishes between the cars, making you squeal and cling to him more. He laughs genuinely, slowing down a little when he goes up the hill that leads to the entrance of the Targaryen house — not a house, but a mansion that you have grown to love so much since your senior high school year.
The golden gates open, and Aemond rides towards the end of the path to his parking, not trusting anyone with his precious Vhagar.
“Home, sweet home,” he says, running his hand through his wild hair and helping you down from the bike.
“Sweet home indeed,” you say, “Gods, Aem, I don’t think I can move to my dorm after I stay here for a month,”
“Who says I’m letting you stay in those shitty uni rooms? I know King’s Landing’s dormitory is the best in Westeros but no way in hell I would let you go there,” he replies, leading you to the entrance of the house.
“Aem, I can’t stay here! I am a guest, sure, not complaining at all, but I will be studying for two years, and I can’t under any circumstances stay here with your family,” 
A girl opens the door, greeting you before she grabs your bag and tells the two of you that the rest of the family members are in the great hall.
“I will not argue with you to kill the mood, Sugar, but we will have this conversation later.” he looks at you taking off his sunglasses, “Come, they’re waiting for us,”
“I look like shit, Aem,” you groan, smoothing your t-shirt in hopes of looking presentable enough.
“Sugar, you look perfect,” he pats your head and chuckles when you slap his hand away.
“I know Alicent and Hel are wearing something too elegant for a simple lunch and I am here with a gray tee and baggy jeans.” 
“Stop worrying, they have seen you in a much worse situation,” he smirks, pushing the door to the hall open before you have the chance to say something back.
You stop dead in your tracks when you look inside the hall; Daeron is chasing Aegon around, Alicent is sitting behind a desk, concentrating on the task in hand, and Heleana is busy with her needlework in another world — typical Saturday in the Targaryen household.
“Give back my phone, you piece of shit—” “Uh huh, lil bro, not a chance until I see who you are texting—”
“I am so going to murder you—”
Aegon sees you and runs behind you and Aemond, sticking his tongue out for Daeron.
“My dear sister-in-law will save me from the beast,” Aegon says dramatically, waving with Daeron’s phone in his hand.
“Hello to you too, asshole,” you flick his forehead, “And I am not your–”
“Daeron, you little fucker, are you texting Joanna Lannister?” He barks out a laugh, catching Aemond’s attention if he hasn’t had it already with the whole sister-in-law thing, “She is a piece of art. Good job, bro!”
You and Aemond glance at each other before you look at the youngest Targaryen, grinning ear to ear while Aemond smirks.
“Fuck you–”
“Boys, stop,” Alicent says sternly, glaring at the Targaryen men before her expression softens when she sees you, “I wanted to say behave in front of our guest, but you are no longer just our guest, darling,”
“Oh, I missed you so much, Alicent,” 
She pulls you in for a hug, embracing you as if she hasn’t seen you for ages.
“Me too, sweetling,” she says, rubbing your back gently, “I have to call your parents and adopt you myself,”
“She’d already be our sister, Mother,” Aegon says, gesturing at Aemond, who raises a suggestive eyebrow at him, “If only this duty-always-comes-first son of yours hurries the fuck up.”
“Ok, that’s enough, give me back my phone, and let’s have lunch,” Daeron interrupts, snatching his phone from his brother before he drags him to the dining room.
“Good idea,” Aemond says, clearing his throat as he looks around to find Helaena, “Go, Mother, I’ll bring the girls,”
“Just be careful, it’s one of those days again,” Alicent says and leaves.
“We’ve got her,” He replies as he walks to where his sister is sitting, unbothered by her surroundings as she hums to herself.
“Sister,” Aemond calls her gently, standing a few feet away to not scare her.
“Yes?” She doesn’t look up, but you can see the tension fading away from her shoulders.
“Sugar is here,” 
With that, she looks up, smiling broadly when she spots you.
“Hi!” She says, waving at you without standing up from the floor.
“Hey beautiful,” you say, waving back, “wanna have lunch with us?”
“Yes, I would love to,”
“Do you want me to help you?” Aemond asks, stepping forward to help her up but she shakes her head, a little frown on her face as she stands up by herself, maintaining a distance so she wouldn’t touch any of you, her needlework forgotten on the floor.
“Can you go ahead of me?” she fidgets with her fingers, looking at you in anticipation.
“Of course, come on, Sugar,”
He extends his hand, and you take it before you walk out of the room. You wrap your arms around him, and he does the same, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.
“It’s great to have you back,” he breaks the silence, glancing at Heleana who walks behind you slowly.
“I love you, Aemond,”
“I love you, too, Sugar,”
If only the two of you knew how things would change in a month.
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You fell into a busy routine around the Targaryen household in a few days. Every day was a challenge itself with the boys, but the fun was endless. Especially since Aemond had tried to steal you away from Aegon and Daeron after they had forced you to tell them more about uni girls — not Daeron though, he only asked about Joanna.
You would watch TV shows at 2 in the morning with Aemond in his room, read a book with him, and plan the rest of the summer together.
Everything is easy with him — from telling your opinions freely to giving him a show of your newest clothes which his mother has purchased. He is everything; a good listener, a great partner in crime, a wonderful person, and the most perfect best friend someone can ever ask for.
And that’s what makes it harder for you to keep your facade up around him. He knows when you lie when you feel uncomfortable, or overthink every single interaction you had throughout the day, and he does whatever he can to keep you calm and happy.
Aemond is always on your mind, whether you are on a date, comparing the person next to you to your best friend, or when you are in classes, even when you are next to him, your mind wanders around him.
And now that he is diving into the pool with his long hair in a low braid, you are losing it. 
You have always found him handsome, despite the scar on his cheek, you never felt anything but love and affection for him, even though he was a complete jerk to you at first, you never despised him for his eye.
You sit at the edge of the pool, applying sunscreen on yourself as you watch him swim in your direction. He stops in front of you, resting his chin on your thigh, looking up at you.
“Y’know, Sugar, why don’t you come with me to the party tonight?” He asks, his large palm caressing the softness of your hip.
“Because it’s a business party, and I am not so keen on meeting Jason Lannister again,” you roll your eyes at him when he chuckles.
“I won’t leave you alone,”
“You promise the same thing every year, and you still leave me alone with all the champagne in the bar.” 
You push a few wet strands of his white hair out of his face as he looks at you with that heart-melting gaze that has you wrapped around his fingers.
“No,”
“Please? Pinkie promise,” he holds his finger in front of you, “I will even take you to our spot after that,”
“Damn you and your charm, Freckles,”
“Call me that again, and I change my mind,” he smirks when you swat his arm.
“You won’t dare,”
“Try me, Sugar—“
“Will you two stop flirting, and fuck each other finally?” Aegon groans, putting his sunglasses on before he sits on one of the lounges with his cocktail, “or if you don’t perhaps I can shoot my shot with her, huh? What do you say, Sugar?”
“I say you should shut the fuck up,” you reply, caressing Aemond’s head gently while he rests his head on your lap, his arms wrapping around your torso.
“Why? At least I can show you a good time,” Aegon pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose, winking at you. Luckily, you are used to his behavior.
“Hey, look at me, Aem,” you grab his face when you feel him tense under your touch, “He is Aegon, he literally tells every moving thing to get in bed with him. This is not my first time.”
“I know,” he drops his forehead on your thigh, “he does it to get under my skin,”
“And you let him,” you sigh, splashing some water on his face, “anyway, what should I wear tonight?”
He scrunches his nose, tickling you in revenge, “I’m sure Mother has something for you ready in your room by now,” 
“Alright, Aem, but I will not ride on Vhagar with a long dress,”  You squeal when he pulls you down into the water, keeping his fingers on your side as he tickles you.
“Don’t worry, Sug, Baratheons will send us a Limo,”
“A Limo?” You grab his hands to stop him.
“Holy fuck, I need to come with you two—“ Aegon says hurriedly, looking at his brother in disbelief.
“Your father owns the biggest company, you live in the most expensive mansion in Westeros, and you drive Sunfyre, but you still get excited over a Limo?” Aemond shakes his head, sighing in defeat.
“Aemond, I can drink and have sex while someone else is driving. That is all I ever want,”
“I won’t let you fuck up tonight,” Aemond warns him, pointing his finger at Aegon who whines like a child.
“I mean if he doesn’t fuck while we’re in Limo with him, I can tolerate his company,” you say, shrugging your shoulders when Aemond glares at you.
“And what am I doing there exactly?”
“Sealing the deal, like you always do,” Aegon leans back on the lounge, looking at you two from the rim of his glasses, “your girl should stay entertained while you go play the hard-to-get man.”
“That’s exactly why I loathe taking you to these events,”
“Aem, I keep an eye on him, besides, I won’t be left alone,” you try to reason with him, but you only get a disapproving sigh in return.
“You won’t be alone, I promised to keep you by my side,”
“And yet, you have to talk to those noblemen for the good of the company. I can keep him on a leash, trust me,” you turn around to look at Aegon, “ain’t the right, Egg?”
“Gods, you and your stupid nicknames,” He laughs, nodding in response, “but yeah, anything for you, my lady.”
What a night you have ahead of yourself…
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The dress you see when you walk into your room after lunch with the Targaryen family is nothing short but phenomenal — a sapphire blue satin dress that reaches the floor with a slit up the left leg. Not only the dress, but you find diamond earrings as well on your vanity.
Alicent always chooses your outfits for these events, not because she is the controlling type of woman, but because she genuinely enjoys fashion and you can never thank her enough for all the great and beautiful dresses she has bought you.
You look beautiful as you look at yourself in the height-length mirror; the fabric of the dress feels smooth on your skin, and it hugs your curves so beautifully. You put your hair up in a bun with two strands left framing your face, and you smile brightly when Heleana looks at you, beaming at how elegant you look.
“Do you think he’ll like it, Hel?”
“He’ll love it,” she replies softly, stroking your hand.
The door is pushed open by Aemond after two knocks, and lord does he take your breath away with his looks — his platinum hair is down, his tall frame is shaped by the black tuxedo he is wearing and his sapphire tie that matches your dress is resting around his neck.
Heleana can feel his brother’s heart beating faster when he looks at you, sizing you up with his violet eye, a small smile plastering on his thin lips.
He has to remind himself that he can not drag you to his room and kiss your breath away, because with the way you look at him — so in awe as if he is the most handsome man in all Westeros — he has to keep his thoughts pure, or he won’t survive the consequences of his actions.
“Phenomenal,” he whispers, nodding in gratitude when Heleana leaves the two of you alone.
“What is?” You ask, taking a step towards him.
“You are,” he caresses your neck with the back of his hand, turning you around as he stands behind you, “I brought you something, Sugar.”
He holds the velvet box in front of you, and you thank him before you open it, gasping at the sapphire necklace inside. It matches his eye, and you can’t form a word as you look at how it shines under the lights of your room.
“You shouldn’t have,”
“Yeah, because this is nothing compared to what you truly deserve,” he replies, catching the necklace from you while he rests it gently on your neck before he clasps it.
“You are the most perfect best friend I could have ever asked for,”
Your heart aches when you say it, but you can not risk to lose him — he is the source of your happiness, your one and only, your partner in crime, your best friend. So why does it hurt so much when you say it aloud? You love him, you truly do, but perhaps that’s the problem. 
“Ready to leave, love birds?” Aegon pokes his head out from the door, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you.
“Yeah, lemme grab my purse and we’re good to go.” You say, ignoring Aegon’s suggestive remark.
Aemond offers you his arm, smiling at you as he leads you out of the room behind his brother. The limousine is waiting outside, and you and Aegon grin at each other when you see it.
“After you, my lady,”
Aegon bows, opening the door for you, smirking at you when you punch his arm playfully. Aemond follows you into the car, his lips twitching upward when he sees how you are looking around the car.
“Brother, I will come to every single event you attend just to see their cars,” Aegon says, hands already reaching for the bottle of bourbon.
“Don’t get too drunk and make a mockery out of us,” Aemond hisses at him, his hand resting on your thigh to calm himself.
Physical touch was something so out of the question back in the first few months of your friendship, but soon you realized all he needed was a solace, a hug, and a gentle hand running through his hair when he was nervous.
You were fortunate enough that he found that solace in you.
Throughout the ride towards the destination, the three of you had a shot to loosen up a bit, and you were glad that Aemond calmed down a little until you made it to the location of the party.
When you arrive, Aegon is the first to burst through the car door and stands aside for the flashing cameras to focus on you and Aemond.
Aemond steps outside, extending his hand for you to take as he helps you out of the car. You are flustered at how he keeps looking at you, as if his world orbits around you as if you are the air to his lungs, and it fills you with a new sense of giddiness when you are the center of his attention.
“Shall we?” He asks, offering his arm to you.
“Of course,” you link your arm with him, walking ahead of Aegon to the main entrance of the building while the cameras flash and take pictures for the press.
Everything looks so extraordinary, and that is what Baratheons are most famous for. Even though you are used to being on such occasions with Targaryens, you still feel a little out of place, but with Aemond by your side, nothing can cause you a sour feeling. 
Or at least you think.
As soon as you step into the hall, you are met by none other than Borros Baratheon himself. He greets the boys and nods your way, not paying you any attention as he is completely focused on Aemond, whisking him away from you at the first second he can.
Aemond glances at you, mouthing his apologies as he is carried away by Borros, leaving you and Aegon to help yourselves with champagne and the delicious snacks near the bar.
Soon, Aegon breaks apart from you and finds himself in the company of another woman, who will undoubtedly take him to her place tonight. 
You take another glass of champagne, looking about the room. Most people are engaged in talking business, some are trying to have a great time, and someone like Aemond is being introduced to one of the most beautiful girls you have laid your eyes on.
Aegon and his companion appear next to you, watching the scene as Aemond presses a kiss upon the girl’s knuckles, earning a bashful smile from her.
“Who’s that?”
“Jealous much?” Aegon teases you, but shuts up as soon as he sees your expression, “that is Borros Baratheon’s youngest daughter, Floris.”
“I haven’t seen any of his other daughters around,” Aegon murmurs quietly to the girl next to him.
“I haven’t either,” she replies, watching as Aemond shakes Borros’ hand and offers his arm to Floris, much like he did to you.
He takes her to the dance floor, putting his hand on her waist as they sway with each other, and you watch them, even though you know you should turn your back to them and enjoy your night, all you can focus on is how Aemond smiles at her, how she giggles when he says something — how he treats her like you.
“Sugar, don’t look at ‘em, alright? He is doing this for business—“
“Aegon, I don’t care. I am his best friend, not his girlfriend,” you whisper, exhaling as you watch them come in your direction.
“Sugar,” Aemond says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “this is Floris Baratheon, Floris, this is Y/N, my friend.”
“Oh, hi,” she looks you up and down, a smirk on her face when she shakes your hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” you rush the words out of your mouth, already uncomfortable by her judging stare. 
You are beyond thankful when Aegon jumps in and introduces himself, taking the edge off your shoulders for a few seconds.
“I was telling her about your major in university,” Aemond says, his hand still on Floris’ waist.
“Oh,” 
“Yes, he talks highly of you,” she says, looking up at Aemond who is only focused on you right now.
“He is a great friend,” you smile at the pair, fingers tightening around your glass as you take a sip from it.
“A great friend indeed—“
“Can I have a moment with Sugar, please?” 
You are beyond thankful when Aegon comes to your rescue, grabbing your hand and taking you away from them. You sigh in relief when the fresh air hits your heated body, dropping your head on Aegon’s shoulder as you stand outside.
“I wanna leave, Egg,”
“Why don’t you talk to him, Sugar? Stop denying—“
“I am not denying anything,” you raise your voice a little, straightening your back to look into his eyes, “he’s my friend and he seems happy! That is what’s important to me; his happiness. I will not act selfishly because of something that only I want.”
“He is happier with you—“
“I’m not having this conversation right now. I wanna leave, I’ll see you in the house,” you press a quick kiss to his cheek before you walk towards the exit.
You know he is not yours to feel jealous, he is just a friend as he told Floris, but the pain in your heart when he smiled at her — one of those smiles that he only showed you when he would talk about something he truly loved — you knew you had to go.
“Sugar, wait—“
You stop in your tracks when a rough hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. 
“Are you alright? Why-why are you leaving?” Aemond asks, caressing your cheek as you brace your hands on his chest.
“I don’t feel well, Aem,” you pay his chest with one hand, smiling as best as you can, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, “I think I’m a bit dehydrated,”
“I can go and grab you—“
“No, no, no, Aem, listen, I have a terrible headache as well. All I need is sleep, OK? I’ll meet you in the house, go and have fun.”
“I promised not to leave you alone,”
“And we both knew you had to break it because this is business, not a frat party, Aem. Go, I’ll see you later. Love you,”
“Love you too, Sug,”
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From that night, everything has changed — Aemond was always in the company’s building, or out on business meetings, or he was too tired to spend time with you, not only that but he told you a few times that he was going out with Floris Baratheon.
You try to be happy for him, you truly do, but when he stands up mid-conversation to answer her phone call and leaves you without any more explanation than ‘I’m heading out for dinner, don’t wait for me’ without glancing at you, you can’t help but think how easily he is setting you aside.
The month you had planned the first day you arrived is passing and you only did manage to spend a few hours with him before he vanished from your sight.
It has been two days since he has answered your calls and texts, and you are going mad. You have no idea where he is, or who he is with, but more than being angry with him, you are worried about him.
It’s half past midnight and the movie you are watching with Daeron and his girlfriend can’t catch your attention enough to stay with them. So you leave the hall and go upstairs to find Aegon and Hel to spend some time with them while no one is on your mind except your best friend.
You are about to walk past Alicent’s office when you hear his voice from the speaker of her phone. Morally, you know it's wrong to eavesdrop but you have been concerned about him for so long that you need to know if he’s alright.
“Mother, I can’t go against grandsire’s words—“
“You can, and you will, Aemond,” you hear Alicent yell at him over the phone, “you have done enough for this company! I will not allow you to destroy the only thing that has kept you sane!”
“I can’t risk not having the deal—“
“So you are willing to risk your happiness? Is that what you are saying? Because Aemond, I swear to the Seven if you don’t make this right…”
“There is nothing to make right! I can’t ever make her happy, I can’t give her what she wants—“ 
Alicent cuts him off again, “Listen to me, you are making her happy, and she has been—“
“Mother, I love her,”
Your heart drops, eyes watering slightly as you listen to them. He is in love, and all you can imagine is him and Floris — every single moment you spend here in the mansion, thinking of him if he has eaten, if he is alright, he is spending time with Floris.
“That’s why I want you to make the right choice,” Alicent says softly.
You can no longer stand and listen to them, you walk past the room, wiping your tears as another sob rocks your body.
“Psst, Sugar,”
You turn around, eyes red and puffy when you see Heleana and Aegon sitting in the corner of the hallway.
“Why are you crying—“
“He loves you,” 
Heleana cuts Aegon off, her violet eyes shining under the moonlight. You always knew Heleana was different, she caught up on everything before others could even see the possibility, and she could read through people’s minds.
“I thought that much was obvious,” Aegon says, looking at you with confusion.
“What?” You ask, shaking your head at them.
“Fuck me,” he sighs, throwing his head back, “you two are idiots! Even dumber than me.”
“Aegon, what the fuck are you talking about?” You throw your hands up in defeat, sighing when he just shakes his head.
“Aemond loves you,” Heleana whispers, resting her head on Aegon’s shoulder.
“Yeah, as a friend who is neglecting her—“
“As his sun and moon,” she interrupts you, looking outside the window as the rain starts pouring down, “you are not his friend, you are the only person who has his heart in the palm of your hand.”
“I heard him say he loves Floris,”
“Did you hear her name?” Aegon asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
“No,”
“Then stop acting like brats! Have you seen how he looks at you, Sugar? He wants to breathe you because you are the only person who is keeping him sane. He wants nothing more than to let you tend to his eye because he is too proud to let anyone near him! He wants you! Fuck Floris, fuck Otto, fuck them all! Do you even know why he has been avoiding you? Because he is too much of a coward to look at you and go on a forced date with Floris. He is falling apart because his heart yearns for you, but Otto has put a leash on it.”
Your lips quiver, tears streaming down your face as you look at the Targaryen twins. Heleana is smiling, and Aegon is furious of you and his brother.
“He bought a house a few months ago,” Aegon searches the pocket of his sweatpants, grabbing his Lamborghini’s remote before he throws it at you.
“He didn’t tell me,” you catch the remote, fiddling with it, unsure of what to do with it.
“No one knows except me, Hel, & Daeron. He needed a place to clear his mind of you, because you’re the only thought that lingers in his head, he needs to find somewhere where he can be alone,” Aegon rests his head on Helaena’s before he continues, “Now, go get your man. I’ll send you the location.”
“Thank you, Egg,” you whisper, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.
“Go now, before he sleeps. And for my sake, please drive slowly with Sunfyre, my baby is delicate when she goes out in the rain.”
“You Targaryens and naming your vehicles,” you smile a little, waving goodbye to the pair as you rush down the stairs.
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Aemond’s house was located on the other side of the town, on top of the hills and near the woods. It took you an hour to drive there, but that gave you enough time to make up your mind.
You slow down your speed when you see the house, trying your hardest to keep yourself from sobbing as you look at your surroundings; everything screams Aemond, from the location to the look of the house — it looks like home.
You park the golden Lamborghini, turning off the engine before you step out. The lights are still on, and you know Aemond will not sleep until three in the morning when he is anxious — perhaps his call with Alicent has left him hesitant.
The rain pours on you, and you debate whether you should knock or just leave. For a second, you turn around to go back to the car, but Aegon’s words keep playing in your head; He wants you.
“Aemond!” 
You yell out his name, pushing your wet hair out of your face as you stand in the middle of the road.
“Aemond, please!”
You cry, sniffing as you wait for him to show you a sign that he is willing to listen, to hear you for once and the last time. 
You see his shadow reaching the window on the top floor, pushing the curtains away as he looks at you in shock and disbelief. You watch him shut the curtains and move away from the window.
The rain pours heavily on you, the sound of the water droplets falling on the car behind you and the wind blowing is the only thing that can cover your sobbing — a weather that resembles your feelings at the end of summer.
You are ready to turn around and drive back home when he doesn’t show up, but as you hear the sound of the door unlocking, you turn around to find Aemond in a black Tee and gray sweatpants with his hair in a bun.
If you weren’t already so in love with him, you would be by now.
“Sugar, what are you doing here?”
“Just-just listen, alright?” You start, holding your hand to stop him from reaching you when he walks towards you, “I always believed that the right person for me would come, that I would feel some type of magical attraction, that I would feel as though heart will give out and that-that I’d suffocate without him, but I had no idea that I have had him by my side all this time.”
You continued, “These past few days I have realized who that person is; Aem, I burn for you, my soul longs to be molded with yours, my heart breaks to pieces when you are not close to me, and the only thing I want is to be loved by you.”
You step closer to him, staring at him; a few strands of his hair have fallen out of the bun, his shirt is soaked and you can see his cheeks are covered in little droplets whether it’s from the rain or he has been crying as well.
The only thought that crosses your mind is how wholesome he looks.
“Until you tell me to leave, I will be here by your side, every single fucking second! I will love you forever and always, until I stop breathing for you, and even then, when I’m six feet under, I will still yearn for you, Freckles. ‘Till then, my heart beats for you, fast and raw, and I’ll let you steal it every goddamn time because I can’t imagine my life without you — without our messed up baking and you calling me Sugar, or how I pointed out your freckles on your neck, or-or how we would sneak out of your stupid family parties with Hel and Egg and go to karaoke even we didn’t like it but we did it for Hel.”
You grab his hand in yours, pressing little kisses all over the rough skin, loving how delicate your hand looks next to his larger one.
“I found my love in my best friend, and if I was given a choice, I would choose you without hesitation over and over, because that’s the way I loved you, Aem, and I still do,” you take a deep breath, staring into his eye, “I have nothing new to present to you, maybe Floris or any other girl can. This is what I can give you; my undying and unconditional love. Tell me you are happy with her, and I’ll leave, Aem. Whatever you want…”
He stays silent, and for the first time, you can’t read his emotions, and it wrecks your whole body as he keeps quiet. This is it then, you think as you let go of his hand, nodding before you turn around to go back to the car.
Suddenly, he wraps his fingers around your arm, yanking you back into his embrace, crashing his lips to yours, kissing you with a force you have never seen before.
He tastes like coffee and rain; it’s the most comforting flavor you want to taste for the rest of your life. He cups your cheek while his hand rests on your waist, keeping you flushed against him. His lips chase yours, and you whimper in his mouth as he sucks the breath out of you.
Finally, you think, he is right where he belongs.
He pulls away after a hot minute losing himself on your lips, looking down at your swollen lips, his sapphire glistening under the lights of the thunder and water drops.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, caressing your cheek lovingly.
“I said a whole fucking speech here, and you tell me I am beautiful?” You grin up at him, pecking his jaw as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“You are hauntingly beautiful. So breathtaking to the point that even the most talented artists wouldn’t do your beauty justice if they try to recreate it,” he ignores your teasing, his eye carving the image of your angelic face in his head, “Even the most beautiful flowers in Highgarden are not as mesmerizing as you are.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your forehead.
“Perhaps you should start writing poems for me.”
“Would you like that?” He asks, lacing his fingers with yours, leading you towards the house.
“Yes, very much so. Maybe you could read them to me when we are sitting in front of the pond in your garden,”
“The only thing I want to do to you is kiss you, you shall read those poems all by yourself,” he replies, pushing the door further open before he hands you a towel he has brought down when he sees you standing outside.
You look down and see a puddle of water surrounding you as you both are soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.
“I’m sorry—“
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Sug. C’mon, let me give you some clothes,” he takes his shoes off, and you do the same. He grabs your hand, pulling you upstairs to his room.
You don’t have enough time to look around the house, but when you step inside his room, the first thing you see is a framed picture of the two of you on the desk in front of his window — you had gone to Winterfell that year for Christmas together, and you forced him to take that picture with you.
“Here,” he hands you a fresh pair of boxers and one of his t-shirts, “you can take a shower if you like.”
“No, I’m too tired for that. Thank you for the clothes,”
“Anything for you, Sugar.” He winks at you, turning his back to you so he can change. 
You open the bathroom door, grinning like an idiot as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like a mess, but you never felt more beautiful than you do now. 
You are hauntingly beautiful, his words repeat in your head.
You walk out of the bathroom, your words stuck in your throat as you look at Aemond’s exposed back — he is lean and ripped with muscles, and you can see his muscles flex as he puts on his shirt.
“I can get used to this,” you mumble, arms wrapping around his torso from behind.
He chuckles, putting his palm on yours, smiling to himself as he feels you pressing gentle kisses all over his back.
“You will get used to this, Sugar.”
He turns around, holding you close as he gazes at you with pure adoration.
“You are tired,” he announces, pulling you with him on the mattress without any care that both of your hairs are drenched.
You lay your head on his forearm, pecking the side of his face as he looms over you halfway, his free hand playing with your fingers.
He dips down, brushing his lips over yours slowly, but you are far tempted to go at his pace. You kiss him back fiercely, earning a surprised groan from him as he reciprocates. He lets go of your hand, running the pads of his fingers over your exposed thighs while you fumble with the fabric of his shirt, trying to push it off him.
He breaks the kiss to take his clothes off, and you do the same, lying naked beneath him. Your eyes travel over his tall figure, hands caressing the skin of his chest as he takes you in.
“Am I in heaven?” He asks breathlessly, his lips trailing kisses from your cheek down to your collarbone.
You giggle as he comes up again, pulling your lips back to his, leaving a kiss on them.
“No, you are with me,”
“That’s even better, Sugar,”
He beams at you, giving you another lingering kiss before he starts licking and sucking on your skin, relishing the little whines you let out.
His hands knead your breasts, his gaze solely on you as he goes lower and lower until he reaches where he needs the most — where you need him the most.
He covers the skin of your thighs with bites as he inches closer to your core, his fingers threaded with you and he finally gives your throbbing clit a kiss. 
“Mm, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers, lips wrapping around the bundle of nerves as he dives inside your heat, groaning while he tastes you.
“Fuck, you better…” you manage to rush the words out of your mouth as he works wonders between your legs.
His pace is slow, but he knows what he’s doing, bringing you closer to the edge with every flicker of his tongue over your clit while one of his fingers circles your wet entrance. He hums as he pushes a finger inside you, almost going wild as he hears your encouraging moans. 
The lewd sound of him slurping and enjoying giving you pleasure is too much for you, and when he adds a second finger, you lose yourself in him, gasping and shaking as you squeeze his free hand, hips pushing against his face while he curves his fingers inside you.
“Give it to me, beautiful, let go f’me,” 
He knows what he is doing to you when he latches his lips to your clit, sucking and licking the nerves like a starved man while his fingers massage that sweet spot inside you. Your legs shake around his head as you come, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He drinks you up gladly, pressing his nose more into your cunt to give you his best.
“Aem, s-stop, it’s too much,” you pull him up by the wet messy bun he has, detaching him from you so you can have a rest.
“You taste fucking sweet,” he whispers against your lips, bending down to let you taste yourself on him. He holds himself up by his elbow, and the other one holds the fat of your hips in a tight grip, digging his nails into the flesh — you can see how his patience is running thin.
“Aem,” you pull back a bit, cupping his face into your trembling hands, “love me, please, make me forget that I almost lost you.”
“Anything that my girl wants, anything for you,” he murmurs, hissing out your name when you reach between your bodies to stroke his hard cock, “I’m going make you forget, Sugar, I will conquer the world and bend it to your will.”
“I don’t need the world when I already have everything I ever wanted with you,” you reply, lining him up with your entrance, both of you moaning in union when he slowly pushes himself in.
“Fuck, Sugar—“ he groans as he pulls his hips back a little, thrusting back into you. He allows you to get adjusted to his size, caging your body under him as he gazes down at you, taking in your blissed-out expression.
“Please, Aem, please move…” you moan out, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as he starts to thrust himself in you lazily. But when you look so gorgeous with your lips parted and pupils dilated… how can he not fuck you right there?
He speeds up, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass as he hammers himself inside you at a fast pace, drawing moan after moan from your gorgeous mouth.
He curses at the wonderful feeling of being enveloped by you, almost growling when you scratch his back when he reaches deep inside you.
Aemond looks at you, memorizing the shade of your lips, the number of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, even how your teeth sink into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip — he doesn’t think he has ever felt this urge to protect and love someone more than he does now.
You tighten your legs around him, throwing your head back when his thumb reaches down to rub the hood of your clit, his cock throbbing inside of you with a deep desire to fill you.
“Sugar, if you don’t stop—“
“Please, come with me. Aem, need you so bad,” you cry out as the white-hot pleasure rushes through your body. Your walls clamp around his girth tightly, keeping him inside you snuggly as his thrusts become sloppier than before.
“Give it to me,” you whisper, nibbling on his jaw before he buries his face into your neck, pushing himself as deep as he can go in you.
“I’m gonna come in you, Sugar. ‘M gonna claim what has always been mine,” he says in your ear, groaning your name as he shoots his cum, coating your walls in his hot white release.
“Fuck, I love you, I love you, I fucking love you—“
You hold him close when he shudders, prepping his face with kisses and praising him for how good he is to you, and how handsome and lovely he is.
“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a deep kiss.
“For what, Aem?”
“For putting me out of my misery,”
 The sunlight is shining on your face through the curtains, waking you up slowly. You reach for him, trying to cuddle him back to sleep, but you are met with an empty bed. Dread fills your guts as you push the covers off of your naked body, reaching out to put on some clothes before you run down and search for him.
As soon as you walk down the stairs with the clothes he gave you last night, you see him hunching over the countertop, talking to his mother.
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He is wearing his riding clothes; a leather jacket and black jeans with his hair in a low ponytail. You spot the grocery bags next to the fridge, grinning to yourself when you realize he went shopping for you.
He turns around instantly when he hears your low padding approaching him, pulling you in his arms when you reach him.
“Good morning, love,”
You beam at him, hugging him back tightly, never wanting to let him go.
“Oh, is Sugar there?” Alicent asks over the phone, surprised and silently cheering with Aegon and Heleana as they all listen to the two of you talk.
“Yes, do you want to talk to her, Mother?”
“No, let the poor girl have some privacy. Have you talked to my father yet?”
“I do not want to talk about grandsire right now, Mother. All I need is a peaceful breakfast with my girlfriend. And tell Aegon thank you, Sunfyre is alive and breathing.” Aemond says, kissing the crown of your head as you look at him in shock.
Girlfriend, you thought, and at last, he is mine.
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Easy To Be The Favourites - LN
Request from @steadytacowitch - can u write about lando and y/n being the it couple and a Tik tok complication of them plssss.i love ur writing so much <333
No part 2 requests please
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Lando wouldn't say he was unattractive or unappealing before he met y/n. But the boyfriend effect was certainly working it's magic and he would put it all down to y/n's presence and influence.
She's quite an unbothered person who has fun and only cares about the opinions of people she knows. But has also be enjoying the fans love for her and Lando's relationship. Especially when they give her credit for making Lando have a bit of a glow up and just a general glow about him since he started dating y/n.
The two do get hate both individually and collectively, as to be expected, but generally they are loved as a couple and document everything with each other. Lando even came close to making a joint account just so he could make daily posts of his girlfriend.
"Baby." Lando whispers capturing the moment of her doing her lip liner and zooming in on her as she looks at him through the reflection then turning to face him quickly while he grins at her. "You look so pretty."
"Shut up. Weirdo." Y/n jokes since she does bully Lando a little. She really can't accept a compliment to save her life, like most British people.
"See guys, y/n loves me so much." Lando states flipping the camera to capture himself.
He posts the moment knowing that it'll be in yet another video that is somewhat viral within the F1 community. There's actually almost a war of y/n and Lando vs Alex and Lily of who wins as the couple goals.
Y/n always insists they have the edge. But really she isn't bothered because she only cares about Lando.
-
Walking into the paddock together is certainly something that has became a moment that McLaren social media team have made a habit of wanting to capture every single time.
Today Lando decides to mix it up, dropping y/n's hand which makes her turn and almost look hurt before he quickly makes a gesture with his hands. Forcing her to be the centre of the camera lens and she catches on, instead doing a bit of a power walk before shaking her head and laughing.
"Come on, I can't have a moment without you." Y/n laughs and the McLaren team they've just captured pure gold. Not that they should be so focused on Lando's relationship rather than his on track performance.
But fans love seeing the two and not delivering that to them is almost an insult.
"Sorry, baby." Lando laughs as he relinks their hands and continues walking.
-
Lando has caught y/n on camera several times watching edits of them. He's even caught her saving them when she is especially impressed or thinks it's a cute moment that she wants to keep for herself. There's also been moments he's caught her watching and then moved to show him the videos only to realise that Lando is recording her.
There's whole compilations just of those exact moments.
She's reposted some of them on her stories.
"Lan, look at this one." Y/n gasps as they sit for lunch out in the sun. Her phone being handed over to him to show him another fan edit. "You're soooo cute. Aww..."
There's no doubt in Lando's mind, though some of his fans might argue it, but y/n is his number 1 fan. She has yet to miss a single race weekend since they started dating, they met through her being a fan of the sport and fans have seen the evidence she was a fan of his before she started dating him.
Pictures of her attending races and even just in her pre-Lando posts online, she had his merchandise that she wore shamelessly.
"We are a bit of an IT couple." Y/n comments absently making Lando smirk since he has said it for months now and y/n was always hesitant to give himself the label.
"We are definitely an IT couple, y/n." Lando smiles while catching his own LN4 admin catching the moment. No doubt it will be posted later since they also like to capture Lando and y/n's relationship nonstop.
-
Y/n does lives when she's getting ready, sometimes she live streams when she's doing random stuff. She once live streamed cleaning the apartment while Lando was over in Woking for a couple days.
"Ok, guys. I promise Lando is going to learn to make one meal. I'm teaching him to make a meal." Y/n states setting up her phone while Lando stands half in frame waving at the live as more and more people join. "Babe, what we making?"
"Tacos. Y/n is in the mood for tacos so we're making tacos." Lando grins moving to hug her, kissing her cheek as he does.
Y/n is busy reading the chat.
"No. Don't worry he's not handling knives. He's in charge of grating cheese and maybe I'll put him in charge of cooking the mince." Y/n smiles while Lando pulls a very much offended expression. "Sorry, baby."
Lando doesn't comment instead just grumbling a little before they start cooking.
The camera is positioned to sort of capture as much of the kitchen and their movement. Most of which ends up being Lando "helping" some of the time but most of the time he's doing anything to hug y/n or get her attention. Often managing to steal kisses and then get little bites of food from her. But the moments when he asks for her help and guidance in cooking his part of the meal.
"Hey, guys. How many of you are already plotting edits for this?" Lando asks when y/n disappears to the bathroom. "Tag y/n in all of them, she loves seeing you guys make videos of us. She spends hours watching them. But don't tell her I told you guys that-don't include this in the edits."
Obviously he already knows that request just means it is absolutely going to mean he's it's going to be exactly what is at the beginning of every edit that they make of the whole livestream which has pretty much fed fans a whole meal of couple content from them.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
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littlestpersimmon · 10 hours
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Heya guys. Sorry for posting this for the billionth time. But maybe if you guys would like to give my posts about patreon a boost it would mean the world to me. I know I post this a lot and I don't take any help I receive for granted. I've only been able to make two new drawings since February. Bc every day I have been working almost 9 hours. I'm sick nearly every other week, my lymph nodes are swollen n I've been feeling incredibly depressed. I am from the global south, in the philippines, government help is near nonexistent. I am the sole caretaker of three disabled people. My mom can not do any housework, she is a full time wheelchair user, she needs care 24/7, insulin, adult diapers and kidneys that are under threat of failing if we don't watch her health, my dad has a chronic heart condition and my sister is autistic with a very low frustration threshold. Both my parents are diabetic, and I am the only person in my family who can work. I currently have three jobs, one in publishing, but I have a morality clause which means the publishing house can take back every single penny I make if I or the author fail to meet certain expectations. Anyway.. I have been working nonstop, my scoliosis is untreated and extremely painful, n for the past few four days I have been rationing a single can of spam and a few potatoes. Would mean the world to me if you guys could pick up a print, or subscribe to my patreon, or reblog any of my old art or send me a tip on ko-fi or anywhere else. Sorry and thank you again. I remake these a lot, but I sincerely don't take any of the help I receive for granted. Thank you again.
My inprnt
My patreon
https://www.patreon.com/littlestpersimmon
My tipping jars
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hothammies · 1 day
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the party leader, mike wheeler - apoc au character details + poll under the cut!
---
mike's role in the party:
a scouter - essentially plans runs, checks areas first to ensure safety, and directs the runners during supply runs
assigns basic survival chores at the beginning of each day (laundry, boiling water, patrol, hunting, etc.)
is the "face" of the party -> always the one to negotiate with people of other groups
even though the party likes to give him shit for being kind of rude and bossy about how he talks to them in "leader" mode - they always hang onto his every word! they love and respect him deeply
kind of like a tired dad whenever he's not fighting with someone else -> basically watches over everyone to make sure they're okay
would never hesitate to do something deplorable to protect the party: family first
skills + hobbies:
considered the designated driver (along with max): nancy taught him when he was younger. he was scared about being useless due to his inability to shoot and aim guns so nancy helped him find something useful. max teaches him how to drive manual so that he can drive her muscle car (its how they get over their distaste for each other)
writes an entry in a journal that he stole every day! he lets will doodle in the margins of the paper :)
loves to read whatever's around - particularly interested in history, sci-fi, and old journals from people before the apocalypse (reads them with dustin and el -> they are nosy as hell and live for the drama)
great at using machetes and hatchets -> do NOT let this boy shoot a gun. he will accidentally hurt you and himself
good at fixing up guns and navigating - lucas (guns) and dustin (navigating) taught him :D
quirks / fun facts:
he likes to switch around the pins on his jacket a lot! the party find pins around to give to him (range from terrible to wearable)
since he's the only boy that likes to tie up his hair, max and el like to doll up and play around with his hair during their downtime
is very annoying and particular when it comes to doing survival chores (out of love) -> makes sure that the chores are divided equally among all of them and that no one gets the same chores twice in a row
--- other notes: mike was the first character i had in mind when thinking about this au (no surprise there) and the drawing of him sitting cross legged with a machete in his hand was the first ever "official" drawing i made for this :D i tried to make apoc mike similar to canon mike in terms of his temperament, his hero complex, his self-sacrificial tendencies, his inability to appropriately process his romantic feelings, his natural leadership and his personality. about mike's inability to use guns -> looking at mike's character dnd sheet, his dexterity is low and s1 mike wheeler cannot aim for shit either (see his rock throw). the reason he's most comfortable with machetes (and hatchets) is because of their versatility as both weapons and tools! just wanted to share because i think mike needed a nerf and him not being able to shoot guns is both in character and funny as hell to me i've had mike and will's char sheets done for a while and i really love the way they look :) i'm excited to post will's next! i'm working on the character sheets in batches of two, so which duo are yall most interested to see next? i'll work on them based on the poll results and post them next week at the earliest :) i'll prob also try out some concept designs for the demogorgon-like zombies sometime soon as well!
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ashtxrie · 3 days
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incognito mode (heeseung)
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PAIR. classmate!heeseung x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, implied strangers to lovers WORD COUNT. 1.0k WARNINGS. none! IN WHICH: heeseung receives drawings from an anonymous admirer who decides to not be so anonymous anymore...
heeseung finds the first drawing when he opens his locker, a yellow post-it note among his books and papers. he doesn’t think much of it, not until he pulls out his textbook and it flutters to the ground, landing near his feet.
there’s something on the back, so he bends to pick it up and freezes. there’s a raccoon staring at a hamster opening up his locker, a small speech bubble above the raccoon.
i wish you’d notice me...
heeseung smiles despite himself, tucking the note back into his locker.
he finds the second drawing when he’s standing in line for coffee and rummages in his pocket for spare change. he finds two five-dollar bills, and absent-mindedly hands them to the woman with an outstretched palm, who then hands him his drink.
heeseung is more interested in the slip of paper he feels tucked and folded in his pocket, and he quickly thinks back through his entire day and realizes he has no idea how someone’s managed to put it there.
he pulls it out as he takes a sip of his coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue.
the drawing’s cute, it’s a raccoon staring at the same hamster with hearts in their eyes.
heeseung looks at it for a few moments, then folds it back up, sticking it back in his pocket. he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches sight of his reflection in the windows, and thinks he looks uncharacteristically happy.
the third drawing he finds is during class when he flips his textbook open, frowning as he notices something tucked in one of the chapters in the back of the book. he flips forward, eyes widening as he sees another post-it note.
it’s the same raccoon, staring at the hamster curiously. there’s another thought bubble hovering over the raccoon.
do you like the drawings? i wish you’d talk to me.
heeseung smiles and holds the drawing closer, turning it around to see if there’s any trace of the artist. there isn’t, and heeseung frowns.
how am I supposed to talk to you if I have no idea who you are?
the fourth drawing is tucked into his palm as he’s passing through classes, and heeseung whirls around, eyes wide.
“wait,” he calls, but he doesn’t know who he’s talking to, doesn’t know who to look for.
he’s met with blank faces of people walking past him, and his face falls.
he was so close. so close to figuring out who it was.
he moves to stand somewhere near the edge of the hallway, unfolding the paper. he stares at it for a while, folding and unfolding the paper.
the drawing’s split into two halves. on one side the raccoon presents the hamster with the drawing, beaming. on the other half, the one heeseung has been staring at for minutes, is of the raccoon hiding behind a wall and watching the hamster opening the paper.
heeseung sighs, then sticks his hands in his pocket and walks outside.
the next week, heeseung seems uncharacteristically quiet, and he looks at the first drawing he’s taped to the door of his locker.
he doesn’t know why he’s kept it there, but somehow it makes him feel a little less lonely. he supposes it’s because he hasn’t gotten a drawing in a while.
he frowns as someone bumps into him, and heeseung drops his books. he grumbles and reaches to pick everything up, frowning as he searches for the drawing he’d been holding in his hands.
his eyes widen and he swallows. he didn’t lose it, did he?
someone clears their throat and heeseung looks up, curious to see the person who’d bumped into him holding his last book and the drawing in their other hand. “here,” you say, “i'm sorry.”
heeseung blinks, then breathes out in relief. “thanks.”
you smile warmly, then point to the drawing that heeseung is nearly cradling. “did you draw that?” there seemed to be a knowing lilt in your voice, but the boy in front of you doesn't quite catch it.
heeseung looks up again. “oh, this?” he shrugs. “no, i’ve just been finding them everywhere.”
you laugh. “do you like them, at least?”
heeseung smiles, and part of him is wondering why the hell he’s talking so naturally to someone he’s barely even met. but he does. “yeah. although i’m offended that i’m a hamster.” he grins. “i think i’m more of a deer, at least.”
you laugh again, and heeseung thinks he could talk to you forever. “a deer,” you shake your head, eyes curved to crescents. “okay.”
heeseung stands up again. “i’m heeseung, by the way.”
you smile, and heeseung thinks your eyes are rather pretty. “[name]. i’m [name].”
when heeseung sees the fifth drawing, he loses his shit. he opens up his locker and sees another drawing folded so small that heeseung doesn’t see it until it falls out. he picks it up, his eyes widening.
the raccoon is laughing as the hamster puts deer antlers on its head as a headband.
you’re still a hamster, it says in the text bubble above the raccoon.
heeseung walks out of school late, and pauses as he sees you lingering by the bus stop, standing up to stare at the vending machine.
heeseung can feel his breath in his throat, feels the drawing clenched between his fingers, and he marches toward you.
you turn at the last second, eyes warm. there’s a moment of surprise as you see heeseung, and he thinks you nearly look scared.
but heeseung pulls you toward him and wraps his arms around you. he hears your small gasp of surprise, before you hug him back tighter. so he figured it out, huh? took long enough.
"it was you?" he says, softly. tentatively, as if afraid he was wrong.
you hum and smile at him. "you found me."
"and for the record, you'll always be a hamster to me. you were the sad hamster personified when the teacher said you couldn't eat your instant ramen in class last week."
"i-- hey! ... whatever. at least i look cute in your drawings."
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evangelical04 · 3 days
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A Single Daffodil || 1
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Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Rating: 18+ minors DNI
Word Count: 2.7K
Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi
Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut
Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes
masterlist / next
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The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.
“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 
You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.
“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.
Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 
“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”
You promptly obeyed.
“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”
“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 
“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 
You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”
Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 
Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 
That’s it then.
You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 
Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.
Does he even know you exist?
Will you be able to survive this?
Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.
“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”
“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”
Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”
“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”
“I’ll get the booze.”
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“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.
“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”
You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 
Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”
“What if he doesn’t give that up?”
You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”
“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”
Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”
Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”
Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 
“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”
“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”
You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”
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You weren’t technically late. 
While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 
Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 
You felt tired.
Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 
Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.
Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.
“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”
“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”
You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”
“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 
You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 
As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 
Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 
Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”
At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 
Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”
A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 
Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.
It seems he didn’t remember you after all.
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The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 
He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 
Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 
“Hey, you.”
Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 
“Hey, snot-face.”
You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”
You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 
“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 
“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 
Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 
Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.
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lucyandalexiafan · 2 days
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I'm scared | Alexia Putellas x Reader | part 2
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summary: first time that Alexia and reader talk about sex (specifically: masturbation) after the walk.
warnings: angst, allusion to past sexual abuses. really light smut moment (r comes home early and sees Alexia have orgasm using a vibrator).
words: 3k
Part 1
When you had spoken to Alexia about your past, about those experiences, you hadn't expected her to be so understanding and engaged in helping you.
Even though you knew she was a sweet person, kind, and in some way you knew she loved you, or was starting to develop strong feelings for you, up until that day you had believed she wouldn't stay with you once she found out what had happened to you.
Alexia is beautiful, charming, loved by hundreds of thousands of people; she's the captain of Spain and Barcelona, which means she's surrounded by beautiful women, a lot of them probably much more predisposed to have sex with her and much less anxious about it. She's famous, so not only fans and other footballers would want something with her, but also other celebrities, like models or actresses or singers.
Alexia doesn't just play football, she's also a football activist, a model and she works with some brands, which means she works in contexts that allow her to meet many (beautiful) women.
All these things had made it difficult for you to think that she would stay after that walk.
She took you home once you had returned to the car because the next day she had to go to Madrid for work with Nike. Before getting out of the car, you had kissed her and, thinking it was the last time, you had tried to imprint the image of Alexia so close to your face in your memory. You thought you wouldn't see her again and that she wouldn't contact you anymore, that she would ghost you or break up with you by message.
You had spent that night sleepless, tears flowing heavily from your eyes and nausea that had forced you to sit on the bathroom floor for a few hours, the retching had painfully contracted your body several times during those hours. Even though you hated yourself every time you did it, you kept checking your phone hoping to see a notification from her, a message, a post sent on Instagram or TikTok, and the more time passed, the more you received no news from her, the more nausea and the tears increased, the more you believed you had lost her forever.
Yet, the next day, the sound of the doorbell had woken you up. You had struggled to get out of bed, the headache was killing you and your back seemed to be broken in two by the pain, the sweat covering your forehead was a symptom of yet another nightmare that had invaded your sleep. 
You looked at the video intercom and saw a delivery man. "Yes, who's there?" you had asked, your voice hoarse, ruined by crying.
"Hello, I'm from Bakery Adele, I was told I have to deliver this order to this address" the delivery guy had replied, his voice annoyingly shrill, before asking for confirmation of identity.
You had told him he could leave it at the concierge and that you would come down later, but he had persuaded you by saying there was a piping hot double espresso cappuccino and a freshly baked cream-filled brioche waiting for you.
You had put on a jacket that was hanging on the coat rack, a jacket of Alexia, and had gone down. The delivery guy handed you the breakfast, a little note attached to the package, and then said goodbye.
Bakery Adele doesn't do deliveries, never.
Once you had entered the house, you had opened the note, and tears had returned when you had read it.
"I thought of ordering your favorite breakfast from your bakery. Whenever you feel like it, if you want, write to me or call me, I'm always here. I miss you, but I'll wait for you to feel ready to talk to me. Alexia <3"
Tears, tears, and more tears.
You had bitten your lip as you grabbed your phone to video call her. You didn't care about the condition of your face or your hair at that moment, you only cared about seeing if it was true, if she was sincere. You had spent the whole night thinking she hadn't written to you because she didn't want to talk to you anymore, only to find out she was waiting for you?
"Amor," her voice, her sweet voice, invaded the deafening silence of your home.
"Ale-" you had replied trying to articulate a sentence, but inevitably ending up crying.
"What's wrong, amor? Are you okay?" she was worried, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes squinted.
"I thought you didn't want me anymore and now the breakfast has arrived and I don't understand and-" You start speaking quickly, thoughts overlapping in your mind one after another, as you try to express yourself, to tell her how confused you feel right now.
"Take a breath, amor breath with me. Did you think I wouldn't call you? - you shook your head - Amor, I told you I'm in love with you, why would I leave you?"
You hadn't talked much, actually, because she was about to enter the store and there was a lot of confusion, but she had called you back that evening.
And the day after, and the day after that, until she had shown up at your house with takeout Chinese food.
A couple of days after she returned, you had asked if you could talk, if you could talk about what had happened. You knew that the best idea would have been to go to her place, a place from which it would have been easy to run away from her if things didn't go as you hoped, and not to your place, where Alexia could have stayed even against your will; but the emotional comfort you felt being in your own home was crucial to be able to talk to her, to face the situation.
You were at your home, on the couch: you were sitting cross-legged, your hands holding hers, and you had told her that you understood if this thing was bigger than her, if she didn't want to wait for some time to do something sexual, but you had also told her that a part of you would have wanted her to stay because you wanted to face this thing with her, that you truly wanted to face it.
Alexia, hesitant, had told you, after a while of talking, that she thought it was appropriate for you to start a therapy process, maybe also to go to therapy together, because only then could you fully face the trauma. She also made sure to tell you that if you couldn't afford it continuously over time or with the right frequency, she would help you financially because, yes, facing it, but with the right psychologist. Shyly, she had told you that she had done a couple of searches on the best psychologists in Barcelona for this type of trauma and had found one really good, and that she would also be available to do couple therapy.
You had told her you would think about it and a few days later you had contacted one of the psychologists on her list.
The initial doubts about her seriousness in being faithful to you and not seeking anyone else for sexual satisfaction surfaced when she left for a National Team camp, and they exploded when you thought she was cheating on you with Jenni. The endless social media edits you continued to see fueled the doubt that perhaps, while genuinely attempting to complete the therapeutic journey, she was seeking to fulfill her sexual desire with someone else in secret.
At the third couple's therapy session after that camp, you addressed the issue. You had resignedly told her that you wanted to know if she was with other women, that you would understand but needed to know. She was shocked. She had told you multiple times that she only wanted you, that she would wait for you, that she didn't want anyone else, that she didn't want Jenni.
You had discussed it several times in therapy over the next two weeks, and even outside of therapy, but Alexia always said the same thing: I will wait for you, I want you.
The doubts had more or less disappeared when few weeks later you caught her having an orgasm with a vibrator while she thought you were still out. You were on holiday in the Canary Islands, you had gone out to do some shopping and go to an open-air market while she was sleeping, and you had left her a message saying you wouldn't be back in two hours; too bad the open-air market was on Thursday, not Tuesday, so you had returned after a little over half an hour. 
As soon as you entered the house, you heard moans and silently approached the bedroom, only to see her in the middle of the bed, her hand between her legs and a buzzing sound in the background accompanying her moans. 
You froze in place, not knowing what to do, or what to say. 
You didn't even know she had a vibrator. You hadn't really thought about it, actually.
You hadn't even had time to think about how to react because shortly after she reached the peak of pleasure, so you quickly moved towards the door, opened and closed it more loudly, pretending you had just entered. You didn't know why you did it, maybe you thought it would be easy to pretend you hadn't seen her, but you were wrong, especially for two reasons: seeing her climax had made you incredibly horny and you couldn't remove the image of her having an orgasm from your mind, so you couldn't even look her in the eyes.
Alexia had sensed something was wrong and asked you if everything was okay at dinner, when she asked if she had done something wrong. You almost choked on the water you were drinking, your cheeks suddenly burning, as you tried to come up with some excuses, only to give in.
"Amor, I don't know how to say it - you lowered your gaze, embarrassed to admit it, afraid she would get angry - I... today I came home earlier than you think and I-I saw you-"
"Fuck - Alexia exclaimed bluntly - Amor, I'm sorry, I... it shouldn't have happened, I thought you'd be back later," her tone suddenly guilty, as if masturbating were a fault.
"Are you sorry? - you asked, looking her in the eyes, and she nodded, her face red with embarrassment - But... why?"
Her expression became confused. "I-you weren't supposed to see me, I don't want you to think-"
"Since when you do it?" you asked, then realized the stupidity of the question when the older woman tilted her head to the side; you tried to change the subject, but she asked you to talk about it, to ask her, because it was important for her that you talked about it.
"Do you want to know if I've been doing it since we started dating or when I started doing it in general?" her tone was so calm, so relaxed, that you trusted her, trusted that she really just wanted to talk about it.
That was the first time you had talked so specifically about your sexual life, at least hers. 
She had told you she lost her virginity to a girl when she was fifteen, started using sex toys at sixteen, that throughout her relationship with Jenni they had been an integral part of the relationship, but she started using them less when she broke up with her because at that point she was having a lot of casual sex.
"I had sex with other women before I met you, both occasional and steady partners, so I didn't really need to use them to have an orgasm. Then we met, the relationship became serious and we started dating, so I stopped seeing other people, and when I realized we wouldn't have sex, I started using them more often. Since you told me about your past, I've started using them frequently again."
You bit your lip as you listened to her, it was evident that she was hesitant, choosing her words carefully, but at the same time she was so sure, so calm. The calmness with which she spoke about it almost gave you comfort, almost reassured you that she wasn't lying, that what she was saying was true.
"You can ask me anything, amor, none question is stupid."
"Do you do it because we don't have sex?"
She nodded hesitantly. "How does this make you feel? - you raised your eyebrows, confused - I don't want this thing to make you feel bad."
"It makes sense that you do it - you replied, your tone devoid of negative emotions - We don't have sex and you need to... have an orgasm. Why didn't you tell me?"
She took a sip of water in an attempt to stall. "I... I thought you would take it badly, that you would feel guilty or something, and I didn't want that. I told you I want to wait for you, but I was afraid that if I told you you would think that I necessarily need someone to have sex with or for me to tell you to speed things up - she sighed - But as you saw, my sex toys give me great orgasms and I could go on just with them for years" she continued, trying to relax the tension that had been created with her answer.
You chuckled with her, even though you were sorry she did it in secret, that she did it only when you weren't there, that she was afraid you would take it badly.
It was her first orgasm you had seen, and you had never really thought about the fact that she could be satisfied in other ways than having sex with other people.
"I had never thought that you would seek orgasms in other ways than sex - you simply stated - It's a stupid thing, sorry."
"It's not, actually. We've never talked about this, about maybe masturbating or actually wanting to have sex, regardless of whether we do it or not - the reflective tone, the calm voice - For example, when I feel the need to have an orgasm, use a vibrator because the orgasms I have using it are generally more satisfying than when I just use my fingers; but when I want to have sex, as well as an orgasm, I use my fingers because they feel closer to what I could have having sex with you."
You widened your eyes at the revelation, at how calmly she said it. You knew it was normal for her to be calm, you were glad she talked about it freely, but you didn't expect her to be so sincere.
"I've said too much, sorry. Please forget it," she continued, her voice concerned, her gaze now on the plate, her hands quickly grabbing the fork and knife to put them on the plate.
"No! - you replied, scaring her - Sorry, I don't know how to talk about it, but I'd like to, I like that we talk about it."
There was a pause, Alexia was simply smiling at you, perhaps surprised that you were actually having this conversation, perhaps because she didn't know what to say.
"I masturbate thinking about you," you said, a statement.
The woman in front of you widened her eyes, a choked moan escaped her mouth, the dismay obvious.
"When I do it I-I think about the two of us having sex or-or... doing sexual things - you lowered your gaze, a sense of humiliation invading your body when she said nothing - Please don't be mad at me"
You close your eyes, scared at the idea that she might start yelling that it's disrespectful, that it's wrong for you to do it, or, worse, that she might get up to hurt you, or physically punish you for it.
"Get mad? Why should I get mad? - her voice confused - It's normal for you to masturbate, to seek orgasm."
"Even if it's not with you?" she nodded "It's just that we don't have sex but I masturbate and... doesn't it make you mad?"
Your voice sounded more frightened than you wanted, but it was true that you feared she would get angry. You didn't want to have sex with her, you were afraid to have sex with her, but you touched yourself thinking of her; how could she take it?
"I'm glad you can touch yourself, that at least that part of your sexuality hasn't been broken," she moved her hands towards yours, squeezing them between hers "There's nothing wrong, amor, I'd be a selfish insecure person to think otherwise."
You bit your lip as you looked at her, admiring her. How could she always know what to say, always say the right thing?
"So, did you like to watch me while I touch myself?" you coughed embarrassed, not knowing what to say, or how to explain it.
You had enjoyed watching her come, even though it was by chance and for a short time, even though it was an unexpected thing that shouldn't have happened. The image of her coming, of her orgasm, was imprinted in your mind.
"I- you were just so beautiful when you came. I don't know how to say it, I feel stupid, and- it was like, I don't know - you sighed frustrated - it's just that I wish it were me making you come like that, not a vibrator."
"There's time, amor," she told you.
She was right, there was time, but you wanted to be the one instead of that vibrator.
I'm sorry it took me so long to post this, a few bad things happened and I didn't have the mind to write. this is a text that I wrote about two weeks ago but I only translated it last night; I'm not 100/100 satisfied, but I wanted to introduce a moment of discussion about sex before anything sexual could happen. I dealt with the topic of insecurity and jealousy in a very light way (perhaps superficially) but it seemed like the only way to introduce the moment on holiday. the hardest part for me, and what makes me a little dissatisfied, was trying to figure out whether what I wrote about accidentally seeing Alexia have an orgasm was itself a violation of consent, or could be construed as an accident (which it actually is); I chose to interpret it as an accident that Alexia knew could happen and to avoid the parties considering it a violation of consent. If this seems wrong to you, or will trigger a lot of people, I think I'll revisit this chapter. as usual, thanks for reading what I wrote :)
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bigfatbimbo · 3 days
Note
Please do continue about girldick Charlie! I want to see your thoughts!
girldick charlie x reader general headcanons —
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summary — Vague, horny and self indulgent rambles about girldick Charlie… obviously
a/n — I love her so much. My problem is that no one ever requests her! Anyways, i’m eating this prompt up.
warning — smut, charlie is a switch and so is the reader in this scenario, girldick, oral, degradation and praise, NOT ENTIRELY PROOFREAD!!!
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***QUICK BACKUP INFO IF YOU DIDN’T SEE THE POST!!! Basically, we see that Lucifer has the ability to shapeshift, and since i’ve already written boycunt Lucifer… and Charlie is his daughter… maybe that ability would be… passed on. No because like you would just ask her like, “Dick tonight, baby?” and she’d be like “Of course, sweetie. Anything for you!” as if it’s not a wild as fuck request. Like you’re literally asking ‘Hey, can you casually just switch up your body parts for a sec? I feel like getting fucked outta my mind.’ And Charlie is just down immediately. Anything to make you happy and feeling taken care of is okay with her. Stressful day? Feeling bad about yourself? Just horny as fuck? Your problems will be solved with Charlie’s dick and the best goddamn aftercare of your life. Because when Charlie leads, she’s absolutely a soft dom/service top. Everything she says and does is to make you have a good experience because to her, sex is not about how she feels! She is ensuring you’re having a great time at any cost. So maybe you had a super stressful day, you’re anxious about work you didn’t do or didn’t compete well enough, and it’s bugging you. She’s coaxing you into taking a break, telling you she’d take care of you. Her comforting words while rubbing your shoulder quickly turns into her on top of you, gently fucking into you with praising words. She’s rutting into you at a steady, but not rough pace, with her hands pining your wrists above the bed. And she’s going on and on, semi-coherently might I add because she’s very sensitive, about how proud of you she is, and how hard you worked, and how you’ve done everything to deserve this. And even though she’s not used to having a dick so she’s super touchy and hypersensitive, she would literally never cum until you have. Your pleasure comes first, always. But…. mean Charlie does something to me. Because she’s not easily upset, doesn’t have a temper, and is very nice. However, her demon form?? That ‘fuck you’ to Susan?? When she’s mad it’s a whole other story. Imagine the rare situation pissing her. Poking her and fucking with her, giving her kids of shit and attitude all day, and then finally she snaps. And she uncharacteristically aggressive. Her horns come out and she fuck you actually rough, with little to no mercy. But after one round she’d go back to her normal praising self, making up for her degrading words with loads of praise while she recedes into her normal gentle pace. Anyways, let’s talk about subby girldick Charlie, thank you very much. There are two roads you could take; very praising, or needlessly mean. Charlie and praise stick out to me so much. She’s always doing everything in other peoples favor. She solves other people’s problems, not her own. A little hypocritical, don’t you think. So she’s in her office overworking herself as usual, but you can’t stand that. Obviously, you go to put a stop to it. Giving her a long kiss, before whispering, “Dick today, please.” and she’d hesitate and be like “Honey… I have a lots of work to do and—“ but you’d emphasize your first point with a harsher, but not mean, strict tone, “Now, baby.” She’d reluctantly oblige, watching as you sink to your knees and pull her pants down, reading her hardening cock. “Oh, you think now is really the best time too— nngh!” she’d try to protest, being cut off with a moan as you drag your tongue across the length of your dick. After muttering about how ‘beautiful’ she is, you fully sink your mouth down onto her, taking her in. Your pace starts slow, getting used to her dick in your mouth, pulling out whimpers from Charlie as she leans back in her chair, and softly petting her thighs to comfort her. But then you speed up, and Charlie’s whimpers become loud and needy whines. She can’t help how fast she cums in your mouth. “I’m so sorry— I— Are you okay? Was that too much?” But then you fucking swallow and go back down for more. The only times you pull away are to tell her how pretty she is, how amazing she’s doing, and how beautiful she sounds
 And let me tell you, she is reeling under all the praise. She’s squirming in her seat while you suck her cock dry, all while saying such nice things. She can barely contain herself, even when her eyes go red and her horns come out. 
But, imagine being mean to her about it. Like practically demanding her dick, but this time, in a mean way. Shoving her down on the mattress and riding her dick so fast and rough she can barely take it.
And when her eyes full with tears because of the overstimulation, degrading her for being such a crybaby. “Oh please, Charlie. You can’t even handle this? Is the poor princess crying over how good her dicks being rode? Pathetic.”
And she cries even harder because she didn’t even do anything to warrant that!! But she finds it harder and harder to be upset when you’re humping her rougher after every orgasm. 
It’s fogging up her brain so bad, she can’t even ask you to stop being mean anymore, she just whines and arches off the mattress as you slam your pussy against her achey, used up dick. Now, would she call you mommy while you ride her dick in oblivion? Well with the absence of her own… no yeah. The answer is yeah. Oh, and imagine making her have a dick JUST to peg her and not give any stimulation or attention to it at all. Hearing her whine as her hands go to jerk herself off, but batting them away, telling her she needs to be patient.
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a/n — Boy oh boy, do I love being mean to nice people, or what, folks? Anyways, send more Charlie requests. We as a society need more of her.
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Text
Get me out of here - Lewis Hamilton
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Request: "I enjoy reading your posts so much, I wanted to maybe request? I love angst, maybe a Lewis one shot where the reader gets in the cross fire in the media kind of like Kate Middleton but with the Ferrari news?" - anon
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: Angst, Lewis to Ferrari, Toto being an ass.
wordcount: +1k
a/n: Hi anon, thank you for the request and the support, it means the world! I loved writing that, but then again I love me some angsty, hope you like it ❤️.
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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“You bastard, how could you?”
You entered the farm style house in the English countryside seeing red. Newspaper on hand and phone on the other, blazing through the formal reception rooms until you found Toto and Lewis talking in the sunroom at the back.
“Woah there, what’s that language?”
“I thought I could trust you Toto” Your voice coming out stronger and louder than even you expected, facing him to see it in his eyes he knew exactly what all this was about. You couldn’t help but whisper, almost to yourself “Gosh, I really did.”
“What’s going on? Why are you shouting?” Lewis interjected as he got up and headed towards you, his arms reaching for your waist to try and calm you down
“Ask him! I’m not the one who gave the damn interview.”
“I didn’t say it like that, you know how they twist our words” The Austrian reasoned as you paced in the room
“Enough you two. What the hell is going on?” Susie emerged from the adjoining room, still in her workout clothes, towel in hand.
You threw the paper on the desk in front of them, eyeing Toto as Lewis read the headline “Source of Ferrari’s leak: Toto’s former right-hand and Lewis’ girl”
“You thought I wouldn’t see it? That I wouldn’t know that you told the press I leaked about Ferrari ?!” Exasperation written in your eyes as you tried to understand why would Toto sell you out like that.
“C’mom, it’ll blow over. By Barhein no one will even remember” His german accent echoed through the room as he tried to impose himself
“You tried to throw me under the bus for someone you’re clearly trying to cover for, that’s the issue here”
“Who sold the story to the press, Toto?” This time it was Lewis’ voice that cut the air, his tone stern and demanding.
“Does it even matter? He clearly has more respect for whoever it was than he does for me.” Your voice full of disdain throwing Toto off as he looked at you with surprise in his eyes at the tone you were using.
“Don’t be like that.” Susie pleaded from the corner, still as confused as Lewis to the events unfolding.
“Why?! Does it hurt him? I can guarantee it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I read that stupid interview” Your voice coming out in sharp pufs as you tried to hold back the tears that fought hard to fall.
“Toto, who told the press?” Lewis pressed him once again and you were about to blow out at him when you heard the Austrian confessing “I told them.”
Your head starting spinning and all you could do was march back to the car in the driveway, not really listening to anything they were trying to get through to you. You started the car while Lewis tried to talk you out of driving, his pleading shouts heard through the glazed windows.
Your sobs came out all at once when Lewis managed to get into the passenger seat and hold your trembling hands down, getting them away from the steering wheel and into his chest for you to feel his heartbeat, your frantic eyes finally finding his soothing ones.
“Get me out of here, please” was all you could whisper mid sobs, sliding to the other seat when Lewis jumped out to get to the other side, your peripheral vision catching a glimpse of the commotion in the doorsteps of the house, with Toto exasperatedly motion to a now infuriating Susie and a few other people.
It felt like hours before Lewis pulled over, a small countryside village in the distance and a herd of sheep around. One of his hands gripped the leather of the seat, his free hand smoothing your arm and his stare focused on the road ahead.
“He did it to protect the brand. They’re gonna have a whole year to bring George forward, to switch things around…”
“Why are you defending him?” You cut him mid-sentence; your voice toneless although your eyes showed your emotions were all over the place.
“Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.” He turned to you, clutching your hand into his, breathing in before continuing.
“We can’t expect anything from him anymore, least of all you.” His stare pierced yours and you knew what he meant.
You and Toto had known each other for as long as Lewis had. You had made your way up from being just an intern all the way to actually being poached by AMG and then Daimler, the whole path closely followed by Toto’s advices, and even in the years you lived in Germany the F1 GPs were always a familiar home you got to come back to, because of Lewis and Toto.
“Why did he say it was me though?” You questioned after getting out of the car and sitting by a rock fence, your voice small, much like how you felt while you leaned into Lewis’ embrace.
“To get back at me, maybe?! I really don’t know.” He breathed out after a while, leaving a kiss on your head before looking out at the fields in front of you two. It was a typical English day, cold and humid but at least the sun tried to fight its way through the clouds.
“I’m sorry he made you feel like you had to leave” you looked up at him as you brought up the subject, it was still a sore one for him.
“I always thought I’d finish my career there” He didn’t look at you as he mumbled his response, his gaze lost to the horizon
“It’s going to be a long year, isn’t it?!” You thought out loud after a while of silence and just feeling each other’s breathing.
“Yeah… and I need you there, by my side, head held high” This time he turned to look at you, loving doe stare embracing you in his warmth, no idea what the future holds but sure he will be there.
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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk
If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.
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yenqa · 1 day
Text
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firsts
synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.
warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any
pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader
wordcount — 710
a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!
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You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.
You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.
In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?
Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.
Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 
And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.
Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.
Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.
And he nods once.
Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 
You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”
Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”
You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.
“Not really. Are you?”
You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”
Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.
He nods.
Then it’s silent.
Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.
You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.
From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.
And you swear you can hear him laugh.
Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.
“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 
He furrows his brows, “I did.”
Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”
And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.
He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.
“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.
Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”
“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”
“Only if you’re sick in the head.”
You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”
“Kiyoomi.”
“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 
“Call me Kiyoomi.”
You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”
And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 
You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.
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yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
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ellecdc · 1 day
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Hiii, so i got really excited about all the new ships and i wondering if i could request a poly!prongsfoot x female reader where maybe the reader completely matches their energy and its like a college au and the boys bring reader to meet all their friends for the first time and everybody is like… woah… now theres 3 of them. Just some super energetic cutesy fluff if you dont mind, thank you for considering this i really appreciate it!!! Hope your doing amazing🫶🏻
omg so I saw a post the other day and there's another ship name for Sirius x James = starbucks!! How cute? Thanks for your request and your patience - it took me some time to flush this out (I think any new ships likely will take me longer!)
poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader who's just like them
Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen his two best friends as excited as they currently were, sitting and waiting (rather impatiently) for your arrival. 
Peter, Mary, and Lily were sitting on the booth against the wall, with Remus and Regulus sat together to the right of them, with Sirius and James to their right.
Sirius and James had been talking about this ‘perfect girl’ they met in their psych 101 class last semester, likely since the very day they met you if Remus assumed correctly. 
“She’s so pretty, Moons! I’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as hers.”
“She’s so funny! You should have heard her snarking the frat boys behind us in yesterday’s lecture.”
“She’s brilliant! She helped us study and I got 88% on our last exam!”
And now, a whole semester and a half later, they’d finally convinced you to meet their friends.
Lord knows how two of the most hyperactive and mischievous people Remus has ever had the pleasure of knowing managed to trick another person to put up with them voluntarily, but he did really like seeing them so happy and excited in life; both so deserving for different reasons. 
James deserved all the love that he so openly and willingly shared with others, and Sirius had worked so hard to become the man he is and deserved to be celebrated for it.
So, if what made them happy was a cute girl from their intro to psychology course? Well, Remus couldn’t argue with them. 
“I can’t wait until she gets here; you’re all going to love her.” James declared, shifting closer to Sirius in his excitement who quickly threw his arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. 
“So, don’t embarrass us, alright? We want to keep her around.” Sirius added, placing a chaste kiss to James' shoulder as James practically vibrated in his seat.
“I assure you, Sirius, you do not need our help embarrassing you.” Regulus drawled, not bothering to look up from the drink’s menu in his hand.
“Oi! You take that back!” Sirius barked as he flicked the menu up into Regulus’ face. 
Remus had to quickly grip his boyfriend’s shoulder to hold him in his seat as he looked like he was about to crawl over the table to strangle his brother.
“Easy, babe.” Remus commented teasingly, “I doubt Pete, Lily, or Mary will bother calling 999 if you kill him, but their new girl may not be as understanding.”
Sirius harrumphed earning him a conciliatory kiss from James as Pete and the girls just snickered. 
Regulus’ muttering was interrupted by a commotion at the door as a group sitting near the entrance cheered at a new arrival.
“Yay! Are you finally joining us for a pub night, Y/N?!” someone shouted, causing both James and Sirius’ head to snap to attention; Remus was sure if they were dogs, their tails would be wagging and their ears would have perked up. 
“God no! I wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back teasingly, pulling away from someone who had stood to give you a hug. 
“Foul!” The person called back as their friend group laughed.
“Next time!” You promised as you moved through the crowd, face lighting up somehow even brighter when you spotted James and Sirius.
James was up on his feet the second you made eye contact with him and he all but carried you over to the group.
“Hi angel! I’m so glad you could make it!” He cheered at you as he kissed your cheek. 
“Of course, Jamie. I was looking forward to it.” You responded as you beamed at Sirius who stood as well to give you a proper hug.
“Hiya, dollface! How was your day?” Sirius asked as he held you to his chest.
“Good! Good, I’m looking forward to a drink, though.” You laughed, shucking your jacket off which James was quick to take from you to hang it on the hook attached to the booth. 
“Everyone; this is Y/N! Y/N, that there is our best mate Remus, that’s his boyfriend and less importantly my brother Regulus,” Sirius introduced, causing Regulus to scowl and Remus to chuckle as he consolingly squeezed Regulus’ knee. “And that there is our other best mate Peter, and these beauties here are Lily and Mary.”
You enthusiastically exchanged handshakes with those you could reach and no less enthusiastic waves with those who you couldn’t.
“It’s so nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Which is concerning, considering you guys met in class?” Regulus commented, earning him a booming laugh from you.
“I was doing too well in that class anyways; it’s good to keep your GPA well rounded.” You responded in jest, gently nudging a furiously blushing James with your elbow as Sirius beamed at the two of you from your other side. 
As the group of you spoke, Remus noticed a number of people coming up to clap James or Sirius on the shoulders who knew them from their classes or various extracurriculars., though that wasn’t all that unusual when attending a pub night near campus. What Remus found to be quite phenomenal was how many people happened to come up to you to do the same.
Remus supposed it made sense for his two social and quite popular friends to find a kindred spirit, but he couldn’t believe that there were three of you who appeared to be so universally liked.
Well, Remus was sure some of Sirius’ notoriety was less from his likeability and more for his flirty nature. 
Mary had a lot of fun talking to you about her Instagram feed and your TikTok, which was full of videos of you, Sirius, and James doing trendy dances to various degrees of success. 
You were eager to discuss your latest reads with Remus, Regulus, and Lily, and you all laughed at the furious blush that took over Regulus’ face when the three of you started discussing the erotic books you’d enjoyed recently. 
“I mean, really; is that appropriate to be discussing in such a public setting?” Regulus had muttered as he looked over his shoulder to ensure other patrons hadn’t heard the scandalous books the three of you had read.
“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Reggie. I’ve seen the love bites you’ve left on my mate; you’re no saint.” Sirius had drawled, causing the blush to migrate all the way down Regulus’ neck.
You even joined in with some of Peter's quick-witted jests at the boys' expense.
In the end, it was the way you fell easily into the friendly banter with the group as if you’d been part of it all along that really won Remus over, had his friends’ lovesick smiles not already thoroughly convinced him of your worth. 
“I really like Y/N.” He commented to Regulus as he finished flossing his teeth that night. Regulus scoffed without lifting his head from the book he’d been reading already comfortable in bed.
“You would.”
Remus furrowed his brow as he turned the bathroom light off and climbed into bed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s exactly your type.”
Remus barked a laugh and pulled Regulus (quite rudely, if you’d asked Regulus) into his side, forcing him to lay the book flat on the bed lest he lose his place for good.
“I’d argue that’s not the case, seeing as you’re my type.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s neck.
Regulus rolled his eyes though his face betrayed the fondness he felt for Remus. “That’s not what I meant, tosser.”
“What’d you mean then?” He asked, trailing kisses along Regulus’ collarbone.
“I mean she’s bubbly, she’s bold and outgoing, she’s mischievous, and she seemed to put up with the lot of you quite well.”
Remus lifted his head to look at Regulus bemusedly.
“She’s a carbon copy of two of your best friends, she’s basically Sirius and James.” Regulus clarified, looking smug as Remus’ face fell in understand.
“Oh my God...” Remus whispered in horror. “There’s three of them.” 
207 notes · View notes
givemefevrr · 1 day
Note
I just read your dom!enha post and jake ?? mr sim ?? the thought of him being possessive ??? ugh I'm the weakest soldier out there !! him seeing you run into your ex and just have a simple convo yet he gets moody af for the few next days without telling why he's suddenly like this then all this ending up in an angry sex ?? pleaseeeeeeee write it in your words I can't do this myself !!! love you in advance
- 🌷 anon
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Is It Him or Me? (NSFW)
Pairings: possessive dom!Jake x fem!reader
Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, light angst, rough sex, angry sex (all consentual), swearing, fingering, edging (?), cum eating (?), teasing, begging, overstimulation, kissing, dry humping, biting/marking, facials, pet names (baby, pretty girl, etc.), Heeseung is your ex
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Jake is a great boyfriend. He absolutely adores you, and whenever you are out together, he always holds your hand and steals kisses whenever he can. And that's exactly what is occurring right now. 
Standing in line at a cafe, waiting to order, you couldn't help but giggle and squirm as Jake nuzzled into your neck, peppering your skin with soft, tickling kisses. Jake had been talking about bringing you here for months, as this was his favorite coffee joint, which he used to work at all through high school. It's on the other side of town, so it was a bit of a trip. But he chose the perfect day to bring you.
"Stop it, Jake, that tickles," you playfully protest, gently pushing him away amidst your laughter. 
With a grin and sparkling eyes, Jake teased, "But you love it when I tickle you," punctuating his words with a lingering kiss on your cheek.
Suppressing your laughter, you swatted at him. "Not in public, you goof," you replied, noticing amused glances from others in the line.
Jake chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours as he turned his attention to the menu. "So, what are you in the mood for?" he asked, excitement radiating from him–practically making him vibrate.
"Hmm, what would you recommend, Mr. Barista?" You asked, scanning the menu before smiling up at Jake.
Eyes lighting up, Jake exclaimed, "Vanilla latte, of course! That's what I'm getting. Their vanilla lattes are the best. Well, at least when I worked here, they were." 
You scoffed at his pride but ultimately decided on the vanilla latte. 
But then you saw him. The bell atop the door chimed, a gust of wind blowing into the cafe upon their entrance. The familiar man seemed to recognize you, too, as he locked eyes with you and walked over. 
It's your ex-boyfriend. 
It's not like the two of you left off on bad terms, but you guys haven't talked or seen each other since the breakup, making this incredibly awkward. 
"Hey," your ex greeted, approaching you with a friendly smile.
You glanced at Jake slightly before answering, the boy paying little attention to the conversation. Responding with forced nonchalance, you exchanged pleasantries, hoping the conversation would end soon.
"I didn't expect to run into you here," your ex continued, "It's quite a trip from Hillsdale, huh?"
It's weird, considering you both live in the same town, yet he coincidentally showed up in the same cafe, almost 45 minutes away, at the same time as you. 
"Yeah, it's just a day trip," you nod. 
He nods, too, the awkwardness becoming increasingly more apparent the longer the conversation continues. 
"So, how have you been? What have you been up to? You look good," he complimented, looking you up and down.
"Ah, I've been great. I finally got a temp job for that marketing company downtown," you smiled softly, proud of your achievements.
"That's amazing! Yeah, I work at a car dealership about 10 minutes away from this place now. What a coincidence, though," he chuckled, finally becoming aware of Jake standing beside him. "Who's this?"
"Oh, Jake. This is Heeseung," you glanced at Jake once more. "My ex," you added a bit quieter, noticing that you'd caught the attention of other people around you.
You could feel Jake's grip on your hand tightening upon hearing that Heeseung was your ex, but he said nothing–masking any discomfort with a forced smile. 
"Heeseung, this is my boyfriend, Jake." Heeseung looked like a deer in headlights, an embarrassed flush rising on his neck as he let out a matching embarrassed laugh.
"Oh, my bad, man. I didn't even know," he laughed, sticking a hand towards Jake for a truce.
Jake wore a small, forced smile and shook Heeseung's hand. "You're all good," he replied.
"Well, I'll leave you two be." Heeseung looked back at you. "We'll have to catch up again sometime," he said before walking to the back of the line. 
After he left, there was a silence between you and Jake. You leaned into his shoulder slightly, cuddling up to him, as cuddles always made him feel better. Feeling uncomfortable, you broke the silence and said, "Well, it was nice seeing him again, I guess."
Jake nodded but didn't say anything, his grip on your hand tightening as you both stood in line at the cafe.
When it was your turn to order, you excitedly ordered the vanilla latte Jake recommended. However, Jake didn't even bother getting anything for himself, even though this was allegedly his favorite place. He put a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and mumbled for the cashier to keep the change, around $15. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
As your drink was being made, you and Jake waited by the to-go station. When the kind barista boy handed you your drink and said, "Have a great day. I hope you enjoy the nice weather," you reached out to take it.
But Jake beat you to it, grabbing it from the boy and handing it to you instead. "Let's go," he said, practically dragging you out of the cafe. 
Trying not to spoil the date with his attitude, he suggested walking around the city to enjoy the weather.
He bought you some light pink and blue flowers from a small vendor, seeing you croon at them, knowing they were your favorite kind.
Next, you walked across a footbridge over a stream, asking Jake to take a picture of you with the beautiful view in the background. You walked, thinking about how Jake had the privilege of taking this beautiful path home from school every day. 
Finally, as the sun set, you both decided to stop at an ice cream shop. The shop's perimeters had a swinging chair facing a small body of water with fishing docks along the edges. You two sat on the swinging chair with your ice cream in hand, Jake having chosen not to get anything for himself once again.
He had been trying to make the day fun by buying you flowers and taking you to these nice places from his childhood. But even as he handed the flowers to you, you saw his expression falter. Even as he walked across the bridge with you, he hadn't even told you that story about him taking the bridge path home from school–you made that up yourself to fill the gaps of what wasn't spoken. And even as he sits with you now, he sits on the other side of the swing, resting on his chin in his hand on the armrest. His sulky mood and his distance are so unlike him.
Jake had tried not to ruin the date, but his emotions were still visible despite his efforts.
You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for the "wonderful" day. But he remained quiet, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your gaze. 
And he said nothing on the car ride home as well, only having a hand attached to your thigh as he drove silently. 
Jake was certainly in some sort of mood, as his behavior persisted for the next few days. 
He became increasingly distant, his temper flaring at the most minor inconveniences. If he ran out of milk for his cereal, he'd fly into a rage to the point tears would well up in his eyes as he curled up on the floor in frustration for hours. 
He seemed to withdraw from you completely, barely initiating hugs or kisses like he used to. You tried to talk to him and understand what was happening, but he remained tight-lipped, shutting you out of whatever bothered him.
Almost every night ended with him laying in your lap, upset at something to the point he's shaking, and you running your hands through his hair to try to calm him down. He'd eventually fall asleep in your lap, only to be up and gone elsewhere before you woke up in the morning. 
Then, one day, something happened that pushed Jake over the edge. It was one of those nights you found yourself playing with his hair, trying to soothe him as he wrestled with his inner demons.
It was almost bedtime, and you wore only one of his baggy t-shirts and underwear, as you usually did for bed. You were on your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, when a notification popped up. It was from your ex—he was trying to follow you. 
You hesitated, reading it, and weren't planning on accepting the request, yet Jake must have thought otherwise. He tensed up upon seeing the notification. 
And moments later, he was sitting upright, his arms practically caging you between him and the couch cousin, kissing you roughly, placing your phone on the floor. You weren't against his sudden switch-up, as you haven't gotten a kiss from him in almost a week now. 
You opened your mouth as he asked for entrance, tonguing at your lips. And as he deepened the kiss, he began moving, causing you to chase his lips, following his movements. He lifted you off the couch, carrying you to your room, refusing to let go of your lips, and once he met the edge of your bed, he immediately plopped you down and crawled on top of you, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting dark marks into your skin. 
"I fucking hate him," Jake grunted into your neck, his voice muffled, and you barely just caught what he said. 
A lightbulb lit up in your head. Ah, that makes sense. 
"Is that why you've been in such a mood lately? Because of one interaction I had with Heeseung, who I haven't thought about for years?" you asked, lifting his head up from your skin.
Jake's eyes bore into yours, filled with anger and frustration. "Don't say his name," he commanded, his mood worsening. So, you decided not to press the issue further, realizing that mentioning Heeseung's name only fueled Jake's anger.
Jake ducked back to your neck, lips trailing down. His kisses became more urgent as he pushed your shirt up, revealing your skin underneath. His hands roamed up the sides of your body, his touch desperate and needy. You could feel the intensity of his emotions in every kiss, every touch.
Jake continued to kiss down your chest, his movements almost rushed. His hands roamed over your back, slipping up the back of your sports bra. 
"Off–" He grunted, already pushing your shirt up and off your shoulders along with the bra, leaving you only in your underwear. "Take it all off."
His mouth immediately connected back to your skin, biting your shoulder and kissing all the way down to your chest, where he took his time marking you up. You ran your fingers through his hair, gently guiding and reassuring him with your touch. Despite his roughness, Jake's actions were vulnerable.
His hands gripped your hips and thighs and squeezed roughly, his fingers definitely leaving bruises. You tugged on his shirt, to which he willingly took it off, yet eager to return to your skin. 
"Mine…" Jake kissed down your chest to your stomach, mumbling the word repeatedly. "You're mine. Say it." Jake's voice was low, his gaze on you dark, staring at your body with pure rage and hunger. 
"I'm yours," you giggled. You had never seen him like this before and found it slightly endearing. 
But he wasn't having any of that. "This isn't a fucking joke. Say it." he scolded, gripping your face and effectively grabbing your attention. "Say that you're mine and not… not his…" 
Yet with the way he squeezed your cheeks with one hand–pushing your lips out, making you look stupid–there was no way for you to coherently do as he asked. But you try nonetheless. 
With a whimper, looking right into his blown-out pupils, you said, "I'm yours. O-only yours, I promise," as best you could. 
His possessiveness only turned you on more, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch. Satisfied with the response, his lips crashed back down onto yours hungrily. He growled against your lips, letting go of your face and using that hand to roam down your body, his fingers hovering outside your panties. 
You squeaked into his mouth, thrashing slightly as his thumb rubbed hard at your clit, overstimulating you. 
He pinned your hips down on the mattress to prevent you from squirming, continuing his administrations with a sick grin on his lips. You watched his face as his anger turned into lust, fueled by pure jealousy. You grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him closer as you rocked your hips against his hand.
Smirking, he added more pressure to your clit, causing you to try to writhe even more. 
"More," you whimper almost inaudibly. 
"Hm?" Jake asked, as if he didn't hear you. But with the look on his face, you could tell that he did. "You want me to stop?" You whimpered softly, shaking your head and reaching for his hand.
Despite that, he stopped touching where you needed it the most, earning a whine and more squirming, even though he's not touching you anymore. 
"N-no, please don't stop," you whined, reaching for his wrist and pulling it back to your heat.
He just looked at you condescending as you humped his hand, and if you were in a normal state of mind, you would have had enough social awareness to stop–but you were far too horny right now.
"Please," you begged again, looking up at him with eyes glossed over with need, your hips bucking against his hand as you desperately tried to get more friction. 
Jake smirked at your eagerness before giving you mercy, pulling your panties off and sliding a finger inside you, making you gasp. He grunted in response, returning to trailing hot kisses on your skin. You could feel his teeth grazing over your skin, knowing that by the time he's done, you'll be covered in bruises for days. 
And that only turned you on even more.
"Oh god–" your breath hitches in your throat, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly.
"You like that, don't you, baby? My fingers inside you?" he purred, watching as you twitched and whined beneath him. "You love how I make you feel, how I can make you fall apart with just my fingers."
"Yes, so good– Fuck," you moaned, arching your back in pleasure as he added another finger and began to thrust harder and curl his fingers just how you like it, stretching you and filling you in a way that only he could. His other hand pressed against your lower stomach, the pressure making you even more sensitive.
"He doesn't know how to fucking touch you like I do," Jake rasped, his voice laced with arrogance. "I know just by the way you came so hard the first time I fingered you–there's no way that fucker has made you cum before. Only I can make you feel this good." 
You could only nod wordlessly, unable to form a coherent sentence. Jake loved every second of it, the smug smirk never leaving his face. Your hands reach down to his sweatpants, trying to undo them.
"You want it so bad, don't you?" He cocked his head to the side, almost condescending. You frantically nod, hoping he'll just give you what you want like he usually does. And you get hopeful with how Jake chuckles darkly and pulls his pants down a bit, exposing his throbbing cock. 
You mewled a bit as he pulled out his fingers and brought them to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied look. He positions himself at your entrance and leans over you, his face inches from yours. But his following words crush all hope, and you know you'll have to do more begging. "Do you want me? Or do you want him?"
"You," the desperation in your voice was clear and urgent. "Please. I don't want Heesueng, only want you. Just you–" 
But before you can finish begging, Jake slams into you, filling you completely.
"Didn't I tell you not to fucking say his name?" His hands grip your hips tightly as he starts to pump into you, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. He doesn't hold back, his pace rough and frantic with all his pent-up rage and jealousy.
You let out a moan, arching your back. Jake was rough, and it was shocking. But oh, it felt good. It felt better than anyone you had been with before. Jake knew your body so well and knew exactly how to make you lose control. 
You dig your nails into his shoulders, neither caring about the deep red marks as you press into his skin. Your walls clench around him, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of sanity. 
Jake's voice breaks during one of his moans. "C-can't believe he saw you like this before. I f-fucking hate him. Only I'm allowed to see you like this," he pants and his movements become sloppy, holding your hips down tightly as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. And his movements continued to get more and more desperate, his words becoming incoherent as he kept mentioning your ex. 
You could feel the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as you were pushed closer and closer to your breaking point. "P-please, m' gonna–" you gasp, clenching your teeth together as Jake's cock hits just the right spot inside you.
He uses a hand that was holding your hip to rub circles over your clit, trying to coax you to your orgasm. He then moves his other hand back to your lower belly, pressing down on it hard, like he did earlier. He hadn't done this before tonight, but you wish he had because you can feel his cock pressing against all the right spots even more now. You can't help but feel a bit jealous yourself, wondering who he learned that from. 
But regardless, the added stimulation sent you over the edge, your body shaking as you came hard around Jake's cock, pulling some stray swears from him. 
But Jake wasn't done with you yet. He kept fucking you, even as you rode out your orgasm, pushing you into overstimulation. You could barely form a coherent thought as he continued to pound into you, his own release still building inside him.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he grunted, his thrusts becoming shorter and rougher. "My pretty girl. I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face."
And with one final hard thrust, he pulled out, maneuvering himself to jerk off over your face. 
You were cock drunk at this point, and your face must have shown this, as Jake chuckled deeply. He cooed, brushing his hand on your cheek and wiping away tears you didn't know had fallen. "Awe, who did this to you? Who's got you all fucked out like this?"
And you finally made out a broken "you" through your whines and panting. 
"Yeah, that's right," your response makes his grin widen, seemingly with pride. "Me, not him," Jake spoke as if trying to convince himself more than you. 
It only takes a couple more tugs before his hot release splatters across your face, his moans and deep laughter mixed with one another as he comes down from his high. 
When he's done, he crawls to lay next to you, seemingly a whole new person. 
His puppy-like personality is back, wearing the loving smile he always has when looking at you as he wipes his cum off your face with the corner of your sheets. 
Afterwards, he peppers your face and lips with soft kisses, speaking equally soft words. "I'm sorry, baby," he nestles up next to you as you do the same thing, a small smile on your face, still kind of out of it. Was that too much? I've just been so moody lately because of…yeah."
"No, I just wish you'd talk to me and not let everything build up." You pout, placing your palm on his cheek before snorting out a laugh. "Not that it wasn't amazing. I've never seen you so possessive–it was hot."
He giggled at this, too, a soft blush rising in the apple of his cheeks. 
"But really, talk to me next. You aren't okay after something like that. Okay?"
"Gotcha," He scoffs before peppering you with kisses all over again.
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Ahh!! I guess your my first anon 🌷 :)
Also, apologies for the insane word count, I yap a lot as you can tell 😅
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odinsblog · 2 days
Text
“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.
And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.
Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.
Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.
I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.
Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.
He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,
‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.
I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.
Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.
And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.
I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.
Okay, I love you. Bye.’
A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.
His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.
Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.
Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.
On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.
Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.
The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.
And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.
I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.
And then the pattern continues.
Thank you.
Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.
One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.
She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.
On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.
‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.
Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.
But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.
What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’
She was killed later that day.
Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.
And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.
Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.
It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.
Thank you.
The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.
I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.
I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.
It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.
He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.
A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.
The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.
I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.
But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.
A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.
Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”
—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.
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whokilledjared · 3 days
Text
the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)
Hi.
I'm lonely.
The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.
Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.
Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.
The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.
Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.
Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*
God. What the fuck are we doing???
“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung
Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.
I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.
yay.
There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?
At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.
Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.
And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:
What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?
Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?
What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?
Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.
Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.
At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.
Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.
My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.
To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.
This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.
Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.
We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.
So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.
Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.
And I have the time to breathe.
And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.
When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.
How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?
That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride
Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."
* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)
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pureastrologywisdom · 22 hours
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𝔄𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰: 𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔶 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰
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it's very easy to talk about the very clear and obvious synastry placements that are good, today I wanted to note some that I really like to see that are often overlooked.
In synastry I love to see someone more ‘outward’ or ‘expressive planets in contact with someones more ‘private’ or ‘inward’ planets. An example is seeing someones Sun conjunct the other persons Moon - it’s as if one is bringing the other out their shell a little, or they appreciate these parts of each other, on hoe the ‘expressive’ planet can show this to the word so easily, ‘and how the ‘inner planet feels comfortable to show the ‘outward’ planet this side of them self.  For example the sun person will see this more private area and say ‘I love this side of you, please don’t feel afraid to show me”. They compliment one another.
Having Sun - Jupiter synastry brings such a radiance to a relationship. You can rejuvenate each other and bring each other a lot of laughter and joy. These are two very expressive and expansive parts of each other coming together. The sun in traditional astrology rules over intellect snd Jupiter is all about exploration and discovery, you stimulate each others minds and invigorate each others lives. Conversation flows easily and and giggles are often. You want a pretty tight orb on this one (1-5 degrees max)
3rd house synastry is not spoken about or appreciated enough. Often if a personal placement falls into the persons 3rd house, it feels as if you naturally ‘speak their language’. Communication is emphasis here, which is an important foundation in relationships. 
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An example is having your moon go into someones 3rd house, you may make the 3rd house person feels very safe too communicate with you, and you as the moon person feel as if the house person is vey comforting and the way they communicate and listen is so ideal to you.Also these people can have well blended routines and similar habits.
Often I have seen that when someones personal planets fall into your 6th house, they like to be of service to you in some way. They want to make your day easier, or help you organise your day etc. It shows someone who wants to take care of you and be a big part in those small moments.
10th house synastry is cute! The planet person can push the 10th house person be become who they want to be, they help them feel inspired or driven, this is especially true for benefic planets here.
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Hi everyone, thank you for reading! I quickly just wanted to say thank you so so much for 2000 followers on here! I love you all so much and value your feedback and comments on every post. As always I love to hear your experience with all the placements I have mentioned :)
I have some very exciting thing coming on here soon!
Also I have stared an instagram so if you would like to follow I will be posting on there very soon!
<3 <3 <3
Credit - pureastrologywisdom
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