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#but does she know how to link things and make things look pretty
i99zhuo · 3 days
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Please make a routine guide inspired by Saranghoe u can refer to her youtube vlogs she us productive
How to live like Saranghoe .𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°。⋆
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This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Tracy Sohn a.k.a Saranghoe! thank you for the request and sorry for the long wait!
content list (routines):
morning
study
workout
shower + self care
night
(_ _ ) . . z Z⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧ ∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊·
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✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
👛 Tracy is definitely NOT a morning person, so everytime she wakes up the first thing she does is check her phone for a few minutes. After that she gets straight up and opens up her curtains to let the light in.
Then she goes to her bathroom and uses a hair band to get her hair out of the way so she can brush her teeth and wash her face with a gentle foam cleanser. After rinsing it out she uses her skincare products; toner sheets, serum, cream and a tinted sunscreen!
🌷 Now she changes clothes, Tracy usually wears cute knit tops with some plaid skirts in basic colors (white, gray or black) and she also wears some dainty jewelry and leg warmers. Remember to put on a hair roller to style your bangs while you do your makeup!
It's time for makeup! Tracy usually does the same makeup routine, eyebrows, mascara, eyeliner, blush, lip tint and a shiny highlighter, oh! also she only puts on a bit of concealer since the tinted sunscreen already works as a glowy foundation.
🍥 Clean your room a little before packing the last things on your bag and spraying perfume to you out to your uni / school or have brunch!
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✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
Tracy usually takes digital notes on notion! and she always includes useful links with videos and resources so she can review them later. For language learning though, she copies the vocab on a notebook and reads it before her test so she can have them fresh in her memory. She also always studies listening to ost of her favorite animes, kdramas or manhwas!
🩰 After a long day of school she likes to take a nap and have some rest!
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✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
If you're curious on how Tracy takes care of her figure you need to know that walking plays a huge role in it! In her vlogs she always goes to most places entirely by walking! You can do this too and start counting how many steps you walk in a day.
🏩 Also you can try and dance to an energetic kpop song like Hype boy by NewJeans, practicing multiple times a day can definitely replace a workout routine!
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✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
If you want to have a selfcare, start your shower routine by taking a long bath, use a bath bomb, some bubbles and candles to set the mood, you can even use a little tray to watch kdramas like tracy!
🛍 Then you can play some music to actually take a shower, take care of your hair with shampoo and conditioner and then clean your body with a cleanser and a loofah.
When you're done it's time for skincare, use some toner pads, serum, moisturizer, eye cream and lip balm! also apply cream on your body and cuticle oil on your nails.
💞 Next you can dry your hair and use some leave-in products to have extra soft and shiny hair!
One of Tracy's keys to look extra cute and pretty always is to get appointments with professionals to get facials, lash perms, haircuts and her nails done!
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✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆
👚 Tracy usually dines out with her friends or family! After she arrives home she gets comfy so she can have a long study session! If you're a night person, try and get all your assignments done at this time to feel extra productive! And don't forget to have a late night meal/snack.
After getting all her school work done she relax on her bed, often with a sheet mask on (specially on winter) and watch anime or dramas until she falls asleep 
Good night!
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heyyyyy I finally post again haha, sorry for making you guys wait for sooo long but I got my period and I was feeling soooo bad I wanted to disappear 💀 also idk why my liz post getting so much attention made me a little anxious so I procrastinated all my requests for so long hehe im sorry :(
well that's all I will try to upload my next requests soon !!!
toodlezzzz!!111!
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joycrispy · 7 months
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I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.
Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."
Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.
Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.
Something like this:
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We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--
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--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.
But it turns out he was this:
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!!!
With his curly little--!!
And his neat white--!!
IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:
"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."
(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)
In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.
In sum...an innocent.
(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.
We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.
Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)
So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--
*checks notes*
--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.
...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.
All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?
He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.
That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...
...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'
What does that tell us about who he was? Is?
Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.
Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."
And what reason does he give?
("I know you."
"You do not know me."
"I know the angel you were.")
What does that tell us about who he was? Is?
("The angel you knew is not me."
But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)
tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.
'Innocence died screaming' and all that.
13K notes · View notes
asilentsongbird · 7 months
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Neuvillette pines for you.
Furina learns to avoid him simply so she doesn't have to hear about whatever thing you've done lately that Neuvillette is obsessed with.
The ache is so deep in his soul it almost hurts.
The rain comes in a downpour sometimes. To match the wetness on his cheeks. Though sometimes he can't tell if it's the rain or his tears on his face.
You find him like this one evening. An umbrella tucked under your arm as you find the Chief Justice on the shore, head bowed and completely soaked.
"Monsieur Neuvillette?" you ask softly, coming up behind him. Your umbrella is just big enough to protect him from the rain. "Are you alright?"
He turns to you with shock on his face, tears still running down his face. A thousand thoughts race through his head, everything from did you see him crying to why in the world are you out in the rain?
A soft, gentle hand touches his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize it's your hand, the softest thing he's felt. Instinctively, he wants to lean into the touch. So he does.
"Are you crying?" your voice is soft, concerned, without the barest hint of judgement he so easily passes on to the players of his court.
The umbrella is shoved into the crook of his arm, and another hand reaches up to join the other. You cup both of his cheeks, though he has to bend slightly to allow you to do so, which he does so easily.
"There," you murmur, brushing your thumbs under his eyes. Your smile is so soft, even softer than your touch. "You have beautiful eyes, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hate to see you so sad."
The rain stops suddenly, as though someone has turned off a switch in the sky itself. His cheeks are dry and the sky is clear, and before he can say a word, you're looking up at it instead of him, still smiling.
"The rain stopped." You sound so happy about it, he almost feels bad for making it rain. You press the umbrella further against his hand.
Your touch feels warm. Inviting, and soft. Everything about you feels soft to him.
"Keep it for next time, okay? I'd hate to stumble upon you wandering through the rain again. You could catch a cold!"
He clears his throat softly, trying to figure out words. He's pretty sure words didn't exist before you started talking to him, and now he's floundering over them like a child.
"Allow me to walk you home," he finally manages, as though he didn't stumble over words for the first time in his life.
You smile, and link your arm through his own when he offers it. The sky above you two hasn't been this clear and blue in ages.
Perhaps, after he finishes walking you home, he can figure out how to finally ask you to dinner.
But who knows, really. After all, if he cries again, will you touch him as softly as before?
There's only one way to find out.
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astonmartinii · 7 days
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it must be a sign | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x fem deaf! red bull engineer!reader
when the two most unbothered people in the paddock combine their joint powers to be the it couple
request sent by the lovely @bibissparkles xx
author's note: heyyy so many of you won't know but i am actually deaf - i am 50% deaf in both ears and wear hearing aids so i love requests like this! (all i do most of this stuff as a deaf person, turning off your hearing aids >)
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 302,446 others
yourusername: you can't complain about the dutch national anthem when you can just turn your hearing aids off
view all comments
user1: the way max's engineer is as sick of that damn song as us
user2: turning off her hearing aids makes how bored she looks during podiums make sense
yourusername: it was a banger during the mercedes dominance but would it kill someone to play the australian anthem
danielricciardo: i knew you missed me
yourusername: sure, jan.
user3: her and max signing slay to each other will always be so personal to me
maxverstappen1: gonna pretend you didn't just say that
yourusername: boo hoo babe, you gotta lose something sometimes
user4: babe? are the flowers from max?
maxverstappen1: would rather choke on my own spit and fall into a pit of snakes, hope this helps ❤️
yourusername: rude! i wouldn't want flowers from you either :(
user5: i swear we get into this argument every weekend, i think people will still assume they're together until their married to other people
liamlawson30: stop using me as a messenger pigeon please and thank you
yourusername: but i thought red bull gave you wings?
liamlawson30: do not use a pr answer against me 🤨
yourusername: no comment
liamlawson30: choke.
yourusername: idk what's going on in the red bull junior academy but spit in helmut's coffee not mine
user6: y/n consistently giving all the red bull guys shit is my favourite thing ever
user7: the amount of times the sky broadcast has caught her waving them off or taking her hearing aids out lol
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oscarpiastri
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liked by yourusername, landonorris and 782,309 others
oscarpiastri: switched four tyres for two this weekend
view all comments
user11: you can't distract us with your slutty bike pics WHO THE FUCK IS THAT
landonorris: A WOMAN? A WOMAN? IS THAT A WOMAN OSCAR JACK PIASTRI?
oscarpiastri: yeah i'm pretty sure
landonorris: don't play smart with me buster - why was i not informed?
oscarpiastri: i don't ask to be informed of every time you get rejected in the instagram dms
landonorris: FAKE NEWS
oscarpiastri: okay buddy
user12: i be seeing the sign language book, oscar you are so real for that
user13: that's my king, i need a oscar and y/n link up in the paddock - my unbothered queens
user14: she's in the likes !!!!!!
logansargent: oh we've entered the soft launch phase i see
oscarpiastri: and what?
logansargent: someone is feeling defensive this morning, dude i won't tell i've already kept it a secret for so long
landonorris: HE KNOWS? DOES BEING YOUR TEAMMATE MEAN NOTHING?
oscarpiastri: he's my childhood best friend?
logansargent: there's levels to this game norris
landonorris: @oscarpiastri consider yourself UNDER SURVEILLANCE
oscarpiastri: okay girly
user15: oscar has the patience of a saint, the mystery gal may want to rethink it before having to deal with them all
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 381,044 others
yourusername: unrelaxed, unbothered, moisturised ✨
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user18: queen SHIT THAT AIN'T SHIT
user19: but this mystery man IS
maxverstappen1: yeah sorry about that... but at least boyfy has made his instagram debut?
yourusername: about time, he's too sexy to gatekeep
maxverstappen1: well i'm not going to agree out of respect for you
yourusername: so you don't think he's sexy? i might not be able to hear but HE CAN MAX BE NICE
maxverstappen1: first of all it's a text, second of all i've been way too nice to him
yourusername: he beat you in padel fair and square you're just SHIT AT IT ❤️
maxverstappen1: you know that's a sore subject WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT UP
user20: my queen was really like you wanna tell me to fuck off? oh here's my sexy boyfriend
user21: jos verstappen really didn't know who he was tangling with that gal may be chill but she doesn't take shit
user22: she's like a female version of oscar lol
user23: i knew there was a reason i liked her
this comment was liked by yourusername
danielricciardo: why am i left out of everything these days?
yourusername: snooze you lose
danielricciardo: I AM AWAKE REPLY TO MY TEXTS
danielricciardo: I JUST SAW YOU PUT YOUR PHONE ON DO NOT DISTURB
yourusername: protecting my peace
danielricciardo: i'm on to you buster
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oscarpiastri
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liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,455 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: overjoyed to get my first (proper) win in formula one and even more overjoyed to have my amazing girlfriend (and even better engineer) up on the podium with me
view all comments
user27: so this was the special occasion?
user28: so this is why she said she wanted the australian national anthem over the dutch one?
user29: this is now my roman empire
yourusername: babe is so fucking good and i'm so fucking proud
oscarpiastri: i'm so glad to have been able to share this moment with you
yourusername: you deserve this and more, i love you
oscarpiastri: i love you too xx
user30: wait so oscar knows so much more sign language than i thought
user31: he looked so excited and even mark knows some
logansargent: he forced (we were happy to do so) me, mark and his family to learn as soon as he secured the date lol
oscarpiastri: and now we're all so cool because of it
logansargent: cool and able to chat shit without people knowing what we're saying
yourusername: best bit about it tbf (everyone please learn, it's a beautiful language)
landonorris: I KNEW IT
oscarpiastri: no you didn't
landonorris: no i didn't :( i'm hurt
oscarpiastri: if it's any consolation, we didn't tell many people, max and logan are exceptions
landonorris: WHY WAS I NOT AN EXCEPTION???
yourusername: boo hoo
landonorris: i'm not gonna say anything back to that you kinda scare me
yourusername: good ❤️
yourusername
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liked by fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri and 529,778 others
tagged: maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri
yourusername: me and a racewinner (and our world champion third wheel)
view all comments
user32: fave trio in the paddock no competition
logansargent: logan erasure
yourusername: we love you logan, sunday roast at mine this weekend ❤️
logansargent: SCORE
user33: every time you post there's a new plushie
yourusername: we usually get one to commemorate a big weekend and we both got one for osc's first win
user34: that's so FUCKING CUTE
oscarpiastri: it's all fun and games until you don't fit in the bed because y/n feels too bad to put any of them on the floor
yourusername: they have FEELINGS OSCAR
oscarpiastri: she cried one time when max set off the smoke alarm cooking breakfast and the bed alarm shook so bad that all of them were thrown to the floor
yourusername: it was HARROWING but it also did wake me up so at least we know it works
maxverstappen1: actually my favourite couple to third wheel, but enjoy it while it's here osc, i won't lose again
yourusername: yeah sorry osc it's actually my job to help max win so you're gonna have to wait for him to retire if i have anything to do with it
oscarpiastri: not even for me :(
yourusername: sorry not sorry (i'm really sorry, i love you so much)
oscarpiastri: i love you too even if you won't sabotage max for my race :(
maxverstappen1: okay i know i said you guys are cute but that's enough for today
yourusername: we ARE cute thank you
oscarpiastri: the CUTEST
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fin.
note: heheheheh i hope you enjoyed this, i love requests like this xx also on the comment about the bed alarm i had one in uni halls and when the alarm went off that baby SHOOK it was kinda scary
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ghostfacd · 4 months
Text
SAVE THE GIRL
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader
summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life
warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene
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“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”
The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.
You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.
“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”
“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”
You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”
“Your point?”
It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.
“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”
Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.
You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.
When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.
He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.
“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.
“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”
“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”
Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?
“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”
The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”
And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.
As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.
But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.
As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.
Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.
“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”
“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”
“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”
“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.
“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”
Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.
“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.
“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”
“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.
“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”
And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.
He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.
“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.
“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”
You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.
“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”
He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.
“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”
“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”
The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.
“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.
One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.
Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.
You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.
“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”
The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.
You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.
“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.
“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”
And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.
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pinkmirth · 6 months
Text
⸻ 𝒦ℰℰ𝒫ℰℛ!
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𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇! ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎
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reiner’s your bulking shadow, always trailing not far behind.
he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.
things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.
nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?
it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.
before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.
‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.
reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.
what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.
“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”
you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.
“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”
you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.
reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.
eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.
you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.
but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .
reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.
he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.
you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.
so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.
your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.
it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.
you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.
“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .
he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.
“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.
“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.
“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”
“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”
“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”
right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.
see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.
upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.
upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.
it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.
you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?
the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.
“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.
“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”
in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.
“oh, please do.”
being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.
there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”
“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .
“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.
mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.
“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.
experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.
“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.
“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.
“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.
by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.
reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.
as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.
“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.
“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.
you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.
“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.
he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.
“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.
reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”
not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.
he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.
“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.
“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.
“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.
“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.
reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.
“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.
“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.
“yes, tonight, rei!”
he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—
“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”
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©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧
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simonrillleyyysss · 3 months
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simon with an s/o who is super duper smart!! like she studied astrophysics or SUMN and she’s like a researcher and she reads classic philosophy and is subscribed to a bunch of newsletters for different topics and she’s just,, so smart!! but not like street smart. she’s a clutz and she’s clueless and a bit dumb when it comes to the the day to day stuff and it’s so silly cause like. how. r u in such a prestigious field and you speak so eloquently yet also so silly stupid dumb?? it’s so cute
and his favourite thing is getting his smartypants nerdy little girlfriend into a babbling gushing mess under him, barely able to form coherent sentences as he bullies her soaked cunny :(( miss big shot researcher all fucked out and giggling, drooling and brainless AGHHRRN the brainrot is real
i love this!! socially unaware reader who’s a genius?? yes!!!
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Simon knows you’re intelligent, everyone does! You’re always spewing facts to him throughout the day, and he thrives for it! A new update about some snazzy topic, which he, does not entirely understand? Hell yeah! You’re happy and content, walking down the street with your hands linked, freehand scrolling through your phone.
“Oh!”
“Hm?”
“There’s a new—“
He’s so happy that you’re happy, doesn’t care if anyone else thinks you’re a snob, you’re not. You’re his smart cookie. His soft, silly smart cookie. He adores flexing it, too!
Sat on the sofa on a rainy day? He isn’t surprised when you’re nose is stuck in some big book about philosophical ideals and whatnot, peeks over your shoulder as his fingers tangle through your hair, kissing the back of your head.
“Seems snazzy.”
He mumbled lowly, hands squishing your cheeks from behind, watching you purse ur lips out.
“It is! It’s really interesting, would you like to read it after?”
“..I’ll pass, y’ can tell me about it, though. That’s better, innit?”
Watches you work from home, constantly. Finds it so interesting when you sit at your laptop, tapping at the keys so quickly while looking down at your big book of new information , all of which you’d written down recently, just sits at the corner of the bed and stares at you in awe.
Never trusts you to go out by yourself, always has you message him every once in a while when you’re out with your friends at dinner or anything—He’s not controlling, you can go out; but he just knows you’re not high in the social field of things, monkey say monkey do!
Smart? Yes, streetsmart? No.
So when you and him had went out shopping together, and some guy tried to hit on blissfully, happily unaware you? He was enraged, he knows you didn’t do anything, he knows it was all him, but he can’t help how angry it makes him.
Can’t help how he holds you down on the bed by your hips, thrusting his thick cock into your tight cunt, sniffling and whining in soft confusion, you didn’t do anything! So why was he ramming into your sensitive little pussy? Why was he abusing you softly and kissing your breasts if you didn’t do anything wrong?
“So-Mgmmng..Si—m’sorry!”
“Shhhh, Yr’ fine, sugar…I know y’didnt, jus’ stay quiet f’me, yeah?”
“A-mngh..Ohh, gosh! Are you mad at me?”
You gasped out, looking up at the blonde-haired man, who was softly peppering pecks along your perky nipples, cock slamming into you repeatedly, watching your eyes roll back and lips part.
“Course not, mad at him—Yeah? Thinkin’ he has a chance with my girl.. Thinkin’ he can fuck your pretty lil’ pussy as well as I do.”
“Mmnngghh.Can’t..NoooooOOT him!-“
He chuckled, jutting his cock further in you a few times to emphasise his point, watching you squeal in pleasure, back arching; His thumb coming to brush right circles against your aching clit, feeling you tighten and spasm around him as your orgasm washed over you!
Or,
When you’re sitting atop his lap, riding him lazily as he reads your latest draft, brows furrowed as his arm slung around your hip protectively, listening to your little moans and u intelligible babbles, slouching over slightly—feeling his hand squish your hip and seeing you instantly readjust your frame, practically drooling down your chin.
Smart literally, Dumb socially.
1K notes · View notes
Note
Hiii
Lando x reader pls where she is just really introverted and its her birthday and lando wants to celebrate it by going in the club actually she doesnt want to but she still says yes and when they are in the club she just starts getting uncomfortable and then she tells lando the truth and he is just so sorry then and takes care of her the Rest of the day/night.
Only the Best for My Girlfriend - LN
I can definitely do this because this would a hundred percent be me, so probs gonna smash this out with ease. Always so easy to write something I relate to (which is like 100% of my fics ahahaha)
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Lando likes to spoil his girlfriend, whether it's showering her in gifts, attention or giving her little things that he thinks will remind her of memories they have together.
But her birthday is a day he wants to go above and beyond. So he wants to dress her up, take her out and get her to party. Originally, he was going to hire the whole club out for the night and make it invitation only but she insisted she didn't want a whole party dedicated to her. Lando still wanted to have a big celebration for her though.
So he bought her a designer dress, which his jaw dropped at once he saw her in it. And made sure it looked good with the jewellery she likes to wear (with a couple new pieces she got as gifts from him and others for her birthday).
He's put in the time to set this up to make sure he doesn't have work trying to interfere with anything.
"Drinks?" Lando asks as they get up to the bar in the group since it's not just the two of them.
"I don't want to drink alcohol." Y/n murmurs while Lando smiles ordering her a coke since he doesn't really drink and he knows she prefers not to as well.
Y/n does love that so many people showed up to come with them to celebrate her birthday. But she is just feeling her skin crawl and her need to keep herself from wincing every time someone squeals at her or nudges her with a happy birthday.
It's about 20 minutes into the night that she finishes her drink and decides to try and escape.
"I'm just going to the bathroom." Y/n murmurs into Lando's ear, feeling his arm that has been pretty consistently around her waist as they (mainly him) stood and talked to others around them.
"Ok, don't be long." Lando smiles kissing her softly before letting go of her as she moves away.
Y/n does go to the bathroom, where she spends the better part of 10 minutes trying to keep tears from falling and ruining her make up which she did put a lot of effort into.
Lando was so excited about bringing her out to celebrate her birthday and she really wanted to force herself to enjoy it even though she kind of knew that this isn't really how she wanted to spend it. His excitement was contagious at least in the way that she couldn't say no or let it show that she wasn't nearly as excited.
When she steps out though, Lando is waiting outside the women toilets and the better lighting of the hallway away from the strobe lights means he sees the bloodshot shininess of her eyes.
"Hey, sorry. There was a queue." Y/n tries to lie since Lando has been so happy so far and ruining his mood might actually make her physically sick.
"Want to try that again?" Lando asks making the urge to run and hide in the toilets nearly overwhelm her before he holds out his hand for her to take, though it takes him making a grabby gesture for her to link her hand to his own then allowing him to guide her back through the club to the other side where they get out onto a balcony that seems to be used mostly for going outside to smoke. "What's going on baby? Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying...I made sure of it." Y/n murmurs then sighing as Lando deadpans an expression at her which makes her gut twist to the point that she's sure it gurgles in warning she might actually spew on the floor right now.
"Baby, it's your birthday. I just want you to have the best time ever. But you're clearly holding back tears, please...I want to make it so you're not sad."
"I want to go home." Y/n whispers, so quiet that it's obvious Lando even straining to hear her couldn't get a grasp on the words.
"Are you not feeling well?" Lando frowns moving closer to her.
"No. It's not that it's just...I don't need to go out and spend the night partying in a club. I wanted to spend my birthday with you, just chilling and cuddling and spending time with you. Partying in crowds of people with loud music and people fussing over me, it's not what I imagined-As much as I appreciate you putting this all together and your excitement for tonight made me not want to ruin it and I tried to enjoy it but-"
"Let's go home. We can go home, I doubt anyone will even really notice." Lando shrugs smiling lightly at her which makes the ball of guilt contract. "I want you to spend your birthday in a way that makes you happy. It's your birthday baby and I want the best for your birthday, you choose what the best way to spend your birthday is."
"But you put so much effort into this."
"Because I thought you were looking forward to it. If you aren't happy then we're leaving." Lando dismisses with a smile while cupping her face. "Come on, birthday girl. You are spending the rest of your birthday however you want to spend it."
-
Lando set up the shower while y/n got off her clothes and make up before washing off the residue of everything and when she got out, he'd dressed down and was awaiting her to cuddle with.
"Hey, baby. Look at you. So beautiful." Lando grins standing up and moving towards her. "What do you want to do?"
"Can you just...playing with my hair and we binge-watch Rick and Morty?" Y/n asks with a small pout earning a laugh from the driver before he grins at her and nods, kissing her softly.
"We could climb into that bed and literally just lie there staring at the ceiling if that's what you wanted. I love you so much." Lando grins making her smile so brightly, which is the exact expression he wanted to get from her today. It's what matters to him really and is the most important thing to him.
He wants his girlfriend to just be genuinely happy about how she is spending her birthday and he knows the difference between a smile she's giving someone just to make them think she's happy vs a smile she's giving someone because she's so happy she can't stop herself from smiling.
Lando ordered food to the hotel with all her favourite snacks and drinks with a wide variety in the selection so she doesn't just have to choose one.
They curl up with the food and drinks in arms reach and Lando positions her so her head is on his chest and his hand is up in her hair and they watch her favourite show (currently since next week she'll be on something else).
It's simple, and he does slightly mentally scold himself for not thinking about the fact his girlfriend really is minimal when it comes to things to do with herself. She doesn't feel the need to go overboard or make everything a big deal about herself, but he knows that there's no point in kicking himself about it because she's happy now and that's all that matters.
"I'm going to remember this for your next birthday." Lando whispers feeling her begin to shake a little with a laugh.
"God, can we not talking about me aging another year already, there's a whole 365 days till then and right now I'm just enjoying this moment with you." Y/n smiles looking up at him as he twirls strand of her hair around his finger. "We've got your birthday before then. How do you want to spend it?"
"Mmm...maybe on holiday but like this?"
"Noted."
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leclercsainzz · 5 months
Note
i was listening to “all to well” by taylor swift and the part where she sings “i still remember the first fall of snow” (pretty much verse 6) came on and i remember i had seen a nico rosberg x lewis hamilton edit to this song a few nights ago and i was wondering if you could do one where reader is nico’s sister and she dated lewis but they fell of because of the whole brocedes friendship fall out and the fans associate them with this specific song/verse .. basically brocedes situation but instead it’s reader x lewis (idk if all this makes sense lol)
DO YOU REMEMBER IT ALL TOO WELL?
PAIRINGS: lewis hamilton x rosberg sister!reader
TYPE: social media au
ynrosberg
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liked by danielricciardo, nicorosberg and 645,927 others
ynrosberg: weekend photo dump or whatevaaa 🤷🏼‍♀️
tagged: @nicorosberg @danielricciardo
view 6,026 comments
user: omG i stiLL CaNnoT beliEVE MOTHER PULLED UP TO THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX AKAKD!!!!!
↳ user: apparently she only went to support danny bc she promised him that she’d show up to a race if he came back 😭
user: does anyone know if lewis and her interacted??!!?
user: gorgg 😍😍😍
zayn: 😍
↳ user: are they dating??
↳ user: zayn??? 👀 what are you doing here??
user: not nico using memes 💀 LMAOOO
↳ nicorosberg: it was actually a gif 😭
↳ user: pLease, this makes it 10x better
danielricciardo: ❤️❤️
user: still can’t believe mother pulled up and we didn’t get a single interaction with dad 😭😭
user: it’s the waY LEWIS WALKED BY HER WITHOUT SPARING HER A GLANCE 😭😭😭💔
↳ user: i cried when i saw that 😭😭 like why’d they show us?
user: so is everyone gonna ignore the last post?? 444?? 4’s??? who is associated with 4? lewis mf 44 hamilton?? hello?
user: lewis????
user: will forever hold on to the idea that they’ll get back together soon 😌
user: i love how everyone is bringing up lewis as if they didn’t end on bad terms lmao
fernandoalo_official: glad to see my spanish lessons taught you something 👍🏼
aussiegrit: it’s britney bitch
📌 pinned
user: not her pinning webber’s comment 💀
user: thE things i’d do to see a lewis comment or like 😩
user: just thinking about the fact that yn & lewis might’ve seen each other at the race but refused to interact w each other 😭
↳ user: they did:( and they ignored each other
user: can someone please tell me if her and lewis talked?
user: i just know they refused to look in each other’s directions
↳ user: stop 😭😭😭 you’re right, they didn’t 💔💔💔
user: 4?? lewis??
user: missing ynlewis hours 😓
user: ugh, she’s soo pretty 😍😍😍
user: how can one be this beautiful? 😩
ynrosberg
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liked by sebastianvettel, kendalljenner and 610,749 others
ynrosberg: photo dump pt 2 🤪
view 5,146 comments
user: all too well 10 min ver. (taylor’s version)??? yes or yes??
↳ ynrosberg: always!!! 💗
user: LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS LEWIS
user: 😍😍😍😍😍
zayn: thanks for the pic creds
↳ yourusername: yea yea
georgerussell63: i see my name 👀
user: i pray lewis and her will get back together
user: wishing for a ynlewis interaction 😩😩
↳ user: same, sis, same!
user: her smile in the third post 🥰
kendalljenner: 😍😍 beauty
↳ ynrosberg: mwahh 😘
user: when she listens to taylor swift >>
nicorosberg: never got my ice cream 😕
↳ ynrosberg: oops???
user: I REMEMBER IT ALL TOO WELL
user: i literally just saw a ynlewis edit to all too well!!! janskdnd
↳ user: SEND ME THE LINK, NOW
↳ user: ^ me too, please!!!
↳ user: wtF, iM crying 😭😭😭😭
user: i just need to know that her and lewis are on good terms, my mental health depends on this info
↳ user: hate to break it to you …. but ….
↳ user: they literally walked by each other TWICE during the hungarian gp and didn’t acknowledge each other 💔💔💔💔
user: does anyone know if lewis and yn are friends at least?
↳ user: girl??? they don’t even follow each other 🙂
user: she looks happy, he looks happy … they moved on .... maybe it’s time for us all to move on as well? 😔😔😔
↳ user: nO, i cant 😔 i rEfuse!!
user: who’s lewis??? and what does he have to do with yn and nico?? (i don’t mean to offend anyone, i just keep seeing so many comments regarding lewis … is he a driver like nico or??)
↳ user: long story short, lewis hamilton is a formula 1 driver (yes), him and nico used to be teammates .. they were pretty much fighting for the championship and in the process their friendship started to fall apart due to their rivalry and ig yn pushed lewis away after nico won and retired
↳ user: wasn’t it because lewis said he didn’t want distractions and wanted to focus on his career?
↳ user: tbh i’m not sure, they never really confirmed anything
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lewishamilton
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liked by georgerussell63, neymarjr and 784,837 others
lewishamilton: season so far ✌🏾
tagged: @georgerussell63 @fernandoalo_official
view 7,937 comments
user: ROSCOE!!!!
user: i wonder if roscoe misses mother as much as i do 😭
user: dad, please get back with mom!! 🙏🏼
user: my man everybody 😍😍😍
user: i heard from a friend that george “kidnapped” roscoe and took him to see yn
↳ user: wait wtf, are you being frr??? 😭😭 don’t play with me
↳ user: idk if it’s true
↳ user: i wonder how roscoe reacted when he saw yn, if he did
georgerussell63: roscoe 🥰
↳ lewishamilton: dognapper
↳ georgerussell63: i did it for the greater good:)
↳ user: wAit omgsksn does that mean he actually took roscoe to see yn or???? omg wkakalsk 🥺🥺🥺
user: he’s so fine 😩
fernandoalo_official: 😎
user: WAIT DID GEORGE REALLY TAKE ROSCOE TO GO SEE YN?? BC IF SOOO IMA CRY 😭😭😭😭
user: ya’ll remember when roscoe would pull up with both his parents to the paddock?? 😔 ahh, good old times
user: @sebastianvettel sebs, i need you to work your magic and reunite my parents, please
user: not getting over how they just walked past each other as if they didn’t spend 4 years together 💔
user: the fit 🔥
user: things that keep me up at night: brocedes & ynlewis
↳ user: ^ THIS!!!!
user: ya’ll ever thing about the what-if of ynlewis??
user: goat with a another goat (alonso) 🤩
user: they day yn and lewis reunite will be magical
user: missing the yn comments/likes 🥺🥺🥺
carlossainz55: 🤩🤩🤩
user: 7 years ago, ynlewis broke my heart 😭😭😭
↳ user: don’t forget brocedes 😭😭
↳ user: can’t believe it’s been 7 years, mate
user: i wonder if they privately talk, yk??
↳ user: never thought of that but i hope they do, tbh
sebastianvettel: ❤️
user: roscoe’s too adorable!! 🥺❤️
user: i know they’ll find their way to each other eventually
ynrosberg
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liked by zayn, danielricciardo and 671,048 others
ynrosberg: life so far 💗 (p.s. happy 8 months, lover)
view 5,937 comments
user: mOTHER?????? who is that????
user: 8 months???? wtf?? hello?? since when???
user: what about lewis??!
user: looks like mother gave us another dad 😔
↳ user: lewis is MY dad, idcc … zayn can be my step dad
user: so you’re telling me lewis and yn getting back together won’t happen anytime soon?? 😭😭
zayn: ❤️
↳ user: wAIT!!!! ZAYN??!??? OMG MAKALANS I KNEW THE TATTOOS LOOKED FAMILIAR WHSLs
↳ user: one direction guy????
nicorosberg: cute
↳ ynrosberg: 😌
user: they’ve been together for 8 months?? 😮😮
user: it all makes sense, i just never connected the dots
user: this was not on my 2023 bingo card 😩
user: ngl but this is actually cute
danielricciardo: cats out the bag, yayyy 🥳
↳ user: YOU KNEW!/@/&/@/‘s
user: i wonder how lewis is feeling rn
↳ user: as if he cares
user: mom, what about dad?? 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔
user: @lewishamilton
user: nooooOo i miss dad 😭😭
user: allbio984!;’al hepan huh?!?!@ what?&@“”
user: ig those rumors a few months ago were true
↳ user: which ones???
↳ user: they were seen together like 3 months ago and there were speculations that they were together but it was never confirmed until now 😭
user: i’m still at the restaurant with dad 😢😢😢
user: yn, you’re breaking my heart 💔💔 we want dad
user: scReaming and goiNg apeshit alapamcbh93&,!;@/
user: lewis officially lost her 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
user: i can’t believe this wtf
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lewishamilton
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liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 793,927 others
lewishamilton: all too well
view 7,947 comments
user: DAD IS QUOTING “ALL TOO WELL”
user: roscoe owns my heart, idcc 🥺🥺
user: you remember it all too well, huh? 🥺
user: ya’ll remember yn posted a photo dump a while ago and one of the pic was a “all too well” aesthetic and now he’s using it as his caption??? he definitely misses her 😭😭😭
user: “just between us do you remember it all too well” you remember, she remembers, we all remember 💔
user: dad, we know know you miss mom and uncle nico
↳ user: 😭😭😭 stopp
user: roscoe 🥰🥰🥰
user: mom’s got a new boyfriend
user: ynlewis/brocedes will forever be my roman empire
georgerussell63: roscoe’s such a cutie!
↳ user: idc if you have to break yn and zayn up but we NEED our og parents back, please 🙏🏼
user: they were THE COUPLE
user: she definitely haunts all his what-ifs 😭😭
↳ user: he should’ve married her when he had the chance
↳ user: will never get over him choosing his career over her
user: @ynrosberg
user: i miss them everyday 😩
user: i often think about how if brocedes never ended the way they did they would’ve been together, just maybe
↳ user: i think about this everyday 😩😩😩😩
↳ user: they would’ve been married and with a kid by now
maxverstappen1: have you been hitting the gym?
↳ lewishamilton: always
user: it’s never too late, don’t give up
↳ user: she’s with zayn
user: i still hold on to the possibility that they’ll get back together eventually
user: timing was wrong bc they were in different stages of their lives but i believe they’ll always be soulmates ❤️
user: why’d they break up??
↳ user: bc yn wanted a family and lewis was too focused on his career at the time, i guess
user: roscoe’s a child of divorce like us 😭😭
user: convinced myself that taylor wrote verse 6 about them in all too well (10 min ver)
user: i wonder if he ever gets deja vu when he sees her or viceversa
user: ynlewis keeps me up at night
user: we lost two amazing things 😔 ynlewis & brocedes
↳ user: we can all collectively agree it’s mercedes fault
ynrosberg
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liked by nicorosberg, sebastianvettel and 710,019 others
ynrosberg: an adventure is about to begin 🥰
tagged: @zayn
view 6,984 comments
user: mother is becoming a mother??!? omg 😭😭
user: congratulations!!!
zayn: can’t wait for our little one ❤️
↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️❤️
user: im not crying, you are 😭
user: the fact that’s she’s becoming a mother 😭 w/o lewis
user: this could’ve been lewis
↳ user: if only 😔
sebastianvettel: happy for you, congrats! ❤️❤️
↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️
nicorosberg: can’t wait till i’m officially an uncle 😢
↳ ynrosberg: ilyyyy ❤️
danielricciardo: IM GONNA SPOIL THAT KID
aussiegrit: congrats, yn
↳ ynrosberg: 😊😊 thanks youuu
jensonbutton: ❤️❤️❤️ congrats
↳ ynrosberg: 🥰
fernandoalo_official: 🥳🥳🥳
georgerussell63: can i be the uncle too??
↳ ynrosberg: why not 🤪
user: AHHH IM SOO HAPPY FOR YOU!!
kendalljenner: congrats, my love 🥳❤️❤️❤️
user: im so happy for her but all i can think about is lewis
user: mom becoming a mom without dad 😭😭😭😭
user: ya’ll imagine if it would’ve been lewis 😩
user: her dream came true 😭😭
carmenmmundt: ahh congratulations 🥰🥰🥰
↳ ynrosberg: ❤️❤️
heidiberger__: congrats, beautiful 💗💗
↳ ynrosberg: 🥰🥰
lewishamilton: congratulations!
↳ ynrosberg: thank you!!
↳ user: i waS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS 😭😭😭😭
↳ user: why’d he have to do this??? 😭
↳ user: the way this could’ve been him
user: lewis commented omg 😢😢😢
↳ user: i just know he’s regretting everything
user: lewis 💔💔💔
user: i know dad’s crying over this cause so am i
user: we’re all child of divorce 😭😭😭
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1K notes · View notes
Text
Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons
I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.
For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?
Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?
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He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.
It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.
On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.
He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.
But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.
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This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.
Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??
Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.
Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree
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His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.
Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:
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Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.
Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks
(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)
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(Look at him. brain static)
I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.
So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.
And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.
If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.
Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!
In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk
7K notes · View notes
Text
Jealousy, Jealousy... | Final Part
A/N: this is the main ending. there is an alternative ending available for the other boy on patreon. the link for which is found at the end of this chapter.
Word count: 13k
Genre: Smut, angst, fluff
Warnings: fem!reader, mostly dom!reader, face-sitting, PIV sex, dirty talk, creampie, handjob, heartbreak.
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“Hey, baby.” You greet Yeonjun, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Ready to go?” 
You were picking him up to go home after a long day of work for the both of you. You had in mind a night of drinking wine and complaining about your day until you passed out in his arms and you can’t wait to get home already. 
“Just a little longer, doll.” He tells you and you immediately start whining. “Junnie… those two bottles of wine I bought aren’t gonna drink themselves. We gotta get cracking.” 
He chuckles tiredly. “While I appreciate your efforts to get me drunk, Beomgyu has composed a new song and I need to stay back to hear it.”
“Oh.” It’s still so weird to you how you now have to hear news about what your best friend is up to from other people. You used to know these things first. If this was a few months ago, you’d have already heard the song before anyone else did. But now you’re lucky if you even get to hear it at all. 
But that’s for the best. You’re doing good with Yeonjun. You’re doing good without Beomgyu. You’re breathing. You’re eating. Your heart is beating… maybe even for someone else for a change. It may have been excruciatingly painful at first–forcing yourself to step away from him, not seeking him out to try to make things better after your most recent fallout, not jumping at the chance when he reached out himself, pretending like you’re too busy to see him, making up excuses so you won’t be alone with him, building up your walls so maybe one day you can stand in a room with him and not have to hold back every cell of your body from throwing yourself at his feet and begging him to love you, but you’ve gotten a lot better at it. 
“Do you wanna listen to it?” Yeonjun asks when he sees your curiosity, but you hesitate. Should you? Maybe you should just wait in the car…
But when you see Beomgyu come out with his acoustic guitar and set it on his lap, you find yourself nodding and grabbing a seat next to Yeonjun. You miss hearing him sing. You miss being privy to his passions and whims. Maybe it's selfish of you to allow yourself the opportunity to witness more of him than you’re willing to give him but you never claimed to not be selfish. 
As if Beomgyu shares your thoughts, he glances at you, hesitating for a second and you can see the thoughts flitting behind his pretty eyes–you know him too well. Is he thinking about kicking you out? Does he not want you to hear the song because you’ve been keeping your distance from him? 
Eventually though he looks down at his guitar and starts to play, and as soon as the first words leave his lips, your heart drops. 
Oh, I’m falling in love
As time goes by
As my feelings grow 
I’m becoming more anxious
How deep is your love?
I want to ask
Couldn’t it be the same if not deeper? 
Your heart lurches in your chest at the lyrics. Falling in love? Is Beomgyu falling in love with Haeun? You know you have no right to feel hurt by this but you do. Why couldn’t he have loved you? What does he see in her that you couldn’t have given him? Is she prettier than you? Smarter? Kinder? Funnier? What was it that made you fall short of deserving his love? 
Seeing you change little by little
I’m afraid I’ll lose you
Not mine
My one minute, one second
Take them all
All my time is yours
Why?
Why have you changed?
Why are you so far away from me? 
Now we are at different paths. 
It hurts even more that it seems she’s not reciprocating his feelings. She has everything you want and she doesn’t even want it. He’s willing to give her everything but it seems it’s not enough for her. Oh how cruelly ironic. 
She seemed to be very into him before, at least after the band got more popular, and with every increase in their popularity, she attached herself to him more and more, but something must’ve gone wrong along the line. You have known for some time that Beomgyu and Haeun have been having relationship troubles but you don’t know exactly what because Beomgyu hasn’t told anyone but you guess it’s really bad if this song is about them. 
Is she in love with someone else? Has she lost interest? How could she do it so easily when it’s taking everything in you to do the same. Can she tell you her secret so you can stop suffering and give your heart completely to the man who actually wants it? 
How can I go back
To our beginning
When we were looking at the same place
The when we had the same heart
I hope you don’t know it
This feeling
Even though I love you
I still feel alone
He’s hiding it from her, afraid to reveal his feelings–maybe because he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way, that if he reveals them she’ll reject him. You know that feeling all too well. You wish you could protect him from it even if he was the cause of your own similar pain.
As the chorus repeats, you become even more sure that the song is about him. You can hear the anguish so clearly in his voice. Beomgyu has always been so talented, always able to give his all to the song and live it as if it’s his own, but you know him too well. You know this is real pain. 
I’m drowning in you
Don’t leave me like this
As the bridge reaches its climax, your body shakes, wanting to lunge forward and take him into your arms, to save him from himself even if it would tear you to pieces. But you can’t. You don’t have the right to anymore. All you can do is sit there and wait for him to finish his song, wait for the boys to discuss it as if it’s not his heart being laid out in the open to be dissected. 
“What do you think?” He asks once the song is over, biting the skin of his finger, a nervous habit you’ve always quietly found adorable. You would always grab his hand and kiss the poor finger better, scolding him for hurting himself, but secretly you loved it. You loved having his hand in yours. You loved having an excuse to press your lips against him. And you loved the smile he would always give you in response. 
“It’s really good." Kai says, impressed. "Didn’t know that someone as emotionally stunted as you could come up with such a moving song."
"Fuck off." Beomgyu mutters, not in the mood for jokes, obviously nervous to see what the others think. 
“Yeah, I like it too. You said you’re thinking of having violins in the opening?” Taehyun asks, picking up a music sheet. 
Beomgyu nods. “Yeah. I know we’ve never done that before but I feel like it would really add to the atmosphere of the song.” 
"I think it could be fun." Taehyun hums, turning to Soobin. “What do you think?” 
"I agree. It's good to experiment a bit while still maintaining our sound which I think this song does really well. It could expose us to more people while still not alienating our existing fanbase.” He praises and Beomgyu smiles, relieved at his song being so well-received by the other members. “I especially like the bridge part. I think once Yeonjun sings it, it would really elevate the song.” 
Beomgyu's face falls at that but he quickly covers it up. You furrow your eyebrows. That can't feel good, being compared negatively with Yeonjun, even if Soobin didn't mean it like that. 
You look at Yeonjun, who hadn't said a word so far. He was staring at Beomgyu weirdly. Did he not like the song? 
You nudge him, giving him a questioning look and he just shakes his head, smiling at you before saying, "I like it. Good job, man."
Beomgyu gives him a tense smile in response, and the group falls into an awkward silence for a few seconds–a weird tension hanging in the air, before Soobin clears his throat and begins discussing how they'll play the song, what parts could be improved and who will get which part. You don’t really listen anymore, just looking between Yeonjun and Beomgyu. 
Your boyfriend seems to have gotten over his weird reaction, now focused on the technicalities. Beomgyu is focused too but he doesn’t look as enthusiastic as you expected him to be–as you'd seen him get when talking about his songs before–and it's more proof to you that this is a very personal song to him. 
As the boys finally break up after a while, most of them going their separate ways to pack up their stuff and get ready to leave, your boyfriend stays behind with Soobin, still discussing something with him. That’s when you spot Beomgyu alone, putting his guitar in its case, and you take the opportunity to go talk to him, unable to hold yourself back this time. 
“Hey, Beomgyu, that song was really good.” You start by saying, wanting to congratulate him on a really good song but also needing an opener. But Beomgyu doesn’t say anything in response, simply giving you a blank look–which fucking hurt but you guess you deserve it–so you continue lamely, trying to get him to respond. “You’re really talented. I don’t think you’re gonna need to moonlight as a stripper anymore.” You try to joke but again he doesn’t really say anything, turning his attention back to his guitar bag which he zips up. 
“Umm… Beomgyu, that song… is it about you?” You bite the bullet, and he finally gives you some sort of response, albeit nonverbal. He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Is it about you and Haeun?” 
“What?” He frowns and you explain yourself nervously, hoping you weren’t overstepping boundaries that have sprung up in your absence. “Well, the song is about a guy who loves someone who doesn’t feel the same about him and how she’s changing and being distant… is that what’s happening with Haeun?” 
He sighs. “Maybe. So what?” 
You wince at his callousness, like he doesn’t have time for you. You suppose you brought it on yourself with the way you've been avoiding him. Still you ignore it, determined to tell him what you think anyway. “Well, if it is, you should tell her. Tell her how you feel, she might feel the same way and you don’t even know. You might both be pulling away when all you want is to be with each other.” Yes, you know how hypocritical it is of you to say that but you can’t imagine a world in which anyone would reject Beomgyu’s love. “If you love her then you should tell her, right?” 
He snorts. “What do you even know about how I feel? Do you have any idea about the amount of hurt and self-loathing it would cause me if she doesn’t feel the same way? How it would ruin our relationship if she’s not where I am?”
“I know.” You grit down on that same pain. “I know.”
He pauses, his anger burning out as soon as it ignites. Then he asks quietly, “Yeonjun?” 
You press down on your lips. You know if you say no then he might figure it out. He might finally discover your wretched secret, so you smile and nod, fully knowing how hypocritical you are being right now. You’re such a fucking coward, you disgust even yourself. 
“Right.” He is quiet for a minute, and the atmosphere is charged with weird, unreadable emotions that buzz in your ear and form sparks over your skin. You almost excuse yourself–not really wanting to leave despite how uncomfortable it is but knowing you should. You’ve said what you wanted to say. There is no good reason for you to linger around any longer. 
But then Beomgyu speaks again. "Are you happy?"
You pause, frowning in suspicion at the unexpected question, which Beomgyu notices right away and clarifies, "We haven't talked in a while. I wanna make sure you're doing alright." He says, tone genuine… and a bit sad. 
"I am." You allow, not being untruthful. You are alright, no matter how bad you feel doing it without him. "We're doing well. Yeonjun is as wonderful as ever. He is sweet and funny and he shows me something new everyday. Which is a bit scary for me–you know how I am afraid of change, but he makes it exciting.” 
“I’m glad. I want you to be happy.” He smiles at you. It doesn’t reach his eyes but you know he means it. “And I wish I could be there to see it for myself. Do you think you can let me?” 
That’s what you were afraid of. This is why you shouldn’t have talked to him. You knew he might use it to try to get back into your life, and you know how hard it would be for you to say no. But you do it anyway. You have to do it for yourself and for Yeonjun. 
“I can’t. Not now.” Each meager letter leaving your mouth feels like a blow to the heart. It lays battered in your chest, asking you why the hell you would refuse it its salvation, but you just push it down again, silencing it. 
“But I miss you.” His words come out choppy and weak, and you know he’s holding back tears. You hate him for it because it makes you want to cry too. “Don’t you miss me?”
“Of course, I miss you!” You whisper as if you don’t want the universe to hear it. "I'll always miss you. But I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I'm tired of the whiplash." 
"No more whiplash.” He shakes his head harshly, getting closer to you but you step back, causing pain to bloom across his teary face. “I get it now. I've worked through my stuff and I'm ready to be a real friend again." 
"Well, I haven't worked through mine.” You stand strong. Or as strongly as you can be under such duress. “I still need time and I will not have you rush me."
He moves back, shoulders hunched down. "I'm sorry." 
"I know." You say tiredly before walking away, your bruised heart bleeding out at the bottom of your chest.
____________
Beomgyu’s song has become some kind of a local sensation. It is being listened to by a lot of the young people in your city–resonating with many youths who have gone through similar heartbreaks. From small unrequited crushes to the person you love falling out of love with you–who hasn’t loved more than they have been loved before? 
The painfully relatable song has gained the boys a considerable amount of fame online too. They were being asked to do more gigs than ever. They’ve even gotten an interview, which you’re currently preparing them for, dressing them up to look their best on camera. 
Like always, you’ve left Beomgyu for last, dreading being close to him still. And he gives you every reason to, staring at you the whole time you fix his clothes. 
"What?" You finally ask, and he gives you a dumb look. "What?"
"You're staring." You tell him, and he averts his gaze. You can see from the ear poking out of his long hair that he’s blushing. "Oh. Didn't realize." 
Oh, how many times you’ve teased him over the way his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. It was such an endearing quality in him, just one of the many small reasons that made up the whole of you loving him. 
You got back to styling him, pretending it doesn’t tug at your heartstrings anymore, and he goes back to staring at you. 
After a long beat of silence, he asks awkwardly, "So what are you up to? What's new with you?" 
"Well, I'm the creative director for this up and coming band's new song." You joke, trying to ease off the tension. Or maybe his cute involuntary reaction softened up your defenses a little bit.
"Oh, are they good?" He grins, falling gladly into your familiar banter. 
"They are, but I think their bass guitarist only got the job because of his looks."
He gives an affronted gasp. "What the hell? Hater! What, you think just because he's so pretty he can't possibly be talented too? Us pretty people are always misjudged."
"Oh, you poor pretty boy." You reach out to pinch his chin, before you realize what you’re doing and quickly take your hand away, clearing your throat and stepping back. “All done.” 
You give him a tense smile and turn to leave but his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. 
"Wait." He shouts, and you look down at his hand wrapped around your wrist. He notices your discomfort and immediately lets you go. "Do you want to get together for some food or a movie or something?"
Why does he have to make this so hard? Why does he do this every time? 
"Not yet." You repeat what you must’ve told him a dozen times before. You can't slip back into it. Because your skin still buzzes whenever you touch him and your heart clenches painfully around the hole he left in it whenever you see him. You need time apart to fully let the love you have for him go. 
"When?” He asks, frustrated. “When will it end? What can I do to help? What do you need me to do so you can be my friend again?"
"I need you to give me space." You say firmly, standing your ground. 
“But–”
“No buts, Beomgyu. You’re the one who made it this way. If you had been my friend when I needed you to, we wouldn’t have gotten into this situation. You need to deal with the consequences of your own actions.” 
He stares at the ground, not answering you. You sigh, turning around to leave with no restrictions this time. 
Though what you said to him about his previous behavior causing a rift between you wasn’t false, it wasn’t entirely the truth either. The other reason you felt you couldn’t be his friend again yet is that you’re still not over him, and you’ve made a promise to yourself and to Yeonjun that you will only be devoting yourself to him from now on, and Beomgyu being there is just going to hinder your progress. 
But as you watch the boys do their interview, you can’t help but feel guilty for what you’d said to Beomgyu. You know it was the right thing to do, but seeing him look so glum, his light dimmed and his spirits down, you wish you had held it off at least for later. 
He is acting nothing like his normal loud, talkative self. He looks down and doesn’t speak unless directly asked a question. It hurts your heart because you know the people watching this won’t get to see how funny and bright and passionate he is. They’ll see him as the quiet guy staring at his own feet. He might still get some fans who would be into the quiet, sad look but that’s not who Beomgyu is. That’s not what he wants to be known as. 
But the rest of the boys are covering for him well, especially Yeonjun. He is so charming, you know he’s gonna be stealing hearts left and right when this airs. He certainly has managed to put a smile on your face despite all the conflicting feelings you’re feeling, and you make sure he sees it whenever he glances in your direction. 
_______________
The boys are doing better than ever, more interviews and gigs coming in and filling their schedule up so rapidly they’ll barely have any free time soon. They’re already in talks with a record company looking to sign them. Which is why you’re actively savoring moments like this when you get to just hangout with Yeonjun at the mall, eating a snack as you take a break from shopping–one of your favorite activities to do as a couple. 
“Just think, soon enough we won’t even be able to do this. We’d be getting mobbed by crowds wanting your autograph and pushing me out of the way to take pictures of you.” You say to Yeonjun, half-joking. It might really happen one day with how quickly they’re gaining popularity. They might have small fame now but who knows what tomorrow will bring, and you believe in the boys. They’re talented enough to do it, and that both worries you and excites you. 
“Well, I’ll only ever have eyes for you.” He winks at you, and you give him a small smile.
In moments like this you should feel happy. You are happy. But your happiness is incomplete. It is shadowed by worry and doubt. Yeonjun is so wonderful. He is so sweet and he can be very caring, but sometimes you can’t help but question how much he really feels for you. It keeps you from letting yourself completely go with him. He tells you words that are supposed to be charming, but they don’t sound personal. They don’t feel deep. You know he likes you, but is he ever going to love you? 
Maybe you’re overthinking it. This is what a budding relationship is like–the novelty comes with uncertainty. The first times come with doubt. The young fire sometimes burns. You shouldn’t let yourself ruin it for you. 
Yes, your love for him isn’t as old and deep-rooted as your love for Beomgyu but maybe that’s a good thing. It will take time to grow and flourish and become something just as beautiful or even more so. In time, you can learn to let go of your all-consuming love for your best friend, cover that gaping hole that Beomgyu has left in your heart, forget about the way every time you see Beomgyu with her you feel like screaming out so loud the gods themselves will weep–
“Beomgyu.” You gasp, seeing him in front of you. Fuck, he’s like bloody marry. Call his name three times and he appears. 
You try to hide, putting your head down and attempting to cover your face with your hair but there is no mistaking Yeonjun’s bright orange head and Beomgyu quickly spots you and makes his way over to you with Haeun of all people. 
“Curse your stupid hair.” You hiss at Yeonjun just before Beomgyu and Haeun arrive at the table. 
"Hey, guys, are you on a date?" Beomgyu asks as if there was any doubt about it. 
"Yes, actually." Yeonjun tells him in a tone that clearly conveys that you don’t want to be disturbed, But Beomgyu doesn’t care, grabbing a chair and pulling it out. 
"Oh sweet." He sits down. "How have you guys been?"
“What are you doing, Beommie? We have a lot of shopping to do.” Haeun complains, and every time you hear her call him that you want to claw her tongue out.
"In a minute, baby. Let's rest our legs for a bit." He motions for Haeun to sit down, but she puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to rest.”
“Well then you go on and I’ll catch up with you.” He suggests and she huffs, deciding to sit down after all. Oh, joy.  
“But I can’t leave you alone, Beommie.” She whines, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck, making you almost hurl. 
Thankfully, Yeonjun takes your attention away from them. “So, what new crazy thing is your boss asking from you?” 
You turn fully to him, trying your best to ignore the disgusting intruders. “Ugh, don’t even get me started. This morning, she–”
“Boss? What boss?” Beomgyu interrupts, and you clench your teeth, preparing yourself before turning your head to look towards him. 
“The editor of Elements magazine. She saw the Frost shoot and wanted me to do a pictorial for them.” 
“Oh my god, that is amazing.” He shouts, startling Haeun who was so close to his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 
An awkward moment passes after his mindless question. Because we don’t talk? Because we’re not friends anymore? 
Eventually, you decide to just shrug. “I guess it must’ve slipped my mind.” 
“Right.” He clears his throat, going along. “Well, show me what you’ve done so far.” 
You hesitate, glancing at Yeonjun who sighs and gestures for you to go ahead. So you pull up your phone, showing him some of the pictures you’ve already taken.  
"Wow this is real artistic shit." Beomgyu awes and you laugh. Trust in Beomgyu to give such an un-nuanced but still somehow very flattering opinion. 
“I don’t get it. It’s just a guy in a bathtub.” Haeun speaks up, obviously intending to antagonize you. “My friend Jiwon takes better pictures than this and he didn’t even go to college. If that’s what they teach you at school then you’ve wasted your money.”
Oh fuck no. You may be spineless but you won’t allow Haeun of all people to make fun of your work. You prepare to launch into a screaming match with her condescending ass, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Beomgyu beats you to it. “Your friend Jiwon takes back camera pictures of weird strangers on the street and makes up an exaggerated or completely false backstory about them to try to make the obviously amateur pictures appear more interesting. How fucking original.”
Beomgyu’s quick defense of you makes your heart swell. Some things never change. 
“Yeah? Like this is original!” She sputters indignantly. 
“I know it’s nothing groundbreaking.” You interrupt their quarrel, “Like a guy in a tub staring longingly at the camera isn’t something that hasn’t exactly been done before but… umm, it’s actually inspired by your song. The colored water is supposed to represent love, you know the “I’m drowning in you” part? It’s killing him but he can’t get himself to get out. He wants to drown in it… I don’t know it may be stupid but I hope you don’t mind.” 
"Oh. No, I'm… flattered." He trails off, staring at you wide-eyed. “I didn’t think I would be able to inspire you again…” 
“Yeah, well...” You mumble bashfully, a charged moment passes over you as you stare silently at each other. 
"Are you done?" Haeun complains, and for once you’re thankful to her for cutting the strange moment. "I'm bored. Let's go." 
“We haven’t even eaten anything yet. Take a look at the menus and order something for us, won’t you?” He asks her, but doesn’t even wait for her response before turning back to you. "You know what would be hilarious. If you get the editor to let you do a shoot with the plastic watermelon dress you made."
“It’s not plastic.” You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly which dress he’s referring to. “It’s coral organza.”
“Looked like plastic to me.” He shrugs with a mischievous grin on his face. 
“That’s because you're fashion illiterate.” 
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m very fashion forward and hip.” He proclaims, sounding decidedly NOT neither fashion forward nor hip. 
“Yes, because a punk guitarist wearing ratty shirts and ripped jeans is so revolutionary.” You drawl teasingly and he pouts, pulling at his shirt. “Hey! You were there when I picked these out. You said I looked cool.” 
“Yeah, she’ll say you look cool wearing a garbage bag.” Yeonjun scoffs and you blush, realizing that you’ve completely neglected Yeonjun as soon as Beomgyu got here. You move back from your huddled forward stance to lean against your boyfriend.
“What?” Beomgyu asks and you quickly brush Yeonjun’s comment off. “Nothing. Now Yeonjun is very stylish. He knows all the trends and he knows how to make them work for him.” 
Beomgyu snorts, glancing at your hand that is caressing Yeonjun’s chest. “I don’t follow trends. I make trends.” 
“That’s right, baby. You’re a trendsetter.” Haeun coos, getting her hands on him too, touching him much more inappropriately than you were touching Yeonjun. 
But Beomgyu ignores her once again, asking you, "How did you even reach the editor of Elements?"
"Oh, Yeonjun knew her." Your hand falls down to wrap around Yeonjun’s, squeezing it reassuringly. 
“Of course, Yeonjun knows the editor." For some reason that piece of information really seemed to annoy Beomgyu. But you ignore his unnecessarily snarky tone and turn to smile at Yeonjun, hoping he’d forgive you for your earlier mishap. “Yeah, he’s amazing, isn’t he?” 
"Yes, he’s great.” Beomgyu mutters, standing up. “I think me and Haeun have stuff to do. Let’s go, baby."
"Yes!" She claps happily, standing up too. 
"Oh, okay. Bye, I guess." You mumble, watching them abruptly scurry off as you try to process the weird interaction.  "What's wrong with him?"
“Maybe he’s just being his usual weird self.” Yeonjun shrugs, removing his hand from yours, making you frown. "Or maybe he feels inadequate because I was able to get you the job and he couldn't."
"That's ridiculous." Why would Beomgyu feel inadequate about that? He doesn’t have any obligation to get you work. 
"Is it? If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too." 
"What?" The world suddenly screeches to a halt, as does Yeonjun. He looks at you, slowly contemplating something as if he doesn’t know that the world has stopped and is waiting on him. 
Finally, he sighs. "I tried to ignore it. Partly because the idiot is trying to hide it and partly because I like you, but ever since we got together, it's been pretty damn hard to ignore. Beomgyu is clearly in love with you.”
"No. You’re getting it wrong.” You shake your head, hoping to get rid of the cotton that has replaced your brain, your thoughts feeling fuzzy and slow as they travel through it. “He's just upset because he thinks us dating will drive me and him apart… which I guess has been true."
"No, he's upset because he wants to be with you and it's killing him to see us together.” Yeonjun clarifies, irritated at having to explain to you how some other guy is in love with you. 
"How can you be so sure? Did he tell you that?"
"He doesn't have to tell me. I have eyes…" He looks you up and down. "And well, I'm not stupid like you two."
"That's ridiculous." You denounce once more. 
"You said that already."
"Well, it is! Beomgyu doesn’t love me. I mean as a friend, sure but not… like that." 
"Oh my god, I'm dealing with two idiots. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m explaining this to you but here goes,” Yeonjun exclaims in frustration, obviously not enjoying this conversation any more than you are. “Think about it, no guy gets this worked up over just a fuck. His first explanation of his anger being just because he’s afraid our relationship is going to ruin the band was total bullshit. It was just to throw you off his scent and have a way to get you to stay away from me without revealing anything. And his second explanation is even more bullshit. Why the fuck would us being in a relationship make you lose him as a friend if he didn’t hold anything but platonic love for you? Why does he get mad every time you and I take a step forward in our relationship? Because he’s fucking in love with you. He literally wrote a whole song about how he’s secretly in love with you and it’s killing him that you’re not his!"
“That song was about me?” You ask and he gives you a look as if to say he can’t believe a single human being can be this dumb. “No, it’s obviously about the girl he’s been ignoring the entire time he was sat with us just so he could talk to you.” 
Your mouth opens slowly, tongue dry as it forms the words. "Let’s say he does love me. Why wouldn't he just tell me?"
"Why wouldn't you just tell him?"
You sputter uselessly for a while, not really saying anything. Until you give up and just stop, submerging the both of you in a suffocating silence. You’d think that your thoughts would be racing a million miles an hour right now, trying to process all this information, but nothing is going through your head except one question. 
Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? 
You’re only taken out of your looping thought when Yeonjun sighs again. "Well, this was fun while it lasted."
"What?" Your mouth hangs open, your frozen brain somehow still having enough power to be shocked. 
"You're obviously still completely in love with him. When he's there it's like you don't even see me. You don't see anyone else." Yeonjun says defeatedly. 
"No, I–" You try to deny, but he gives you a pointed look, daring you to lie to him. 
“Okay, I love him but I’m with you.” 
“Only to get over him.” 
You shake your head vehemently. “No. My feelings for you are real. Don’t you dare deny that.” 
“Maybe, but they’re not as strong as your feelings for him.” 
“But they can be.” You insist–trying to convince yourself or him, you don’t know.  Maybe if you give me the chance to–”
“To what? Wait and see if you’ll finally look for me first when you walk into a room instead of him? Pretend that I don’t know that time and distance haven’t dulled your love for him one bit? I can’t go on in a relationship where I know my partner will always be thinking ‘what if’. I won’t let myself be hurt like that by you. Not anymore.” 
You tear up. You were hurting him? You didn't even think he cared all that much. You must be a terrible judge of character to be getting both boys so wrong. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun. I never meant to hurt you. I really, really tried.” 
You really did. You didn’t do this just to get over Beomgyu. Yes, it was part of it, but you liked him too. You really thought this could work, and you really think it would have if Beomgyu wasn’t in the picture, and so you did everything in your power to take him out of it. You moved out from your apartment. You cut Beomgyu off. You dedicated yourself to Yeonjun. 
But how can you stop your heart from beating for Beomgyu? It’s entirely out of your control.  
"But you did anyway.” He says and you wince, one tear escaping your lashes and falling down the left side of your face. “Do you hate me?” 
“I could never hate you.” He sighs, and your lips tremble as you confess, “I wish you would. It might make me feel better.”
“Maybe you don’t deserve to feel better.” His words pierce your heart, and you know you deserve every ounce of pain it inflicts. 
“That’s fair.” 
You’re both silent for a long while–you trying to keep your tears under control, not wishing for him to see it as any intention to garner sympathy or guilt from him, and him sitting there quietly, his thoughts entirely hidden from you, but you know there is pain and anger in him. You can feel it radiating off of him. 
But eventually your tears dry out, and you gather enough courage to ask one last thing of him. “I know I have no right to ask this but can you not tell Beomgyu about us breaking up? I don’t want him to know yet. But don’t worry, I’ll gather my things and move out. You won’t have to live with me.”
"You're not done playing games?" He frowns and you shake your head. "I'm not. It’s just because you guys are working out that record deal and if anything goes wrong, I don’t want to risk ruining things for you.”
“Fine.” Yeonjun graciously accepts. “And you can stay. I’m not gonna kick you out into the street. I’m not that kinda guy.” 
____________________
Despite your love for Beomgyu, your break-up with Yeonjun wasn’t easy. You really liked him and had grown attached to him. And even though you still lived together, you hardly talked when it was just the two of you alone. You realize with time just how hurt he is by everything even though he tries his best to hide it from the others–not just because they think you’re still together, but because he has always refused to burden his younger members with his troubles, ever the selfless older brother. It’s one of the qualities you both admired and despised about him simultaneously. You wanted him to share his fears and worries, to lighten the load on his shoulders, and for a short while you were able to do that for him, but now that you’ve broken up, he’s left to carry all of it by himself again and with heartbreak to boot. 
You feel incredibly guilty about it, and you mourn for the love that could’ve blossomed between you had you not been so hung up about your best friend. The best friend you still haven’t talked to by the way. 
Yeonjun's words have not left your mind since the day he revealed everything to you. No moment passes by when you don't think about them. But you haven’t confronted Beomgyu about it yet because the record deal was still underway, and because you weren’t sure if Yeonjun is even right about it all. What if he’s wrong? 
Yeah, what? You'll ruin your friendship with Beomgyu? It's already in shambles anyway. Still, the rejection will be brutal. You've lived in the shadows for years. You're used to ignoring your feelings, that kind of pain is familiar to you now, but if you reveal them to Beomgyu and he shoots you down, you might not bear it. 
You'll tell him soon enough though, after the party tonight. The boys have finally reached an agreement with the record company and the contract has come through. They're officially signed to a label now and tonight’s party is a small celebration of that. 
You’ll do it after the party tonight. You’ll ask to talk to him after everyone leaves and you’ll confess everything. You're ready to come clean and end it all. Well, as ready as you can be. 
But as the party drags on, you get restless, and when you spot Beomgyu alone, refilling his drink, you can’t help but steal a little moment with him. 
“Congratulations, Beommie. I hear your song sealed the deal.” You smile widely, your lips buzzing with the desire to tell him what you really want to say–that you love him, that you’re proud of him, and that if his song is really about you then he needs to know that you’ve always been his. 
“Yeah. I’m not so useless after all.” Beomgyu’s reply is short and bitter. 
“What?” 
Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears. If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too. Is this Beomgyu being insecure like Yeonjun said?
But before you can get him to clarify what he means, Haeun comes running over, incapable of leaving him alone for more than a minute. Can you really blame her? If you had him, you would never let him go either. 
“Baby, there you are! My star boy.” She throws her arms around him, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss that makes you want to vomit. 
You quickly retreat, not having missed the soft-core porn you used to witness while living with Beomgyu. Fucking Yeonjun, is this what he calls Beomgyu being in love with you? You don’t see him pushing her away or anything. He seems pretty happy with the kiss if his tongue in her mouth is any indication. 
"Foul." You mutter, swigging your cider, almost choking on it when a voice speaks up next to you. "That can't be good for the heart, huh?" 
You look at Yeonjun sheepishly, not sure if you can talk to him about this. After all, you did break up because of your love for the man currently getting his face sucked off by Haeun. So you just settle on mumbling out a weak yeah.
"Well, you know you could always fix it by confronting him about his undying love for you." He tells you and you can’t help but snort, annoyance overcoming your trepidation. "Yeah, right. He's so heartbroken, he's going to drown his sorrows in her pussy." 
“He’s just doing this because he thinks we’re still together. If he knows you’re free, I can guarantee you he’ll be dropping her so fast she won’t hit the ground before he’s on his knees for you.” 
“How can you be so confident?” You ask and he shrugs. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.” 
He walks away, leaving you to think over his words. Funny, that’s how you feel about the sight still playing out in front of you, the disgusting view getting burned into your retinas. 
Deciding you needed a break, you slip away from the living room, heading towards the bathroom to wash your face off. But on the way there, you pass by your old room, stopping when you see the door slightly cracked open. 
Your feet take you inside without you realizing it, compelled by curiosity to see what he’s done with the room in your absence. Has he turned it into a gaming room? Is he using it for storage? Is he letting her use it as her own? Oh, god, you really hope not. Anything but that. 
But you’re surprised when you step inside and find it mostly empty except for your old mattress and a few items you must’ve forgotten during your move. A T-shirt here, a sleeping mask there–they were all strewn around on your bed with the odd piece of clothing from Beomgyu himself in the mix. 
You step closer, examining the items when something in particular catches your eyes. A flash of pink under a pillow that makes you reach forward to pull it out, realizing just what it was once it’s in your hands–a pair of pink panties. Your pink panties that you’d been missing for a while. Why does Beomgyu have this? You thought he just used this because he was so pent up he needed any form of release but now Haeun is never off his dick so why does he still do this? 
Could Yeonjun have been right all along?  
As you continue to hold it in your hands, puzzling over it, you hear the door open and close behind you and Beomgyu’s panicky voice calling out your name. 
"What are you doing in here?" He squeaks as if this wasn’t your room. Well, your old room but still. It’s not like he made any changes to it yet. 
You turn to face him with the panties in your hands, silent, and his eyes grow wide as he stammers, trying to explain himself. “These are old.” 
“They’re wet.” You say plainly, which means he has just used them, and he knows it too. 
He scoffs, attempting to appear unaffected. As if this is just a completely reasonable situation that you’ve blown way out of proportion. “Well–it’s just–they were on hand.” He gives you what may possibly be the flimsiest excuse in history. 
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
"Did you leave these out for me to see?" You question, and he rushes to deny. "No! I just forgot to put them away."
His eyes widen again at what he just said, basically admitting that he took them from you on purpose to do with them exactly what you had in mind. God, he's such a stupid loser. 
You walk towards him until you’re standing right in front of him, leaving him no room to breathe. “Make everyone leave.” 
“It’s our celebratory party, I can’t just–”
You grab his hand and put it under your skirt, pressing his fingers against your warm pussy. “And I want to give you your reward. Make them leave.” 
He looks at you, shocked, and suddenly you realize what you're asking of him. You're coming onto him after weeks of ignoring him. You're asking him to have sex with you when he has a girlfriend–when he thinks you have a boyfriend. Oh god. 
But then he gulps and says. "Okay."
You watch from behind the door as he stops the music and kicks everyone out, telling them that he doesn’t feel good and needs to rest, and when Kai complains loudly, he asks him if he’d like to stay back and hold his hair while he vomits. That quickly convinces everyone to take the party elsewhere, even his girlfriend. But one person knows better, and you see him peeking around Beomgyu to catch your hidden eyes. You share a look before he turns around and leaves the apartment. This is it. You’re going to do this. 
As soon as Beomgyu comes back, you pull him into a kiss, releasing your overflowing nerves with each frustrated and needy moan you let out against his lips. Fuck, you missed kissing him so much. His lips may not be as soft as Yeonjun’s–he may not be as good of a kisser–but god does he still make your heart sing. 
“Strip.” You order when you finally tear yourself away from him, though Beomgyu doesn’t make it easy, resisting you the first couple of times you try and pulling you right back into the hungry kiss. But you finally do, and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate to follow your cue then. 
After he’s all stripped down, he looks at you, gaze speaking of his own need to devour you. “Will you strip too?” 
“Do you want it?” You ask, putting on an alluring voice but deep down you were just nervous about letting him see you fully for the first time. Even though your experience with Yeonjun has made you gain confidence, you’re still insecure, especially when it comes to Beomgyu. You want to impress him. You want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You want him to forget about her. You want him to only think of you. 
Naturally, that is a lot to live up too. 
Beomgyu nods enthusiastically, somehow managing to come across as adorable in this situation. “Yes, please. Take it all off.” 
He tries to reach out to do it himself but you shake your head, pushing him onto the bed. 
“No. We do this my way.” You tell him, and he nods again, keeping himself in check. 
You reach for the zipper on your dress, hesitantly letting it fall to the floor. You aren’t wearing any bra so now you are almost nude except for your panties as you stand in front of him. 
“Fuck. You’re so hot.” He takes his cock into his hand, pumping it as he leers at you. You should feel dirty having him openly masturbate to the sight of you but it makes you feel so fucking good about yourself. It’s just what you needed–for him to show you how much he wants you. “Please, take off your panties too. Wanna see your pussy.” 
Despite his lewd display–or more accurately because of it–you’re given the courage to finally fully undress yourself in front of him, overcoming years of insecurities of what he’ll think of your body and any unfavorable comparisons he might make.
“Oh fuck–” He licks his lips, squeezing his cock as he stares at your pussy. “You’re perfect.”
“You think so?” You ask demurely, trying to hide your shock. Is he really telling the truth? It feels like it but you still need confirmation after years of doubting yourself.
“God, yes. Your tits are divine. I wanna suck on them and play with them all night. Your little pussy is so pretty, I wanna be buried in it forever. Come here, please, ride me, sit on my face, anything…” 
Is this what you were worried about all these years? He looks pretty fucking happy with what he’s seeing. Why were you so scared? You’re so mad at yourself for wasting all this time with self-doubt when you could’ve had him long ago. 
“You really need that?” You throw your panties at him, feeling more confident than ever after his proclamations. “Isn't this usually enough for you?” 
“No, please, you said you’d give me a reward." He whines, distraught at the thought of you being so close but not attainable yet again. "I’ve been good.” 
“Have you?” You scoff, straddling him, pressing your pussy against his cock and his body goes limp, letting you do what you want. “You’ve been nothing but a horndog, getting your rocks off wherever you can, whether it’s backstage getting sucked off by her or stealing my panties and fisting your cock with them. You’ve been such a bad boy.” 
“I’m sorry.” He slurs, mouth hanging open. 
"Are you? You seem to be enjoying this." 
"I'm sorry." He repeats again, staring at your pussy as it moves forwards and backwards over his cock, covering it in your slick. 
"You're fucking hopeless, Beomgyu. You'd do anything to get a piece of me, huh?"
"Yes." He nods eagerly, "Can you sit on my face?"
You laugh, climbing up his body until you’re hovering over his face and digging your fingers in his hair to keep his head down so he wouldn’t make any unwanted moves before you’re ready. "Is my pussy the only thing on your empty brain?"
"Uh-huh." He says dumbly, almost going cross eyes with the way he's staring at your pussy. You fucking love it. This is what you needed–to be needed. And Beomgyu gives it all to you without you even asking for it. 
"Good boy." You tell him and he shoots you a searing look at that–at you finally calling him that again–before you sit down on his face. 
You try not to put too much weight on him, not wanting to hurt him but Beomgyu has other ideas. He grabs your ass and pulls you down on his ready mouth, tongue flicking out to give eager licks to your already wet pussy. 
"Bad–bad boy–" You hiss, pulling at his hair but he won't let go, too intent on eating you out, nuzzling his whole lower face into your pussy, his tongue and lips alternating between long messy licks and needy sucking motions, his nose brushing against your clit every now and then in his fervor. 
"Fuck, Beomgyu slow down." 
But that word isn't in Beomgyu's dictionary, not when he's wanted this for so long. His fingers dig into your ass, making sure you can’t escape as his tongue presses inside your hole, flicking around as much as he can while your pussy flutters around it.
"So good–tastes so good." He slurs, drool and your juices covering his lower face but he doesn’t even care. In fact if anything it turns him on if his hard, leaking cock that you see when you throw a glance backwards is anything to go by. 
"You fucking the air, Beommie?" You pant, not faring much better than him but needing to tease him anyway. "Need my pussy this bad?"
But Beomgyu can't be teased. Not when he's so shameless. 
"Yes. Will you sit on my cock?" 
"How bad do you need it?" You sit up, pulling away from him and cutting off strings of your combined need. 
"So bad. Feels like I might die without it." 
"You sound like a horny fuckboy, Beommie. You know I only like good boys." You chastise, and Beomgyu shoots back, "Is that why you’re dating a whore?"
You growl, sinking back on his face, this time not caring so much about your weight over him. "Don't talk about Yeonjun like that."
He turns his face to the side to nip at your thigh in protest so you just straighten his head again and sit down on him fully, not allowing him any space to move. "You know the only whore here is you. So stick your tongue out like a good whore and let me ride it or I'll leave your dirty cock all red and weeping."
He whines in fear, sticking his tongue out for you, not daring to risk it. You move yourself over him, grinding your pussy over his tongue as he stares up at you pleadingly. 
“You like it, baby? You like me using you to get off?” 
He moans out in response, not having any other way to communicate his agreement and not willing to pull away from you. But you hear a wet noise coming from behind you and you look back to see him fisting his cock, clearly excited by it all. He wants this as much as you do. He has been begging for it for so long, and so you’re not so cruel as to make him take his hand away, but you need to make sure your excitement doesn’t end too soon. 
“Fuck, you really wanted this, huh? Can’t help yourself whenever you get a taste of this pussy?” You tease, and he whines again, his cock thrusting into his own fist pitifully. “But don’t get too excited. You want to feel this pussy around you, don’t you?”
The needy noises he keeps letting out vibrate against your pussy, driving you even wilder as you pull on his hair harshly and desperately grind yourself on his tongue, your high so close you could taste it. 
“Good boy, gonna make me cum… you want it? Want me to cum all of that pretty face?” You growl, and his hands leave his cock to grab your ass, pressing you so tightly against him, you worry that he won’t be able to breathe. 
But Beomgyu clearly loves it. He wants you to do it. He moves your hips so you’re fucking his face harder, faster, all while those slutty eyes of his never leave your face. 
“I’m cumming–fuck, Beommie… good boy–” You scream, shuddering as you cum over him. But as you stop moving, paralyzed by the intense orgasm, he starts moving his tongue, lapping up every drop you let out, giving your pussy open mouthed filthy kisses as he wraps his lips around you and eagerly sticks his tongue into your hole to get even more. 
You have to pull away from him when it becomes too much, and Beomgyu chases after you, not having had his fill yet somehow. He's still so needy that he ends up pushing you down and laying over you, his lips incessant against yours as his cock lays heavy on your pussy. 
You tug on his hair, finally detaching his lips from yours. "That's enough, Beomgyu."
“I made you cum.” He says in a daze, a stupid smile on his face. 
“Yes, you did.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb before sticking it in his mouth, letting him suck on it. It’s useless of course. The entire bottom half of his face was glistening with your cum. Not that you were actually trying to clean him up. You liked seeing him covered in you too much. “Ready for your reward, baby?” 
“Fuck, yes, please.” He groans, his hips bucking up against you, gliding his cock against your wet pussy. "Wanna fuck you so bad. Can I put it in now?"
"Are you gonna keep being a good boy for me? Gonna listen to my instructions and not let your cock take over your dumb brain and make you hump me like a dog?"
He shakes his head even though he was literally humping you right now. "I'll listen. I'll be so good."
"Okay, Beommie. You can put it in–slowly!" 
He rushes to push his cock inside your pussy, only stopping when it's all the way inside you. "Oh god–I'm finally inside you. Wanted it for so long."
This is exactly what you had been missing. This is what you needed that Yeonjun wasn't able to give to you. Beomgyu isn't shy when expressing how much he wants you. He'll beg and plead until you give it to him. 
"Can I move, baby?" He asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. 
You nod. "Go ahead. But slowly."
He makes a valiant effort, pulling his hips back and thrusting in slowly, shuddering every time his cock is fully enveloped by your pussy. 
“Good?" You ask as if his mouth wasn't hung open, as if his eyes weren't all hazy, as if he wasn't holding onto you for dear life.
"So good. Can't believe I'm fucking you."
Neither can you. You had really begun to lose hope but here you are, laid on your back with Beomgyu fucking you, following your instruction as best he could–the strain of it obvious on his face. It's everything you wanted and you finally have it. 
"Can I touch your tits?" He pleads, giving you his classic puppy eyes and you smile. "Go ahead, honey." 
He groans, reaching out and cupping them in his hands. "Oh god. Missed them." He leans down and attaches his lips to them, biting and kissing all over them as his hips pick up speed. 
"Beomgyu…" You warn, pulling on his hair. He fights against you, looking up but not detaching from your tits. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. You want me to feel good too, don't you?"
He nods, his face still firmly buried in your lips but finally letting go of your nipple to moan out, "Yes, wanna make you feel better than anyone else." 
His own words rile him up and he bites down on the skin next to your areola, making sure not to hurt you but still expressing his frustration. 
"You're such a bratty baby." You scold him, but in reality you love it. You love how possessive and needy he is acting. It doesn't allow a single negative or insecure thought to enter your mind. How could it when he's so obvious about his need for you? "You can go faster now, baby."
"Oh, thank you." He groans, hips picking up speed. 
"Better, honey?" You pant, brushing his wet hair out of his face so you can fully see how lost he is in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. 
"So much better. Never wanna stop." He leans down, kissing you harshly, lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth hungrily. His hands grab at your thighs, pushing them against your body as he goes even faster, a constant stream of whines and whimpers released into your mouth. 
You force yourself to sober up despite the smoldering fire breaking out in your body from the way he's fucking you so good. You want him to keep going. You want him to keep fucking you until your mind has turned to mush and your limbs have turned to jelly. But you can’t let him have it this easily. You can't let him get away with the amount of pain and suffering he has caused you. He needs to feel it too, even if just a fraction of it. He needs to feel the longing and despair he has made you feel for so long. 
"Slow down." You order, pulling his head away from you, doing it extra mean just the way he likes it. 
"No, no, please." He cries, not slowing down. "Please… I thought this was a reward. You’re driving me crazy." 
"Do you want me to push you down and tie your hand to the headboard to make sure you behave?" You threaten, trying to keep your voice under control against the incessant thrusts of his cock into your poor pussy. "It's only gonna be worse for you."
"No. No. Wanna keep touching you." He blabbers, hands groping at every inch of you he could reach, worried you'd make good on your threats. 
"Then be good." You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls on your nipples before kneading the soft flesh.
"I will. I'm your good boy, right?" He slurs, his hips slowing down. 
Damn, he's really addicted to hearing you say that, huh?
"Yes, you are. You’re my best boy." You coo, stroking his soft hair and he nuzzles into your hand like a puppy, seeking any form of contact with you. 
"Thank you." He groans, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold himself back, his poor cock screaming at him to just take you like he wants. "So pretty. Look so pretty getting fucked." 
"Yeah? Is it how you imagined it when you'd fuck my panties?" You ask but once again Beomgyu has no shame, his hips faltering at the reminder of his debauched actions. 
"Better. So pretty. So tight. Could stay in your cunt forever." He almost drools at the thought, and you really believe he'd love to do just that. 
"Dirty boy. Dirty little boy going all dumb for me." You stroke his face lovingly and he peers at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, please, hurts… can I go faster?"
"Aw, poor pup, do you need to hammer your cock into my pussy that bad?" You scold, giving his face light slaps. 
"Uh-huh… will make you feel good. I promise." He babbles, his hips already going faster as if he's sure you'll give him permission. 
"No." This may or may not be the one and only time you get to fuck him. You need to savor it. "Slow down."
Your hands go to his hips, clawing at his skin to slow down his thrusts and he relents, albeit begrudgingly. "You're so mean."
"But you love it." You laugh at his tearful pout. "God, you love it so much you can't stop shaking your hips like a whore. It's like you've never been fucked before.” 
"I haven't. You’re my first.” He admits, knocking any remaining breath out of your lungs.
This is his first time. He and Haeun never did it? What the fuck?
"Did you let him fuck you?" He asks, and you stay silent. He knows you’ve fucked Yeonjun. There is no way he thinks you live with Yeonjun and aren’t fucking him. But then again, he hasn’t fucked Haeun, and you were so sure that he did. 
"Did you?" He asks again, an edge to his voice and you nod minutely. "I didn't know. I thought you and Haeun–"
Beomgyu's whole face changes. "God, you're such a slut. Fucking two men at the same time."
You immediately get defensive. Yeonjun was your boyfriend. You had dated for months. You’re not a whore for fucking him. It would be more understandable if he’s referring to the fact (or what he thinks is a fact) of you fucking him when you have a boyfriend, but you’re almost certain that’s not what he’s upset about. He’s just jealous you’ve fucked Yeonjun at all.  "Just because she won't let you put it in, doesn't make me a slut."
That just angers him more, and he practically bends you in half as his dick pumps in and out of you at a brutal pace, his anger at what you’ve done making him lose it, not caring about your instructions anymore. "I hate you."
You laugh, fighting hard to hide the pain his statement elicits in your gut as well as to keep your voice steady as he practically plows his cock into you. God, he makes you so mad but he’s fucking you so good. 
"But you sure love my pussy." 
"My pussy." He growls, catching you off guard once again. He bends his head down to kiss your neck harshly, and can already feel the marks blooming there under his teeth. "Mine. Not his. All mine."
"What?” You sputter. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? “Beomgyu, what–”
"Shut up." He smacks your ass, not willing to hear your protests right now. "You've played with me long enough. Now be good and take it." 
Played with him? What the hell is he talking about? You’ve never played with him. But any attempt to get a sane answer out of him right now is useless as the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room and Beomgyu latches his mouth onto yours, trying to dominate you in a way he has never attempted to do before–as if he’s trying to prove that you really are his. 
And you are. He may not know it but you’ve always been his.
But his strong facade is paper-thin and you can see right through it to the insecure boy below when he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, why did you have to be so pretty?”
“Make me cum, Beommie.” You murmur, moving a hand between your bodies to rest over your pussy, your middle and index fingers on either side of his cock as it fucks into you. “Do you feel how wet I am for you? I’m soaking the bed, baby.” 
“Fuck…” He pulls your hand away, taking a look at how wet it has become already before he grunts and pushes one of your thighs against the bed to allow space for his own hand between your bodies, quickly finding your pussy to rub your clit. 
“Oh… oh, fuck… baby…” You gasp, back arching as you’re quickly hurled towards your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. Make me cum on your big cock.” 
He groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy begins to clench around him. “Don’t talk like that. Gonna make me lose it.” 
“It riles you up when I talk dirty to you? Tell you how good you're fucking me?”
He nods. 
“Dirty boy.” You moan out for him, “Do it. Empty that cock inside me. Want my pussy dripping with you.” 
“Holy s-shit,” Beomgyu cries, and you feel his cum shooting inside of you, his hips not stopping for a second. And though his thrusts become erratic, his thumb keeps up its assault on your clit until your pussy is clamping down on his cock and milking the last drops of cum from him. “Good girl. My good girl.” 
He fucks you through your orgasm, babbling on about how pretty you are and how well you took it. He looks so fucking pathetic with his shiny eyes and needy whimpers that before you even know it, he’s ripping another orgasm out of your already fucked out body. 
“Goddammit, Beomgyu…” You squeal, toes curling at the very intense second orgasm, your body shuddering with the unexpected sharp waves of pleasure racking through it. And through it all, Beomgyu continues fucking you. You can feel his cock begin to harden once again inside you, and as the brutal second orgasm leaves your body, you wince at the overstimulation, putting your hands against his sweaty chest and starting to push him away.  
“That’s enough, Beomgyu. I can’t take any more.” 
But he resists you, shaking his head. “One more. Please, one more.” 
“No.” You tell him firmly, “Don’t be bad. Pull out.” 
He searches your face for any hint of leniency, his big pretty eyes trying to convince you to change your mind but you can’t. He’s fucked you so hard, your poor pussy requires a much needed rest. 
You both watch as he slowly pulls out, his once again hard cock glistening with your cum and his, his seed dripping down your ass now that he wasn’t plugging your pussy up. 
“Oh, baby, does that hurt?” You coo, grabbing his cock. He lets out a sigh of relief as you begin stroking it. “Yeah. So bad.” 
The little shit is milking this, but you play along. “Poor baby. Let me make it go away.” You grin, suddenly speeding up, the slide of your hand so easy when his cock is well-lubricated. You make sure to maintain your position, with him hovering over your splayed open body so he can rake his eyes over it, and you clearly seeing him struggling to choose where to look between your tits that jiggle as you jerk him off quickly, the cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, and your swollen lips as you swipe your tongue over them. 
It doesn’t take long for you to have him spilling his seed again, landing on your tummy as he doubles over and buries his head in your neck. 
“That’s it, good boy.” You praise him, using your free hand to stroke his long hair that you love so much. 
You let him lay there for a whole, catching his breath that is so irregular and stuttered that you almost don’t notice when he starts crying if it wasn’t for the hot tears falling on your skin. 
“Beomgyu?” You call out, and a heart-breaking sob breaks out of his chest. 
"Please, come back to me." He croaks against your neck. 
"What?" You sit up, making him sit up with you and pulling his face away from your shoulder so you can look at him, your heart sinking at the tears streaming down his face. "I can't fucking bear seeing you with him any longer. It hurts so much."
Oh fuck. 
"Beomgyu… Yeonjun isn't–" You try to explain that you and Yeonjun had broken up but he cuts you off. 
"It's not him, it's you!" He shouts, "I love you and I can't bear it any longer. And I know it's selfish and that you don't love me back, at least not in that way, but then you keep messing with me."
He loves you? He really loves you?
"But I thought you loved Haeun?" You need to know what exactly is happening with him and Haeun first. 
"I thought I did too but whenever I'm with her, I find myself thinking of you. You’re always in my head, it ruins every moment I have with her. She hates you too, you know? She can't stand how much I love you. The reason we haven't fucked is not because she won't put out. It's because I only want you. I didn't want to lose it to anyone else but you."
"Beomgyu–"
"But you don’t fucking care. You just see me as your disgusting best friend who you can play with and push away when you're done with him and I can't even bring myself to hate you for it. That's how much I love you. So just please… please give me a break."
“You think I was playing with you?” The idea seems absurd to you. How can he possibly think that? You've done everything in your power to not show how much you love him but never in your wildest dreams would you think that would mean he would see it as you playing with him. 
“Weren’t you? I mean the way you spoke to me… you always pushed me away. I had to beg each time for you to even kiss me.” He peers at you, pain and vulnerability shining in his eyes as he recalls the way you treated him. 
Fuck, you've been so obsessed with not letting your love for him show that you've done the same thing to him you thought he was doing to you. Knowing that pain all too well, you can’t bear the thought of being the cause of it.
You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, intending to pour out your own feelings the same way he did, hoping to staunch the flood of heartbreak you’re witnessing and calm him down enough for him to realize you feel the same way. 
But his reaction wasn't what you expected. He breaks down crying. "You're so cruel."
"No, no! I love you too!" Your hands are in a flurry around his face, wiping his tears, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, anything to calm him down.
"What? This is not funny." He sobs, looking like a wounded animal. Your heart aches at the sight. 
"No, fuck, I've loved you for years! The whole friends with benefits thing I started was just an excuse to have a way to be with you."
He stares at you in utter shock, the confusion the only thing stopping his tears from drowning you. "But you never even hinted that you liked me. You called me all kinds of names, freak, disgusting, pervert…"
"I thought you liked these..." You trail off sheepishly. 
"I did but it still makes a guy think.” He mumbles, his fingers playing with yours nervously. “You wouldn’t let me touch you or kiss you." 
"I was afraid if I let you kiss me, I wouldn't want you to stop. And I didn’t want you to touch me because I was afraid you wouldn’t like what you saw." It sounds so silly now that you're saying it out loud–now that you know he loves you and has wanted you just as badly.  
"That's stupid. I had already seen it all." He tells you casually and you frown. "When?"
"You don't always shut the door when you're changing." He shrugs. 
"Pervert!" You gasp, hitting him with no real power behind it. "What about you? You never hinted at anything either.  You only ever talked about my body."
"Well, it did start just physical but I quickly realized that I'm in love with you. Then I kept only mentioning your body because you'd freak out on me whenever I hinted at anything else."
"Fair." You pout, realizing you’ve done as much to hurt yourself as he did. 
"I didn't want to let it show that I loved you because I was so afraid you'd pull away like you did a couple of times. And then you were with Yeonjun and it fucking killed me so I had to pretend it was just sexual."
"Oh god, that's exactly what I've been doing.” You cover your face with your hands, mortified at your stupidity. We're fucking dumbasses."
“Yes, we are.” He replies fondly, taking your hands away from your face so you can look at him, refusing to let you hide anymore. "So you'll break up with him and be with me?"
"We broke up a while back.” You admit sheepishly. “He said he can't be with me when you and I are clearly in love with each other."
“So let me get this straight, Yeonjun could tell we love each other but somehow we, the two people involved, didn’t have a clue?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be winning any genius awards anytime soon.” 
“We could win the biggest dumbasses award though.” He cracks a smile, pulling you close to him and resting his forehead against yours. 
“No one could even compete.” You grin, kissing him. He immediately deepens the kiss, frantic and hungry still. 
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Beommie. We have all the time in the world.” You tease as if you weren’t just as needy, making him whine. “I can’t help it. You made me yearn for so long.”
“Yearn? Oh, that’s bad. I made you use the word yearn.” 
He yanks your legs up, sending the rest of your body flying backwards and hitting the mattress, your loud giggles quickly covered by his mouth as he kisses you harshly, his teeth biting down on your lips in annoyance when you still don’t stop laughing. 
“Stop it.” He whines in defeat as he pulls back, and you try to keep your giggles under control, his pout is entirely too devastating to look at. 
"Are you gonna break up with her?" You ask and he doesn't hesitate to say, "Of course."
That makes you smile, happy with how easily he chose you, but then a thought pops into your mind and you frown. "You know, I hated her but I still feel kinda bad for fucking you behind her back." You really do. You've never condoned cheating, even if it was on someone as vile as Haeun. 
"Oh you mean the same way she fucked the whole football team?" He counters and you gape at him, "God damn. Why did you even stay with her for that long?"
He shrugs. "Needed a distraction. And to not come across as a loser in front of you. I mean you were with Yeonjun. I couldn't just be alone."
"Oh, honey…" You coo, but anything you planned to say is suddenly forgotten as you feel his cock pressing against your entrance. 
"Beommie!" You squeak. “What are you doing?” 
"You thought we were done? You spread your legs for my bandmate. I'm gonna have to look at him every day knowing he had you first. I gotta make sure you and everyone else knows who exactly you belong to."
It may not be the most healthy coping mechanism, but you’ll let him have it for now. You’re sure you wouldn't be very happy if you were in his position either. Besides, getting to fuck Beomgyu isn’t exactly what you would consider a punishment. 
_________
A/N: Click here for the Yeonjun ending on Patreon.
Also for my patreons, you could suggest a scene from gyu's pov and I'll choose one. There will also most likely be some drabbles about oc and gyu's life after the ending (mostly smut featuring our favorite desperate boy lol) and some will be released on tumblr and others will be exclusive to patreon.
Patreons may also suggest a continuation of a previous fic/drabble. I will do my best to release at least something monthly on there.
Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world@stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog@viaaasdiary@ho3forkpop@skzvcr@th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop
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houseofanticipation · 6 months
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You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."
"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"
Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."
"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."
Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."
You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"
"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."
"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"
"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"
Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'
What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.
I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.
A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.
In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."
It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.
I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.
After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties
You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."
I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."
You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."
It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.
"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.
Who am I do decline?
I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.
You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.
All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."
My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?
I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.
What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?
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inkedells · 10 months
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plushie au joel based off peppers by lana del rey? him braiding reader's hair while they fuck around... pls pls pls
oh jesus this is so hot i truly hope i did this scenario justice
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A/N: part 4 of my plushie series!!!! this request happened to be a combination of two other requests i already had, so i figured i might as well do this one and kill two birds with one stone! enjoy loviessss (also i started a taglist! link is at the end)
words: ~800
masterlist
SMUT!! mdni! | requests open.
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Straddling Joel’s lap with your back to him, clutching your favorite plushie as Joel sat settled between the rest.
“What’d you need, baby?” Joel muttered just above a breath as he set aside the book he was reading, “Sat here for a reason, didn’t you?”
You felt him play with the hem of your miniskirt, fingers inching the fabric higher up your ass. The action made your hips jerk forward in an effort to avoid his fleeting touch, and admittedly, to alleviate some of the pressure building deep within you.
“Joel…” You whispered, hands intensely gripping his knees, “I need help.”
“Oh, honey,” Joel continued, voice still as low as possible, “If you need me to play with your pussy just say so.”
“No—Well, yes, but no… I needed help braiding my hair.”
Joel hummed, then breathed a short laugh. “Well I hope you don’t mind messing around while I do it. Braiding my sweet girl’s hair while she rubs up on me, hm? How does that sound?”
“I like that,” You nodded eagerly, settling further back against him as you clutched your plushie harder, moaning when you felt his hardness press against you through the thin fabric of your panties.
Your back arched as a tremble overtook you at the intensity of it all—the sweetness of Joel’s fingers in your hair, each subtle pull on your scalp as he braided it, and the warning tugs he would give your hair when the roll of your hips slowed too much.
“Hey, hey. Don’t be shy.” Joel whispered, his left arm momentarily wrapping around your waist to pull you even further back against him, “Grind on it a little harder, sweetheart. It’s just me.”
You nodded in compliance, little whines combining with your labored breathing as you let Joel’s clothed cock repeatedly slide against you with great pressure.
“Mhm, just like that. Keep rubbin’ back and forth, that’s all. Then when I’m done with your little braid and you’re done making me feel good, we’ll go downstairs and make sure everyone sees how fuckin’ pretty you look.”
You sighed shakily, imagining what it would be like parading around wearing your braid, knowing that you and Joel were the only two people who knew its dirty origin.
“Please,” You whined, eyes squeezed shut as you rubbed against his crotch.
“You gonna cum?”
You mewled as you nodded. Joel took that as his cue to begin rambling the most depraved things he could think of. It was safe to say he knew exactly what effect his words had on you.
“Gonna get me all wet? Get my jeans all wet? See, when one of my friends asks me what that dark spot on my crotch is, y’know what I’ll tell him? I’ll say, my best friend’s little girl did that. Came all over these jeans while she held her stuffie, and yet she still thinks she has the right to act all shy around me.”
He breathed a humorless laugh then, before finally releasing your hair as he finished the braid. He then turned you around, smirking when your hooded eyes and slack jaw finally came into view. Taking advantage of your slow, malleable state, he moved one of his hands to grip your jaw and hold you still as he subtly rocked you up and down with each press of his hips against yours. You were fully aware that your panties were soaked, so you assumed Joel’s pants were, too. You liked it that way—You liked leaving your mark on him, however temporary it may have been.
You were close. Your pace had become animalistic at that point, your top hiked up above your breasts as you squeezed them together and played with your nipples. One thrust forward, then two, then three, and you were doubling over as your orgasm hit you in waves.
“Joel…” You begged, voice hoarse from arousal. “Want… Want your cum in me—Please. Please, please, plea—”
“Throat or pussy?” He asked, pride evident on his face from how badly you wanted him.
You had to think for a moment. “Throat, my throat, wanna taste it.”
He maneuvered you onto your back, then moved to straddle your chest with his weight hovering above you as he pulled his cock out of the tight confines of his jeans. He rapidly began jerking himself, torso convulsing as his mouth fell open in a silent moan.
“Mouth open, baby girl,” He ordered quickly, a satisfied noise leaving him when you instinctively stuck your tongue out, too.
Hot white cum spurted onto your tongue and face in bursts, pulling the most unabashed whines out of you. When the ropes stopped coming, you closed your mouth and swished Joel’s cum around before opening your mouth again and showing him.
“Jesus… go ahead, honey, swallow.”
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masterlist
tags: @devilmademewriteit @basicoccult @msmagix4 @myhusband2cool @fleuraimer @chunguk @pintsizedsunshine @s1eepy-bear @daddysuperduperlonglegs @worhols @evyiione @criesside @saph-cyare @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucufifluclu @gessmiller05 @gswizzsstuff @yazsos @marchai @pompii @alyssa121611-blog @daddy-din @msmagix4 @blooming-bubs @huffle-punk @baloobalee @trynasurvivelol @whorrorain @iliketoeatstrawberrypocky @onlineplant @totallynotastanacc @hiddenbabynyc @thedoctorofpoop @kamcrazy123 @afterglowsb-tch13 @redplaidedandcladed @simping-soldat @martyluvsu @mingiast @teddybonkers1960 @brittmb15
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fic-over-cannon · 3 months
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Words Left Unsaid
jason todd x f!reader
ao3 link
summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.
tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief
rated mature | wc: 8.8k
a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.
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Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?
It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.
“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”
Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.
“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”
You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.
“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”
She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.
Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.
“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”
Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.
“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”
You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.
You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.
Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”
You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.
Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.
A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.
The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.
The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.
The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.
So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.
The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.
“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”
He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.
“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”
“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.
He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.
“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”
His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.
The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.
“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”
“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”
Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.
“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”
“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”
Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.
“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”
“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”
“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”
Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.
For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.
Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.
It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.
“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”
“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.
And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.
“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”
“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”
“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”
You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.
“To nepotism I guess.”
A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.
“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”
School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.
He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.
“You good?”
“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”
“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.
“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”
Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.
You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.
You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.
Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.
Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”
“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”
The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.
The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.
High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.
Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”
“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”
Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.
Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.
It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.
“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.
“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”
“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.
“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”
Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.
“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.
“Oh I do, do I?”
He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.
“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.
“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”
Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.
“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”
You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.
“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”
He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.
You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.
Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.
Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.
“Happy Birthday.”
“I— thank you.”
There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.
“You planning to breathe any time soon?”
He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.
“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.
“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”
“Pinky promise.”
Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.
“What’s wrong with your side?”
“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.
“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”
He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.
“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”
He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.
“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”
“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”
“But you’d tell me if they were?”
“I tell you everything important.”
It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.
“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”
It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.
“So you going to open that or what?”
And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.
At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.
He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.
Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.
April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.
On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.
“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”
“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”
“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”
Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”
“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”
Her words don’t make any sense.
“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.
“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”
“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”
It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.
To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.
Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?
Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.
The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.
It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.
By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.
You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.
You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.
You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.
Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.
You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.
It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.
In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.
There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.
Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.
Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.
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princeoftheeternalbog · 5 months
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Where op characters like to kiss you :)
I'm not sure I like this one so much but I've been a little busier this week so I hope it's enjoyable anyways.
Established relationship, suggestive in some parts(Law, Kid) so mdni.
Might have some very minor spoilers if you aren't past the timeskip, in Robin's part and it's a brief mention of someone the strawhats team up with. There's also a slight reference to some details about Killer but no specifics.
Luffy
Your entire face! Especially while you're smiling, he just cant help the giddiness that bubbles up inside him when he sees you smiling or laughing...so he has to let it out by giving you lots of little kisses on your face ://). His arms stretch out to wrap around you, bundling you two together while he grins and starts his onslaught, once he's got you there's no escape.
Also when he kisses you on the mouth he always cups your entire face with his hands and pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours in-between soft giggles.
Zoro
Forehead/temple. It's easy, it's quick, he just swoops in with a little mwah and then he's gone before you can even register it. Especially loves to do it before a fight because he thinks it's good luck. It really can throw him off if he hasnt kissed you at least once that day so usually he tries to get one in every morning when you wake up. Absolutely melts if you kiss him on the forehead back.
Once he gets used to you kissing him then he's constantly asking, but instead of asking normally he just stares at you for a long while before leaning towards you and tapping his forehead very pointedly.
Sanji
Cheek. (Not that kind of cheek...although-)
Anyways he thinks it's a very sweet place to kiss, and he likes it because it can be both chaste and teasing. For example if it's just a quick soft kiss then it'll be closer to the apple of your cheeks, but if he wants to tease you he'll kiss directly next to corner of your mouth or right by your jaw.
Sometimes purposefully teases you in front of others because he knows it looks innocent from an outside perspective so you can't tell him off for flustering you. Though it's easy to turn the tables, just wear a little bit of shiny lipgloss and he won't be able to concentrate at all, this is when you give him a nice chaste cheek kiss of your own and go on your way. He stands still for so long his cigarette ends up burning out.
Usopp
Your hands. It's subtle but intimate enough that he feels comfortable doing it in public. Usually you link pinkies while walking around or sitting together so whenever he has to let go, for whatever reason, he'll swing your joined hands up to kiss your knuckles. The way he does it is so different from how he reacts to affection normally that it makes your knees go wobbly, it's probably about the only thing he does with full casual confidence.
Eventually he notices the effect this has on you and it actually really helps him develop confidence in other areas too. And if you do it back he gives you this lovely warm smile and he's just so so pretty.
Nami
Shoulders. I'm not sure why but i can just imagine her dropping a delicate kiss to your shoulder as she walks past on deck, or her rolling over in the morning and just giving you lots of light little kisses on your decolletage. Especially loves it if she's taller than you, even if only by a few inches. She also loves standing with her arms tossed over your shoulders, torsos as close as possible while she leans on you.
She really loves to kiss you here in public too, she feels like it's not too exposing but definitely can't be mistaken as platonic, she'll have you sat on her lap in a bar or something and after every sip of her drink she just leaves a gentle but sticky kiss.
Robin
Your lips. She's a woman that knows what she wants alright, and she is highkey obsessed with your lips. She thinks they look so soft and inviting and she's constantly fighting off the impulse to kiss you whenever you converse. It was a pretty serious problem for her before you got together. She just thinks they're so pretty and your beautiful voice and smile come from there too.
She also always kisses you at inappropriate times. After the alliance with Law began, she once kissed you while he was explaining a plan and the glare he levelled you both with was unreal.
Law
...stomach. He's obsessed with the shape of your body in general but there's just something about your stomach that makes him want to bite you(lovingly). If you wear a crop top and/or low rise jeans he practically explodes, he just can't help it. Fully spends hours sucking love bites into the skin there. Loves making you stand in front of him while hes sat, hands tight on your hips, leaving a trailer of wet kisses as he gets lower. He only makes you stand because he likes to see your knees tremble.
Now he's very reserved but he will kiss you in public if he can 1. do it stealthily and 2. inconvenience you in someway like making you too flustered to talk.
Kid
BASTARD! Neck. He has no shame and his kisses are always very intense so he will absolutely give you a hickie while you're talking to someone. You've learned to ignore him but you've also learned that makes him worse. The correct route is to give him a hickey in return, his neck is very sensitive so he folds so quickly. Though he will take revenge later so keep that in mind.
Absolutely hates it when he wants to kiss you but can't, like if you're out of his reach or asleep. Will sulk until he gets the chance to kiss you again and then he's all over you, doesn't let you leave his arms until all your exposed skin is covered in his signature lipstick.
You two would so do that one tiktok trend yk the one-
Killer
Now there's minor logistics problems here so I'm going to talk about it in two ways.
At the beginning of your relationship, he absolutely adores it when you kiss his mask. Thinks the sentiment is so cute and the first time it happened he blushed so hard that you could practically see steam coming out of the gaps in his mask.
If you've been together for a really long time and he's comfortable enough to take his mask off then he loves just kissing you anywhere he can reach. He's just obsessed with being able to actually touch you when you're alone. Though the incidents in wano would set him back quite a lot in terms of insecurity, he still finds comfort in hiding away with you in his room, exchanging soft words and softer kisses.
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fxrmuladaydreams · 5 months
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a tip and a dinner invitation (sv5)
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pornstar!sebastian x camgirl/pornstar!reader
summary: you’re just breaking into the industry when you get a message from a famous pornstar, asking you to meet him
notes: !!contains smut MINORS DNI!! here is the pornstar!seb au! i love this so much and will continue to write more because this is only the beginning for them 😉 also pls let me know if you want more pornstar!drivers. i think this series is going to be the filthiest thing i’ve ever written
warnings: smut, masturbating, sex toys (dildo)
next part
Sebastian felt himself twitch as he watched your video. His hand was wrapped around his cock, lazily moving up and down, matching your pace on his screen.
You looked gorgeous, kneeling on the ground with your legs slightly spread, and a dildo between them. You slowly raised and lowered yourself on the toy, your head thrown back as you moaned. You let out a long whine as you sat fully on the dildo, rolling your hips in an attempt to get it even deeper inside you.
He could see the comments that had started to flood in on your stream. Most were all variants of the same things, people telling you how good you looked, or that they wanted to be the one to fuck you.
Sebastian had thought about leaving a comment as well, but couldn’t imagine pulling his focus away from you long enough to do so.
You were still fairy new in the porn industry, having only done videos alone or streams for your viewers. He’d seen a few of your videos and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find your videos just as hot as the men leaving you comments and tips.
You gasp as you lift yourself up again, now riding the dildo faster than before. Your tits bounce up and down with every drop. The only sounds you can hear are your breathy moans and the sound of your slick on the toy.
Ride it harder baby
Look at how much she wants that cock
If you cum I’ll tip
You read the comments as you fuck yourself, pushing yourself even harder on the dildo. You can feel the knot forming in you, about to snap.
Sebastian feels himself get closer to his own climax, now fisting himself quickly, huffing out his breaths as he watches you.
“Please, please, please, please.” You moan out.
Your viewers spam your comment box with praise.
I love it when she begs
She’s so pretty when she’s about to cum
Your fingers rub against your clit, and soon enough you feel your release wash over you. You sit still on the toy and catch your breath.
Sebastian does the same, his hand now covered in his cum. He reaches for a towel to clean himself off as you pull yourself up off the toy.
Tips roll in, and comments along with them. Your viewers all teasing you for the mess you made and calling you a good girl.
You lift the dildo up and hold it near your camera. The light reflects off if it, showing off the creamy residue left on it from your activities.
“I hope you guys had fun, maybe as much fun as I did.” You wink at the camera. “Thank you for joining me tonight.” You give the camera a wave, then the stream ends.
Sebastian sighs as he leans back in his chair. He sees the link for your tips are still there. He clicks it and sends you a tip with a note attached.
Enjoyed the stream very much schatz. Maybe sometime we can work on a video or stream together? ~Sebastian
He knew it was pretentious to think you’d recognize his name, or that you’d want to collaborate with him at all. He was one of the biggest names in the industry though, and the worst you could do was say no.
You were surprised to see a notification from your tip jar after your stream had ended. You glanced at it, then continued cleaning up, only to quickly look at it again.
$200 from sebv
The note attached makes you furrow your brows in confusion. You’ve been asked to collaborate before and had denied it, but if this was the Sebastian Vettel? Your number of viewers would skyrocket.
You clicked on his name, and sure enough were brought back to his page. You’d watched a lot of his videos, often times with your fingers inside you while you watched. He was handsome, there was no denying that. He was dominant too, whenever he filmed with a girl he always took control, taking her pleasure into his hands. His accent is thick when he teases them, bringing them to the edge of release then pulling back.
You had to admit, it would be fun to get to film with Sebastian, to be on the receiving end of his touch.
You send him a private message thanking him for his tip, and telling him that you would be interested in filming together. You quickly shut your laptop, not wanting go see any response.
You finish cleaning up, then head to bed for the night.
The next day you sit with your computer, ready to start planning for future videos when you see a notification in your messages. You open it and read a message from Sebastian.
How about we meet first? I’m free at the end of the week if you’d like to get together for dinner.
You feel your face heat up. He’s definitely charming. You message him back giving him a time and date you’re available. He sends you the address of a restaurant, and suddenly you’ve got dinner plans.
The rest of the week leading up to dinner is pretty slow. You film some more videos to post later on, and read through your comments trying to figure out what people want to see.
You’re nervous when it’s finally time for your dinner with Sebastian. You picked out a dress that you liked, one that complimented you well, and showed off you legs and just enough of your cleavage to keep a man interested. Though, it hadn’t occurred to you until after you put it on that he’d already seen you with nothing on.
You find him seated at a table alone, scrolling on his phone. He’s also dressed well, a button down shirt and dark pants. His blonde hair is slightly messy, and he’s got scruff growing on his face.
His eyes lift up to meet yours when you approach him. He smiles and stands up, putting his phone in his pocket.
“Hello Y/n.” He says.
“Hi Sebastian.” You reach a hand out to give him a handshake.
He pulls your chair out for you, then moves to sit across from you.
“Thank you for meeting with me.” He says before taking a sip of his drink.
“Thank you for having me.” You smile.
“Well I haven’t had you yet.” He smirks.
You feel your face heat up at his remark. “I was surprised to see your message.”
He raises a brow at you. “Really? You don’t have offers piling up in your inbox?”
You scoff and shake your head. “I do, but none that actually interest me.”
“And I interest you?” He asks.
You take a breath. “You do. Your name does. If people see me with Sebastian Vettel then maybe they’ll become more interested in me.”
“Trust me, people are interested in you.” He winks.
Dinner goes off without a hitch, the two of you sharing stories about where you came from, your families, and what led you to doing porn. You quickly realized that under those flirty comments he was actually sweet. He cared about the people close to him, and donates quite a bit of money he makes to different charities.
You leave dinner that night with his phone number saved in your phone and a promise to call you with new plans to meet again.
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