#&audition ff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pieroulette · 11 months

Note

aaah yess thank you!!! can i request yandere andteam reacting to you trying to poison them? putting too much salt/pepper, sauce, etc! i don't know if you're ready to write yandere for andteam, tell me if that makes you uncomfortable.. i hope you're having a good day!!!

「 YANDERE! &TEAM REACTION TO YOU TRYING TO POISON THEM 」

WARNING yandere, poisoning, attempted murder, profanity.

AUTHOR'S NOTE yeepiee let the empire of &team fics rise upon the top of the pinnacle lmao. requests r always open for &TEAM (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ also this is my first time trying out a reaction lol, tbh I had fun and I hope this turn out well for you anon.

“Ha, darling.” Kei crouched before your helpless form on the ground, a pathetic scene after being yanked by him. “What’s this?” his hand clutches the bottle he caught you pouring it in minutes ago. Yet he didn’t say anything, he even waited for you to serve it before him—with that grin splattered on his face, you didn’t even have a tad bit of regret.

You just wanted to be free. Free, that’s all you've ever wanted.

However, he’s too cruel, too cruel. Just why won’t he die?

“Trying to murder me? How cute.”

Your dark orbs rattling in terror yet glaring up to him cause him to chuckle, yet even those oh so innocence on his plump lips ceases to exist, tugging your hand up making you stand up on your feet. “Tell me, who brainwashed you to do this? Would it make you happy if I’m dead in front of you, love?”

“Yes! I want you dead! You– you freaking m-monster,” stuttering as you saw his eyes darkened even more, yet you don’t care, proceeding with the words you’re going to say. “I’d be so happy to see you fucking lifeless, just so I can be free!”

A menacing silence of terror consumes the space you two were in.

“Well then, too bad.” He leans in forward, a few inches close to your face. “I’d be so happy to see you limping through the floor, just so you can no longer be free. I wouldn’t mind.”

FUMA

His face contorted into rage, ultimately pushing your feet backwards in attempts to avoid his hysterical form at the table, smashing the plates and utensils—it’s broken pieces scattered all on the red carpet. You were beyond terrified, Fuma has never acted like this. Even when he threw you in the basement for the first time, he was gentle and caring, even when you spat insults at him—he was patient.

This was the first time.

“I’ve done nothing but be kind to you,” Fuma snapped his rattling orbs, red veins popping around his neck, his once properly brushed hair now messy to no return. “Yet this is what you repay me?”

“Fuck, babe. How about we have dinner together then?”

“No- no!” you screamed at him as he got a spoonful of rice, approaching you.

“I thought you wanted me to die so bad? Then join me, we could feast as long as we want in hell, darling!”

YUMA

A hum so delighted as he placed the spoon on the tip of his tongue, but as desperate as you were to see him chew it and consume it. Long finger grabbed ahold of your jaw, and your orbs rattled in beyond horror as he pushed his lips against you, forcing your mouth to open and the beads of rice blended into your wet flesh.

You fell on your knees, splayed fingers clutching your mouth trying to get the poisonous dish off your esophagus.

A sheer giggle emits from the male standing beside you, hands grabbing a fistful of your hair—forcing your face to meet those psychotic gaze.

“I can see you want me to eat it, so I was thinking that it would be nice to share it with you too.”

NICHOLAS

“Pfft.” a menacing giggle emitted from the older boy, causing your arms to snap in fear after he dropped the rice-filled spoon onto the table. “Can’t you be any more dense?”

“See, guess I haven’t taught you enough under there? Tell me. I would be happier to spend more time with you.”

Glint of a blade flashed through your eyes causing you to squint almost immediately, horror splattered on your face as he twirls it around his fingers. Sadistic is what you call him, Nicholas lives on in your pain regardless of how much he says he cares for you. Grabbing the Polaroid camera, he did—as he approached you in a leisure manner.

You shook your head as you trembled before him, unable to utter anything to save your life.

A fit of laughter emits from Nicholas, as he crouched before you. "Babe, you're the reason why my head—" he tapped his fingers against his forehead, "Isn't functioning anymore. All it thinks about is you... crying actually."

"Now, say cheese."

He went hysterical of it, throwing you off the chair and yet immediately apologised like crazy. Constantly repeating how sorry he was for hurting you and stuff which immediately guilted you, like what the actual fuck?

“I get it that you want to kill me, but could you atleast give me the chance before you try to do so?” his teared up orbs held so much affection in it as he rubs your arm gently.

It threw you off, “I-i…”

“Next time, I’ll make sure to let you go. Just please, give me a chance. Give me time, if you still don’t like me then I'll let you go.”

You didn’t utter anything, only nodding over how desperate he was and how bliss replaced his contorted expressions in a swift speed as he pulled you in a tight embrace. Yet oblivious you were as the boy in your arms, smirking to himself. Sure, he was beyond pissed over your bold actions but how could he destroy his hard-earned innocent image? Yes he kidnapped you, restrained you against your wishes but it was because you were so oblivious.

His teary doe eyes fell on the floor, meticulously calculating the next step of his plan.

“I could’ve saluted you if you tried harder, you know.”

“What?” you bit your lip against the peering of the male sitting on the couch, the bowl of soup left unattended on top of the table. His slouching back facing you, however his voice laced with something you couldn’t comprehend only fuels the shivering on your hands as you tried to stop it.

Jo stood up in silence, turning over his shoulder where a gentle smile remained on his lips—approaching you ever so slowly, holding the plate on his other hand. “Did you put something in here?”

“W-what do you mean?” you lowered your eyes, avoiding his dark orbs. “Why does it taste salty? If you want, I can—”

“Nothing, it’s just nice. But I think that maybe, we could let someone have this.” Jo’s lips pulled up menacingly. “Let them have the soup you made, that’s how kind I am, right?”

HARUA

Harua stayed silent as he chewed, ultimately spitting it off to your utter horror. You could only observe as his heavy dark gaze fixated on you as he wiped his stained lips off with the white cloth as gently as possible—as if his initial reactions weren’t scary enough.. Quiet he was, but the dread consuming you had your knees tremble as an unnerving giggle emits from him, hissing at last.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“I don’t need your sorry.” He spat out, eyes widening and eyebrows raising in mockery. “I’ve given you enough chances, I guess you are just an ungrateful brat.”

“Do you think I'm dumb enough not to see how fucking excited you were to see me eat it?” Harua lifted his finger up to his lower up, pouting like a child. "I got to admit, though. That look, absolutely looks wonderful.

"However, do you think you can hold that look as I break your arms apart? You wouldn't need it anymore anyways, right?"

TAKI

“Say,” Taki turns his attention to you, chewing supposedly a dish you've poisoned. "How about you beg before I count to three?"

That alone was enough for your chair to screech against the floor, falling on your knees. "I- I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"

"Tsk, tsk. How foolish, are we, princess?" Your face received a harsh blow against the cold wooden floor, a stark contrast from his gentle voice. "I don't think begging is enough—"

Whimpering as you clutched your stinging cheeks from the impact.

Ogling his eyes out akin to a madness spiralling out from it, "You should at least show me how sorry you are by letting me carve my name on you, atleast?"

MAKI

“It tastes so good, I wonder what you put in it!” exclaimed Maki, a grin so wide and bright that it made your stomach churned. You felt sick around him, his puppy vibes.

"I- I just added some extra spices, you know..—" you waited in desperation for the poison to kick in, searching for the signs on his face.

Then came a giggle from the boy himself, "What are you so intently waiting for? If you're waiting for me to die then it's game over."

You found your tongue tied immediately when you caught on to what Maki uttered out loud. Yet despite that, that wide grin never ceases to exist.

"Cause love," that huge grin on his face only grew menacingly wider—yet those fluttering eyelashes lifted it's veil off the pitch black orbs peering into your soul. "It's on your food."

You hold your mouth as soon as he uttered those words, trying to vomit it all out. However the boy hummed in delight, placing his chin on his hands. "It's a joke, darling."

157 notes · View notes

kpop-kitkat · 1 year

Text

I Think You're Cute | K

pairing | k x trainee f!reader

genre/cw | friends-to-lovers, idol au, trainee au, crush, crying, body shaming, mention of physical abuse, featuring &TEAM

wc | 1.6k

notes | none

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Five, six, seven, eight, left, hop, turn around, no! Y/n you’re doing it wrong,” the dance instructor scolded.

“Sorry Mrs. Yang,” Y/n bowed her head. She glanced around to see that all the other trainees were watching her intently, causing her to flush unintentionally.

Mrs. Yang sighed deeply. “If you want to debut, you’ll work on the choreography twelve hours a day! Do you hear me?” She crossed her arms.

”Yes, Mrs. Yang. I was busy, I-“

”Your excuses mean nothing to me,” she scoffed. “You either debut with Hybe or you don’t debut at all. I doubt any other entertainment company would train you. You’re not even worth the time.”

“I’m sorry,” she closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head. She couldn’t even bring herself to look up. “I promise to work harder.”

”You best do so,” she sighed angrily.

Just then, the clock chimed. It was break time.

”I suppose I’ll see you all tomorrow for your monthly evaluation along with Mr. Won. You’re dismissed,” she said, gesturing them all to leave.

All of the girls picked up their duffel bags and exited. But Y/n was stopped.

”Y/n,” Mrs. Yang called.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut before turning around. “Yes?”

“Start eating less. Your gaining weight, I can see it in your face,” she frowned. “Minyeon and Jinri never had trouble with their diets.”

Oh how Y/n hated being compared to the other girls. Especially regarding weight.

”Yes Mrs. Yang,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

~~~

K smiled to himself when break time came. As a part of the pre-debut group &TEAM, he had a lot on his plate. Breaks were lovely. But he also did a little happy dance on the inside at the thought of seeing his crush, Y/n. The two had known each other for two years, ever since Y/n was street casted. They weren't exactly friends though. Heck, they never really did anything but acknowledge each other's existence. But he saw her around enough to develop feelings for her. She was the brightest, kindest, cutest person he knew. How was he to admit it? Maybe soon. But not just yet.

"Y/n!" EJ waved Y/n over to sit with his members.

She shyly brought her lunch over, which consisted of spicy ramen, and sat between EJ and Yuma, the only two she really knew in the group.

"I should introduce you all. Guys, this is L/n Y/n," Yuma announced, and they all greeted her warmly. "Y/n, this is Fuma, Harua, Jo, Taki, Maki, Yihsiang, and K," he explained.

"Hi," she waved.

"Nice to meet you Y/n. I hope we can be friends," Taki smiled.

The rest of the members said kind things to Y/n, yet K remained silent. In truth, he wanted to officially meet her on his own, not with Yuma's help. It would be a terrible first impression on his crush, at least in his mind.

The clock chimed yet again, signaling it was vocal and rap practice time.

"See you later," Maki waved at her as he and the guys left to their respective rooms.

~~~~~

Y/n collapsed on her bed in her apartment room and sighed. Her back ached terribly as she stretched. It had been a long day. Sitting up, she glanced at the mirror on the wall. She played with the strands of her messy hair and squished her cheeks, seeing how chubby they really were. And they weren't, at all. It was simply Mrs. Yang scolding Y/n every chance she got. And while Y/n didn't understand her reasons, she had grown used to it by now. Used to being humiliated in front of her trainees. And while known of these rude comments and scoldings were true, they got to her head. "What am I doing wrong," she whispered to herself before breaking down in tears.

It was another night of listening to depressing music as tears streamed down her cheeks.

~~The Next Day~~

"Bro just tell her! I'm sick of seeing you give her puppy eyes 24/7 and not saying anything!" EJ frowned. "And I'd bet she likes you back. I mean who wouldn't? Look at you," he teased.

"I'm not completely sure. I really want to tell her. I just don't know how," K admitted.

"It's not like you're getting down on one knee with a diamond ring for heaven's sake! Just find a time when you're both alone with an hour or more to spare," EJ suggested.

"Okay. Thanks EJ," K fist bumped him before going up to his room.

He immediately began surfing the internet using key words: confessing to my crush. And after an hour, he had a long list.

"Okay. Be expressive, be confident, compliment her, and don't bore her. Get straight to the point," he spoke just above a whisper as he kept reading the short list over and over.

~~~~~

It all seemed like a good idea until the time actually came. He stood at the door to Y/n's practice room, unable to open the door.

"Just do it!" EJ shouted from around the corner.

"I'll kill you if you mess this up for me!" K seethed.

With a newfound confidence, he knocked on the door. But when it opened, a crying Y/n brushed past him and went down the hall. He stood there, confused, dropping his list on accident as well. He decided to follow her for about a minute. And just when he was about to give up, he heard sniffling in his own vocal practice room. He opened the door and saw her, curled up into a ball, leaning against the same wall K had always used for physical support on the bad days. He quietly closed the door behind him and knelt beside her.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked softly.

"I'll never be good enough K," she suddenly spoke. "I don't even deserve to be here."

His gaze softened. "What? Of course you do! You're so talented Y/n."

"Mrs. Yang she... she," she choked on her own words.

"She what Y/n?" K became curious.

"She told me to leave the company, and that I'm not good enough to follow my dreams," she explained.

K could tell she was hiding something still. "What else? Just tell me the truth Y/n, it won't hurt you."

"She got angry with me so she... hit me. She pushed me to the ground and my wrist is most likely fractured," she cried.

"What?!" He exclaimed, quickly getting up and running to the other side of the room. He opened a cabinet and brought out a shoulder sling. "Here," he helped her put it on, clasping it behind her back. "Try not to move too much, okay? I need to speak to Mr. Kim."

She nodded in response as he quickly exited the room.

~~~~~

"Mr. Kim?" K knocked on his studio door.

"Yes K?" He looked up from his desk with a smile.

"Mrs. Yang needs to be fired. She pushed one of your trainees, Y/n to the ground and told her to leave the company," he explained, breathing heavily. "She's no good for the company."

"I'm sorry that has happened. I'll deal with it as soon as I can. Thank you for telling me K," he smiled again before going back to his work.

~~The Next Day~~

Y/n loved having Mrs. Yang gone. She felt much more free. And her replacement, Mrs. Kwon, was an angel. Strict enough to be a good dance instructor, but as sweet and understanding as they come. But she had someone to thank for it.

"K?" Y/n knocked on his apartment door. It soon opened and she smiled at the occupant. "Hey."

"Hey umm, would you like to come in?" He gestured to his couch area, and she accepted with a nod and a simple "thank you".

They both took seats next to each other before she spoke. "I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. You have no idea how grateful I am that she's gone now."

"You're welcome. Nobody deserves to be treated the way you were."

"Yeah," she smiled, before falling into silence. It looked like she still had something she wanted to say, and K read her mind.

"You're probably wondering why I showed up at your practice room yesterday, so I might as well get straight to the point," he took a deep breath. "I think you're cute and I uh... I've had a crush on you for like a year now. I was wondering if you wanted to go out?"

"Wow, I was going to ask you first," Y/n laughed.

"You were?"

"Yeah, I guess you were oblivious to my obvious stares in the past year."

"I guess I was," he chuckled.

~~~~~

Had K not had the bravery to confess, he wouldn't have been where he was right now. Sitting on top of his car, watching the sunset, with his girlfriend's head on his shoulder. "To think, today would've been our second anniversary if I said something right when I knew I liked you," K sighed.

"At least we have each other now. Better late than never I say," Y/n picked her head up off his shoulder to see his eyes. "And I for one, wouldn't have it any other way."

"Make it two," he smiled, before planting a short and sweet kiss on her lips.

#k #&audition boys #&team #&audition #&team imagines #&team k #k fluff #k angst #k-pop #kpop boys #kpop boy group #idol au #trainee au #&team fluff #&team angst #&team x reader #k x reader #k ff

352 notes · View notes

trsrina · 2 years

Text

HEADSHOT - &TEAM JO

jo was only trying to teach you how to play basketball but he somehow hit you in the head with it instead

written in second person pov, fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader but reader is implied to be shorter than jo? word count : 0.66k warning!! mentions of an injury? like yeah a whole ass basketball hitting you in the head.

it was a very spontaneous idea of you to drag take jo to your nearest basketball court at 11pm and have him teach you how to play basketball.

“okay, now you try,” jo separated from you and stood aside.

“what? are you sure? i can’t do it that fast i mean,” jo cut you off with a peck on your lips, “i’m confident in my own teaching and that my pupil can succeed, if you don’t, blame it on the hoop.”

“okay, i can do this,” you huff, getting into position, shooting the basketball into the hoop, you closed your eyes scared of the outcome.

“you did it!” the moment you heard cheering, you opened up your eyes to meet eyes with a happy jo, running towards you to pick you up and spin you around like you just won the nba.

“couldn’t have done it without you,” you smile at your adorable boyfriend, grabbing his cheeks and staring at his gleaming smile that single-handedly lighted up your whole world.

jo let go of you and picked up the basketball and suddenly tried to pass it to you, “catch!”

you were caught off-guard and before you knew it, the basketball was flying towards you, hitting you in the head, bonk.

“y/n!!! oh my god, i’m so sorry,” your vision went black for a second and your life flashed in front of your eyes, you collapsed onto the ground dramatically and landed on your butt, only being able to hear your boyfriend’s voice.

jo ran towards you and knelt down, worriedly holding your head, rubbing it to try to ease the pain with continuous kisses on your head.

“i’m so sorry, y/n, are you alright? should i call an ambulance?” he frantically asked with tears brimming his eyes, acting as if he just killed you with the murder weapon of a basketball.

“hey, don’t need to worry that much, i’m fine. it’s just a bit painful. let’s go home, it’s getting late,” you lied through your teeth so jo wouldn't worry while wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes, trying your best to ignore the aching you felt on your head.

"i'm so sorry, i should've been more careful. this is all my fault. i will not let you near a basketball ever again," jo pouted, his cuteness distracting you from the tremendous pain you were feeling.

"none of us wanted that to happen. it's not your fault, stop blaming yourself or i'm gonna start crying too," you nagged at him like a parent reprimanding their child, pointing a finger at him and joked around so he would stop crying and blaming himself.

you steadily tried to stand up by yourself only for black dots to blind your vision once again, falling back on your butt for the second time tonight.

"come on, you can barely stand up by yourself," jo slightly giggled then proceeded to turn his back against you, pulling your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, you were confused at his actions at first but soon realised he wanted to piggy-back you.

"are you sure this is necessary?" you chuckled, moving your head to face him, your lips almost touching his cheeks.

"yes, very necessary," he moved his face closer to yours, smoothly making you kiss him on the cheeks.

"okay then, let's go!" with your arms around jo, you excitedly pointed to some random direction and jo somehow managed to run with you on his back.

although the way back home from the basketball court was short but the couple still decided to sprint like the main characters of some romantic coming of age movie.

young love, isn’t it?

hdhshdhwhd sh AHHH WHAT IS THIS IDK i just really wanted to write for &team so i just made this fjsjfjsjdhw

feel free to interact, i’d really appreciate it if you liked or reblogged. <33 (tumblr’s algorithm is shit)

359 notes · View notes

rainbows-and-whumperflies · 1 year

Text

whump prompt wooo

I am Going through it rn. which means I am in fact writing a LOT of whump, but very little of it is coherent. and also I hate typing so most is handwritten and it's a pain to type it out after I write it. however! I did write a thing! so yeah.

anyway Whumpee/Caretaker movie night :3333

All of these are pretty much Whumpee being scared of Caretaker without having reason to be.

TWS: none as far as I'm aware but lmk if I need to add any!

Whumpee would never take popcorn from the same bowl as Caretaker. They know better than that. But Caretaker keeps saying they can't finish it on their own and they don't mind sharing, so maybe just this once...

Whumpee staying on the opposite side of the couch from Caretaker. If they start to pay attention to the movie, they'll get distracted and let their guard down-and they don't want to know what will happen if that happens.

Whumpee getting distracted by the movie and forgetting to be scared of Caretaker. Caretaker sees them genuinely relaxed for the first time since before Whumper :)

Hot cocoa. That's it that's the prompt

I am aware that this is not many, but anyway give your whumpees some movie nights, they deserve it

#caretaker #whumpee #caretaker x whumpee #rainbow's whump #rainbow's prompts #whump #istg i leave for a couple months and suddenly forget i have a tagging system #also i only write fluff when i'm as stressed as i am rn so. i'm sorry that's all this is.#yall. my drama teacher wants me to dye my hair for a part he cast me as. i did not even audition for the part.#he assumed i'd be okay with dying it cuz it's pink rn?? no i'm gonna damage it if i bleach it again this soon #it's a sophomore high school friends and family play? i'm not dying my hair for that ffs #and the part he gave me has 3x as many lines as the one i auditioned for. i do not have time for this #anyway! whump

83 notes · View notes

andteambabies · 2 years

Text

Instagram: @luvlyficz

Edited by me!

#andteam #andteam TAKI #andteam maki #andteam k #andteam Yuma #andteam fuma #andteam nicholas #andteam ej #andteam Harua #andaudition #hybe entertainment #kpop #hybe boys #hybe japan #andteam imagines #andteam ff #andteam fanfiction #and audition the howling

30 notes · View notes

thegirlyouknow · 1 year

Text

Ah shit, I feel like I blew it

#had an audition that I've been preparing for all week and i feel like i did so shit #they said it was nice but ffs my vpice cracked and my breathing was all wrong #i can do way better than that #i really wanted this ugh #time to cry on public transport 🥴

1 note · View note

euntak · 2 years

Text

dumping this here bc i'd feel like a jerk if i admitted this to any of my irls

there's this audition my friend and i did for an org in my uni,,, long story short i didn't get in but my friend did and i can't help but feel kinda jealous ??? bc 1. i've been waiting years for this opportunity to join an org like theirs and it's prolly the only thing i've ever truly wanted so far in my life, 2. my friend had better circumstances which made the audition kinda unfair (mine was in person which means time pressure/constraints + the venue lacked facilities that could've helped me practice meanwhile my friend did theirs online so they had more time + they had those facilities that i didn't have), 3. i hate to be that person but afaik i have had more training/experience than them and i know that doesn't necessarily mean i'm any better but i've seen their audition video,,, i think objectively speaking i'm at least a little better ?? i even tried to help them out by giving comments but i didn't want them to feel bad/overwhelmed or for me to come off as cocky/arrogant either .. only for me to be the one who doesn't get in 🥲 just feels rlly discouraging ig

and i hate my brain for this too bc i love my friend sm and they've been nothing but nice and understanding and supportive ever since ☹️

#𓂃 ࣪˖ shitpost 🚽#ff to the day i get over this #pls i beg #all this just bc i took a 2-min rest before my evaluation #n suddenly forgot what i was supp to do 😐#now i have to wait a whole yr for the next audition!!!#cool love that 🙂

0 notes

werywrenniethoughts · 8 months

Text

Let's Talk About Sun and Moon

I've been itching to share all my thoughts & theories on the Daycare Attendant ever since I first played SB. With MattPat's latest video reacting to Fuhnaff's recent Ruin theory, I could no longer contain my silence. It's obvious Steel Wool is pointing us back to Sister Location, or more specifically Circus Baby's Pizzaria. I think we'll find that the daycare attendant has been here all along. Below are a few key things I want to open discussions with the DCA fandom. Buckle up friends, and grab a snack or 3, because this is a long one. Let me know your likes, let me know your dislikes. (FYI general disclaimer that I bummed all these pictures from Google and that spoilers ARE contained below)

Personally, my theory is the DCA is an old funtime/toy animatronic from Cirus Baby's Pizzaria that was repurposed for one reason or another and brought to the PizzaPlex. Let's go over some of the reasons why:

Does the Daycare attendant fit with the Glamrock animatronics?

No. Not even a little. The Glamrocks are synonymous with neon signs, rock n roll, and 80s-early 90s vibes. Sun and Moon are based off of the naturally occurring satellites we see in the sky on the daily. Most FNAF theorist tends to unanimously state they simply "don't know what to do with the daycare attendant." It's understandable. They don't really flow with the rest of the SB cast animatronics.

You know who I think they do mesh with though? Circus Baby, Funtime Freddy, and Bellora. While one could argue they are not an exact fit, they certainly fit the circus designs far better than the Glamrocks. Sun with his striped pants, bells, ribbons, and poofy collar certainly give him more of a clown-like look (dare I even suggest, they look like a jester, Mimic fans?)

I've also always felt that Moon's speech patterns model Funtime Freddy's more than the Glamrocks or even Suns. They sound like preselected lines he's been programmed to say, rather than cohesive sentences most of the time with limited vocabulary usage, not unlike the lines delivered by the withered, Funtime, and Toy animatronics in Ultimate Custom Night. Phrases that sound innocent, but with the given inflection, they're obvious threats. Kellen Goff, the overly amazing voice actor for both the DCA, and Funtime Freddy stated once in an interview that the audition description for FF was "a voice that children would love, but adults would hate/fear." He nails that with Freddy, but, I think his performance with Moon warrants that description somewhat as well.

Another circus link I want to point out is this little devil right here:

Ballon Boy. He too blends in with the circus theme. It's also worth mentioning the arcade machine hidden within the DCA's room is Balloon World. Where in-game versions of Sun and Moon watch over any poor soul attempting to complete this flappy bird ripoff. Has anyone ever noticed that the arcade cabinet, and the game's home screen you start on, display a carnival tent?

Further, Kids Cove is linked to the daycare- the floor map shows us the shore of Kids Cove flows into the daycare, which flows to a flowery hilltop where the DCA's castle room sits. A pirate version of Foxy is the featured animatronic of Kid's Cove. In fact, every character cut-out you need to flash with the FazCam to access the DCA's room is a member of the original four: Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy.

The DCA lore from Bobbiedots states the DCA was "an old stage animatronic" NOT specifically from the FazBear theater. Of course, no one can deny the FazBear theater is absolutely pointing us toward them being meant to be performing there. The artwork of the daycare has the FazTheater in the "sky" per the scenery, there's a sun framing the entrance banner, and Moon's patterns decorate the door. Additionally, both the comedy and tragedy masks line the banner.

Could it be they are older animatronics meant to be retrofitted and added to the lineup but were instead reprogrammed as the Daycare Attendant last minute or, were they performing an old throwback routine from their original pizzeria for a time before they were reprogrammeed? Or was it always the FazBear Theater from the get-go? I feel all these scenarios are somewhat plausible.

Sun/Moon make more rudimentary machine sounds than the other animatronics in SB. It's hard to describe the glamrocks and the endos just sound smoother, like well-oiled machines. While Sun's movements are fluid and the sounds he produces are rhythmic, he sounds more like a clock or wind-up toy than anything else. Moon flat-out squeaks- a LOT. Like he hasn't been oiled in years. (Admittedly, this could just be a subtle attempt by Steel Wool to help you deal with Moon during the generator section. It's dark as crap, and you CAN hear Moon coming far sooner than you see him.) You can listen to isolated sounds of Sun's mechanisms on the FNAF Wiki and you can hear Moon on any SB playthrough. I think their cable might also be considered rudimentary compared to the glamrocks as well, but, this is also a personal opinion that doesn't really have any evidence to back it up.

I could probably add a few more minor things, but I think I've given us all quite enough to chew on for now. I know I've failed to mention Eclipse this entire time. Without any additional lore, it's hard for me to decide whether he's the original version of Sun and Moon, or a brand new addition. Obviously, a lot of my theories here are either supported or thrown out the window based on which one is true. I'm okay with letting that lie for now until we (hopefully) get a more concrete answer from Scott or Steel Wool.

It seems like we'll be getting a Sun-based story in Tales #8 so I'm eagerly awaiting to see if that completely disproves my ideas, or gives them any merit. I certainly don't think I have them 100% figured out, but, I think the limited amount of lore regarding the origins of the DCA means Steel Wool's hiding something. I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts! Thanks for coming to my Sun/Moon TED talk.

#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb ruin dlc #daycare attendent #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #sundrop #moon #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf dca #fnaf lore #fnaf theory #fnaf the daycare attendant #sun and moon fnaf

158 notes · View notes

justjams2003 · 3 months

Text

Fast Pace- 15

I'd just like to thank @multi-universe21 for the Spanish Translations for these last two chapters.

The last one guys! This is the very last chapter! I can't believe it. I've been putting off posting this all day, because I'm so sad that this is over now :( Keep in mind, my request are always open. And I'll miss all you pookies so much 🫶. Follow if you'll miss me too, or don't. 🫶

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smut (Actually this time!!), sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, i guess Instagram posts?? Angst! Lots of it! Tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Part 14

Y/N'susername 12 January 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Charles_Leclerc, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, LandoNorris and 1,647,903 more Some might say it’s too fast, but you and I have always loved a fast pace. Tagged: CarlosSainz55 Comments: CarlosSainz55: So obsessed with you. I love you so much. <3

Charles_Leclerc: So happy for you two <3

Alexandrasaintleux: You’re gonna be a Sainz before the end of the year!

LandoNorris: Well done, @CarlosSainz55, you found someone who will put up with you like I do…where’s my proposal? CarlosSainz55: You’re not as pretty as her. 🤷 LandoNorris: A dagger to the heart😭

Comments have been limited.

Y/N'susername 6 March 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and 198, 379 more Working hard or hardly working? The first option. Tagged: Francisa.cgomes and CarlosSainz55 Comments:

CarlosSainz55: Missing you so much already, mi futura esposa. Y/N’susername: I haven’t been this far away from you since we met😭

Francisca.cgomes: Already having so much fun with you!

Francisca.cgnomes: @CarlosSainz55, you’re all she talks about ✋ Y/N’susername: Nooo, don’t expose me😭

Comments have been limited.

The cold air hits your face, you don’t remember Paris being this cold. It doesn’t help that the dress you’re being fitted with doesn’t do much for heat. You pull the coat you’d been given closer to your body. It’s luckily big, Dior doesn’t want any paparazzi seeing their opening outfit.

You’re exhausted, it’s two days before fashion week starts. You’ve been pulled into a million places, auditions, fittings, rehearsals and everything in between. The cold air makes you crave a cigarette so badly. Not only that, you miss Carlos more than anything. You haven’t seen him in a month. You call almost every night, but it still isn’t enough. When he’s busy, you’ll play the Ferrari video again. He isn’t himself, but it is close enough.

You can hear someone calling your name but assume that it’s the same people who have been calling you all day. That is of course, until someone grabs you from behind and turns you around to face them.

Your fight or flight kick in before you can even see who it is. Your arms flail and your legs kick in all different directions. Not really caring for the pins stabbing into your side. Where are Otis and Brutis when you truly need them?

“Y/N, Y/N! C'est moi! C’est moi!” You know that voice, you know that accent, you know these strong arms. Your kicking stops, but your screaming doesn’t. “Bérenger! Let go of me, you fucker!” He does, he drops you right as you are. You don’t even turn to him, your bare feet hit the pavement with some speed. Before you can even open the door again, he stops you once more.

He calls you again, but this time you turn to him with fury. “Don’t you remember? I’m a whore, and a slut who sleeps with pedos?” You can see your brother bite the inside of his cheek. “What? You were so opinionated when Jean was disowning me! Now, you have nothing to say?” You scoff at his utter silence, but it doesn’t last long.

“Nothing I say will make you believe me, so I’ll just show you.” He pulls out a phone and shows you an image. “What the fuck is this?” He sighs at you refusing to even look at his phone. “It’s a picture of Carlos at the restaurant where you worked, three months before you actually met.” You trusted him, just as you had trusted Jas and Ilsa and told him everything.

Now you regret it more than anything. You look, and you recognised those booth seats and plates, you’d seen them so many times before. You shrug, “May be, but it could be chalked up to coincidence. What are you even trying to say?” His jaw locks and then he swipes to the right, then again and again and then he hands you the phone telling you to do the same.

“Bérenger, what am I looking at?” He still looks on edge but continues to explain. “I hired a private detective. He found this on Carlos’ cloud.” Now you laugh at him, “That’s not possible. I’ve looked at Carlos’ pictures before, and I’ve never seen these photos before.” You go to leave, thinking he’s just lying to hurt you again.

“His phone, yes! But not his laptop, not his PC, and not his cloud.” It’s true, yes. “What would these photos even mean?” You cross your arms, finally allowing him to speak. “He’s been stalking you, can’t you see? Months before you even met and he has hundreds of photos of you!”

This catches your attention. You sigh, and shake your head, trying to make sense of what he is saying. “Please, Y/N, you’re my sister. All our siblings missed you so much over Christmas. The girls were so excited to see you got engaged and couldn’t believe their ears when I told them what happened.”

This hits you in the stomach. It has to be wrong. He has to be lying. Or else your whole world will truly become crumbling down. More than ever before. “Is, is that all?” He shakes his head repeatedly.

“No, no there’s so much more.” How could there ever possibly be more than stalking? “I have to go, but I have just one day off tomorrow before a hectic week. Here’s my hotel room, we’ll talk.”

Your heart is racing in your ears, you don’t really listen to the people talking to you. You just sit in the makeup chair, trying to keep your stomach from twisting and turning. It has to all be lies, right? He must just be trying to get in your head, to hurt you even more. But, if you truly believed that it's all lies, why would have you agreed to meeting him?

The ringing hits your ear, not panic ringing but your phone. Your hands shake seeing Carlos’ name on your phone. For a fact, you know that if you don’t answer, he is going to worry all day. You don’t want that, he’s your fiancé! But, does he really love you or are his jokes more the truth. Each time he tells you he’s obsessed with you, flies through your mind.

Was he being honest with you? Waiting for you to realise? You turn airplane mode on and the phone goes quiet.

Then there’s also the option of your brother lying. After all, he didn’t defend you that night. He didn’t leave with you when your parents kicked you out. In fact, he made it even worse. He called you and Carlos horrible names and haven’t tried to reach out.

Now you wish Kika was with you on this Dior shoot to help you think all this out.

“You have 10 minutes because 10 minutes is all you gave me.” You both sit down on the balcony of your hotel room. You show him the 10-minute timer on your phone and as soon as the clock starts ticking he begins talking. “I don’t need ten minutes. I can tell you all you need to know now.” You don’t say a word, allowing him to continue.

“Carlos paid us a million euros to disown you.”

He doesn’t even say another word, clearly he can see you spinning. “What?” He nods and then pulls out his phone. Your eyes don’t deceive you. Nothing is truer than the image of your parents sitting on the porch of their new mansion. Bright smiles are on their faces. He swipes to the next photo and you see your siblings being spoiled with lavish gifts.

Now you’re glad that you’re sitting down. Your heart rate has skyrocketed, and you can’t help but look around at everything you now own. The million-euro ring on your finger feels much heavier than ever before. Suddenly you feel exhausted, and a throbbing headache makes itself known. Your throat is dry and your eyes burn with tears.

“No, no, this…this is edited. It must be.” The sun feels too bright and your chest feels too tight. What else is left for you, if you don’t have Carlos? Yes, you have Kika and Alex, but if you lose Carlos you lose them too.

You’ve kicked your friends out of your life. You don’t have your family anymore. He’s it. Carlos is the only real stable person in your life. His family, his friends, they’re the only people you have.

Your brother panics, he pours you a glass of water and you swallow it with one big gulp. What’s even worse than having no one but him, is you realise that that is what he wanted. He wanted himself to be the only one in your life. For you to be isolated and depend on him and only him. He’s used his influence and his money to remove your friends, your family, your job and your person.

“Ilsa? Jasmine? Did he…?” Bérenger nods before you can even finish your sentence. It confirms your thoughts. “There’s more…” he pours you another glass of water. “He planned your meeting. We searched and we couldn’t find a single article of any mob or crazy fans that whole day. We looked in further… and found out that he paid your old boss to make sure you ended up in that ally on that day.”

What?

He's obsessed. He's crazy.

Then the contract enters your mind. NDA. Non-disclosure agreement. Is this why he had you sign it? You thought it was just a safety concern for Ferrari. To make sure they don’t lose any sponsors or something like that. Now you see it’s to protect himself. All just to make sure you don’t say a word. Because if this gets out, he’ll lose everything. He’d be in an even worse position than you.

“Bérenger. You need to leave.” His brows furrow together. “I have photos of that too if you don’t believe me. Recordings, audios, you name it.” You shake your head.

“No, no. I signed an NDA. You aren’t allowed to know any of this. He could sue you into oblivion. He could…” Memories of him saying he’d have people fired. The look in his eye when he would tell you what would happen.

He doesn’t move. “No, no. You’re my sister. He can sue me all he wants.” You shake your head, over and over. Standing up on your wobbly legs. Trying to push his huge body from the seat. “He’ll do worse. Much worse, I’m sure.” His eyes go big at your reaction. “Leave. Now.” He sighs and then takes your phone and puts in his new number.

“If you need me. For anything. Message me, call me.” You can only nod. “Be careful. Don’t let the guards see you looking anything but normal.” Then you realise, they’d likely already told Carlos that Bérenger has visited. “Turn your location off. Don’t use the same road twice. His reach is far. Be careful.”

Your mind is reeling. Should you call him or wait for him to call you? If he does call you, should you lie? Pretend you don’t know anything and then buy a plane ticket with your own money? How would you even get to the airport without the guards? If you leave now, you’ll lose all your modelling jobs. Everything you’d been working hard for. Your dreams, you’d be throwing your dreams down the drain.

The phone rings, and you see his name on your screen. Your hands shake as you answer the phone. You don’t hear anything and can’t even speak. “¿Mi amor?” He asks through the phone, sounding just so innocent. ‘My love’. Are you really his love or just something he owns? Like some watch he’s crazy about.

You go to speak, but your throat fails you. Sobs echo through the hotel room. “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.” Your tears become more, he was so perfect. Too perfect. “What did you do?” Your voice is just above a whisper but you can hear him shift on the other end.

He chuckles, thinking it’s some sort of prank. “What are you talking about? Don’t mess with me now. You didn’t call me back yesterday. I was worried sick.” Each of his words are like knifes into your heart. “Bérenger told me everything.” It’s such a struggle to even speak. “And you believe him?” He doesn’t even ask what Bérenger told you. It just confirms it more to you.

“He showed me the photos, Carlos.” You can hear him curse in Spanish on the other side. “Carlos, I loved you, how could you do this to me?” You pull your legs close to your chest, some sort of protection. It doesn’t stop your heart pounding. “And you still do. You still love me, don’t you mi amor? You told me, I’d never get in trouble with you.”

You scoff at his pleas. “That’s before I found out that you paid my parents to disown me!” He scoffs the same as you had. “You say that as if you loved them because they didn’t love you. Think about it, mi amor, they took the money, didn’t they? If they loved you they would’ve kicked me out there and then. But they didn’t.”

He’s right. Who would be so evil as to give up their own daughter, just like that? Clearly, you never really meant much to them. Why are you caring now? He must sense you coming to this realisation.

“I did it for you. I hate the way they made you feel. Weren’t they so cruel? They would hurt you over and over and I couldn’t stand it. Shouldn’t my love be a good enough reason?”

Another cry courses through you. It’s quiet for quite a bit, just the sound of your crying. You can hear the shuffling before he speaks. “We’re hoping on the plane now. Don’t go anywhere.” This just makes your cries worse. “No, no, please. You can keep everything. The car, the jewels, the clothes anything. Just, please don’t hurt me. Or my family.”

You can hear his footsteps stop. “No, no, mi amor. You know I’d never hurt you. Don’t you?” You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re shaking and your cries become too much. “Don’t do anything rash. We’ll be there tomorrow.” You throw the phone across the bed, wanting to be as far away as possible from it.

Without even thinking, you throw open the door and face your bodyguards. They don’t even turn to you. “Who are you two loyal to? Me or Carlos?” They don’t say anything, like always. You pluck on Otis’ sleeve, he’s shorter and you’ve him smile…once but once is enough for you to reach out. “If Carlos comes for me, trying to take me, who will you go with?”

You can see him gulp and his face soften. “Carlos will not hurt you.” His words are soft and it’s the first time either of them has spoken of you. You scoff and jump on the balls of your feet.

“Answer the question.” You can see he bites his tongue. “We are paid to protect you, from everyone. But also to report everything you do to Carlos.” It’s Brutis who speaks, you both seem shocked.

“Thank you,” it’s all you say before closing the door. You grab your phone again and call your assistant slash publicist slash just about everything. “Y/N, hello beautiful, what can I do for you?” Her voice is always chirpy but it quickly changes when you ask her what would happen if you didn’t show up to any of your shows.

She chuckles, clearly incredibly nervous by your sudden change of heart. “You’d be blacklisted. Not showing up to Dior? As the opener? Yeah, word will spread and you won’t get another runway job again. Why do you ask?” You can hear her panic about her job. “I signed an NDA.” It’s all you say, you don’t want anyone else’s life being ruined.

You sit back down on the bed. Now you need to think clearly. Why exactly is your brother telling you all this? It can’t be to protect you, because if that was the case then he would’ve done exactly as Carlos said. If he really did care about you, he would’ve tried harder.

Bérenger would’ve told him no, beat Carlos’ ass. But he didn’t, so clearly he doesn’t care too much about you.

So why did he bring this to you? Why else but to hurt you and your relationship. Force a break between you and Carlos. To make sure to ruin your connection with him, so that you’d lose the love of your life. Not only that, but you lose everything. Your new family, the Sainz, your new friends, Alex and Kika, and your career.

You’ve dreamed of tomorrow all your life. To walk down that runway, with all those cameras flashing and people screaming. Your wildest dream was walking for someone like Dior. As a little child, you’d wear your mother’s clothes and put on a little runway show for your siblings. It was one of the few times they’d show some sort of interest.

When you were cooking, you’d always imagine being on a show. Explaining in great detail what you're making and people would love it. People would love you. That’s what you’ve always wanted if you really think about it. To be adored and obsessed over. And that’s what Carlos has given you. He’s given you a world where this is a reality.

You peek behind the curtain and look at all those seats. Then you look at the window outside and see the incredibly long line of people. Much more than the seats put out. An hour. One whole hour before you walk the runway for the very first time. Now just any runway, the Christian Dior runway.

Yes, you spend weeks practising your model walk. You’ve rehearsed this runway three times now. Your outfit is perfect, your hair is perfect, all you’re waiting for now is makeup, jewellery and touch ups. But you can feel your heart in your ears. Yes, you’ve wanted this all your life but now that it’s here, you feel like throwing up.

All those people, watching your every move. They’ll know if you’re breathing too heavily, if you're walking too fast, you’re certain that they can smell fear. And boy are you scared. What if you slip and fall. Then again, Naomi Campbell fell on the runway and that became an iconic moment. But are you as iconic as her? Could you ever live up to her?

What if you sneeze and the whole dress bursts open? What if the dress just falls apart as you walk, leaving you naked for everyone to see? You’d be the laughingstock of the model world. Never again seen on the runway, doomed to forever be remembered as the girl whose dress fell apart. Or the girl who was far too unprofessional for the runway.

“Are you okay?” The makeup artist’s voice snaps you out of your hyperventilation. Your thoughts are torn between two very important things. But really they come together for one big thing, your future. And one question affects both things. Do you still want to be with Carlos? “Yeah, sorry. My mind is just all over the place. Very nervous, my first show.” You shrug and she smiles.

“What usually helps when you're nervous?” His name instantly pops into your mind. “My fiancé. He’s always been my rock.” There hasn’t been a moment since you met him that he hasn’t been there for you. If that’s due to an obsession or love, does it really matter? What really is the difference? What if love isn’t enough for you?

Your parents claimed to love you. Your friends claimed to love you. You claimed to love your job. But all three of those are lost at just the mention of money. Not Carlos. To him, money wasn’t even an object. He didn’t care if you got your new shoes dirty or never wore something his money bought. Because to him, there’s always more money but not more of you.

“Speaking of…” the make-up artist’s eyes glance to one of the side entrances. His hair is always something you notice first. You hope he never loses it, even if he goes completely grey. Then it’s the crinkle in his brow, he’s always so worried. Then the way his eyes scan the room, always looking for you. It’s not that he always wants you by his side, it’s just that he wants you safe.

He’s by your side before you can even blink. His hands fit into yours, and like always you reach for the other. “Mi amor, please let me explain.” He’s down on his knees, opening himself up to vulnerability. So many people here could take a photo at any time. But he doesn’t care, he just thinks about you and keeping you.

“Carlos, I can’t do this.” His eyes go big and he shakes his head. “No, no please mi amor. I love you, I can’t lose you. I know some actions to protect you might have been a bit… unorthodox but it all came out of love.” You chuckle and kiss his forehead. “I know and you’re right. Good riddance, I mean. If they gave me up that easily, for that little amount, then I’m better off without them.”

His face lights up and he gives you his charming smile. “You mean it?” You nod and smile, “What I can’t do, is this show. Ask Ava here, I’ve been hyperventilating this whole time. I’m sure she’s so annoyed with me.” The girl gives an uncomfortable chuckle, likely more worried about her job than yours.

He stands up and rubs your shoulders. “Don’t worry, handle it like you do the paparazzi. Because you handle it better than any celebrity that I’ve ever seen.” He holds back your hair, keeping it out of Ava’s way, still gentle enough not to ruin the style. You laugh, it feels like so long ago now, your first real encounter with fans.

“Will you be watching?” “Of course, imagine it’s just me in the audience. Just you and me.”

“Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Junior, ¡ven aquí ahora mismo o llamaré a tu padre! Quieres decepcionar a papá? Porque si lo haces no podrás venir más a las carreras.” I can’t help but laugh, hearing my wife scold my eldest.

He’s likely run off again trying to find me or Lando or even Charles. It’s nice to hear her speak Spanish. As soon as we found out she was pregnant, she began learning immediately. And she picked it up quick.

“I am shaking in my boots.” Her eyes shine seeing me. Clearly, she’s tired, but still, she is glowing. “Papa!” The little man runs up to me at full speed. His Ferrari shirt is still too big for him at four. But he does insist he’s a big many and doesn’t need the baby sizes. “Are you being naughty? Didn’t I say we must always listen to Mama?”

His wide smile falls, “I’m sorry, papa,” I hate seeing him upset like this. But he does need to know that what she says goes. “You know what they say, happy wife happy life.” Charles comes up behind me, tickling Junior making him cry out in giggles. He then greets Y/N and picks up one of the twins. Also tickling his feet as the other is as always perched on my wife’s hip.

“Aw man, this is why I love the Spanish GP so much,” Charles comments and I can hear my beautiful wife laugh again. “What? To admire my family?” He nods with a smile, “You know it.” I can’t help but shake my head. “Ai, no, get your own.” Charles just rolls his eyes at my shenanigans before he is called away.

I place Junior down, telling him to sit tight. I then bend down and rub her swollen belly. “How are you, mi amor? How is our girl treating you?” She sighs and her fingers find my hair.

“She’s much nicer to me than these two were. But you know how it is when we get to the eight month mark.” I coo and kiss her head. I love seeing her swollen like this. Hands full with our children, in the role I have chosen for her.

“What’s on your mind?” She’s so warm and I just can’t keep anything from her. When she wasn’t pregnant it was hard to say no. Now, it’s basically impossible. “I think I should retire…” Her brows furrow and her bottom lip pops out. It’s no wonder where Junior gets it from. “I have a championship behind my back and this year is looking like another…”

She shrugs and then nods, “You’re his hero, you know? I just don’t want to break that bubble for him.” I sigh, placing my head on her round stomach. The baby kicks my chin and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m 38, mi amor, my contract ends this year. I don’t want to miss more of my kids growing up.” She holds my face in her hands, this is what I imagine heaven would be like.

“I’ll support you all the way.” I nod and give her a kiss. She pulls Elija, the youngest closer to her. They’re just over a year old. “Look who’s the main breadwinner now.” Elija just babbles on as a reply. This is more than enough for me.

She’s mine, all mine. Three beautiful kids with one on the way. A championship to my name. There is nothing else I could want.

The End.

I just want to quickly add, that this story was written before the Epstein list came out. If the mention of Noami Campbell is too much, please, please tell me so, so that I can delete the mention of her immediately. But like,,,, I'm just a girl and idk what to do 🤷 please tell me what to do😭 Okay, love you bye <3

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

100 notes · View notes

yawnzzznnn · 6 months

Note

Hi can I request &Team nicholas and Maki as boyfriend headcanon Version. I really loved your K one. Thank you 😄😁😃

Y'all I-

Can you resend the ask...I'm so sorry 😭

This the second time I do this please

10 notes · View notes

andscene-if · 3 months

Text

jadedbugsx: when will celebs understand that we don’t want their talentless nepo babies taking over smh

↳ nik9l2s00: some of them are kinda good tho….

↳ jadedbugsx: that’s not the point though..? Ask yourself, if they had to audition like most under recognised actors, would they still have gotten the role??

natty_danielz: oh we're so on. nepo baby rights??? Let’s goooooooo

alvarezs_sexyback: HELP IDK IF I WANNA BE [MC] OR BE WITH THEM🤡

↳ alvarezs_sexyback: on second thought, i'll have both🤭💅🏽

hating_is_free101: congrats I won't be watching this! fuck you [MC]

p.ryderordie: noooo what a shitshow PHOENIX RYDER DESERVED THAT ROLE FFS

melissacarsten100: Wow I love when they all sing like that. Their voices are beautiful!

↳ justagirllll: lol what

↳ max4214: ignore it it's a fucking bot.

yhgtswel98: mommy and daddy's money really get you far in hollywood huh😐 what a joke

↳ jadore.mc: u guys are so bitter, everyone deserves a chance and i'm sure [MC] will be lovely, and hit it out of the park! we love you [MC], ignore the haters 🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️ (please come to Paris!!)

↳ yhgtswel98: they don't know you weirdo

kelseyspriv9: tbf as long as nepo babies just own it and don't talk about how their last name made it 10000x harder for them i don't see the problem with [MC]. but istg if they say some shit like "i had to work just as hard as everyone else" then imma be mad fr

↳ 3l3nawood: finally some sense, i agree.

↳ missayeshamonroe: right lmao everyone's so butthurt, like they wouldn't do the exact same if they were rich and famous

celebwardrobes2: check out my socials @celebwardrobes we've made some posts about [MC]!!!! xx

havlco: cmon people, there family has been in the business for decades, did you rlly expect them to go work at your local grocers or something?? be so serious rn💀

↳ moody_boy03: it's their not there🙃

↳ thecourtneyprice: well no but it's unfair af. i've been acting on and off, and it's so frustrating working so hard and then loosing to those celeb kids that never had to struggle a day in their life

↳ _celygirlie: life ain't fair babe🥲 we'll just have to see how they perform ig

. ↳ thecourtneyprice: no need, I can tell you right now: shit

#PinkCelebTea #L Alvarez #MC #Phoenix Ryder #comments

116 notes · View notes

eyelessfaces · 1 year

Text

wine stain

llewyn davis x reader

hi I started writing this in october but never actually finished it and I thought it was kinda good when I reread it but I hated the plot so I changed it. anyways I hope you like it! also please note that this is my first time writing detailed smut in ages and I'm very insecure about it so please be indulgent :(

summary: life isn't fair to llewyn, but the man isn't quick to give up. an audition in chicago might change his life forever, and it does, but not the way he expected it to.

warnings: smut (minors dni!!), unprotected piv, oral sex, language (they swear a lot), alcohol consumption, smoking. mentions of pregnancy and abortion, one tiny joke about it. I am pro-choice and I don't want to offend anyone so if it bothers you just don't read this ffs.

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers, mutual pinning, llewyn is insecure asf and believes he doesn't deserve anything good, fucking oblivious idiots in love

word count: 5.7k (this is the longest thing I've ever written.)

Hot smoke escapes Llewyn’s cup of coffee, subtly mixing with the intoxicating smoke of the cigarette he holds between his fingers. You watch as the smoke goes up in the air, disappearing at the same level of his crumpled shirt collar. You desperately want to get up and fix it. You look away from it and sigh before talking.

“Spill the beans. I know this isn’t a casual cafe meeting. Or what Jean would call our ‘definitely not dates’ or whatever.” you say sinking into your chair, crossing your arms. “What do you want. Need. Same thing” you ask, watching him blow out his smoke as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“There’s no good answer is there?” he chuckles, licking his lips awkwardly when he sees that you’re not reacting to his poor attempt at a joke. “I need money.” he continues, lowering his voice. He leans forward and looks at you sternly. “Listen I hate asking you for this, but if I could do otherwise I wou-”

"Seriously? You’re still not getting anything?” you cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

His face relaxes, and he contorts it to a frown again.

“Believe me I’ve harassed Mel, it’s a miracle he’s not kicking me out. Only real money I get is from the gigs and saying it’s not enough is an understatement.” he huffs out, looking around the barely crowded cafe. “Please. I really need it. I’ll make it up to ya.” he pleads, looking back at you.

You roll your eyes when you think about the extra hours you’ll have to do to be able to pay your rent, but it’s Llewyn, and you care about him, so it’s…

“...Fine.”

Llewyn nods, weakly smiling at you.

“Thank you baby. Thank you” he nods fervently, thankful. “I would also need a place to crash at tonight…” he whispers with a sour face, knowing that it may be too much to ask you at once.

You chuckle and give him a wave of your hand. “Whatever. But you’re taking me out once you have enough money” you say tilting your head forward, pointing at him.

“Sure thing.” he smiles. “Thank you dove.”

You send him a quick smile before hiding it with your cup of coffee.

A thought occurs and you lick your lips in reflection as you put the cup down on its saucer.

“Abortion?” you ask abruptly, and he looks back at you with a startled face.

“What?”

“Is that why you need money? Again?” you clarify.

His confused face relaxes and he chuckles with a frown.

“It’s nice of you to assume I’m getting laid.” he chuckles, scratching the end of his cigarette in the ashtray.

You shrug. “I don’t know. You’re a hot talented musician after all” you say with a smirk, elbow planted on the table and chin resting on your palm. “Makes everyone faint”

He snorts. “Come on. Not when the hot talented musician is homeless and a dick” he pinches his lips in a skeptic smile.

“Yeah well that’s just you. And I don’t see anything wrong here” you smile, and Llewyn clears his throat.

“Well Jean told me it’d be a favor to people if I never fucked anyone ever again so I’m taking advice” he affirms, eyebrows raised as he brings his own cup of coffee to his mouth.

“Jean’s a bitch” you spit, crossing your arms and leaning back into your chair.

He chuckles and smiles.

“That’s no news.” he smiles. “Hum... The reason I need money is because I need to go to Chicago for an audition.”

“Chicago?” you ask, startled that he needs to go so far away.

“Yeah. Chicago.” he affirms, and looks through the window. It’s pouring and the wet road reflects the light of one small ray of sunshine passing through the clouds.

“You’re fucking kidding me” you scoff. “Don’t tell me it’s an audition with that Bud Grossman guy” you sigh, slowly shaking your head.

Llewyn doesn’t answer and just looks back at you with a small pinched smile. You sigh. “When is it?”

“I’d need to leave tomorrow. It’s a pretty long ride” he affirms sinking in the back of his chair.

“No shit” you chuckle before taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s a whole ass trip.”

He nods and reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the table. You grab it before he can and he’s on the verge of calling you out for it but you speak before he can.

“You just finished smoking one. You smoke too much. Slow down.” you advise him putting down your cup of coffee, and he instantly rolls his eyes.

“Oh please.” he huffs. “Come on” he pleads, frowning.

You put the pack in your coat pocket and he sighs before laying further against the back of his chair.

His look darts to the window again. Few people are passing by and the rare ones that do are all protected by an umbrella and a raincoat. He’s just glad he’s crashing at your place tonight and not roaming around the whole city to look for a place to stay in this weather.

“You’re gonna kill this.”

“Mh?” he asks absent-mindedly, still looking outside.

“Your audition. You’re so talented Llewyn. The trip is worth it” your words make him look back at you immediately, a small gap forming between his lips.

He wants to tell you that you don’t need to do that for him. That you don’t need to be so positive because he somehow always ends up fucking everything up. He really does. But at the same time he doesn’t think he’s ever felt his heart beat so fast.

“My first groupie!” he exclaims, unsure of how to respond wholeheartedly, instead using sarcasm as it’s what he does best. “Here it is.”

“Fuck you you asshole” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Come on, I'm just messing with you” he scoffs. “Thank you for believing in me. You’re amazing” he nods and smiles. “You’re probably the only one that believes in me anyways.”

You weakly smile back at him. God you just wished this would work out for him. It’s all you ever wanted for him, truly.

“Can I get my cigarettes back now ?” he asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes and huff out a laugh before throwing the pack of cigarettes at him.

—

You gasp as you feel two arms wrap around your waist. You close your eyes with a sigh once your brain processes everything, and the corners of your mouth turn upwards.

“You scared me you moron. Nice shower?" you ask, still looking at the cooking pot in front of you.

Llewyn smiles as he nuzzles your hair.

“You have no idea. Probably the best shower I’ve had in ages” he affirms, his thumb caressing your clothed stomach. The gesture makes your heart skip a beat, but you quickly brush the thought off. You can’t think of him that way. “What you cookin’?” the question tears you out of your thoughts.

“Franks and beans. It’s a good thing you were able to come out of this bathroom, we’re eating soon.” you announce, stirring in the pot with the spatula.

“Awesome” he groans. “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight. The hell would I do without you” he sighs, and leans to quickly kiss your cheek.

You close your eyes and smile once again.

“Come on, go set the table. It’s ready soon” you affirm as you throw your chin towards the table.

“‘kay chief” he throws as he opens the cabinet where you keep your plates.

You eat while drinking some wine and end the evening watching The Seventh Seal, your head quickly ending up resting over Llewyn’s shoulder. You can feel yourself drift off to sleep as the end credits appear, and get up from the couch before you actually pass out on it and on Llewyn.

“Imma head to bed” you mumble sleepily, grabbing one of your plaids to hand it to Llewyn. “Goodnight” you tiredly say as he takes the plaid before you turn around to leave for your bedroom.

“Hey. I’ll probably be gone by the morning.” he declares as he gets up from the couch, leaving the plaid hanging on the armrest. “So I’ll just say it now. Thank you for the money and the food.” he says as he walks up to you, hands buried in his slacks pockets. “And the couch, and for everything you’re doing for me in general. I really appreciate it. I love you.”

You endearingly smile at him, reaching to gently stroke his wrist with your thumb.

“Good luck. I’ll be waiting for you. I love you”

—

When you come back home from work later than usual because of traffic three days later, Llewyn is curled up on your couch, asleep.

Your apartment is bathed in darkness and you watch his sleeping figure as you take off your shoes and coat before walking to him, kneeling next to him by the couch.

You reach to turn on the lamp on the side table next to your couch, looking back at him and finally being able to see his peaceful state. You smile to yourself as soft snores escape his slightly agape mouth and his usual grumpy expression is long gone, and you kinda feel like a creep for watching him sleep but truthfully he looks like an angel and you feel bad for having to wake him up.

You gently thread your fingers through his raven curls, softly calling his name, and he slowly opens his eyes, hazily sitting up and rubbing his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck” he curses under his breath. “Shit I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch. Sorry”

“That’s okay” you reassure him, smoothing your hand along his forearm. “How was Chicago?” you ask him softly, and he suddenly chuckles and shakes his head.

“Shitty.” he declares. “Useless.”

The blank that fills the air in your apartment is overwhelming. You get up from your knees and sit next to him on the couch, propping your elbow onto the back of the couch, your hand holding your head. “I’m sorry” you pinch your lips in an empathetic smile. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No. Yeah. I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter anyways” he smiles tiredly as he looks up at you.

“If you wanna talk about it I’m all ears, and if you don’t that’s okay, you don’t have to.”

He sighs and rubs his eyes again. “It’s just… It was all for nothing.” he huffs out. “All I do to try to make it work is always for nothing at the end.” You swear you hear your heart crack at that moment. “Grossman advised me to get back with Mike when I told him I used to have a partner.” he scoffs.

You chuckle and shake your head in dismay. “Well that’s gonna be complicated” you say as you raise your eyebrows. “What a fucking moron” you mumble as you get up from your couch, going to the kitchen.

“I don’t wanna defend him but he couldn’t know” he declares as he follows you, leaning his side against the wall as you grab two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“I’m not exclusively talking about that. He’s a fucking moron for rejecting you” you say as you turn back to him, handing him the glass. He takes it and shrugs and you sigh as you fill it. “How many copies of your record would I have to buy to make you rich?”

He laughs before taking a sip of the wine, and he raises his eyebrows in amusement.

“You ending up homeless in your turn isn’t the point sweetheart” he says as he watches you pouring yourself some wine before leaving the bottle on the counter.

“I just want you to be okay.” the words weakly escape your mouth as you walk back to your living room, and his eyes light up at your words. God, if only you knew how much it meant to him that you wanted him to be okay, if only you knew how much you meant to him.

“Don’t worry about me angel. I’ll just go back to merchant marines” he sighs as he sits down on your couch.

You look down at him with empathetic eyes and take a sip from your glass before putting it down on the coffee table. “It’s gonna be okay” you tell him sitting down next to him, mostly trying to convince yourself. Truth is you rely a lot on how he feels.

He hums absent-mindedly, gaze lost in the void of your living room and leans to put his glass down too before shifting to face you and taking your hand in his.

You look down at his hand, slowly and softly tracing his skin with your thumb.

“Llewyn” you whisper looking back at him, pushing away the curls falling over his face, threading your hand through the unruly dark curls.

He sighs softly as he looks up and down between your eyes and lips before his hands frame your face as his lips press over yours with more force than he had expected, like his eagerness to kiss you took over him.

He’s not sure of his action and he’s fully convinced he has, once more, fucked another thing up like he always does as he doesn’t feel you moving, until he feels your hands join at his neck to bring him closer, deepening the kiss as you hum against his lips and as your tongues meet.

It’s all the both of you had always been wishing for; diluting this unspoken tension between you, finally acting upon it.

You shift to straddle his lap and he groans into your mouth as he pulls you closer by your hips, savoring every second of that kiss as if you’re going to slip through his fingers once you pull away, as if you’re going to regret all of this once it’s over.

You know there is no reality where you could ever regret this; you had fantasized of doing this for ages and it’s even better than you had imagined this before; the wine somehow tastes better when it’s on his tongue, and you can feel the faint taste of cigarette in his warm breath as his broad hands run up and down your body, his body heat radiating against you.

You unconsciously hump against him as you want to get even closer, and a moan escapes your mouth, the friction against him deliciously relieving the growing ache between your legs.

“Fuck, Llewyn” you gasp against his mouth as you look down at your clothed crotches, evidently feeling his erection twitching under you even through the layers of clothes.

“Sorry baby” he whispers as his mouth chases yours, his gaze on you drunk and wanting. “Can’t really help it” the chuckle he lets out changes into a gasp when your hand shifts to palm him through his pants.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” you ask teasingly, a grin adorning your face as you leave his lap to kneel at his feet. He looks down at you speechless as you fiddle with his belt. “I know a way to make you feel better about all of this” He’s dreaming. This can’t be real.

“Sure but angel you– wh– you don’t have to–” he babbles as you’re working on freeing him of his confined space.

“I want to” you declare as you take his cock out, and fuck he’s hard and he’s huge and the heat pooling at your belly is becoming more and more pronounced. “If it’s okay” you look up at him, raising your eyebrows awaiting approval.

“Of course it is but we can– you don’t have to– oh shit” his pleas die on his tongue as you take him in your mouth, softly sucking his head as your hand strokes him. “Oh fuck” he groans, his head hitting the back of your couch.

This is a dream, it all happened so fast and there’s no way it’s real, he’s having another one of those dreams with you he’s so ashamed of, you never woke him up from his accidental nap on your couch, he’s still sleeping and this is not actually happening.

Coming back to reality will be hard because fuck this feels so good and he’ll probably have to lock himself in your bathroom to actually get some relief once he wakes up.

He is confirmed of the realness of the situation when you grip the side of his thigh as if to tell him look at me while you softly lick the underside of him, shifting to trace every vein along his length, pre cum dripping from the head to coat your tongue.

“Is this okay?” you ask pulling away, the tip of your fingers still gently skimming his throbbing cock. He laughs at your question.

“Baby fuck–” he bucks into your hand after you swipe your thumb over his swollen tip. “Yes of course it’s okay” he chuckles as his hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone. “It’s more than okay” he declares as he looks down at you with lustful, dark half lidded eyes.

“Good” you smile up at him before sinking down and taking him fully at once without warning.

The moan that escapes his mouth is sinful and it makes you clench, and the light tug after his fingers shift to grip your hair goes straight to your cunt.

You take him as deeply as you can, going up and down, tongue swirling around him from time to time. His head falls back against your couch once again, and he squeezes his eyes shut as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Holy shit dove– I don’t think I’m gonna last long” he manages to breathe out between whimpers, tightening his free hand into a fist to prevent himself from cumming right then and there into your mouth.

Then you pull away and he groans.

“What the fuck?” he asks startled as you get up, leaving him twitching and wanting, the feeling of his approaching orgasm slowly fading away.

“Jeez stop being so impatient” you taunt as you start unbuttoning your trousers, and his expression is priceless once he realizes what you have in mind.

“Oh–” you teasingly smile at him and slide your trousers down your legs. “Baby it’s not that I don’t want to but I don’t have any condoms and I can pull out but you know how cursed I am with all of this and–”

“I’m clean and on birth control it’s okay Llewyn” you cut him off of his tirade as you step out of the trousers at your ankles, throwing them to the side. “If you don’t want to do that it’s okay, I can finish you off by–”

You’re cut off when he grabs you by the hips, pulling you closer to the couch he’s sitting on, and you know he’s in for the ride – quite literally – when his thumbs hook into the hem of your underwear to slide them down your legs. He does the same, fully taking off his slacks and underwear and throwing them over the armchair across your couch.

He looks up at you like you’re a goddess, and even though his dick is aching and begging for release he takes his sweet time gazing at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

You softly smile at him, brushing back the raven curls falling over his forehead, and giggles escape from your mouth when he unexpectedly drags you so you can straddle his lap.

He kisses all along your jawline, beard softly tickling your skin as he lavishes your neck next, his hands roaming along your curves, his right hand stopping between your thighs, two of his fingers gathering the slick of your folds.

“Shit– you’re fucking dripping” he breathes out against your neck, making you whimper at his touch. “Did you get that wet just from blowing me?” he teases, and you tug at the curls on the back of his head before reconnecting your lips to his, feeling him smirk against them.

Llewyn groans in your mouth as you wrap your fingers around his cock and slowly pump it, and he knows for sure that the gasp you let out when you slowly but easily sink down on his length will be engraved in his mind.

“Holy shit” you pant, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder once you’re fully seated on his throbbing length.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand anchored at your hip and the other one softly trailing up your bare back underneath your shirt.

“Yeah” you breathe out, frantically nodding against him as your arms wrap around his neck, and you slowly start rocking your hips. The little whimpers he lets out are music to your ears, and the way he softly gasps your name has you clenching around him.

“Fuck angel you’re so fucking tight” Llewyn hisses, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as you thrust down on him, finally finding a steady pace that leaves the both of you sweating and panting, clinging to each other. “Taking me so fucking well” he grunts against the exposed skin of your neck, the roughness of his beard tickling the sensitive area. Tugging on his hair so he can look back at you, his hips jerk up, and you pull him in for a hungry kiss.

Of course he would like you pulling on his hair.

Happy with the reaction it elicited from him and the information you just got, your hands are gripping on his curls as you roll your hips against him. He practically fucks his tongue into your mouth, and you almost choke into the kiss when his thumb meets and massages your clit in small circles.

You gasp his name, and his hand that was stroking your back earlier is now tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as he drinks in the sight of you using him for your pleasure.

“Wanna make you cum first” his voice is rough and deep with lust, and the way you bite on your lower lip as you slightly flutter around him because of his words seem to encourage him; his grip against your hips becomes more and more firm and controlling, his pelvis thrusting up into you with a force that you hadn’t expected from him, his movements meeting yours and making you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Fucking hell Llewyn” it comes out as a sigh, but if the walls of your apartment weren’t so thin you would have at least screamed it.

You know he won’t have much work to do as you can already feel yourself nearing your climax; it’s all starting to become too much, but the good kind of too much.

You gasp in surprise when Llewyn manhandles you with the force you ignored he still had from his merchant marines days and knocks over one of the glasses of wine on the coffee table, the liquid pouring all over the surface and dripping down onto your wooden floor.

“Shit Llewyn” you gasp, pushing your nails deeper into his arms.

It’s honestly a miracle you managed not to fall and you back landed on the couch correctly.

The mission isn’t a complete success, but you’re too caught up in the moment to stop because of some stupid wine so you just manage to tell him “Fuck it just keep going” while wrapping your legs around his waist so he keeps going, even more fervently.

You’re now laying on your couch, Llewyn hovering over you and hitting deeper spots inside of you, each movement faster than the previous one; the wet sounds between your legs are lewd and get even filthier each time he pounds into you.

He’s close. You can see it, you can feel it by the way his thrusts stutter slightly.

His head tilts down to where you’re connected, watching himself disappear inside of you, bringing his hand to you clit again.

“Fuck are you gonna cum for me baby?” he asks, his voice dripping with lust and desire as he toys and rubs circles over your aching clit.

You whimper and hiss and cry his name as you get lost in the feeling of his fingers and his hips ramming further into you, all the tension in your body morphing into waves of pleasure as you reach your climax, fluttering around him and cumming in silent gasps.

Llewyn is quick to follow you as your orgasm was all he was waiting for to finally let himself go; his movements become sloppier and his hips start to stutter, his eyes finally rolling to the back of his head and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stills, his cock spurting his cum deep inside of you.

He grunts, and your head falls back into the couch as you feel drained of all your energy. Llewyn curses under his breath as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, panting, before pulling out and collapsing on top of you, his head resting against your chest.

You both catch your breaths, staying here for a while with your fingers softly running through his hair before you start blissfully laughing, all the tension and seriousness of the situation fading away.

He rests his head to the side, facing the scenery of the knocked over glasses still swaying over your coffee table. “Fucking hell your floor” he gasps before looking up at you, realizing the mess you have made with the wine.

“I’ll just put a rug over the stain I guess” you sigh. “It was worth it” you chuckle and lean down to kiss him. “I’m glad you didn’t take advice from Jean after all”

“What?” he asks, still dizzy from his climax.

“Not fucking anyone ever again, remember?” you ask and he laughs, getting up and walking to where he left his clothes to get dressed again.

“Yeah, well you better be consistent on your birth control because apparently my spermatozoids are warriors, and I wouldn’t want Jean to make a point” he chuckles as he slides into his slacks.

“We should be fine” you mutter while sitting up, reaching to pick your underwear from the floor. “I’ll call you if I need an abortion” you joke, standing up to put your underwear back on. “Ugh fuck” you whine picking up your trousers, seeing the wine stain covering it.

“I’ll help you clean and I’ll just… go” he mutters, scratching his forehead.

“Why do you wanna go” you ask absent-mindedly, walking to the kitchen to try to save your trousers from the wine stain.

“I don’t know” he declares following you into the kitchen before standing against your counter, hands gripping the edge of it. You look at him and he looks absent, livid, almost sick, and it is too much just for it to be his post-orgasm haze.

You frown, and when you realize why he might want to leave your heart breaks a little.

“Did I do or say something wrong?” you ask. Maybe the abortion joke was too much, maybe you got fooled and he was just horny and needed to let it out of his system and regretted it now. “Llewyn do you…” you fully turn towards him, searching for your words. “Do you think this was a mistake?” you ask looking back at him, letting the garment rest in the sink. “Us sleeping together?”

“Me? No” he scoffs. The tension hangs in the air as you’re waiting for him to elaborate. “I figured you would”

You sigh and take a step closer to him.

“Llewyn no… Why would I?” you chuckle, almost offended at the thought.

“I don’t know. Nothing I do is ever good so why would this be any different?” he shrugs, closing his belt.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and shaking your head.

“No. You’re a fucking idiot.” you mutter under your breath.

“I know.” he replies quickly, not wasting one second. He walks back to your living room, gathering his stuff to go, really wanting to avoid having a fight with you, and preparing to leave like he had planned to.

“I don’t mean it like that. You wanna know why you’re a fucking idiot?” you ask rhetorically, following him closely. “You think you’re not good enough for everything you do in life when truth is, you’re just really unlucky.” you declare, “And you act like a jerk because you’re scared of actually succeeding in something.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Well surely you’re right about that too” he scoffs, pulling out his cigarette pack from his pocket.

“Don’t smoke inside of my apartment” you hiss.

“I told you, I’m leaving.” he almost immediately snaps, putting the cigarette in his shirt pocket, taking his guitar case and his box of things, his coat thrown over it.

You sigh and put a hand over your forehead, and watch as he passes in front of you to go to your entry.

It is now or never, or else it will never be the same. Tonight you had taken a step forward, but by taking this step forward you had also taken two steps backwards, and if you didn’t try to save this now it would never be saved.

“Llewyn” you call, and something breaks inside him at the sound of your voice. You had never called his name so weakly, so pleadingly.

He turns and finally looks at you, establishing eye contact for more than five seconds for the first time since your sexual encounter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“I fucked this up too, didn’t I” he mutters, and you pinch your lips as it is your turn to shake your head as you step closer to him.

“No. No you didn’t.”

He looks down at the stuff he’s carrying and sighs.

“I don’t really wanna go.” he declares softly.

“Then stay,” you nod. “Please. I don’t want you to go.” you say as you take a step forward, taking the box from his hands. “If you leave I would need to run after you in just my shirt and underwear, and frankly I don’t want to do that” you smile slightly as you put his stuff down on the floor.

He laughs and puts the rest of his belongings on the floor too, and when he looks back at you he notices you’re still looking down on the floor, gaze lost in your thoughts.

“Honey is there–”

“Do you think sleeping together was a mistake?” you cut him off, looking back at him.

“No. Of course not. I’d do it again.” he declares. “I mean if–”

“I get it. Don’t worry” you chuckle.

A small silence fills the room before you get an idea.

“Hey, follow me” you say as you tilt your head. You cross your small apartment, Llewyn following you closely, grabbing your wrist as you push your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart I’d love to but I don’t think I can go again– I mean not right now”

“I’m not bringing you here to have sex again” you declare, a chuckle escaping your lips as you see his face relaxing and his hold on your wrist loosening up. You sit on the edge of your bed, and he watches you from a distance, leaning against the doorframe. “Come here” you call, patting the spot right beside you. Llewyn hesitantly sits beside you, and his gaze shifts to your face when you grab his hand.

“This could be your bed, if you wanted it to be.” The sound of your voice rings in his ears. “You wouldn’t have to sleep on my couch again. Or any other couch.” you declare, brushing back his unkempt hair, and he looks at the bed behind him as if to contemplate what he could have.

He looks back at you, and he knows that he knows his answer. He doesn’t hesitate for one second on what he would rather have, because if he could be by your side forever, he would be. But something inside of him is not sure if you want him to be by your side forever.

He nods. He nods and he licks his lips in reflection, and he looks back at the bed before looking back at you again. “I don’t want this to be exclusively sexual” he declares, squeezing your hand tighter.

“Me neither” you smile, a wide smile that makes his heart sink. You grab his face and kiss him, and he savors this kiss like it’s the last thing he’s ever going to do. But if kissing you was the last thing he’d do, he would be satisfied with that.

You pull away from his lips and lay down on the bed, and his hand rests against your bare thigh while he looks at you. And he looks at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He lays down next to you with a grunt, facing the ceiling, and you prop yourself against your elbow to face him.

“I’ll just ask you one thing” you declare, firmly looking at him.

“Mh?” he hums, looking at you.

You lick your lips and let your fingers trail along the side of his face.

“Stop thinking you don’t deserve anything good.” you whisper, and his face shifts so he can kiss the tip of your fingers.

“Eh, I’ll try,” he smirks, shrugging. You shake your head and lean down to kiss him again, but he hovers over you and pins you down before you have the chance to do it.

You laugh and he kisses you, hungrily, and shifts down to leave a trail of kisses to your neck and collarbone as a defeated sigh escapes your mouth.

“Okay so I’ll give you time to work on the imposter syndrome. But now we can only have sex if you promise me you won’t hate yourself after we’re done”

He pulls away from your skin, and looks up at you.

“I can do that.”

You spend a long night offering Llewyn your bed, the uncleaned stain of wine on your floor long forgotten.

But at least years later, when you’re engaged to Llewyn and packing to move out somewhere bigger and the time comes when you have to remove the rug, it reminds you of that specific night, and you can’t help the fluttering feeling of the butterflies in your stomach, accompanied right away by a tiny kick. The very first one.

—

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521

229 notes · View notes

trsrina · 2 years

Note

Hii idk if your request are on or if you do request but if you do can you do a Jo X reader when like someone is flirting with you

(can I be your 🐯 anon?) Tysm

HI YES my requests are open and ofc HI 🐯 ANON thanks for requesting 😭💗

BACK OFF &TEAM JO

written in second person pov, gender neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, high school au warning!! asshole who won’t take no as an answer, sexual harassment, protective jo? slight mention of food. wc : 577 words

“hey, excuse me, my friends and i saw you over there and we were wondering if we could get your number?”

you were currently outside the gate of your boyfriend’s school, waiting for him to bring you on your date.

people at jo’s school called you ‘the pretty student from the neighbouring school’, honestly you kinda liked the title.

you were spacing out, staring into space until some random student approached you with some bad intentions, interrupting your daydreaming.

“um, hello? pretty student from the neighbouring school?” the guy snapped his fingers in front of you, catching your attention and snapping you out of your thoughts.

“oh yeah, what is it? sorry,” you met eyes with a guy hungrily checking you out.

“i thought you were pretty hot and i want your number,” he bluntly said so, losing his patience, basically demanding you, handing you his phone.

“what? i have a boyfriend, sorry,” you were used to this, having multiple people doing this to you before but this guy was just too stubborn.

“oh come on, yeah i know, in fact everyone knows, you with your loser boyfriend who probably couldn’t treat you better than me, come on, let’s go hang out with my friends, i promise we’ll have a better time together,”

you were flabbergasted, this is the first time this has happened to you and you have no idea on what to do, the guy suddenly grabbed your hand, forcefully pulling you with him.

until your knight in shining armour arrived to save you, “hey, babe,” jo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him and away from that pervert, kissing you on the cheek.

everyone was basically staring at you three, desperate to know what was going on, murmuring amongst themselves.

“tsk, i was just trying to ask them for their number, what’s your problem,” the guy tsked, shamelessly acting like he did no wrong.

“don’t touch my significant other without their permission, people like you disgust me, back off before i report you to the teachers,” jo threateningly glared at the asshole.

it was the first time you saw this side of him. jo has always been more of a shy and puppy-like boyfriend, you usually took the lead in the relationship.

seeing him being protective and assertive certainly surprised you.

“god, it was just a joke, didn’t have to be so sensitive,” the guy finally left, still being so thick-skinned and feeling no shame. returning to his loser friends who seemed disappointed at him for failing the mission.

“are you alright? i swear those assholes are always like this,” jo worriedly held your shoulders to face you, smoothening your hair with love in his eyes.

“i’m fine, thank you for saving me, i would’ve kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine by now if you didn’t arrive,” you chuckled, brushing it off as a joke, not wanting to worry him even more.

“okay, where do you wanna go for our date today then?” his arm returning to your shoulders, lowering his head to match your height, walking you off the school grounds.

“hm, there’s this new waffle place nearby that i heard was so good, let’s go there?” you excitedly expressed your desire, looking into jo’s eyes, both of you melting at the eye contact.

“sure, lead the way.”

nfjsjfbsbdhw maybe i went too extreme and turned flirting into actual sexual harassment but so sorry yeah hope you liked this 🐯 anon 😭💗

feel free to interact, i’d really appreciate it if you liked or reblogged. <33 (tumblr’s algorithm is shit)

196 notes · View notes

nc-vb · 30 days

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞-𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Vergo, a seasoned actor who has won several awards and is always sought out by companies for their films, and you, an aspiring actor looking to get your name out in the world, meet at a party, and Vergo promises you the spotlight-- riches and fame can be yours... at the price of sex.

notes not back off my hiatus yet!! but this was a piece I wrote for the loverly @uminozerol 🥰 with her blessing, it has made it to the big screen (or, your phone screens, and if you've somehow decided to read ff on your tv screen, that's... a choice).

pairing -> actor!vergo x fem!actor!reader

warnings -> nsfw (18+, mdni), actor au, pw/p, piv sex "under contract", size difference (bc he's massive), oral sex (f!receiving), finger fucking, creampie; alcohol use (not involved w sexy times)

wc -> 5.6k

Contrary to mass naïve belief, the acting world isn’t all smiles and good times. Showing up to auditions and landing every role is a dreamer’s dream; personal sacrifice comes into play when desperation is present. The unspoken truth, the one hidden behind red painted doors to rooms with checkered floors…

But there’s a dark side to every industry.

The entertainment world, with its claws dug deep into society, dominates the public’s view of the world; only the most elite truly dictate what appears in the media, and, who. There’s nothing that speaks “power” like money does. A little investment goes a long way, but there are some actors and performers and entertainers who get away without needing that financial backing for their talents, raw and pure and whole; they do well on their own, beloved by the people.

And none of this has ever been a secret. It’s just something not many dare to tread on or over for fear of losing their own place under the LEDs. Fortunately for someone like you, a fresh-faced and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and all-too-eager to have your name known to and adored by the world. To have your skill acknowledged by the masses, to see them enjoy your work and laud about it to those who’ve yet to witness it for themselves-- it’s an honour like no other.

You’ve yet to fall on hard times from a lack of substantial work (small gigs, commercials and commercial voice overs, and a supporting role in a twelve-episode drama that wouldn’t be renewed for a second season in spite of an overwhelming positive response) but the drain on both your savings and your motivations as an aspiring actor had begun to weight heavy on your heart.

You had the skill set and the experience to be sought after as rookie talent— is there something you’ve been doing wrong? Certainly not even your manager is at fault; you’ve seen first hand just how hard they’ve been searching and fighting on your behalf.

If you could guess… it’d been your lack of networking. And, a lack of a network. You really were a rookie in that sense. All those roles were eaten up because of connections— entertainment is the industry of nepotism, after all. People who know people are how people get places.

You… knew this, too. Even in the beginning. It’s why you’re sitting in front of your vanity, face painted and already dressed in your black evening gown, second guessing everything you’d steeled yourself into doing tonight.

According to your manager, who’d heard through their own contacts, a huge networking event masquerading as a cocktail party was to be happening tonight, and she managed to surprise you with a ticket. A ticket. Which means you’d be going in alone.

The “Don’t Worry, I’ll Be With You In Spirit” line she fed you almost immediately after gushing over the expected attendees put you on edge. Especially considering she’d blurted out the name of your favourite actor: Vergo.

With a voice like butter and the smoothest acting you’d seen in your lifetime, you’d been instantly enthralled; you can recall how he’d been mostly chosen for darker, noir, thriller type roles because of this. You’d always wanted to see him in a romance film, but casting directors seemed to be heavily monopolizing his most infamous skill set. And, he seemed content in doing them.

You were about to be in the same room as your idol, your celebrity crush— alone.

Technically.

The drive to the venue is a quiet one. At the expression on your face, your chauffeur, your manager, couldn’t bring herself to comment any further about the situation, even to fill the silence brought about during the evening traffic (though you correctly assumed it hadn’t been for your glare of “retaliation”, but because of the crease lines that would appear along your forehead; something about “ruining your makeup”, she’d mumbled under her breath that made you relent).

She does send you off with a genuine well-wishing of luck, and a reminder to call her whenever you were ready to leave.

To your surprise, the event is not a private one. Or at least, perhaps it had been, but somehow was leaked to the public. A large security detail outlines the numerous gold and red velvet stanchions, arms spread eagle wide so as to bar the few more wily spectators that pressed forward a little too much toward the doors.

Maybe it never was a private event. Stanchions? A red carpet? This much security? Either someone had been brilliant enough to think ahead for a just-in-case scenario quite like this one, or it’d been a publicity stunt of some design.

Adjusting the chain of the clutch hanging off of your shoulder, you swing it forward to dig out your invitation, and present it to the host at the door. A nod, a brief welcome, you finally enter the building, greeted by a gentle breeze and gold adornments and bold crown mouldings-- from top to bottom, the chosen venue was a good choice. You only wish your heels wouldn’t click so loudly across the checkered floor; you get the point is to be noticed, in a sense, but having this many pairs of eyes on you as you drift further inside only rattles your nerves.

Being that it’s a cocktail event, there is no assigned table seating. Wouldn’t be much of a networking event if you were stuck at one table all night, you reason with yourself.

By suggestion of one of the staff, you check your shawl in. You’d expected the room to be much cooler and brought it just in case, but the sheer number of celebrities, interviewers, and recruiters already in the room brought the temperature to a comfortable enough level. You hold onto your purse, finding it not nearly enough of a nuisance to be rid of it.

Moving aside, you take in your surroundings, properly, no longer overwhelmed and overloaded by them as you’d been on entry. There are a lot of guests. In such a large foyer, you suspect well over one hundred to be in attendance. Your heart swells, recalling your manager’s words from earlier-- yes, the event is invitation only, but you could still apply to receive one, and if the hosts deemed you a fit enough guest, you may attend, yourself. For fresh blood like yourself, this meant everything. The chance to interact, the chance to create a connection, to establish that network; you didn’t have all those fancy business cards made up for them to be used as a paperweight, after all.

You’re able to hand out quite a few of them before you find your battery drained, casting directors and curious producers alike finding you an interesting conversation piece after you tell them the series you’d co-starred in. Some of them even recall your role played and your acting, a very small “some”; you’d appreciated their kind words. But it’d been a long two hours of non-stop chatting and casual drinking. As fancy as the event was, wearing three inch heels (or heels of any height, really) hadn’t been an ideal dress code requirement, and you were beyond parched.

Trying not to sigh too loudly, you let yourself collapse into a plush barstool, immediately noting the velvet upholstery to match that of the rest of the venue’s, and hail down the bartender when you spot them having finished with another guest.

I won’t drink tonight, you tell yourself, thanking them with a nod. They set a glass of water before you a moment later, and you begin sipping gratefully from its straw. Mmm.

Finally having a moment to yourself again, you allow your eyes to wander around the room. It’s gotten a lot fuller since the time when it started… Celebrities and their dedication to arriving fashionably late… isn’t fashionable at all.

You spot a lot of familiar faces around you: the small group of men bickering loudly in one of the furthest corners who’d all recently starred together in a “buddy”-cop movie, affectionately nicknamed on one of their sets as the Three Stooges; the tall raven haired woman who’d brought along a novel to read, a smile on her face while she covets it from a singular lounge chair, Nico Robin; just entering the fray after checking in his coat, a former co-star of yours, Donquixote Rosinante; and, to your right, cradling a tall drink of something clear and violet, sitting several feet taller than yourself and who’d be the one person able to send more than just your heart fluttering--

V-Vergo?! As unnoticeably as possible, you straighten in your chair, shimmying your hips to fit against the backing, and take another sip from your own water.

Now, stage fright was something that you managed to siphon out of your repertoire after the first couple years of acting. It managed to control a lot of aspects of your life and even lucked you out of receiving a couple of good, substantial roles. So being here, for an event meant to help entertainers new and seasoned form connections or start networks or begin partnerships-- it means there’s no time for you to tremble on the sidelines.

The time it takes for you to summon up the courage is embarrassing; Vergo’s already ordered a second drink, and you’re quite sure he’s noticed you glance his way (multiple times) in his own peripherals. If he did, he doesn’t mention it, nor would you have been able to tell with those dark shades he always wears.

You also order a drink -- this time, a half-strong cocktail -- and swivel in your stool, the head of it rotating beneath you. Your eyes rise first, before you’re about to speak, only for your words to catch in your throat. Next to his lip sits a smudge of something soft orange in colour; a cream, of some sorts. You determine it’s one of the dips from the appetizer bar, and wonder how long it’s been there that no one’s said a word to him about it.

“Are you content with simply staring, or is there something you’re looking to say?”

This time, your breath catches in your lungs. He hadn’t even turned your way, still hunched over the bartop. You want to apologize, or maybe, laugh. Instead, you swallow your introduction and reach up, collecting the food sauce on the pad of your index finger. His flinch is subtle, only the shoulder closest to you tensing in surprise at your bold gesture.

“The roasted pepper goat cheese dip must’ve been really good for you to miss your mouth,” you muse, your heart pounding so hard it began to make your throat tighten. You’re about to reach for a napkin, when something otherworldly (you suspect) possesses you to tongue away the cream from your finger. “Yep. Roasted pepper goat cheese.”

“... and you are?”

You hold back another, smaller laugh, this one to cover your own mortification. “Sorry! I meant to introduce myself first.” And you do, though you curse the small stutter that carries along with it. “It’s nice to meet you, officially. I’m… a big fan of you-- ah, your work!” You breath trembles. “S-Sorry, I’m trying to be professional here, but…”

“It’s fine,” Vergo says, lowering his cup to the bar. “We’ve all been there.”

“T-Thanks,” you murmur, sipping from yours. “I suppose you came here for the networking bit of the event?”

“That, and the open bar.” You snort. “You’re not familiar to me,” he adds. Although you figured he wouldn’t have seen you in any of your small productions, you can’t help the flush of abashed heat that crawls across your skin. “Have you had any luck?”

“Nothing substantial… Mostly just a lot of “we’ll be in touch with your manager”, but we all know what that means, haha…” His lack of response hints to the contrary. “A-And you? I’m sure you don’t need networking yourself, so… are you building one for your agency?”

“I’m here on their behalf,” he confirms. “Supposedly, my presence brings a lot of attention; we’ve had a lot of applicants over the past few years.”

Wonder where they might’ve gotten that idea from, you think.

Another thought filters into your mind that makes embarrassed heat sweep through you; you chastise yourself for even considering asking something so… vulgar? But you manage to seal your lips to keep it contained.

“It looked like there was something you wanted to say.” Until his decision to ask it out of you was made.

Really, this could’ve been asked to any other person in the room -- but maybe not every person -- and yet, you find yourself blaming the measly half ounce of alcohol for your own perverted curiosities.

“I just… You hear about these kinds of things and wonder if they’re true, right…? And usually, it’s the more established folks who get involved with these kinds of things, or at the very least, know about them…” You clear your throat and lean toward Vergo, who cranes his head down to match your height. “Do people really still try and sleep their way to the top?”

If he’d reacted in any way to your words, you don’t catch it. Rather, he politely clears his own throat, and stares down at you.

“Is this something of interest to you?” he inquires, polishing off his drink a moment later. You flush.

“I, uh, n-not exactly…” You sigh, defeated. “But at this rate, I’d have more luck sleeping with some… executive producer or some superstar actor than landing a role through normal means. It’s just so frustrating. Why did everyone want to enter show business at the same time?”

Eyes stuck, you watch the bartender clear your glasses with a nod of approval from the two of you.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Vergo says. “This stands true, even outside of the script of a movie. Are you asking because you’re considering it?”

Your laugh is light, but self-pitying. “Wish I could lie and say I’m not. It’s… not cheap living in this city and getting few to no call backs. It’s either I get a part-time job as some minimum wage barista or, I don’t know… Whore out my talents, I guess.”

“And you’d do that with some… skeevy executive?”

You grimace. “Well, when you put it that way, it’s kind of gross. Something like that would be the last thing I’d ever want. God, I just wish I could get real, honest work…”

Vergo goes silent. After such a strange turn in conversation -- even though he’d been the one to ask!! you remind yourself -- you don’t blame him for not knowing how to deviate from it; you don’t even know what to say from here.

There’s a bit of shuffling from your right where he sits, and you find him sifting through the inner pockets of his blazer. He pulls out a card clip of his own, filled thick with laminated black and light blue business cards, and a white permanent marker, and begins writing on the bare backside of it.

“Take this,” he says, and slides it across the bar to you. “This is where I’ll be staying for the weekend. My room number.”

“Wh-- why--””A business proposition. One that I won’t speak about in public. Come or don’t come, that’s up to you. I’m not some “gross executive”, but I’ve at least been in this business long enough to tell you that it would be one worth your while.”

You pick up the card with trembling fingers, eyes still wide and glued on him, even as he stands up to adjust his suit.

“I’ll be saying my goodbyes to everyone now. Come at eleven tonight, if you do.”

Eleven… That’s only an hour away now.

You’d called your manager to pick you up shortly after Vergo left. She’d inquired about your lack of conversational skills when you’d gotten into her vehicle, but your mind had been so occupied with thoughts of Vergo, the man you’d only idolized and, if you were being completely honest, simped after for a majority of your teenage and adult life.

You’d reasoned you could only speculate about the business proposal he had for you, but you know exactly what he intends to suggest should you decide to make your way to his hotel. It’s definitely not something he should suggest in public -- it’s not something he should’ve suggested at all considering his very public position in the media limelight. You could’ve taken this information and sold it to one of the paparazzi waiting outside.

Maybe you looked more desperate than you’d meant to come across as. Because prior to your conversation with him, no; you’d never seriously considered “selling yourself” for a role or for fame, let alone to some equally-as-desperate executive. You’re pretty sure a song had been made about that.

It would’ve taken you an hour from your own apartment to reach Vergo’s hotel through downtown traffic anyhow… which is why you found yourself here earlier than you would’ve intended. However he plans to phrase this proposition of his, it’s not like you’ve said “yes” to anything yet. At the very least, you could hear him out.

You’d changed into an outfit more casual, more professional, than the glittering evening gown you showed up in for the networking party-- a pair of loose slacks and a sweater vest-button up combo. Underneath, however, you made sure to wear something a little more… for the occasion.

It’s just in case!! you swear to yourself as you clamber into the elevator, heart pounding. Like I’d be caught dead on any occasion wearing granny panties and a sports bra.

Vergo’s room is on the highest floor, the hotel’s penthouse suite they often reserved for VIP guests such as notable politicians and top names in the media. You hadn’t been sure how things normally work, but you learn that his room isn’t guarded by his security detail (not that you thought he needed it with him having self-defense training and him being built like a fridge) like you expected. It makes it easy for you to walk up and press the video doorbell, despite it being physically difficult. A moment later, the camera clicks on, and without a single word from the suite’s inhabitant, the door clicks, too, and you enter.

You expected nothing short of excellence and minimalist beauty for the room and you aren’t disappointed. The penthouse suite is decked with expensive paintings and high-end leather furnishings and beautiful, shining black lacquer tables and stainless steel appliances-- you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“You came after all,” Vergo's voice echoes through the room as he descends from the second level. If you could afford to own and wear pearls, you’d be clutching them; it looks like he’d freshly showered just before you arrived, and, lucky you, he’d yet to put his glasses back on.

“Hello again,” you greet. Anxious, you shift your weight onto one foot. “I figured I should at least hear out your “business proposal” before I turn it down.”

“I see. That’s very professional of you.” Standing only feet away from you now, you feel yourself shrinking and shriveling before him. “Drink?”

“Uh-- j-just water, please.” Vergo collects two glasses and fills them from the fridge’s cold water depository, handing one of them to you, and gesturing for you to follow him into the common area; a set of four cream-coloured leather couches, all facing each other with those black lacquer tables sitting at the end of each and in between them. You sit, and rather than sitting across from you, or at least adjacent to you, Vergo sits but a couple of feet away on the same couch. You take a drink before setting the cup on the table, swallowing harshly.

Vergo does the same. “I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen filth and I’ve seen good faith. The question you asked back at the party, if it’s all true? Yes. Of course, it is. Only a fool would dare to challenge this fact. Some are lucky, however; sometimes their attempt into “sleeping their way to the top”, as you’d put it, is achieved without a hitch.

“Others, not so much. Years to date, they’re still stuck in a cycle of use and abuse.” Vergo sighs at you. “I can only assume that you might have been joking earlier, about whoring out your talents to some no-good executive. You seem like an earnest young woman. The last thing I wish to see, and to remember being responsible for, is not ridding the idea from your head; is seeing you lost in that same cycle. So, I offer this to you:

“Roles. Riches. Fame. I can ensure you’ll receive it all, in exchange for that one thing.” It remains nameless, but the implication is clear. “As you put it, you’ll whore out your talents to me, and I’ll put them to good, proper use. You’re not without skill; simply, you’re without guidance.”

You decide to name it. “In exchange for sex.”

Vergo nods. “Yes.”

“That was all very straightforward of you.”

“Do you dislike it?”

With almost zero hesitation, you shake your head. “No.” You pause. “Besides the sex, what else are you getting out of this? Because it seems like I’m reaping double the rewards in this deal.”

“Self-satisfaction, perhaps,” he says. “Hm… I was once told I wouldn’t be a good mentor.”

“I’m hoping you’ve never propositioned another rookie like this before to earn that comment,” you muse, and to your surprise, you earn a chuckle from the man.

“You would be the first to ever ask the question you did, so no. I would have had no other reason to.” Another pause occurs between you before Vergo gestures past the kitchen. “If you’d like to freshen up, the restroom is there.”

Even though I also showered again before coming here… “S-Sure. Thank you.”

“When you’re ready, I’ll… be waiting.”

You excuse yourself, stumbling a little on your way past the door frame. You slide the door shut and look at yourself in the long, wall-encompassing mirror.

You’re shaking. Unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, you decide to cool yourself down with a cold cloth to your forehead. Freshen up? What more could you do to prepare yourself for what you agreed to do? A verbal contract to achieve fame and even more, receive a good fuck. How is this going to work? Are you supposed to become signed to his agency? You’d been a freelancer for so many years. How often are you supposed to have sex with Vergo? The image of you as a purse puppy suddenly appears behind your eyes and you have to stop yourself from laughing at it; this is serious. And you seriously wonder if Vergo really has no other agenda or intentions behind this agreement.

You drop the cloth onto the counter and sigh heavily, at the same time the bathroom door slides open again. Spinning on your bare heel, you flinch at Vergo and his long, quick strides over to you.

“I-I thought--!””I apologize,” he interrupts, stopping just before you. He crouches at his knees, his eager hands disappearing under you to scoop you into the air a moment later. You flail, a noise of surprise slipping past gritted teeth when he sets you down on the counter’s edge. “I’m afraid that this is where our agreement begins.”

His movements are hurried, his touch; heavy, but not harmful. You brace yourself while he helps to strip you down; a hand pressed against his chest with the other propping you up from the counter, he works around your lack of balance and lifts both your sweater vest and the blouse over your head, not bothering to unbutton it. Mouthing at your bare neck, he unclasps your white lace bra and tosses it behind him. His lips are quick to travel, to your jaw, to the sweet corners of your lips, parted enough for him, quite alike your thighs, to slot himself between; his lips, his thighs-- he pulls you to the edge of the counter to press one of them into your clothed cunt.

You gasp, the material of your trousers coarse enough and his movements exact enough that it makes you keen forward for more. Vergo's hands, big like the rest of him, smooths along your thighs and up to your hips, his thick fingers dipping with urgency beneath the waistband.

“Lift,” he commands, and you raise your ass from the countertop. Lowering yourself back down has you hissing from the cool chill of the marble, but the look on Vergo’s face has you quickly warming up again. Once more, he drags you to the counter’s edge before dropping onto his knees between yours.

“V-Vergo?” you ask, already breathless. He doesn’t speak again, busying himself with tugging your slacks and panties down past your hips and nipping down along your exposed flesh.

His shoulders are too broad for you to even consider trying to shut your legs; his grip, too firm to be able to free your hands from being pinned down against the counter. If a single swipe of his tongue has you reeling (with nowhere to go but backward, your bare back pressed against the cold mirror to contrast the rest of your body and its burgeon), then the fervent suckling at your throbbing clit would have you utterly convulsing beneath him. Your cries, desperate and passing through clenched teeth, go ignored, save for the occasional glance your way; proving himself an attentive partner hadn’t been something you necessarily expected out of him, but it provided you with just another reason to remain infatuated with him.

Your feet kick out, looking for a surface to catch on and press against, but they, too, had been trapped under him--

“-- Vergo, I-I’m--!”

-- until they weren’t. His release of you is abrupt, as is his ascent to stand as tall as the bathroom itself. You wheeze, not realizing you’d been holding your breath until now.

“Why…”

“Don’t start thinking the night will be cut short,” he says, unzipping his jacket and untying the knot of his sweats. “I’m not a one-round sort of man.” They fall into a heap on the floor beneath him, joining you in the nude. Glancing down where you feel his erection pressing against you is a challenge, especially when you eventually learn that it’s only touching you halfway.

“Oh my god…”

“Come.” He extends a hand to you that you hesitantly take. “You’ll be much more comfortable elsewhere.”

Expecting to slide off the counter and onto your wobbling, fawn-like legs, had been incorrect. The large hand wrapped around yours had only been for your own leverage when he lifts you into his other arm, five feet off the ground, with little effort. You squirm in his hold, made anxious by the extra height, until you feel his fingers prodding at your cunt. You can feel, you can hear, just how wet he’d made it by the merit of his tongue alone as he stirs them along your opening.

“Relax,” he tells you. “You’ll want this done properly before we really begin.”

You make to speak, what likely would’ve been a choked noise coming from you, but instead you squeak, suddenly impaled on two of his fingers.

“Put your arms around my neck.” To the best of your ability, you do, trembling flesh and bones curling carefully around corded muscle. “And put your legs around me.” This, you find, is much harder, and so with his help, your legs curl around his waist.

“Lift,” he says again, and you lean back to glance at him. “I said, lift.”

… you do, a gasp immediately escaping you when you end up falling back onto his fingers. You scramble, weak limbs attempting to free you from their range, only to slide right back down.

“Vergo,” you whine

“Hold on tight.” You do. With every ounce of whatever strength you could muster, you do. The penthouse is a completely private suite, and in a building taller than all the rest around it, you have complete privacy, and yet, being paraded through such an open, exposed space, on your way up to the room’s second floor, you find yourself trying to hide what you can of yourself; a redundant, unfruitful effort.

Having removed his fingers, he has you unlace your limbs from around him to fall onto his bed.

“Under normal circumstances, I’d certainly be taking my time.” You glance down, and find Vergo stroking himself to an even greater length than you’d first seen him. It’s not natural, you begin to panic. He’s huge, a-and his thing’s even bigger, I-- i-it’ll never fit, there’s no way-- “I’d have you coming on my hands and into my mouth three times each before we even got up the stairs.”

Your cheeks burn; your attempt to hide your expression behind your arm fails when he takes both of your wrists in a single hand and pins them above your head. With his other, he grabs himself at his base, and lines him up with your arousal.

“Remember to breathe.”

Instinctively, you do the exact opposite.

Being impaled on his fingers hadn’t even been comparable. Even prior to him undressing, you knew he wouldn’t be small by any means; your mind might’ve still been in a state of shock, even before he thrust into you. “Remember to breathe”? You can barely string a thought together. And whatever breaths make it out of you are punched from your lungs each time the head of his cock meets the depths of your cunt.

Vergo leans down over you, curling his free arm around your waist from behind, and presses his lips into your ear.

“Breathe,” he repeats on the backing of a grunt, his voice a deep, muted whisper that has you clenching even harder down on him. “You’ll -- ngh -- pass out if you don’t.”

Your nails pierce your palms. I’d like… to see you try and breathe… with this shit inside of you!!

“Damn, you’re so tight.” Vergo rocks his hips forward, his own lips parted and letting his own pants escape right next to your ear. “Thought I prepared you enough f’me.”

He no longer eases himself into you, instead snapping his pelvis into yours with little restraint. Hands still wrapped around your wrists, he pulls you up onto your knees, rising behind you and holding your back to his chest; the reprieve of being weighed down by him is short-lived as he impales you once more upon him-- his fingers couldn’t even compare to the fullness plaguing you. You choke on the small doses of oxygen you’re able to take in, and with your free hands, you scramble to find a stance that relieves the pressure; not even standing with the tips of your toes pressed into the mattress spares you.

Instead, you bring a shaking hand down to smack across the forearm locking you against him. “I-I-- haa -- I’m g… onna break… p… lease…! Ver… go…!”

Vergo groans into the crook of your neck, and presses a hand over your abdomen. Your breath hitches; aside from the spasming of your limbs, you still from shock, forced to accept the orgasm he and his cock had bullied you into.

“Then… become broken by me.”

A large hand sweeps forward to turn your head toward him. You can’t stop him, not that you’d try in such a state, when he presses his tongue against your lips to pry them apart. Whines and moans alike, he swallows them all, leaves you breathless and weakly swatting at him to release you. Instead, he releases into you, and you wince at the heat of his spend filling your womb.

Before you’re even out of his arms and laying in the plush sheets below, you find yourself too dizzied to remain upright, and faint against him.

A woman’s laugh drags you back into consciousness.

Eyelids heavy, you blink the bedroom into focus, squinting when your gaze lands on the warmth of the lamp on the bedside table. Body and skin tender, you gingerly roll onto your other side, wincing at the small ache felt across your pelvis.

You’d expected to wake still covered in sweat and spend; a happy surprise it ended up being for you to learn that you’d been taken care of, as the drops of cum you knew flicked up to hit your cheeks were wiped away.

There, Vergo sits, phone in hand and thumb-scrolling down a white-glowing screen.

“W… Was someone just in here,” you mumble, raising the back of your hand to rub blurred exhaustion from your vision. Vergo shakes his head.

“I’m going through available scripts I think might suit your skill set.” He swipes in the opposite direction, “And ones that might pressure you to work a little more,” to show you that he’d been watching an acting reel your manager had uploaded to the web of you. A flush of embarrassment rolls through you, as if you’d just performed for him, not in bed, but on a set. “After all, I need to keep up my end of our bargain, no?”

#vergo x reader #op vergo x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x reader smut #one piece vergo #vergo one piece

21 notes · View notes