#this is gonna get a bit long but this performance is a lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupid-styles · 26 days

Note

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

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funficwriter · 7 months

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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

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ktgoodmorning · 26 days

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The Wall

Mapi Leon x Teen!Reader

Inspired by the song "The Wall" by GroupLove

“Just sitting on a wall, always trying to do it all” “Really wanna get away, to where I couldn’t say” “Yeah we got lucky, fell into place” “We found some friends, some stayed some passed away”

A/N: The timeline is a little funky, I know Leila didn't leave in the middle of the season but we're gonna pretend for the sake of the story. Even though I posted the lyric, nobody dies, just overall angsty, more parts to come.

Masterlist

“You ready to go, amiga?” Mapi shouted across the house at you even though she already knew the answer. You were always ready long before she or Ingrid ever were. It wasn’t unusual for you to be up extra early to start your day with a run or at the very least, a long walk. At only 19, you hadn’t been playing with the senior team long and wanted to do everything you possibly could to prove yourself, even if it meant getting up at four in the morning.

When you’d been called up to the senior team, Mapi and Ingrid had insisted that you move into their spare room to help you get adjusted until you settled in better. Originally, they had pitched the idea in order to make sure you were taking care of yourself and doing everything you needed to to be successful with the team. They had no idea how prepared you already were. Still, many of the older girls had taken you under their wing, Mapi more than anyone. She was highly protective of you and was always making sure you were doing okay, even if you didn’t normally need it. They rarely had to do much, as you were one of the hardest working members of the team.

Some might call you a perfectionist, type A, or maybe a bit obsessive, but what you were doing was working. You would do anything it took to be the best footballer you could possibly be. Getting up early was just the start. You were always eating as healthy as possible with very few cheat days. You had done plenty of research on nutrition and everything you needed to eat (and not eat) to perform at your best so you always stuck to that. You often watched film from each game at least two to three times beyond what the team watched in training. That was your favorite way to improve yourself when your body really needed a break from training. It wasn’t a lot but it was everything you needed. Everything you needed to be enough.

You grabbed your bag and joined Mapi and Ingrid in heading to the car to go to training. Ingrid sat down in the driver’s seat while Mapi plugged in her phone to play some music that you didn’t even recognize. As you sat in the backseat, you were slightly lost in thought, thinking of what you needed to work on today. Speed and endurance were always something you tried to improve but maybe it was more important today to focus on your passing accuracy but also you needed to work on your shooting or maybe-

“Hey did you hear me?” Your thoughts were interrupted as Ingrid snapped you back into the real world.

“Hmm? Sorry.” You mumbled as you gathered your thoughts back to focus on the two girls in front of you. “What’d you say?”

“Leila said you were going with her after training? Is that right?” Of course you were forgetting something- your dinner plans with Leila. You sighed gently, trying to straighten out your schedule in your head.

“Oh, umm, yeah. We wanted to go to this new restaurant. I guess I forgot.” Because she was sitting in front of you, you missed the way Ingrid’s brow furrowed at the lack of enthusiasm in your response. Leila had become like a fun older sister to you. The two of you got dinner together at least once a week and were typically causing some sort of trouble during training. She kept you from taking yourself too seriously, worried that if you went unchecked you’d spiral under the amount of pressure you placed on yourself. Like many of the older girls, she had taken it upon herself to protect you. It was different with Leila because she treated you as more of an equal rather than a child. Because of this, everyone knew how much you cherished your time with her.

Mapi took the opportunity to lightly tease you for your weird behavior, “don’t get too excited there, chica.” She turned to look at you, trying to gauge your reaction to her comment.

It didn’t offend you, although you still didn’t laugh. You just weren’t really bothered by the comment at all. “Sorry, just thinking about other stuff.”

The older two girls had let it go, changing the subject as you got closer to the training grounds. You missed the look of nervousness shared between the two of them as you got lost in your thoughts once again.

You remained focused all throughout training, focusing on the things you needed to improve- speed, endurance, strength, passing, shooting, accuracy- the list in your head was miles long. Anytime the other girls would joke around, they knew you typically needed some coaxing to join in. However anytime one of your closer friends would get you in on it, that’s usually all it took. Leila was your weak spot, sometimes Pina too. They were always able to break down your walls of focus and seriousness and allow yourself to have a little fun. If it weren’t for them (and the rest of your team’s antics), everyone knew you’d sink into your perfectionism even further.

As you walked off the field at the end of the session, it was Pina that spoke to you first. “Hey, some of us are going out tomorrow night, you’re in right?”

Your face contorted with uncertainty, torn between the idea of having fun with your friends for a night and knowing you could use the sleep to prepare for Sunday's match.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and you instantly recognized it as Leila’s, “Si, she’ll be there. Even if I have to drag her out myself.”

Well there was your answer. You gave the two girls a shrug, knowing you’d enjoy the time out with them. A little relaxation couldn’t hurt, right? You deserved it after how hard you had been working so far this season. And just because you went out didn’t mean you had to drink yourself into oblivion. You’d still be plenty prepared for the next match. As you all got ready to leave, Claudia filled you in on the plans, making you look forward to the night even more.

There was a newfound lightness in your step as you followed Leila to her car and went to the restaurant for dinner. You were excited for tomorrow night with everyone. It had been awhile since you’d let your guard down and just had fun for a night so you knew it’d be good for you. You knew how much you needed it and were thankful your friends were able to give you the little push you needed to agree. You were thankful for your friends until you got to dinner with Leila and learned the true reasons behind the night out.

You were sitting across from her, in the corner of the small restaurant when she broke the news to you- she’d be transferring to Manchester. The party tomorrow night was to have one last celebration together before she left. Instantly your chest tightened. She continued talking, explaining why it was a good decision and that she’d always be there to support you no matter how far away she was. However none of this registered to you. The second she said the words, you quit processing anything else.

Manchester? Why Manchester? How could she leave Barcelona? How could she leave you? She always said you were like family but you don’t just leave your family behind. Was Barcelona not good enough for her anymore? Or worse yet, did she not think she was good enough for Barcelona? If that was the case, how could you ever be good enough for Barca? Or for Leila for that matter? If you were a good enough “sister” to her, she would have no reason to want to leave, to go so far away.

Leila managed to pull you out of your thoughts when she reached across the table to hold your hand. “Hey, take a breath, it’s okay. You can still call me whenever you need anything, I’ll still come visit. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

She squeezed your hand tightly, trying to get you to meet her eyes, but you just couldn’t do it. You knew she had talked about not renewing her contract but you clearly had been too naive to think it could actually happen. Suddenly it hit you that other people must have already known. If Claudia had already had the time to plan a party, when did she find out about this? Had you been the last to find out?

“(y/n),” she squeezed your hand again, tighter this time, getting concerned at how you still had yet to respond.

Suddenly you were snapped back into reality, shaking your head quickly, “I’ve gotta go, I’m sorry.” Leila could hardly hear you as you mumbled, barely coherent. Frantically, you had pushed away from the table and made your way towards the door. You were almost running as you finally made it outside.

The cool evening air hit you hard. It helped you steady your breathing slightly, feeling less choked by the air of the restaurant. You didn’t notice how much your hands were shaking until you grabbed your phone to call Mapi, hoping she could pick you up.

In the time it took you to unlock your phone and pull up her contact, Leila appeared next to you. “Don’t be ridiculous, chiquita. I will drive you, come on.” She grabbed your hand before you had the chance to argue and led you to her car. Her silence was unusual but you hardly noticed, consumed by your thoughts.

Her heart broke when she saw your reaction. Obviously Leila knew you’d be upset but she couldn’t have imagined you’d take it this hard. The Spaniard was consumed with guilt as she tried her best to focus on the road ahead. It had crossed her mind that maybe she should have told you sooner but she wanted to make sure it was completely finalized first. You’d have other people that could step into her role when she was gone, people that would make sure you’d be taken care of. And like she said, she’d still be just a phone call away. Hopefully you just needed a night to let the shock wear off so you could both enjoy your time together before she had to leave.

You hardly realized that you had arrived in front of Mapi and Ingrid’s, the entire care ride being completely silent until now. “Chiquita, can we please talk?” She was still met with complete silence from you, taking it as an invitation to continue on. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have talked to you sooner but I just-”

“It’s fine.” you shrugged her off, her face full of confusion.

“But, I should’ve-”

“Leila, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve got to go.”

“But (y/n), I-” and you were gone. Leila let out an exasperated sigh when you slammed the car door shut, mid sentence. So much for talking to you. The older woman texted Mapi, hoping she’d be able to talk to you in a way that was more successful than what had just happened.

Mapi had just read Leila’s message when you trudged through the front door. She decided not to let you know what Leila had told her, trying to see how much you’d be willing to share on your own. Committing to her plan, she greeted you, just as chipper as always, “Hola, Amiga! How was Leila?”

You responded with a shrug, doing your best to push your feelings down. If you just pushed them away, you’d be fine, right? “She was fine.” Mapi and Ingrid shared a look of concern at you making a beeline for your room. Once you made it to your room, then you could handle whatever you were feeling, but you weren’t about to do that in front of them.

Your plan would’ve worked out if it weren’t for Ingrid making one last attempt to get you to talk, “Hey, did you want to join us for a movie night?” You were so close, your door right in front of you. You pressed your forehead against the door, taking a strangled deep breath in an attempt to keep your emotions at bay. “(y/n)?” They shared another glance, concerned by your reaction.

Almost in slow motion, you turned silently to face the pair. “Did you know?” You choked over your words. You didn’t plan on talking about it tonight. You didn’t know how to face this news but you had to know the answer. Did Leila really tell everyone but you? The silence from Mapi told you everything you needed to know. All you could do was turn and take refuge in your bedroom.

As soon as the door shut, you pressed your back against it and slid down until you met the ground. Knowing you well, Mapi knew you’d want some time to handle it yourself. You were fiercely independent, always acting much older than you were. Sometimes Mapi had to remind others how young you were, making sure nobody went too hard on you. At times she had to remind you of that as well. Remind you that you were still learning, still figuring out life. Mapi admired your maturity but was also terrified that it would end up breaking you. She knew if she tried to follow you know, you’d push her out even further and want to try to fix it yourself first.

If only she could see you- sitting on the floor, tears rolling down your face as you choked down sobs. Your whole body shook, filled to the brim with emotions that you were too scared to let out. Your cries continued, much longer than ever before.

At some point during your crying, you had made your way into bed. The blankets and pillows provided you little comfort from the world inside your head. You didn’t even realize you had cuddled up with a sweatshirt of Leila’s. You borrowed it once when you were chilly and she let you keep it after she saw how much you loved it. It was instinctual for you to reach for it in times of stress so of course you hugged it tightly as you cried over the idea of her leaving you. Eventually, your cries seemed to tire you, succumbing to the exhaustion and falling into an uneasy sleep.

When Mapi and Ingrid had finished their movie and you were still yet to emerge from your room, they knew they needed to check up on you. Mapi being the closest with you, always took it upon herself to play the role of mother when you needed it. She knocked on your door lightly, expecting some sort of response. When she was met with none, she pressed her ear against your door, hoping to hear something that’d give her an idea of how you we doing. With still no response, she gently pushed the door open.

Upon seeing you, Mapi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. You were curled up on your bed, fast asleep. She quietly sat down next to you, taking in your stressed appearance. Your face was still stained from tears, your eyes puffy and red. The older woman pushed some hair away from your face and ran her thumb over your eyebrows, hoping to relax the crease that remained on your face. It was clear to her who’s sweatshirt it was that you were gripping tightly. Mapi realized that while you were clearly sad, you must not be too angry at Leila herself. You wouldn’t be snuggled into her sweatshirt if you were mad at her.

Mapi pulled up your blanket around your shoulders and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, assuming that you’d be feeling better in the morning. Of course it would be hard on you to see one of the closest people in your life move away but Mapi knew she and Ingrid would be with you to help, no matter what it took. You were a hard worker, resilient in nature. There was no reason for anyone to expect you to be anything but that.

The next morning, Mapi was surprised when she entered the kitchen and didn’t see any trace of you. Sometimes you’d be up, cooking breakfast or at the very least, she’d see your empty mug in the sink which communicated that you’d had your coffee before going on a run. When she looked closer, she noticed your shoes and training bag already gone. Intending to call you, she opened her phone just to notice an unread message from you:

Wanted to train early. Used my run to run here. See you later.

Mapi’s face contorted as she read your message. How early had you left? The training grounds weren’t exactly close and would’ve taken a long time to run there. You were probably exhausted after being so upset the night before but maybe you wanted that run to clear your head and would talk with her afterwards.

Mapi and Ingrid arrived to training early, hoping to catch you before the rest of the team showed up. They stopped in the locking room first, thinking you’d be taking a break there and waiting for everyone else. When they didn’t find you there, they went on to the gym, the physio rooms, and the cafeteria- all of which remained empty. They hesitantly decided to check the pitch, confused as to why you’d be willing to spend more time in the sun on top of the time you’d spend outside for team training.

Of course that’s where they found you- on the side of the pitch running sprints. You didn’t notice them, fully lost in your own head, running as fast as your body would take you. Your lungs were burning. At this point, you had no idea how long you’d been running, definitely over an hour.

But you needed to. You had to get faster. You had to work harder. You had to prove that your spot on the team was not from getting lucky. You had worked for it. You were still working for it.

Maybe if you ran fast enough, you could run away from all your problems. Run away from here. Run away from being lonely. Or stressed. Or tired. Or insecure. Or not good enough. You didn’t need anyone’s help- not Leila’s, not Ingrid, not Mapi. You had to do this yourself. You had to work harder.

Mapi froze- watching you run yourself to exhaustion. She had never seen you like this. She’d seen you struggle but she’d never seen this. How would she even begin to help you? Clearly you couldn’t continue in this headspace but right now your friend was completely lost as to where to even begin with you. She sent Ingrid back inside, knowing her best chance at getting you to open up was if you were alone.

“Amiga! Come on! Come take a break before training starts!” Her shouting across the pitch at you was the first you were made aware of her presence. You shook your head at her and continued your sprints, not bothering to look her way. Your lungs didn’t have the capacity to use your voice at the moment. “Si, vamos! It was not a suggestion, you have to be done out here!” Once again, you ignored her.

The older woman let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was going to have to stop you herself. She did just that as she lightly jogged towards you, intending on intercepting your path. You didn’t even notice what she was doing until you suddenly struggled to avoid running into her. You stumbled over your feet while she grabbed at your shoulders, hoping to help steady you. With how fast you had been going, it was difficult trying to stop your momentum so suddenly- something she should have known before trying to get in your way. As soon as you had steadied, you were filled with anger and Mapi’s hands holding onto you tightly were not helping. The Zaragozan had no idea the amount of rage you were about to unleash onto her.

Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #maria leon #maria león #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon #mapi león #mapi leon x reader #leila ouahabi #woso fanfics #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingmapi

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chisatowo · 2 years

Text

Fuck I ran out of tags anyways. Time to continue ranting abt unit swap 25ji in the tags of this post since I dont wanna make a proper post lol

#rat rambles #sekai posting #unit swap au #Ill try to be faster this time dhsjgdhd #anyways long story short ena starts trying to contact mizuki which is hard since they moved out of their parents place and she cant call #them and theyre getting better at being sneaky in their sekai #and mafuyu is also sorta trying to help with that but gets a bit off track after running into kanade *gasp* in public???#basically she runs into her at the store and notices every red flag on earth that she is Not Ok and she offers to help her carry her stuff #home partially because kanade is clearly struggling with it and partially because mafuyu is not abt to let her be home alone rn #kanade cant make up a good excuse to decline so time for step 2 of plan make sure kanade is still alive tomorrow which is sleepover time #not gonna go into detail of what happens that night since its. A Lot. but mafuyu talks kanade down dw #kanade is still clearly Fucked Up though and mafuyu sees a lot of herself in her so she decides that if she has to give in to the shimmer #of hope that things can get better then shes gonna try to show that hope to kanade as best as she can #which mostly just means quietly being around and forcing her to take walks but it does help #not to say mafuyu is souly a good influence but thats more so future story stuff so I wont go into in rn #anyways kanade finds out that mafuyu and ena reconnected and have been playing together and admits to missing music #btw she quit musiv but anyways after watching them perform she decides to give it another shot and yippee new bandmate aquired #so theyre doing rehearsals now and more so seriously considering being a proper band again but theyve still been umable to conyact mizuki #fully and after catching them watching them rehearse one day mizuki runs off again and the three decide to look for tgem while theyre here #they look everywhere they can think and cant seem to find them until ena is like wait. I dont know if thisll work but I might know where #they are and tries to go to the memory where she was calling mizuki over and kver again after their last conversation #and lo and behold theres mizuki they were watching the memory of them blocking ena's number on loop #they try to leave but ena is like no the fuck you dont. and after sitting in silence for a bit its time for more honest conversations #mizuki talks abt feeling completely lost and hopeless having previously longed to return to how things were but after seeing the other 3 #work through some of their shit and reunite on their own mizuki started believing that maybe they were the problem and that theyre hopeless #then ena is like r u stupid we all were fucked up and fucked shit up #and she clumsily tried to basically say that maybe if they wanna be less fucked up they shouldnt consider staying as is or recreating the #past as their only options because when looking at it that way ofc it seems like theyre doomed no matter what #yada yada youve gotta move forward if you want things to get better and all that and bada bing bada boom mizuki reluctantly gives in and #agrees to give the group another try and they all perform together and all that yay

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nctsplug02 · 7 months

Note

Soft dom husband!mark , coming tired from practice and just needs his wife, fluff and smut pls add whatever u think will be fine, your mind works better than mine lol

Love your writings♡♡

Shower Sex M.Lee

GENRE: fluff, smut, married couple.

WARNINGS: shower sex

it was eleven-thirty at night and mark still wasn’t home.

the door unlocking has your ears perked up and has you pushing off the couch. you pause your show and walk towards the front door of the penthouse.

your husband walks in with his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder and his beanie nearly falling off.

“hey, markie. welcome home.” mark looks up and instantly smile. “oh, baby.” mark stumbles forward and drops his bag, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

“didn’t wanna use the elevator tonight?” your hands softly pat marks back and head. “it’s been such a long day and.. i really.. really needed to see you.” mark sighs heavily.

you pinch his red ears and smooth the shell. “i’ll reheat dinner and we can talk about how today was while we eat, yeah?”

mark pulls away from you and rubs his eyes. “i know— i’m sorry, baby. i wasn’t home for dinner.” you shake your head and kick the door shut with your foot, the top lock locks instantly.

“that’s alright, baby.” you cup marks face and you kiss his lips. “wanna take a shower instead? you’re kind of stinky.” you say with a giggle.

mark follows your giggle and groans. “i’d love to and i really don’t want to be a pain in the ass but.. i’m really sore and..” mark sighs and rubs his face.

“yes, mark. i can help wash you, that’s fine. you’ve been at practice for over twelve hours, you deserve a break and some caretaking.” you take his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

you don’t bother closing the door since it was just you and mark who lived in the small penthouse.

you undress mark who vents to you about his day, telling you how he barely took breaks because he didn’t want to mess up for their performances.

“okay, go in the shower first. i’m gonna grab some to towels and i’ll join you in a second.” you push mark towards the running shower but the butt naked man watches as you leave and come back with a stack of towels.

“mark,” you whine when seeing him just standing there . “you were supposed to go in the shower and soak up first.” you set the stack of towels on the toilet lid.

“i know,” mark bites his lip and places a hand on the door handle. “just wanted to wait for you.” he whispers and enters the shower.

you shake your head and undress yourself before joining mark in the hot, steaming shower.

“mm, the water feels amazing.” you shut your eyes and sigh. “you mind if i turn the water a bit colder?” you open your eyes to see mark already holding the faucet. “whatever helps you relax, baby.”

you let out a little gasp when the water turns icy cold. “geez,” you mumble, looking down when feeling your nipples grow crazy hard.

“sorry, babe.” mark holds your waist and rubs little circles on your soft skin.

you grab your navy blue loofa and squirt some watermelon body wash onto it, fluffing it up and turning to mark.

“you’ve been working so hard, markie.” you turn him around and scrub the loofa on his back. “i’m so proud of you, markie.” you then scrub his shoulders, a moan exhales from marks throat. “you’re a bit tight there, mark. i’ll give you a massage when we get out.” mark rolls his neck and sighs.

you turn him around and begin to rub the loofa on his chest. “you’re smelling a lot better than before.” you giggle and watch as he inhales the watermelon scent with a giggle.

you move down to his abs, lubing his body with the scented bubbles. “oh,” you stop when seeing how hard mark was.

you look up at mark who bites his lip and flexes his abs making his cock twitch and nudge your arm.

“should i wash this too?” you move the loofa down to his cock. “oh, fuck.” mark gasps and jerks, quickly grabbing your hand and looking down at you.

you bite your lip and grin. “may i?” mark takes in your puppy eyes and nods. you drop the loofa and grab mark by the base.

“you’re so hard.” you whisper, jerking him off and washing away the bubbles. “geez, y/n.” mark groans as you take him in your mouth.

you circle your tongue around his tip and tease his tiny slit. you moan around him as the tip of your tongue massages right under his head.

“ooh, fuck.” mark pants, placing a hand on your head and forcing himself to stop himself before he gets out of hand.

you drop your hands and look up at mark, softly nodding and allowing him to fuck your face. you shut your eyes while mark forces his cock down your throat.

your throat tightens around mark and he moans loudly. his noises bouncing off the tight shower walls. “fuck, y/n. f—fuck!” mark pants and groans, hugging your head and keeping his stuttering hips in place.

marks cum shooting down your throat while you choke and slap his thigh. “just a little bit more, baby.” mark mutters, bucking his hips as if your nose wasn’t already touching his abdomen.

marks tip tickling the back of your throat causing you to gag. your eyes water and tears slip past your cheeks.

you gasp and fall on your ass when mark releases you. you wipe the drool from your chin and attempt to catch your breath. globs of tears slip down your cheeks and the shower quickly washes them away.

“i’m sorry, baby.” mark helps you up and hugs your body against his. “i got a bit outta control.” mark presses a few kisses on your shoulder and jaw.

“that’s okay,” you pinch his ears and rub his jaw. “you feelin’ better?” mark looks up at you. “a little bit. but,” you raise an eyebrow. “but?” you question.

instead of answering, mark pins you against the wall and lifts your leg. he pins your thigh to his hips and slips his fingers into you.

“oh, fuck.” you gasp, dropping your head and letting your knees buckle. mark catches you and rests his forehead against yours, droplets fall from his nose and strands of hair.

“try and stay up for me, gorgeous.” mark mutters with a smirk.

it was torture, mark fingering you while telling you to not cum yet. his thumb rubbing your clit while he fingers push past your gummy walls. his fingers curling and brushing your g-spot.

“hold on, baby.” mark grunts as he grabs his dick and holds it against your entrance. “mark, please hurry!” you whine desperately.

“you’re so eager,” mark chuckles. “it’s pathetic.” he scoffs and pushes himself into you.

you dig your nails into his shoulders as mark brings you to your tip-toes. mark squeezes your thigh and moans as you tighten around him.

mark fucks you quickly.

his hips smacking against yours roughly, his vocals kicking in and mixing with yours. the sounds of skin smacking against skin echos in the small shower.

“oh, mark.” you moan, pulling him closer so that his chest is pressed against yours. “i’m gonna cum, mark.” you gasp as mark rolls his hips and pushes himself deeper inside you.

you hug mark tightly as you cream all over mark. “s—shit, y/n!” mark shudders and thrusts one last time before shooting his load into you.

uncontrollably, marks hips stutter into yours.

mark drops your leg and backs his hips up, just a bit so his cock falls out of you.

mark drops to his knees and lifts your other leg, giving the first leg a rest. “mark, what are you—?” mark gives you one look and buries his face between your thighs.

“oohh, wow.” you gasp and grab a fistful of his hair. marks tongue enters you before leaving and licking a long stripe on your clit.

“shit.” you hold your breath.

you run your fingers through his wet tangled hair while his tongue circles your clit. “fuck,” you groan and watch as mark eats you out like a hungry man. “oh, my god.”

mark turns his head and laps your juice from a different position.

“i’m gonna cum, m—markie!” you jerk forward as mark sucks your clit. his mouth fully attached to your clit, his only focus.

marks tongue suckles and brings your orgasm closer… and closer… and—

you shudder and let out a cry when your orgasm hits you. it stings you like a bee and doesn’t go away until mark is pulling away, heavily breathing.

his chest falls as fast as it rises.

“you taste,” mark wipes the back of his mouth with his backhand. “so fucking sweet.” he chuckles with a taunting smirk.

mark stands up with his hands on your hips.

“i do, huh?” your legs buzz and slowly turn numb. “you taste very sweet, baby.” mark pulls you by the waist and hugs you to his chest.

“i wonder how sweet you’re gonna taste.” mark inhales to say something but doesn’t say a word, instead he watches as you lower yourself onto your knees.

you bite your lip and grab him by the base, “mwah.” you press a soft kiss on his tip. “fuck, baby. this is gonna be a long night, huh?”

you swirl your tongue around his tip and hum. “uh-huh.” you giggle before swallowing him whole.

AN| this was so shit but it’ll have to do for now! i love you all, i’m sorry for being inactive. i’m so busy! <3

#ash talks #nctsplug02 #anon #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #nct smut #nct 127 #nct imagines #kpop fluff #superm mark #mark fluff #mark lee smut #nct mark #mark smut #mark lee

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pearlzier · 26 days

Note

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom.

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #spn #spn x reader #spn smut #bimbo reader

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ineffable-suffering · 7 months

Text

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

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soobszzn · 1 year

Text

storage room smooch

synopsis: you want to show your super sporty and athletic boyfriend yeonjun just how supportive you can be.

pairing: jock!yeonjun x reader

genre: mostly fluff, established relationship

content/warnings: lots of kissing, lots of making out, reader doesn’t want to get in trouble, mildly suggestive at the end

wc: 1.3k

a/n: dedicated to R🌹

“choi yeonjun, fighting!” you exclaimed at the nervous boy fiddling with his shoe laces. he had a few minutes before one of his weekly tournament games, yet was glued to your side. he stood up straight and let out a sigh.

softly smiling at your boyfriend, you began adjusting his basketball jersey while he took a few deep breaths. as talented and athletic as he was, he still got so nervous before every game. you made it a point to support him at each match, cheering him on by the sidelines.

you took some time to admire him in his jersey, which perfectly showed off his sculpted muscles. part of the reason you loved watching his games so much was because his flawless figure was on display for everyone to see. yeonjun huffed and snapped you out of your trance.

“you’re gonna do great, you’re the best one on the team.” you said encouragingly, affectionately pinching his cheek. he chuckled and smiled back bashfully, mouthing a “thank you.”

“i got this!” yeonjun chanted to himself, lightly jogging in place and taking a few quick breaths. prepared to return to his team, he kissed you quickly on the cheek and jogged towards the now gathering group across the gymnasium. you situated yourself in your usual spot on the bleachers, with a perfect view of yeonjun whenever he was on the bench.

you knew it was normal for some matches to go poorly, but it was bad this time around. it seemed that team synergy was off and nobody was performing their best - not even yeonjun, who was visibly upset.

you watched your boyfriend worriedly, his coach and fellow teammates looking defeated. apart of you felt a bit useless, as the only thing you could do from the sidelines was cheer loudly alongside other spectators.

down by almost half the points of the opposing team, and seeing your boyfriend so troubled, you decided to take matters into your own hands. you noticed his team start to migrate into the boys’ change room for their short halftime break.

springing to your feet, you quickly walked along the gym perimeter and made a beeline for yeonjun, who was taking his time getting off the bench. as you approached, he looked up and attempted to shoot you a reassuring smile, although you knew he was bothered and slightly embarrassed at his current performance. then, ever so swiftly, you leaned in and pecked him on his forehead in an attempt to lift his spirits. yeonjun’s eyes widened in surprise.

you didn’t plan on keeping him long from his team, and you weren’t even sure if you were allowed on this side of the gymnasium. a short and sweet act of encouragement was all you intended. but it seemed yeonjun had other plans.

before you could even pass him by and get back to your seat, yeonjun grabbed your arm in urgency and pulled you towards him. he lead you to the slightly opened gym storage room not too far away, sneaking the both of you inside.

the storage room was dimly lit and you could only make out a few features of your boyfriends’ face. suddenly, you felt his hands cup your cheeks. he inched his face closer to yours, allowing your lips to meet.

despite being taken aback, you happily and willingly kissed him back. his plush lips were soft and sweet, and you could feel him smile against your lips. then, his hands fell to your waist, as you allowed your hands to roam his already dishevelled hair. this intimacy with yeonjun was pure bliss and you enjoyed every second, but reality settled in and you pulled away quickly.

“oh my god! what if someone sees! is your team looking for you? what about your coach!?” you blurted almost too loudly.

“everyone’s busy doing their own thing, i don’t think they’d notice me missing.” yeonjun laughed as he attempted to pull you close again, obviously still distracted by your lips. you shot him a look.

“im serious, jjun. go back to your team. they need you.” your boyfriend groaned in a way that confirmed your suspicions. “i don’t want you to get in trouble.” you continued.

“you were the one who distracted me!” he argued jokingly as he ran a hand through his hair. he prepared to leave your safe haven in the storage room, and he instructed you to follow a few seconds after. he gave you one last peck and winked as he slipped out and went back to his team.

you didn’t want to claim the team’s comeback as your own doing, but the coincidence was almost comical. you watched in awe as the team continually racked up points in the last two quarters of the game. yeonjun’s energy and vibrancy had returned, moving swiftly and confidently on the court. although they didn’t win this time, they caught up quite impressively with only six points separating them from a win.

unfortunately for the two of you, yeonjun’s short absence during halftime didn’t go unnoticed. even though both his team and coach acknowledged the reappearance of his athletic prowess, they didn’t appreciate the tardiness. after the game, yeonjun was tasked with cleaning up the gymnasium before the caretaking staff arrived. this meant that he had to stay an extra while and the two of you couldn’t go directly back to yeonjun’s place.

“i’ll help you out.” you announced, as you stepped towards the boy picking clutter off the gym floor.

“no no no, i can do this. maybe you should head home first.” yeonjun protested, swiping a bead of sweat off his forehead.

“i was the one who distracted you anyways.” you teased, flashing him a cheeky grin. admitting defeat, yeonjun smiled gratefully.

“lemme just go change out of this uniform. be out in a sec!” he responded, hurriedly rushing back into the change room.

as you waited, you began filing the ball racks back into the gym storage. yeonjun didn’t take very long, returning back in his school uniform, hair still dishevelled. his white button up was messily tucked into his grey slacks and his tie wasn’t properly done up. even though he looked incredibly hot in his basketball uniform, you couldn’t help but enjoy this messy look of his.

and man, did you want to kiss him again.

he let out an exhausted sigh as he made his way towards you. “thank you for helping,” he said quietly. you shot him a meaningful look.

he glanced at you confused. “what?”

you grinned almost deviously, taking his hand and leading him back into the storage room. you yanked at his tie, pulling him closer to you and then pressed your lips together, more eagerly than he did before. yeonjun gasped into the kiss, but settled into it almost immediately.

your eagerness had him pressed up against a storage shelf littered with gym class equipment. you rested your hands around his neck, gently playing with locks of his hair. he held you at your waist, hands occasionally wandering.

each time your lips threatened to separate, they’d be drawn right back together. the soft sounds of lips smacking filled the dull room, and your breaths became increasingly louder.

in the midst of lip-locking, you pulled away to compliment him. “you did so good today,” you breathed out. he kissed you once more.

“i could only do it because of you,” he pulled away this time, before cupping your face again and pulling you deeper into the kiss.

your hands now roamed his messy locks just as you did before, blissfully allowing yourself to indulge in your handsome boyfriends’ plush lips even more.

yeonjun pulled away again, and you almost whined at his absence. but, before you knew it, he started pecking at your cheek and moving downward. he began slowly leaving longer kisses on your neck, and you found yourself needing to stifle any noises.

“not here, yeonjun!” you exclaimed.

“then hurry and help me finish cleaning up.”

#soobszzn #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fic #yeonjun fanfic #tomorrow x together #txt #txt yeonjun #txt x reader #txt x you #txt fluff #txt oneshot #txt headcanons #txt imagines

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dallaji · 5 months

Note

can you do bada lee smut, where bada wants to film while 🤟🏻 with reader HEHE i'm gonna leave the others to u:*

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

WORD COUNT: 5k

CW: exactly what it sounds like tbh!! established relationship, porn without plot, once again giver!bada, filming 🔞 (consensually)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is loosely a part two of this / "Hope we make it to the Cloud". i received these two requests and felt they were alike enough to "combine" the two, hopefully that's ok! 🩷 thanks for the request and hope you enjoy. (ꈍ꒳ꈍ) ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆

Living alone wasn’t so bad.

When spending a long month performing, interacting with hundreds of people every day and flitting from one schedule to the other, getting to wind down in the comforts of your humble apartment almost felt like a privilege. And as soon as your promotions had ended, you had to take the time to get reacquainted with the place that you called home; time spent away, sleeping in cars or planes, almost made you forget what it felt like to have your own bed.

Sometimes you felt pangs of loneliness, when you were no longer experiencing the rush of backstage and the fleeting interactions with other celebrities, some of whom you now considered friends. The feeling was especially present when you were on break, fighting the urge to get a pet to keep you company on several occasions. Though calling it a “break” was a bit premature, your team always surprising with a last minute schedule on your calendar.

Still, living alone wasn’t so bad when you finally got a break from bright stage lights, sore limbs and buzzing eardrums.

Besides, you aren't so lonely nowadays.

It was the middle of the day and you were watching a game show, feet propped up on the table and hair tied together, when you heard your front door unlock.

“Honey, I’m home,” A tired voice sounded.

Tossing the spare key you had given her a few weeks prior into the little bowl on the table next to the door, Bada entered the room with the nonchalance only a person who spent a lot of time here could have. And well, she did spend a lot of time here.

As you beamed up at her from your seat, Bada was kicking her shoes off: donned in her practice cargos and a comfortable sweater, she looked as effortlessly attractive as ever. If you didn’t know her well enough by now, you would’ve almost missed the metaphorical thunder cloud hanging over her head.

You patted your lap eagerly. “C’mere!”

And with quick shuffling footsteps, Bada made a beeline for where you were seated, first dropping her backpack to the floor with a sigh and then unceremoniously flopping onto the couch, her head snuggling into your lap.

Your hands immediately caressed along her face, fingers gently pushing her bangs aside as you ran them through the pink streaks.

“Long day?” You asked as you fanned her hair over your lap, combing through and detangling the knots.

Her eyes were shut, zoning in on your soothing touches. “Maybe I need a manager,” She muttered quietly, “I don’t know why I thought three choreo sessions in one day would be doable.”

You placed your forefinger between her eyebrows, smoothing over the frown that had started to form there. “Try not to hire mine. Before you know it, three sessions become six.”

Bada laughed at that, eyes opening to gaze up at you affectionately. “Missed you.” She mumbled, head turning to nuzzle into the palm of your hand.

“Is that so?”

She sat up slowly upon hearing your playful words, turning to face you with half-lidded eyes. Leaning in, gaze dropping to your lips, she placed her hand atop your thigh and gave it a firm, meaningful squeeze. “Want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You held your breath expectantly, leaning closer with a barely-there nod as Bada inched towards you to close the gap; she tilted her head and your eyes fluttered shut.

But then, the growling of a stomach sounded through the room.

Bada groaned as you erupted into giggles, shoving her off of you: “Please go eat! There’s some leftover rice and salmon in the kitchen.”

Her disgruntlement faded immediately at your words and she swept down to press a peck to your lips. “You’re the best.”

“I know...” You hummed against her mouth, tugging her down again to steal seconds, feeling self-satisfied when Bada complied without hesitation.

You let her scurry off to the kitchen with a smitten grin plastered across your face.

“Did you finish the routine for that boy group?” You asked, watching her scavenge with your chin propped on the palm of your hand.

Bada dug into the rice cooker as she nodded, already chewing on a piece of salmon: “Yeah, it came together nicely! Wanna see?”

Clasping your hands together, you perked up. “Yes, please!”

“Laptop’s in my bag. All my recent recordings should be on it.”

Bending over to unzip her backpack, you carefully pulled her laptop out and set it on your lap. You heard Bada heat up the remaining salmon as you booted up the computer. Her password was just her birthday, which she had sheepishly confessed to when you were still practicing your choreography together. As you opened her files, a screen popping up with over fifty recordings, Bada came to stand behind you, shoveling food into her mouth as if the bowl would sprout legs and run away from her.

You scrolled through the recordings, which were arranged chronologically, until you noticed a thumbnail with a very familiar practice room.

As your mouth fell open in disbelief, your mouse hovered over the picture of what was undoubtedly Bada hunched over you in front of your practice room’s mirror; both your backs turned to the camera, but the scene all too recognizable.

You didn’t know why, but you felt your lower stomach warm up at the thought of her having kept the recording. You barely registered the audible gasp behind you, and you turned around.

Bada was frozen in her tracks, chopsticks motionless at her lips as she stared at the laptop on your lap.

“Oh my god, I—” She began, eyes searching the room for a place to set her bowl down as your eyes scrutinized her, “I could’ve sworn I deleted that! How did that— How did that get on my laptop?” She was stumbling over her words, and always had been a terrible liar.

You wordlessly navigated to the top of the screen and clicked on ‘Sort by last opened’, the videos reorganizing at your command.

The video was the third one on the list, even though it was over two months old. Once again your stomach curled, face heating up at the implication spread out in front of you.

Bada pressed her lips together in a fine line, face beet red as she was unable to meet your eyes, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil and instead cowering away from you. “I’m sorry, you— you can delete it. I shouldn’t have—”

“I never told you to delete it, back then.” You cut in hurriedly, and it was true, but you felt embarrassed at the words leaving your mouth all the same. “You’ve watched it?”

Bada stared at you in bewilderment, but she nodded, perhaps comforted by your words and thus no longer seeing the point in lying: “Several times.” She admitted bashfully, gaze moving back to the laptop.

You felt lightheaded, briefly imagining Bada alone in her studio with her hand between her legs and her eyes glued to the screen.

“Oh,” You responded, “Why didn’t you...?” Unsure of how you were even trying to finish that sentence, you trailed off.

“We’ve just been so busy…” She said, sounding solemn, leaning over the backrest of the couch as her arms draped themselves over your shoulders. You leaned back into her embrace, your hands curling over her arms.

It was true: between a grueling comeback schedule and the heightening demand for Bada, especially following the release of your single, made it difficult to see each other regularly. Bada had visited you backstage a handful of times, the both of you savoring your short moments together, hungry lips meeting while hiding away in your dressing room, until you were inevitably whisked away for your next schedule. Similarly, you dropped by her studio whenever there was an opening on your calendar, but the curious eyes of her students made it difficult to do much of anything. It was then when you had given her a spare key to your apartment, hoping you could meet each other halfway more often.

“I miss you so much.” She murmured, cheek resting against your temple, and the way she said it left you breathless. It had a hidden meaning to it, clear to no one but you. It almost sounded like a plea with the way she nosed into you.

“You were gonna show me how much you missed me.” You whispered, angling your head to look up at her properly. Her eyes were already on you, gaze heavy. You didn’t have to say the words back to her with the way you looked at her.

She barely gave you a moment to let the words hang in the air before she pressed her lips against yours with a desperate inhale, hand curling over the crook of your neck. The position you were in brought you right back to your first time together; Bada crowding over you with an insatiableness she only reserved for you as your mouths fit together, her warmth washing over you. You felt her nails scrape along the nape of your neck, her lips parting against yours, pleading, as you slipped your tongue past. She hummed pleasantly, lips closing around the wet muscle and sucking as her fingers dug into your hair.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need of wanting her all over you, the couch separating your body from the comfort of her lean figure, you parted the kiss unwillingly. Before you could beg her for anything more, however, she moved her lips to your neck; immediately sucking a bruise against the unmarked skin. You gasped, instinctively baring your neck for her.

“Bada-” You began, but the words died in your throat as the tip of her tongue circled the mark.

“Click on the video.” She spoke in a hushed voice and only then did you become cognizant of the laptop resting on your lap, cursor still hovering over the video. “Fast forward a bit.”

With your eyes locked onto the screen and without moving your head, afraid you would lose the warmth of her mouth against your skin, you did as you were told; skipping through the recording until you found the exact moment Bada had turned you around, her chest pressed against your back. The sounds that came from the laptop speakers after you unpaused the video were sinful: the smack of lips gliding together and your quiet gasps as Bada smoothened her hands along your figure. You were feeling overwhelmed already and the two of you had barely done anything.

“You’re so beautiful.” Bada spoke as she watched the video from over your shoulder, still pressing soft kisses against your neck.

You could say the same about her with the way she was, and still is, able to command your body like an instrument. You were putty in her hands then and now, turning whichever way she conducted you.

She straightened her back slightly, looking down at you as her hands lowered to your front. In tandem with the Bada in the video, she found the hem of your shirt and pulled upwards, your arms raising to aid the process. You weren’t wearing a bra, and the cool air of the room made a shiver run down your spine. Bada, however, was delighted, warm hands immediately cupping over your breasts.

You craned your neck, chasing after her lips and she let you indulge: with your head tilted backwards your tongues met before your lips did, Bada angling her head to deepen the kiss impossibly more, fingers pinching your nipples inquisitively and stiffening them. You were sensitive straightaway, gasping into her mouth.

Then, an idea. Your fingers managed to find the space button and pressed, effectively pausing the video. Bada parted the kiss reluctantly, curiously peeking at the screen before looking down at you.

“Do you have your camera with you?” You asked, voice breathless.

She blinked at you in wonder but nodded: “Yes, in my backpack.”

You gave her a suggestive look, hands coming up to rest atop hers; still covering your breasts. “Do you… want to film a new one?”

You hoped you hadn’t misjudged Bada, and for the few seconds she was silent you feared you had ruined the atmosphere, but that feeling didn’t last long. The look she gave you was nothing short of infatuated.

Bada smiled, albeit entirely flustered, before giving you another kiss and you sighed in relief. She walked to her backpack, where it still laid on the floor, and began searching through it for the camera. As you shut the laptop and moved it off your lap, Bada reemerged with the familiar device.

The display was already flipped open, Bada’s fingers fiddling with the buttons with an almost childlike excitement that made you giggle. She looked up at you as if breaking out of a daze, and softened instantly at the sight of you: topless and patiently waiting for her. She lowered the device.

“You’re certain you’re okay with this?” Her eyes looked into yours, searching for any hints of doubt or apprehension.

“More than okay,” you assured, “Just tell me what to do.”

And as soon as the words had left you, Bada hit record. “Be you.”

She slowly walked around you, angling the camera as her eyes were glued to her display, taking in your appearance with the delicacy of someone who practiced this often enough in their head. You were starting to feel skittish, despite her attention on you almost feeling reverent, and fought the urge to cover yourself up.

Instead you crossed your legs, head tilting to the side as you looked straight into the lens of the camera: “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to keep your distance the whole time.”

You heard the buzzing sound of the lens zooming in on you, though you had no clue what exact part of you it was focusing on. “That would be impossible when you look like this, baby.”

The nickname, which was usually reserved for when the two of you spent time tangled up in each other, visibly flustered you. You sucked in your lower lip to hide a growing smile and glanced down, Bada smirking at your reaction.

“Trying to set the scene for my future self.” Bada added meaningfully, and the implication made you feel warm.

She strode over towards you, eyes still focused on the camera display as she sat down on the table in front of you. You followed her movements intently, anticipating whatever request was burning on her lips. But instead of asking anything of you, Bada wordlessly nudged her knees in between your thighs, forcing your legs apart, and you adhered.

“Take your pants off.” She commanded and virtually immediately your hands dropped to the waistband of your trousers, tugging it below your hips. You would have time to ponder how embarrassing your submission to her was later, but for now you wanted to give her everything she asked for.

With her unoccupied hand she helped you pull the fabric all the way off, with an almost impatient tug, and you made sure to stretch your legs as elegantly as possible, doe eyes never losing track of the lens; hyper aware of the camera following your every move as if this were just another music video recording.

You let your hands slide up your thighs, fingers momentarily hooking into the straps of your panties before snapping them against your skin. Bada angled her camera, tracking the movements of your hands intently as her tongue peeked past her lips; wetting them. The palms of your hands moved along the curve of your waist, trailing them higher and higher, until you were pushing your breasts together ever-so-slightly. Then, you brought one hand behind your neck and leaned back into the couch. Your other hand dropped back to the strap of your panties, toying with the fabric between your fingertips, granting a sneak peek for the skin underneath - not that there was much more left to the imagination.

For a moment Bada’s eyes moved away from the display, zoning in on your ministrations, and then she leaned back herself, the movements forcing your thighs further apart by the dull push of her knees against yours.

“You’re a natural.” Bada said teasingly, but remained cemented in her spot, much to your frustration.

You pulled the strap of your underwear below your hip, blinking up at the lens through long eyelashes, and pressed your crotch down into the couch. Subsequently, you slid your hand to your front, fingertips digging below the waistband of your panties; your eyes never losing track of the lens. You went lower and lower, gauging the taller girl’s reaction.

Once again you heard the noise of the lens zooming in, and your fingers finally found the top of your heat. You were already wet, spreading your folds with a quiet hum, and began lightly rocking against the fabric of the couch. The friction made you gasp, the thrill of your predicament making you feel increasingly more responsive to any touches.

Bada parted her lips, watching on in awe. “Take those off.” Her voice was almost uncharacteristically deep, dripping with want.

And because you knew her well enough to know she couldn’t hold off for much longer, you gave her the most coy look you could muster and answered: “Come do it yourself.”

The sound of the table moving backwards echoed through the living room, Bada using her body to push it away. You didn’t cease your movements however, dragging your crotch against the couch again as you watched Bada in anticipation. She had placed the camera on top of a stack of books lying on the table, pointing the lens at you in a sideways angle, and stepped towards you. She towered over you before pulling her sweater over her head, and you watched as her slender frame appeared; still touching yourself. She was unbelievably pretty.

Then, she dropped to her knees, arms hooking under your legs as she pulled you to the edge of the couch in such a sudden motion you couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell from your lips. Her thumbs hooked under the straps of your underwear and pulled them off brusquely, leaving you completely bare in front of her.

She settled in between your thighs like she belonged there and leaned up, her hand on the side of your neck as she brought you in for a hungry kiss. The noise you made was desperate, but she silenced it immediately by plunging her tongue into your mouth; licking into it with a groan. Your fingers tangled into her hair, clinging onto her as your body begged for more, tongue gliding back against hers through parted lips.

Bada cupped your jaw tightly as she swallowed the sweet noises you made, and parted the kiss to catch her breath; your own chest rising in exhilaration. Her thumb trailed along your bottom lip, moist from saliva, and pulled it down: “Just look pretty for me.” She muttered.

With that she slid down your body, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and to your cleavage, her hands feeling along the shape of your upper thighs, squeezing them. You felt your lower stomach curl when her lips pressed to your navel, and you put your arms at either side of your body; palms pressing into the couch as you gave your body away to her.

Her thumbs pressed into your hip bones when her mouth got closer to your core, but she immediately pivoted to the inside of your thigh, teeth grazing the skin before parted lips began to suck down a bruise.

Your head lolled to the side, letting out another soft gasp as her lips covered every area except the one where you needed her the most. You were going mad, wondering if you should start begging.

Her eyes met yours and she had the audacity to smile, a happy glow dusting her cheeks as her fingers dug deeper into the skin of your thighs. She pressed another openmouthed kiss near your hip bone before speaking: “Anything you want me to do?”

Your hand automatically moved in between your legs, but Bada stopped you with a firm hold on your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, “I’m directing here. Tell me what you want.” Her gaze was intense, smile growing wider as you grew more flustered, thighs twitching.

“I—” You began, struggling to find the words, “I want you to touch me. However you want.”

“However I want?” She tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion in a sweet voice.

“With your hands.” You added quickly, something in you stirring at the way her grip on your wrist remained resolute. “Please, I need it so bad.” More words escaped you before you could dwell on the humiliation: “I’m so wet for you.”

The look in Bada’s eyes darkened as she placed your hand back onto the couch, grabbing onto your thigh once again. She looked down at your glistening heat, momentarily sucking in her lower lips before meeting your eyes again. “For me?” She asked again, knowing the answer well enough.

“Only for you.” You near whimpered, and she finally released you from your misery.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she lapped at her fingers before promptly lowering it to your vagina; spit-slicked fingers moving along your folds to spread your wetness with a purpose as her other hand held down your thigh, making sure you kept your legs apart for her. A groan of relief escaped you before you could realize and you bit down on your lower lip, feeling her explore. You heard her suck in a breath between her teeth as you glistened underneath her, marveling.

You felt yourself get impossibly more wet from her touch, and Bada immediately took advantage of that. She started to rub against you in slow, circular motions as your hips involuntarily jerked from the sensitivity. With a soothing shush, her grip on your thigh tightened as she let her fingers dig into your folds with more pressure, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“I’m starting to think you like begging.” Bada whispered longingly, fingers that knew exactly where to be circling against you with a deepening pace.

Unable and unwilling to answer, you brought a hand up to your mouth and pushed two fingers past your lips; you sucked around them, muffling your moans. The look Bada gave you was simply ravenous, and you then realized you were here to put on a show for her camera. Her thumb brushed down against your clit, and your eyes fell shut in pleasure, the ministration sending electric shocks across your lower belly as you were unable to stop your hips from rutting into her touch. You withdrew your fingers from your mouth and brought them to your breast, rolling your nipple under them.

You heard the taller girl cuss between your thighs, her fingers dropping lower as she followed the noises you made; spurring you on. Then, you felt her forefinger catch at your entrance, drawing circles around and all you could do was hold your breath.

Bada sank a finger into you, slow enough that the burn wasn’t overwhelming you, but you moaned all the same. She tentatively crooked her finger inside of you, intently watching your reactions, the grip she had on your thigh almost bruising. She began pumping her finger in and out of you, not too fast but fast enough to have you gasp her name, rewarding every honeyed moan with a curl of her finger.

“More…” You begged, toes curling.

“Yeah?” She whispered, pressing a kiss right where your inner thigh and core met before handing you exactly what you wished for.

Her middle finger pushed into you along with her index finger, and this time you felt the stretch more acutely. You audibly keened, nails digging into the fabric of the couch as she scissored her fingers inside of you, whispering soft praises encouraging you.

“That’s it, baby, let me make you feel good.”

Soon enough the burn was barely present, making way for an electrifying bundle of pleasure running up your spine. You rocked into her touch as much as Bada’s iron grip on you allowed, and she met you halfway, fingers pumping in and out of you at a steadily building pace.

The way she looked up at you was maddening: somewhere between wondrous amazement and self-satisfied smugness, drinking in every second of the way you opened up to her in more ways than one. She gave a sharp curl of her fingers, and your thighs twitched dangerously. Bada caught on immediately and began moving her fingers inside you in a come-hither motion, pulling every sweet noise from you that she could. You thrusted down harder, mouth agape as you zoned in on the ecstasy that overtook you.

“Third finger, baby girl.” And you somehow found a way to part your thighs almost impossibly further, your body eager to receive more.

While her two fingers were still curling inside you, the third one joined, and you choked on a moan. This time Bada didn’t give you time to get used to the stretch, as all three fingers curled inside you over and over again.

Feeling overwhelmed almost instantaneously, hushed cusses spilling from your mouth, you inadvertently wriggled backwards; but Bada immediately pulled you back, keeping you locked in place as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. She knew your body too well, because soon enough you had your head thrown back and thrusted back into her motions, her long fingers finding the spot to curl into.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She mumbled, and before you knew it her mouth was on you, tongue digging between your folds as she continued pumping her wrist.

With her arm still curled around your thigh, she brought you closer to the edge of the couch; she wanted to dig in. Her name came out as a yelp as her lips closed around your bundle of nerves, sucking harshly as her moans began to reverberate against you. You brought a hand to the back of her head, fingers digging against her scalp as you held her in place, needing unfathomably more from her. Anything she was willing to give.

She swallowed around you so eagerly, so greedily, and then her hand let go of your thigh: she brought it between her own legs instead, fingers digging into her trousers.

You had to force yourself to look away or you would orgasm right then and there, feeling your eyes roll back instead. She was touching herself, rocking into her own hand as her mouth bobbed against you; her other hand still fucking into you. She was getting off to getting you off.

You thought you were going insane, only able to give into your instincts and rock into her movements, all the while pulling on her hair which she seemed to relish in: the both of you building up to a pace where she pushed in exactly as you thrusted. You felt your toes curl again as that familiar pressure in your lower stomach began building up, and your head lolled to the side. You were a sweaty, writhing mess, and Bada was moaning against you so loudly it made you lightheaded.

You noticed her own movements getting messier, too. Her wrist circled against herself as she slurped around you, and you brushed her bangs from her forehead to watch her own desperation overcome her. She curled her fingers inside of you again just as she sucked down on your clit, and you could've sworn you saw stars.

“Bada, I—” You began, warningly, as you fucked back against her, chasing after the uncoiling of your lower stomach.

Bada hummed encouragingly, nodding against you in a frenzied state herself and crooked her fingers sharply, beckoning you to let yourself go.

Something about the way she gasped and moaned against you, yet still remained so dedicated to give you exactly what you wanted, is what did it for you. You felt your orgasm ripple through you so sharply you felt dizzy. You clutched onto Bada’s head between your thighs as you shook all over, her fingers curling into you harshly as she sucked on your clit through your implosion, until you felt her tremble against you too.

She fell forward, teeth pressing down on the inside of your thigh as she came with your name on her lips, rutting into her hand. You moaned, sensitive all over but running your hands through her hair soothingly, nails caressing along her scalp.

The both of you stayed like that for a solid minute, catching your breaths, until Bada leaned up on her trembling knees; far enough to wrap her arms around your waist and lean up for a tender kiss. Completely smitten, you kissed back despite the heaving of your chest and you wordlessly urged her to get on the couch with you. The taller girl obliged, immediately climbing on top of you and nuzzling into your hold with a tired smile, her cheek pressed against your collarbones.

The both of you giggled at nothing in particular, your fingers tracing delicate lines along the side of her face.

As if experiencing a déjà vu, your eyes went to the camera perched on the table, inevitably recording, but the both of you too spent to do anything about it.

“You know,” you began, fingertips still absentmindedly caressing along Bada’s jawline, “You’re gonna need a better password for your laptop.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee smut #dalla!writes #requests #ask

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

NIGHT OUT

A/N: i was in the mood for some fluff all weekend so this is what i came up with at last.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: You're getting ready for a girls' night out and Harry joins you in the bathroom in the process, mesmerized with everything you do.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Stepping out of the steamy shower you wrap a soft, fluffy towel around your body and walk over to the double vanity. The mirror has fogged up, so you wipe off a section with your hand before deciding to open the door so the room could cool down faster.

While waiting for the steam to escape the bathroom you’re rummaging through your makeup collection, trying to decide what look you should go for tonight. It’s a girls’ night, you’ve planned it out weeks ahead, because it’s always impossible to get four girls under one roof with such hectic schedules. You’re gonna have some drinks, maybe some tapas and gossip for hours, discuss everything that’s happened since the last time you saw each other, which was after Christmas, so there’s a lot to share.

You hear the familiar sound of a pair of feet wandering into the room before you see the person they belong to. Harry comes into your view, leaning against the vanity as you shut the makeup drawer once you’ve collected everything from it. He is wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple, white t-shirt that’s slightly see through, so you catch sight of the outline of his tattoos here and there when you look at him. He looks so cozy, his hair a bit messy from lounging in bed all afternoon with you, his face looks relaxed, a slight stubble forming from not shaving in the past couple of days.

“If you need to use the bathroom go to the one downstairs, it’s my turn in here,” you tease him, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

“Just wanna watch you get ready. Can I?”

“Sure,” you chuckle softly.

He hops onto the counter and watches you curiously as you start applying your skincare product before the makeup.

“What’s that?”

“Why are you doing that?”

“What is that doing?”

He keeps asking and you explain everything to him while your eyes keep moving between your reflection in the mirror and his handsome face.

“Wanna try some?” you ask, when you’re applying your moisturizer and when he nods you pump some more into your hands, rub them together and stepping closer to him you start massaging it into his face. He closes his eyes, humming gently as you work your fingers over every crease, freckle and corner of his face.

“There, you look all dewy and moist,” you smirk at him when you’re done. He turns around and inspects himself in the mirror.

“Fabulous.”

You start doing your makeup then and Harry keeps examining every step as if he would have to write a test about it later.

“What?” you ask, when he hasn’t said a word in a long time.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “You look beautiful.”

“I’m not done yet,” you smile shyly, heat crawling up your neck. Even after three years of dating you’re still not immune to his compliments he keeps dropping every single day.

“Doesn’t matter, you still look beautiful.”

Chuckling shortly you just keep on working on your eyeshadow while he starts looking through the products scattered over the counter. When it’s time to curl your eyelashes he watches you intently, as if it was something sent straight from the aliens.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asks, eyebrows pulled together in a worried look.

“Nope.”

“Looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t. Wanna try?”

“Hell no, I like being not blind.”

You laugh at his resistance and move on with applying mascara that he finds more fascinating than the curler.

“Can I do that for you?”

“Just please don’t make me look like a panda,” you smirk as you hand the wand over to him.

He grabs your hip with his free hand and pulls you over so you’re standing between his legs. He gently angles your head and then very slowly and carefully he starts applying it to your lashes. The serious look on his face almost makes you laugh, he looks like as if he was performing surgery. You place your hands to his thighs and follow his instructions when he tells you to look up or down. He is taking a bit longer than you usually do, but at last he is finally finished and you’re surprised to see he did an amazing job as you check yourself out in the mirror.

“You did good, babe.” Leaning closer you kiss his lips shortly before moving on with your makeup.

He asks to do your blush as well and he sprays your face with setting spray at the end. He stays around while you do your hair as well and follows you into the closet as well, helping you with finding a dress to wear.

Once you’re dressed, he chose a simple, but elegant black dress for you, you’re putting on your heels when you notice a pout on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you step closer and run a hand down the side of his face.

“Do you really need to go?”

“H, we planned this weeks ahead, I can’t just cancel on them.”

“But I will miss you.”

To this day you can’t understand how he can turn into this squishy, sweet little thing and then be an absolute beast other times, of course, only when it’s the right time for that. The look on his face almost makes you drop a text in the group chat that you can’t make it, but you would be the worst friend if you did that and you know Harry is just acting clingy.

“I won’t stay long, okay?” You take his hands between yours and move them to your waist until they move on their own and pull you into his embrace. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, locking your hands behind his head as you melt against his front.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he mumbles, still acting like a sad baby.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do, I can’t sleep when you’re out without me. And text me when you arrive to the place, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile at his protectiveness before kissing his lips softly, careful not to mess up your lipstick, though he has other plans, because he doesn’t let you pull back, instead he deepens the kiss so when you finally pull away his lips are a dark shade of pink.

“Now I have to touch my lipstick up,” you chuckle, wiping it off of his lips.

“I’ll do it for you,” he volunteers, so you grab the lipstick from your purse and hand it over him, letting him reapply it with so much precision, it looks like just before he kissed it all off.

He walks you out when the Uber arrives and you know he is silently checking if the driver looks like a creep.

“Have fun,” he says as he leans into the car, kissing you shortly one last time before shutting the door. He stands on the pavement and watches you disappear down the street before heading back inside.

You arrive home just a few minutes after midnight, slightly dizzy from the cocktails, but definitely not drunk. When you open the front door you find Harry in front of the TV downstairs, his head shoots up right away when you walk in and by the time you’ve kicked your shoes off he is right there beside you.

“Hey, how was it?” he asks and happily wraps his arms around you when you hug his neck and pull him down for a kiss that tastes sweet from all the cocktails you’ve drunk tonight.

“Great, we had a good time,” you smile at him sleepily. “But I’m really tired,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he chuckles and smacks your butt playfully, which makes you giggle.

“Carry me upstairs?” you give him puppy eyes, knowing well he can’t say no to you.

“Jump,” he simply says and obeying you make a small jump and he catches the back of your thighs, heading upstairs with you.

“Just put me to bed,” you mumble groggily, holding onto his neck, but he shakes his head and entering the master bedroom he goes straight into the bathroom. “No!” you whine. “I’m too tired, I’ll shower in the morning!”

“Don’t have to shower, but let’s at least wash your makeup off.”

He sits you onto the counter, just like he sat earlier in the evening when you were getting ready. Parting your legs he stands between them as he grabs a cotton pad and some micellar water, dabbing it onto the pad he starts to gently rub your makeup off while you just sit there with your eyes closed, letting him do whatever he wants. When he’s done, he takes the pins out of your hair and gently massages your scalp which makes you hum in satisfaction.

Then he stops and when you open your eyes you see him walking out of the bathroom, so you call for him, but he doesn’t answer, just returns a few moments later with a pair of clean panties and one of his old shirts you like to sleep in. He undresses you like you’re a baby and then puts you into the clean clothes before lifting you off the counter and taking you to bed.

“You’re the best,” you mumble, eyes closed as you snuggle to his chest in bed. He gladly pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“You deserve the best, my love,” he softly murmurs against your hair and you hear him say “I love you” just as you drift off to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 5

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 5.9k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, drinking, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, blowjob, edging, overstimulation, degradation, nipple play, cum eating, fingering (female receiving).

Haeun’s appearances increase along with the band’s gigs, inviting herself to all the afterparties and mingling with the new crowd Beomgyu curated.

It's a cause of contest between you. You keep telling him that she's using him but he doesn’t care. He just wants her attention. Besides, every time you bring her up, he brings up Yeonjun and the whole thing just devolves into a fight, and so bit by bit you just learn to shut up and keep your distance–to protect yourself from the pain and to stop fighting with him.

You’re once again at one of the band’s gigs, but this time you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch. You’re here to cheer for him, not your asshole best friend, who by the way was so obviously drunk he keeps messing up, even to your woefully untrained ears.

You can see him struggling and see the band shooting him dirty looks every time he messes up. You'd feel bad for him if he wasn't such an asshole. Actually, you still feel bad for him. You can't help it. You’re so worried about him that you can’t even enjoy the performance. Not that anyone can really when the vibe is so off with the whole band.

And this isn’t a one-time thing even. It has happened a few times now. Beomgyu seems to be slipping. You blame Haeun. Ever since she came into his life, he became like this.

As soon as the last song ends, Beomgyu storms off backstage. His band members awkwardly stay behind to say goodbye to the crowd but you can tell they’re fuming.

You quickly go backstage, hoping to catch Beomgyu before the members do. For what? You don’t know exactly. You just know your best friend is in trouble and you want to help him.

But unfortunately, the band makes it back before you do. You go there to find them already ripping into him.

“For fuck’s sake man. If you wanna get drunk, by all means do it, but on your own time. We’re trying to get signed here. We can’t have you ruin it for us.” Soobin curses at Beomgyu.

“Oh, like you’ve never performed drunk or high before.” Beomgyu retorts, clearly defensive.

“Yes, but we’ve never let it affect our performance.” Yeonjun interjects, and Beomgyu looks at him with such venom, you think he might lunge forward and punch him. “No, you let your shitty singing and botched notes do that for you.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that what you’re gonna tell people after you’re kicked out of the band?”

That does it. Beomgyu lunges forward, but Taehyun was anticipating this and he grabs Beomgyu and holds him back. Luckily, he is much stronger than your scrawny best friend. “Hey, hey, let’s calm down.”

“What is he talking about?” Beomgyu demands, and the boys look at Soobin.

“It won’t come to that.” Soobin tries to calm him down but Beomgyu will not have it. “Won’t come to what? Are you thinking of kicking me out?”

“No. No, we won’t because you are going to get your shit together and clean your act up.” Soobin deadpans, “Right?”

Though Soobin was trying his best to reassure Beomgyu, there was also a clear threat there, and Beomgyu shoves Taehyun off him.

“Right.” He says darkly, grabbing his guitar and walking out.

You try to run after him but Yeonjun grabs your arm to stop you. “Let him go. He’s an idiot.”

But you shake your head. “I can’t. He’s my best friend. I have to be there for him.”

He sighs in disappointment, letting you go, and you run to the parking lot, wondering if you’ve missed him and Beomgyu had taken a taxi home already. But thankfully, you find him standing in front of one, just… waiting?

When he sees you, he gets into the car and leaves the door open, obviously waiting for you to get in so you do, closing the door behind you before the driver pulls off.

“I thought you might’ve left.” You say awkwardly.

“I was waiting for you.”

Yeah, you definitely did the right thing. If Beomgyu had waited and you didn’t come, you know he would’ve been super pissed, probably thinking that you chose Yeonjun over him.

You don’t say anything else for the whole drive home. You didn’t want to get into it in front of a stranger so you wait until you’re back inside your apartment to speak up.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this,” You start nervously once you’re back home, “But you really need to focus. You can't risk your future like this."

"Like you fucking care. It's all because of you." He accuses you and you reel back in shock. "What?"

"Why did you have to fuck my friend?"

"Oh my god, I can't listen to this again." Your hands fly to your head, already feeling a headache coming because of this tired point. What does this even have to do with him getting drunk and ruining the band’s performances?

But Beomgyu doubles down on his stupid point. “Well, you’re going to have to because your boyfriend wants to kick me out of the band.”

“You are crazy! This has nothing to do with me and Yeonjun.” You shout, exasperated, “They will kick you out because you’re going on stage drunk and playing like shit.”

“Wow, thanks for the support.” Beomgyu snorts, looking hurt, but you won’t let him get away with guilt-tripping you for his questionable behavior. “No. You won’t do that. You won’t make me feel bad for calling you out on your shit. What the hell are you even doing? You’re jeopardizing your whole career by acting like a goddamn idiot. What has gotten into you?”

He looks down, not answering you.

“You weren’t like this. Not before she came along.” You mutter and his head snaps up to look at you. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Fuck, why did you even bring it up? Now you’ll get into an even bigger fight. “It means that maybe she is a bad influence on you, with all the parties and the drinking and shit.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from the girlfriend of the party animal himself.” And there it is.

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with Yeonjun? I thought he was your friend.”

“He is not my friend anymore. Not after what he did.” Beomgyu speaks as if Yeonjun has stabbed him in the back when he may have given him a warning before it’s too late. If he hadn’t said anything, Beomgyu wouldn’t know the band is even considering kicking him out.

“You’re bringing it on yourself. If you would just not drink on the fucking job then your career wouldn’t be at risk right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“I am not taking anyone’s side.”

“Well, you should!” He screams, clearly getting emotional. “You’re my best friend. You should be on my side! They’re fucking threatening to take my dream away and all you can think about is defending your boyfriend.”

“I am being your best friend! A real best friend calls you out when you’re making a mistake before it’s too late.” You try to clarify, “Beomgyu, I don’t know why you’re doing this but I don’t want you to ruin this for yourself.”

“I’m just stressed out.” He says slowly, “Which you would know if you had bothered being a friend and asked.”

Now maybe you shouldn’t get into it now, but you can’t help being peeved by what he said, and you just blurt out, “It’s hard to ask when you’re so busy getting your face sucked off by her.”

He’s been hanging out with her so often that you hardly even see him anymore. How the hell are you supposed to know what he’s feeling if you don’t even see him?

But of course, Beomgyu takes it in another direction, the direction where his dick is doing all the talking.

“Aw, are you jealous, baby?” He goads, getting all up in your face. “You miss kissing me?”

“Jealous?” You laugh forcefully, the jealousy indeed burning through you and firing you up. “Yeah right, I can have you begging for me any time I want to.”

“Oh, please." He scoffs, his denial irritating you.

"It's not like I haven't done it before. All I have to do is give your cock a couple of pumps and you'd be whining like a bitch."

His breathing hitches for a second before he counters back. "I was just humoring you. It didn’t even feel that good."

Oh, hell no. The only thing you managed to have with Beomgyu is getting him to need your touch the same way you need his love, and you'll be damned if you let anyone take that from you, even Beomgyu.

You curse him out under your breath as you charge forward and push him against the wall, crashing your lips together.

And for someone who just basically claimed to not want you, he sure as hell is eager to reciprocate… damn it, this was bait, wasn't it? That whore.

Oh, well, now that you started, you can't get yourself to stop now. You've fucking missed the feeling of him pressed needily against you and the all the little noises he makes when he's turned on. You need to have him again. You need him to admit he's addicted to your touch. You need to hear him beg.

And it doesn't look like it's gonna be hard when the first thing out of his mouth as soon as you part is, "Touch me."

“You’re so fucking needy.” You mutter, hand trailing up his thigh slowly, intentionally teasing him. “I thought your girlfriend lets you fuck her everyday.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He says, shocking you, and against reason, that makes you happy. “We just mess around.”

"Sad." You say with faux sympathy, finally grabbing his cock, making his breathing waver. "What about you? Is he your boyfriend?"

Maybe you shouldn’t be having his discussion with your hand cupping his dick. You don’t know if you should tell him the truth, but he did so you should too, right?

"He's not my boyfriend. We just mess around."

“What… what do you do with him?” He asks slowly, “Do you let him touch you?”

“Yes.” You admit, watching his reaction closely. You know he’s asking it because you never let him touch you, and if you wanna annoy him, you’d tell him the truth. Which you do. "I let him touch me. I let him eat me out too."

His face changes just like you hoped it would. "Slut.".

You laugh, hooking your finger into the chain link on the collar he’s wearing and tugging on it a little. "I'm the slut? Not you who is practically begging for me to touch your cock when you’re already getting off with another woman?"

"Whatever. I don’t want whatever STDs you caught from Yeonjun anyway." He tries to walk away but you shove him back against the wall, your body pressed tightly against his. "Really? You don’t want this?"

"No.” He tenses, but his body betrays him, leaning into you.

“Oh, really? So you don’t want me to pull your pants down and jerk you off just the way you like?” You pull tighter on his collar while feeling the exact imprint of his hardening cock through his pants.

“No.” He gulps, uncertainty clear in the way his voice wavers.

“Hmm, and if I were to offer to take you into my mouth, you would say no to that?” You brush your lips against his as your thumb swipes across the head of his cock. “You’d say no to my hot, wet mouth around your needy, pathetic cock?”

“Shit.” He shudders, his breathing getting ragged and his eyes getting hazy–tell-tale signs that he’s a goner.

“What is it, baby? Want me to let go?” You feel wetness gather under your thumb, soaking through his pants. Is he not wearing any underwear? Fuck.

“No, fuck. Want it. Want your mouth.” He finally admits, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

“Okay.” You swipe your tongue over your lips, teasing him. "But first, admit you're the slut."

He blinks, a moment of clarity shining in his eyes. "No."

“No?” You laugh, bringing your hand to your face and licking it before you slide it under his pants, taking a hold of his cock and giving it a firm stroke, feeling his knees buckle for a second.

“You don’t want my pretty mouth wrapped around your dick?” Your face is so close to his, lips brushing against his every once in a while but every time he tries to close the gap and kiss you, you pull him back by the collar away. “No. Bad dog. If you want it, you have to play nice.”

“Shit…Okay. You win. I want it.” He confesses, but you don’t give in as easily as he does. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a slut.” He whimpers and you smile, squeezing his cock as a reward. “That’s right, Beommie. You’re a slut who goes all dumb over the promise of a warm mouth. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Please. I really want it.” He begs, hips timidly thrusting forward. “I need it. I need you.”

Okay, it doesn’t matter what went on before this. Just hearing him say those three words, that he needs you, is enough for you to get on your knees. “See? I told you I’d get you to beg.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t care, only focusing on one thing which is you pulling his pants down, letting his cock spring up before grabbing it in your hands and bending forward to give it a few licks–getting it wet just like Yeonjun showed you.

But it’s not hard to get Beomgyu wet when he’s already dripping precum for you. Fuck, even his body is slutty.

“There you go. Now that wasn’t so hard.” You tease, brushing your lips back and forth over the head of his cock.

"Please, put it in your mouth." He chokes, bucking up into your hand. “I want it! I really want it. Please!”

You open your mouth, only taking the tip, not just to tease him but get yourself ready for more. But the virgin doesn’t have the self-restraint of Yeonjun, and his hips shoot forward, gagging you on his cock.

You immediately pull back, glaring up at him. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to go back to your room and fuck your cum into my panties like you’ve been doing before?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Keep your hips still or I’ll stop.” You hiss, and he nods pitifully. “Yes, baby.”

There he goes again, calling you baby as if you were his lover. Though you guess he calls Haeun the same and she’s not his lover either.

You take him in your mouth again, this time daring to take more of him, knowing whatever you do, he’ll like it anyway. And he does. You can see his nails scraping against the wall behind him as he struggles to keep his body still. “Oh, thank you. Fuck, thank you.”

He’s such a loser. You love it so much.

Spurred on by his pathetic display, you make yourself go further and further down his cock, your tongue swiping back and forth on the sensitive underside, getting him so worked up. And he doesn’t even try to hide it.

"Fuck, so good. You’re so perfect.” He gushes, staring at you taking his cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth."

"Do I?" You pull back to answer before taking him in your mouth but this time, you don’t move, just letting the weight of him rest on your tongue.

"Fuck, don't do this to me. Please move." He whimpers, but doesn’t dare to move you. You keep still, but swallow around him, making his thighs go rigid with the effort to not thrust forward and fuck your face. “Fuck…fuck… you’re gonna kill me.”

You smile, humming around him happily, making him go delirious. “God, I wanna take a picture of you like that."

“Pervert.” You glare at him, finally pulling back. "Does she let you do that?"

He shrugs, making you more angry. What the hell does that mean? Is that a yes or a no? Is his phone just full of pictures of Haeun with his dick in her mouth?

“Is that what she does?” You prod, grabbing his cock a little too tightly, punishingly. "Or is she too good to suck your dick?"

"Yeah, she does.” He scoffs, puffing his chest out. “She always sucks me off after the shows."

Is that where they disappear to? Why did you even ask? Why do you have to hurt yourself this way?

"And I guess she didn't get the chance to today." You mutter, hoping he doesn’t hear the bitterness in your voice.

"Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. I wanted to try your mouth anyway." He confirms, so casually crushing you while making you feel like nothing but a fucktoy in the same breath.

"Fucking whore." You scowl, pulling back and watching him bucking in the air, seeking the warmth of your mouth again. Are you just a mouth for him? A pair of warm hands? The girl who’ll get him off even if he treats her like a toy?

"I know I'm a whore but please. I need it."

There it is again.

You know you should just get up and leave him all high and dry, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you like that, long hair all tousled and lips inexplicably bitten raw despite the fact that he has made no effort to hide his noises so far, moaning and gasping and whimpering so loud you’re sure the neighbors think he’s a camboy or something.

“Yeah? You need me?” You prompt and he nods harshly. “Yes, need you so bad. You don’t even know.”

You suppose you can’t blame him for treating you like a toy when just a little cry and whine is enough to get you to give in to him.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" You taunt as if you had any real power over him. Still, Beomgyu reacts as if you do, nodding again. "I'll be good, I swear."

“Lift your shirt up.” You order, and he obeys, pulling his mesh shirt up.

God, he’s becoming as much of a flirt as Yeonjun, wearing these revealing outfits on stage and teasing the fans with winks and lip bites. You’re sure he’s collecting his own groupies now too, and soon it won’t just be Haeun you’re competing with.

Suddenly, you’re filled with the urge to punish him.

“Higher.” You tell him, instructing him to lift his shirt up until his pretty nipples are in view before reaching out to play with them. “Good boy.”

The effect on Beomgyu is instant, his hips shooting forward, his cock seeking some relief which you don’t give him for a while, choosing instead to watch him squirm as you thumb and pull at his nipples until they turn puffy and red.

“Fuck, please…” He cries, cock weeping in need.

“You’re so sensitive, Beommie.” You lick up some of the precum dribbling down his cock, just light touches that drive him even more insane, teasing him until he’s almost crying.

You know you shouldn't compare. Yeonjun has a lot of experience while Beomgyu is a horny virgin but you thrive off how enthusiastic and needy he gets whenever you touch him, like he would die if you stop.

“Please, please, please…” He keeps repeating, holding his shirt up to expose himself to you like a slut as he pleads with you to put your mouth on him and end his suffering. “I need you. Please.”

You finally wrap your lips around him once he says the magic words, bopping your head up and down his length, relishing in the taste and feeling of him on your tongue so much that you don’t notice at first that he’s trying to get away after only a few bops of your head.

“Stop. Stop!” He squeals, his hands flying to grab at your hair, finally catching your attention.

“What is it?” You ask, worried. Did you do something wrong?

“Was gonna cum.” He gasps as if that explained anything.

“So? You can cum in my mouth.” You offer, thinking maybe he wanted to give you a warning. But of course that’s not what the horny bastard is worried about.

“Oh.” His cock twitches, and you swear he almost came right there. “But… I don’t wanna cum yet. Don’t want it to stop.”

Immediately, you pull back, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the wall. “You don’t get to ask for things. You just stand there and keep your hands to yourself and take whatever I give you. Understood?” You hiss, and he tries to argue, “But baby–”

You ignore him, grabbing his cock and jerking him off. “Shut up, Beomgyu. I don’t want to hear anything from you except those slutty moans you love to make.”

Even that turns him on, and he squirms under you. “No. No, please, too fast. Don't want it to stop." He cries deliriously and you laugh evilly.

“Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth, baby? I’ll open wide.” You smirk before letting your mouth fall open and sticking your tongue out, mimicking what you know is one of his favorite parts of porn videos as you had seen on his non-so-secret nsfw twitter account all too often.

And just as expected, the pervert loses it with a loud broken cry, spurting his cum all over your tongue and parts of your face.

You pull your tongue back with a grin, and he watches in rapt attention, waiting for you to swallow it just the way he likes. But you don’t. Instead you spit it back on his cock, grabbing the sensitive member in your hand and jerking it off quickly and cruelly.

"What are you doing?" He panics, writhing harder in your hold.

"You said you wanted more." You act innocent, but your hands are all but, twisting around him just like you learned from Yeonjun.

“Not this!” He squeaks, trying to pull away. "Hurts!"

“Suck it up. You said you’ll be a good boy. Are you going to disappoint me?”

You didn’t expect that to work but it did. He bites down on his lip, swallowing down most of his pained cries, his hands pulling so hard on his shirt, it tears, but he doesn’t once try to push you away.

He takes it so well, you actually start feeling bad for him and rethinking your punishment. But when you try to pull away, he lets out a loud sob. “No. Please! Need it. Need it, baby."

“But I thought you wanted me to stop?” You ask, confused, and he shakes his head, sparkling tears falling off his eyelashes.

“Is it feeling good again? You coo, massaging his tense thigh with your free hand.

“Uh-huh. So good.” His mouth was almost permanently hung open now, a little bit of drool dribbling out. “You’re so pretty.”

Even though he’s all dumbed out and you’re sure he doesn’t even know what he’s saying right now, it still makes your heart flutter. He thinks you’re pretty.

But then an ugly thought comes into your mind. Is he like this with her? Is he just as loud and desperate? Will he just say anything to get what he wants? You haven’t heard him be like this the tortuous couple of times you have had to endure listening to them, but maybe he is the one in charge when he’s with her. Maybe he has her to fuck and has you to fuck him, so he’d be getting the best of both worlds. You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that’s why he keeps pushing for more from you even when he has her.

“I’m–I’m there, b-baby.” He stutters out, his hips moving a bit, but you don’t punish him for it because you don’t think he’s even aware of it. Besides, you don’t feel up for this anymore.

“Cum for me, Beommie.” You order, taking him in your mouth, and it doesn’t take long for the wet heat of it to have him cumming again. You take it in your mouth like last time, not swallowing it.

Instead, you get up, grabbing him by the jaw and kissing him, forcing him to take his own cum. But Beomgyu doesn’t even flinch, kissing you back hungrily, letting you push your tongue into his mouth as he sucks on it needily.

When you finally pull back, you see the mess you’ve made of him–panting heavily, his lips swollen and red, coated with your saliva and his own cum, some of it smeared along his chin.

But he doesn’t care, smiling at you. “Fuck, that was hot.”

You frown at that. You don’t know what you expected him to say. That you sucked him off so good, he now realizes you’re the one for him? That he’ll ditch Haeun and be with you only? You’re a disaster.

“Get cleaned up and go to bed.” You tell him, heading towards the kitchen, suddenly in desperate need for some water to clear your mouth. God, what are you even doing?

But Beomgyu isn’t done with you, and he follows after you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck. “Beomgyu…” You warn. You can’t deal with this right now. You’re too fragile.

“Please…” He begs sweetly, knowing the way to your heart. His hands slither up your waist to cup your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your nipples causing a burning white sensation to shoot down between your legs.

“Just let me take care of you for once.” He pleads, pulling lightly on your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, fanning the fire brewing in your belly.

You can let him just one time right? You’d be getting yourself off in bed dreaming of his touch anyway so why can’t you let him help you rub one out just this once? That way you can head straight to sleep and let your tired bones rest so you wouldn’t have to think about what you just did, so you’d get one night’s relief from the crushing feeling of your unreciprocated love.

“You can’t take my clothes off.” You finally relent. Yes, you’re out of your mind but you’re still deeply insecure and worried what he’ll think.

“Just the shirt.” He growls, pulling on it. “Want it off.”

You’re confused for a second by his aggression before you realize you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch.

“No. The shirt stays on.” You insist, partly due to your insecurity and partly to annoy him.

He’s not happy about it. You can tell by the way he bites down on the junction between your neck and your shoulder, but honestly that just turns you on more.

One of his hands leaves your breasts to go down your body, shimmying under your waistband to reach your pussy.

“Fuck…” He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are. He immediately starts rubbing your pussy, not attempting to tease at all. “You’re so wet.”

You freeze. Is that good? Is it bad? Does he think you’re too wet?

“So sexy. Driving me crazy.” He groans, sucking on your sensitive neck and rolling your nipple between his fingers, dispelling your ridiculous doubts. You spread your legs a little, giving his fingers easier access to your pussy, and his long fingers rub along the entire length of your slit, not leaving one part untouched, overwhelming your poor body, all while his mouth never ceases to kiss and such along your neck. “Yes, baby, just like that, spread those legs for me. Let me make your pussy feel good.”

Fuck, he’s so lewd, it’s so sexy. You don’t even care that he’s probably leaving so many hickies along your neck that in the morning you’ll look like you’ve been ravaged by a wild animal. All you care about right now is his relentless attack on your body.

His words and touches have made your brain go fuzzy that you let him unbutton your pants, shoving them down your thighs so he can squeeze two fingers inside you at once.

“Oh god, you’re so tight. So soft. You’re perfect.” He moans as if he’s the one getting pleasure. You don’t know who is more desperate here, you or him. His words feel almost as pleasurable as his hands. You've never imagined Beomgyu saying this to you. You were always so insecure of what he'll think. You were worried about him even touching you. If you knew this is how he would react, maybe you would’ve let him do it sooner.

Or maybe not. You don’t know what this will do to your heart once your pussy gets its fill. But it’s hard to think about that when he’s panting against your neck. “Fuck, fuck… You like it, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, Beommie. You’re such…such a good boy.” You praise, and he keens, one of his hands returning to your breasts. "Can I see your tits? Wanna see your pretty tits."

Fuck it, you’ll give him what he wants at this point. You just really need him to make you cum.

“Okay…” You relent, and as soon as the word is out of your mouth, he’s pulling the shirt up over your breasts to expose them.

“So pretty.” He whines, wetting his fingers before returning them back to your nipple, rubbing the poor sensitive thing until you can’t hold your own body weight anymore. You lean against him, the wet sound of his fingers fucking your pussy open reaching your ears, but you feel too good to let the embarrassment or security in right now.

“God, I wanna fuck these.” Beomgyu grunts, pulling at your other nipple, his hips grinding against your ass as if he’s imagining doing just that. “Can I, baby?”

"No. Be good." You warn. You’ll go crazy if he stops. “I’m close. Don’t ruin it now.”

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.” He lets go of your abused nipples and grabs you by the hair, turning your head towards him so he can kiss you. “Need you to cum on my fingers, baby. I need it more than anything. Please. Will you cum for me?”

“Y-yeah… I’ll cum for you..” You say as if you had any choice in the matter, as if your body would’ve let you retain any dignity.

You break down on his fingers, clenching around them as the orgasm shoots through you in little pants and needy mewls which Beomgyu hungrily devours with his mouth.

“You’re so hot.” He heaves against your lips, kissing you again and again long after your orgasm is over.

“Beomgyu–” You start to say, the brain fog clearing up.

“I need more.” He moans, the words jolting through your brain as it’s waking up.

What?

You feel his hands messing around with your pants, trying to take them off your body completely, and when he drops to the floor to pull them off your leg, you quickly stop him.

“What are you doing?” You exclaim, grabbing onto your pants and trying to pull them back up. But Beomgyu holds onto them tightly.

“Please, want to taste you.” He begs, clearly still in the throes of lust.

“No.” You hiss, and he whines. “Why not? I’ve become really good at it. Had lots of practice.”

God, you feel sick.

“No!” You push him away and he falls on his ass.

“What? So he can eat you out and I can’t? You can suck me off but I can’t taste you?” He asks angrily and you roll your eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly it."

As if his horny brain could ever understand how all of this makes you feel. All he cares about is that Yeonjun got something and he didn’t, like you’re a piece of candy Yeonjun swiped from him.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” He huffs, getting up. “Why won’t you let me taste you?”

“I don’t need to let you do anything.” You shout at him, putting your pants back on, hoping that would lessen the humiliation coursing through your veins. “I don’t owe you anything and you need to get that through your fucking head. But it’s my mistake because I keep letting this happen. This has got to stop.”

"Why? I like it and you like it too." He looks at you for confirmation and you look away, but Beomgyu is not deterred, grabbing you by the shoulders. "Come on, I know you feel it too. It's different when we're together. I know it is for me. It doesn't feel like that with Haeun. Does it feel like this with Yeonjun?"

“What feels different?” You confront him, daring to ask the forbidden question. “What is this?”

He frowns, stumbling back and taking his hands off you as if you’d burned him. “Sex?”

Right. Typical guy behavior when faced with the remotest possibility of intimacy.

You laugh sadly. “Beomgyu, are you with Haeun or not?” You have to know. You have to know what he’s even doing. Are both you and Haeun just a way for him to get his dick wet?

"Do you not want me to be?” He answers your question with another question, catching you off guard.

“N-no–you can do whatever you want. Why would I care?” You immediately deny, fear and anxiety gripping your heart. You can’t let him know how you feel, especially not after he just basically confirmed he’s just here for the sex.

He’s silent for a few moments, just staring at you as if he can see through your lies. God, please no. You can’t handle the shame of it.

But he just shrugs. “Well, if you don’t care then what’s the problem, right? Me and Haeun aren’t exclusive so you and I can keep doing this.”

His words make you feel disgusted. That’s all he thinks of this, that’s all he thinks of you–just some fun to be had so he can get his rocks off

“I don’t think so.” You finally say and he frowns. “Why not? I thought you said Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend.”

"He’s not.”

He smiles widely, moving to grab you again but you stop him. "But I want him to be. I want to try it seriously with him."

“Why? What do you even like about him?” He asks, irritated.

“He’s sweet–” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, preparing to protest but you keep going, not giving him a chance. “He cares about me. He’s charming. He’s talented. He’s funny.”

“So? I’m all of those things.”

Yes, you are. And much more. But you don’t love me the way I love you.

“So I want a boyfriend, Beomgyu, not a fuckbuddy.”

“Right.” He scoffs, “Good luck getting that from Yeonjun.”

With that, he turns around and leaves you feeling sick in your own skin.

___________________

A/N: feedback gives me the motivation and energy to write more so if you want the next chapter as quickly as possible, drop in a message or a comment telling me what you think 😘

As some of you know, this might've been the last gyu smut scene, but if I were to include another one, would you rather it be sub!gyu or dom!gyu?

i can't include another poll so i'll skip the "who do you want oc to end up with" this time, but you can let me know anyway

taglist: @sanasour @tinkw1nks @lol6sposts @zuzuhasablog @beomsl @seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #sub!idol #sub!txt #sub!beomgyu #sub!gyu #dom!reader

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