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spaceorphanssecondbreakfastclub · 1 year

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SO's US Tour Round-Up

I'm pretty behind in doing reviews for these books, so I thought I'd write up some smaller reactions and put them all in one. It seems easier, so I may try this way for the next batch as well.

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California : The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Look, I know that California is a big place, and there are a lot of things that could represent it - but I think nothing screams California more to an outsider than Old Hollywood. Plus, I had been wanting to read this book for a while.

I'll be honest - I have some mixed feelings about this one.

On the one hand, it's an interesting read. The premise is a young woman listening to the story of aging Hollywood Starlet Evelyn Hugo - and the story of her having seven husbands. You can tell that this was inspired by someone like Elizabeth Taylor -- and the book is broken up into various parts - each documenting the story behind each husband.

It's incredibly engaging, and I can say the book kept me captivated the whole way through. I think those who are interested - if they pick up the book, they'll probably, overall, have a good time with it. The problems I, personally, had was when you started to dig a little deeper.

First of all -- I was slightly disappointed that I don't think Reid fully captivates the Old Hollywood atmosphere. Everything reads as if it were happening in the present, and I never get that full sense of what Hollywood was like back then. I guess I wanted more from that. (Honestly - though, when this inevitably gets turned into a miniseries - I think seeing it on screen might help with some of the atmosphere issues.)

Secondly - the book deals with three main themes -- women's issues, queer identity, and (tangentially) racial issues. I think it's awkward with all three, and there were aspects of the book that just didn't settle well with me. Added into that - there was one element (the main character's central romance) that just did not work, which tied into the above elements, and why I don't think the book succeeds the way I think the author intended.

Overall, I think if you take the book for what it is -- an entertaining riff on Old Hollywood and its scandals and stereotypes, I think you'll enjoy the book. I just don't think it's the literary genius that social media (TikTok) has been making it out to be, and while I recommend it, I would advise going into for the enjoyment value and not thinking about it too hard.

Rating : 3.5 Stars

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Colorado : Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore by Matthew J. Sullivan

When I started this project, and was looking for a book for Colorado - all signs pointed to me to Stephen King's The Shining. Which I've read! And enjoyed! And wouldn't even have minded reading it again -- but I've been trying to go with books that I haven't read before.

So - I took a chance on this one. I like books about bookstores, and this one had a mystery imbedded into it, so I thought - hey, why not?

It's not a bad little book - but I can't say it's all that memorable (save for one thing) either. The story revolves around a woman named Lucy who works at an Indy bookstore in Denver. When one of her coworkers commits suicide, she starts looking into it, and finds out that it intersects with a horrific incident in her own past.

This is another one that was pretty easy to read - and the central mystery around it was pretty captivating. I finished it rather quickly. And even if I didn't really love the ending, I think it still works relatively well for a thriller.

Lucy's a likable enough character -- though the book does spend a good amount of energy exploring her relationship with her live-in boyfriend that ultimately doesn't go anywhere or have much plot relevance. The other characters serve their purpose well, though I wouldn't say this book digs in deep by way of character development.

As for atmosphere - I think it both works and doesn't. The whole idea of the bookstore was fun - but the mystery doesn't do much with it other than kick of the premise. The setting of Colorado works for a story that wants to remain in an isolated place, but it's by no means the feature of the novel.

One thing that I do think worked really well for the book was a sequence where it transcended genres and slipped from thriller to horror. There's an entire section that depicts a young girl witnessing some gruesome murders - and it is haunting. It's by far the biggest thing I remember from the book. I wish the rest of the book's writing lived up to this sequence.

Overall - it's a solid recommend. Again, I think if you go in wanting a couple of hours worth of engaging entertainment it's worth the read, but I don't think it's something you'll remember much about a year later.

Rating : 3 Stars

****

Connecticut : Last Night at the Lobster by Stewart O'Nan

The premise of this one is fairly simple - it's a slice of life from the POV of a Red Lobster manager named Manny. The restaurant is having its last day -- a cold day in late December, and it really showcases what it's like to be service worker in the lower working class of suburban America.

I was kind of expecting this one to be a comedy at first, but it's really not. It's more of a drama and a character study. And you know what? I really, really enjoyed it. It hit a bit close to home -- and it will for anyone who has ever had to work in a service industry. But I think where it really excels is just capturing what life is really like, and how there are these bittersweet beginnings and endings in a world that trudges forever on.

I think there's also a conversation about class baked into the story. All of the staff have unpretty lives. They aren't poor and it's not a horror show in the way I think other media often portrays the working people, but I think it's a commentary about how many of us lead outward sad lives but are so entrenched on making it through the day that we don't even notice. I'm painting a bleak picture here, I know -- but there is some silverlining, in that the staff is able to remember good times, too, and even at the end of their tenure, it's not all bad. It's a book about finding the good stuff even when everything around you is falling apart.

All of this is juxtaposed against the customers - who, while being not so great people themselves, regard themselves (intentionally or not) above everyone else. The irony being that they're living in New England and choosing to go to Red Lobster instead of somewhere local for their seafood, and yet still feel above people who go to, say, Long John Silvers.

I definitely recommend this one. Out of the books that I've read lately for this challenge, it's the one that's stuck out to me the most, and the one that's held the most weight, even if it's a somewhat simple story.

Rating : 4 Stars

****

Delaware : Cure for the Common Break Up by Beth Kendrick

I'm sorry Delaware that you don't seem to have any great American novels tied to you. I'm sorry that you don't seem to have much of anything written in your state. Because this book kept coming up on lists for Delaware - and while I'm totally fine with a Hallmark-esque, breeze romance novel. This book was terrible.

If you've followed me at all lately - I keep posting excerpts from it. Because it's just so unfathomly bad. Look - I can do fun campiness. The author does write for Hallmark, and even if they aren't the best pieces of literature around, at least they're often fun. This was not fun.

The story revolves around a woman named Summer who literally crashes and burns (she was a airline stewardess whose plane crashed) and when she's dumped, makes it to Black Dog Bay - where the main attraction is the fact that everything in the little town has to do with heartbreak. It's actually a kind of cute premise - which is why I initially picked it up - but the execution is just terrible.

Summer is wholly unlikable a good amount of the time. Her life is a mess, and yet she's perfect at just about everything. Her love interest is a guy named Dutch Jenson (omg the names) the mayor of the little town who kind of lucked into the role. The romance is kind of pathetic - there's zero build up, zero reason why the two should be together, and zero payoff.

The book really isn't interesting in being a romance anyway. It's more concerned with Summer's attachment to Dutch's teenage sister (where she's supposed to be a mentor) and Summer's dealings with an older woman named Hattie -- who is so bitter after a broken love affair that she's planning on taking the town down with her. Of course, Summer is able to save the day and the town and, everyone lives dully after after.

This book is stupid. It's just. So. Stupid. The characters are flat when they're not being annoying. The dialogue is incredibly forced - it's painful the people talk in this book. There are a ton of pop culture references that make me wince more than anything. The 'humor' is bad sitcom level of bad. And the plot is entirely bland and unoriginal. I think the whole thing makes those ridiculous Hallmark movies feel like groundbreaking art forms.

I think there's some fun to be had with cheesy things like this -- if you have fun characters and do interesting things with them. But this one just kinda fails in a whole lotta ways.

Not a recommendation from me.

Rating : 1.5 stars

#so's us book tour #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #taylor jenkins reid #Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore #Matthew J. Sullivan #Last Night at the Lobster #Stewart O'Nan #Cure for the Common Break Up #beth kendrick #books #book review

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puppyexpressions · 1 year

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5 Toy Breeds That Worry Vets the Most

Guest Post by Dr. Marty Becker

Let me say this up front: I love all dogs. Every single one I see in my practice brings a smile of joy to my face. But I often have concerns about certain small dog breeds, either because they may be prone to specific health problems or because they have reached such heights of popularity that mass production by puppy mills or careless breeders has put them at risk of overpopulating shelters instead of homes.

Because of this, there are some dogs I would like to see less of in my practice. Not because I think they’re bad — there’s no such thing as a “bad” dog in my book. Instead, I would like to see fewer of these types of dogs, and I would like them all to have better health and ample opportunities for loving, lifelong homes.

Lovable but Trouble

Teacup Cavalier King Charles Spaniel: You might be surprised to hear me say this — Cavaliers are wonderful little dogs with sweet temperaments. They easily capture the hearts of their owners, but it’s their own hearts that I worry about. Because of their limited gene pool, Cavaliers are prone to early onset of a common heart problem in dogs: mitral valve disease. Because of this, their life spans can be as short as six to 10 years. These dogs should live up to 14 years or more. Some of them do, but not enough. Veterinary researchers and breeders are seeking an answer to this health concern, but until they find one, I’d like to see this breed’s skyrocketing popularity come back down to Earth.

Teacup Chihuahua: The great thing about Chihuahuas is their long life spans. It’s not unusual for these tiny dogs with the ginormous personalities to live 15-plus years with regular wellness care. Some of them even live into their 20s. For a dedicated owner, that’s a huge bonus. But it worries me that so many of these entertaining but bossy little dogs end up in shelters. There are so many in states such as California and Arizona that they are often airlifted or trucked to other states, where they are less common and in higher demand. Until that problem is solved, I’d like to see fewer of them walk through the doors of my practice.

Teacup Yorkshire Terrier: The terrors, er, Terriers of the Toy Group, Yorkies are mischief makers who are full of themselves — and that’s saying a lot, given their minuscule size. I love their independent nature and their sense that they are as big as Great Danes, but they can have health and behavioral problems that get them into trouble. Among their health concerns are portosystemic shunts, luxating patellas and collapsing tracheae. They’re also easily injured because of their tiny size. Behavior wise, it’s all too easy to ignore house-training or training in general. That can turn what should be a smart, highly trainable, well-behaved dog into a little tyrant. These are all among the reasons that it’s not unusual to find Yorkies and Yorkie mixes available in shelters or through rescue groups. As a veterinarian and dog lover, I’d love to see fewer Yorkies, all with better health and good homes with people who will give them the combination of love and training they need to thrive.

Teacup Puggle: This popular hybrid, or designer, dog (a combination of a Pug and Beagle) has a lot going for him. For starters, he’s cute and sweet. But as a blend of two very different breeds, he can have some issues that may become prominent and problematic after the cute factor wears off. Take his shedding — please! Both Pugs and Beagles shed heavily. When you combine the two breeds into a single dog, you’re going to wind up with a shedder — and often, people don’t realize this before they get one. Another factor is size. It’s not unusual for Puggles to grow bigger than buyers expect. And they can have the breathing problems associated with Pugs, as well as the high energy level associated with Beagles. Those are all problems that can land them in shelters or with rescue groups, seeking a family who recognizes and understands their quirks.

Teacup anything: It’s easy to understand the appeal of teeny-tiny dogs. We humans are attracted to extremes, and the idea of a dog who fits into the palm of a hand is almost irresistible. But it must be resisted. Micro dogs weighing three pounds or less at adulthood are more prone to serious health problems and generally live shorter lives. It’s hard on them, and it’s hard on their families to lose them at an early age. There are plenty of small dogs who are healthy; let’s not encourage the breeding of tiny, unhealthy dogs simply so we can have bragging rights about whose dog is the smallest.

#teacup dogs #teacup puppy #teacupdog #teacupdogs #minidogs

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moversandpackersman · 1 year

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Los Angeles, CA is a sprawling city that offers something for everyone. Home to some of the world's most famous landmarks and neighborhoods, Los Angeles has a bit of everything. Get ready to explore this diverse city with our list of must-see destinations!

Walk of Fame

The Hollywood Walk of Fame is a 2.5-mile-long sidewalk located on Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street in Los Angeles, California. The stars are placed along the walkway so that one star is placed every 18 feet.

The first star was laid on February 9, 1958, by singer Nat King Cole and actress Joanne Woodward for actor DeForest Kelley who played Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy in Star Trek.

Los Angeles Moving Companies

Moving your home is stressful enough, but finding a trusted moving company can be even more difficult than the move itself. Fortunately, there are many moving companies in Los Angeles that can help you transport your home or business. By hiring professionals to handle all of the logistics, you can focus on what’s most important: making sure that everything arrives safely at its destination!

LACMA

LACMA is a must-see for any tourist. It's one of the most popular museums in Los Angeles, and it has a lot of history behind it. Not only can you check out art exhibits like those at MOCA, but there are also many different things you can do at LACMA: go on a guided tour of their permanent exhibit with an expert docent; take part in one of their workshops or get involved with some interactive programming; attend talks by visiting artists or participate in any number of other events happening throughout the year.

Santa Monica Pier and Promenade

The Santa Monica Pier is a landmark in the Pacific Ocean in Santa Monica, California. The pier is a popular tourist attraction with shops, restaurants, and amusement rides. There's also the Santa Monica farmers market and the Aquarium of the Pacific.

The boardwalk caters to skateboarders with an outdoor skate park on its north end near Colorado Avenue. The pier also has several other recreational activities for people such as surfing lessons for beginners as well as classes in dance performances like Zumba or Pilates that are open to everyone from age six to adults who want to learn how dance moves can help them stay fit while having fun at it!

Lake Hollywood Park

Lake Hollywood Park is located at the base of the Hollywood Hills. While it’s a bit of a hike to get there, if you’re looking for something to do with your kids or a date, Lake Hollywood Park is a fun place to spend the day.

Rodeo Drive

Rodeo Drive is the world’s most famous shopping street. You can find any designer clothing store here, including Louis Vuitton, Prada, and Chanel. If you want to indulge yourself in luxury shopping while in LA then Rodeo Drive is the place to go.

Things to see:

Beverly Hills Hotel

Rodeo Drive Shopping District

Things to do:

Shop at the high-end stores along Rodeo Drive – Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Hermes are some of your options. -Eat out at some of the many fine-dining restaurants nearby like Matsuhisa or Philippe Chow’s restaurant with its Michelin star rating

Walt Disney Concert Hall

Walt Disney Concert Hall is a concert hall in Los Angeles, California, designed by architect Frank Gehry and acoustician Yasuhisa Toyota. The hall opened on October 23, 2003. It is home to the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and also houses the offices of the Los Angeles Master Chorale.

There is a lot to see and do in Los Angeles, CA

Los Angeles, CA is a big city. It's so big that you may think it would take a week to see all of it. But while Los Angeles can be daunting in its size, it's surprisingly easy to navigate on foot and by public transportation. There are many neighborhoods within the city that each have their own character and attractions (such as the Venice Beach boardwalk), meaning that you don't have to go far before finding something new and interesting. Even if you're just exploring one neighborhood at a time, there's still plenty more than enough for anyone who loves good food or nightlife. Besides these things though, Los Angeles also happens to be home to some of Hollywood's biggest stars - making it an ideal destination for anyone who wants an escape from everyday life!

Movers and Packers Man With a Truck Moving

4081 McLaughlin Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90066

(310) 925-7859

https://manwithatruckmoving.com

#Movers and packers #packers and movers #movers near me #movers Los Angeles #moving company Los Angeles #moving companies Los Angeles #Los Angeles movers #Los Angeles moving company #moving companies #movers and packers Los Angeles #moving company

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alexazbofficial · 2 years

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[INTERVIEW] Go away with ... AleXa

At the time of our Zoom interview, AleXa had no idea that she would win NBC’s "American Song Contest." "I'm just grateful for this experience," she said from Los Angeles, where the singing competition was filmed. "I performed for a huge American network in front of a live audience. Hopefully, I can take this positive energy and move forward with it." Born and raised in Oklahoma - the state she represented on the show - the singer will later return to Seoul, where she moved to six years ago to pursue her music career. Fans may follow AleXa on Instagram, Twitter, YouTube and Facebook.

Q: Before you moved to Korea, were people in the industry pressuring you to move to Los Angeles or New York?

A: I don’t think I felt pressured. Other Americans would ask, “Where in California are you from?” Everyone's so shocked when I say Oklahoma, but I guess they don't typically associate Asians with Oklahoma. But my dad is from New York so I went there a lot when I was a kid. And I wanted to move to L.A. eventually because I know that L.A. is a place of creativity and performance. But Oklahoma's still my home ‘till the day I die.

Q: What was it like when you moved to Korea?

A: It didn’t feel strange at all, but I felt like I was in the future because of the architecture. There are some really state-of-the-art, really cool-looking high-rise buildings that I did not ever see in Tulsa. People comfortably spoke to me in Korean, even though when I first came, I did not know Korean at all. Every now and then in a taxi I’d be asked, “Are you Korean?” and I’d say, “I'm half.”

Q: You’ve said before that one reason you wanted to move to Korea was to try to find your mother’s birth parents for her. How is that going?

A: It’s still in a gray area. We did some digging and research about two years ago. Adoption laws in Korea are quite strict. If the birth parents are not in search of their child, the child has no permission to have any information on the birth parents. We unfortunately found out that my mother's biological mother has not gone searching for her, so we could not get any information provided. However, (my mother) did do one of those DNA tests and she got linked to at least two cousins, one of whom is in Norway. At the end of the day, the reason I really wanted to pursue being an idol was hoping that one day I become known enough that somewhere (someone will see and think), “Oh, we had a daughter who looked like that.” I'm hoping that some day some light gets shed on the situation, but only time will tell.

Q: Do you remember any childhood trips?

A: Yes. It was to New York City. I have a little kid’s memory of it, so it might be a little foggy. I’m pretty sure when I was there I saw a Broadway musical. I don’t remember if it was “The Lion King” or not. And then I remember this giant (now closed) Toys ‘R’ Us that was (four) stories high in Times Square. There was a big dinosaur inside. It would move and then stop suddenly and reset and restart. So I was on the floor by the head and it stopped. I had my back turned and was talking to my mom and my dad. When I turned around, his mouth was right open behind me! I am terrified of animatronics specifically because of this!

Q: Tell us about some of the other places you’ve visited.

A: Growing up I was a really big fan of anime and manga. I'd always seen really cool pictures of Japan. Thanks to my career, I've been able to go to Japan and I've been able to look around. Also, I had the opportunity to go to Singapore right after my debut and I want to go back. But even before my debut, I went to India for about a month. India is one of my favorite places to ever go to. I've had the opportunity to go to so many wonderful places thanks to the career that I'm pursuing.

Q: Some people love traveling for work in the beginning and then grow tired of it. How about you?

A: No, I'm enthusiastic about it. I’m a Sagittarius and we want to roam and travel the world. So any opportunity I get to go, even if it’s to a different part of Korea, I want to go. I went to Pohang one time and saw different facets of the country. I like to travel.

Q: Where have you not been to that’s on your bucket list?

A: I really want to do a tour of South America, if at all possible, because the K-pop scene is so huge down there. And I feel like it's almost largely ignored. I feel like (countries like) Brazil and Argentina have big K-pop fans there. Why not give them some performances? It just sounds really fun.

#alexa #alex christine #kim seri #interview #article #220510

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epigstolary · 3 years

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Just A Number

“You’re too young to be so fat” is something you’ve heard all your life. From your youth spent snacking in front of the tv, to your high school years indulging at restaurants or the mall, to your college years eating late-night pizza and junk in your dorm room, you’ve always been big enough to get that comment out of people. Parents, friends, boyfriends and girlfriends have all watched your advancing waistline with alarm, worrying about the fact that — no matter how big you had been when they last saw you — you were always bigger the next time.

And so they’d express their worry to you. These are the best years of your life, they’d say — you should be getting out and enjoying them, not sitting on the sidelines stuffing your face. Someone your age shouldn’t have trouble finding clothes that fit, or such a hard time making it up a flight of stairs that you have to stop halfway. You needed to try and watch the weight a little. Sometimes you wonder how things would have turned out if you had followed their advice.

But you didn’t. And so, you waddled across the stage at graduation and into a young adulthood that freed you from even the limited structure of university life. You landed some regular freelance work that paid the bills and let you work entirely from home. And you kept gorging yourself on whatever delicious food you wanted, whenever you wanted it. There was nobody to tell you what time meals were supposed to be, nobody to question your incessant snacking. While other people your age were going out with their friends, traveling to exotic places, partying, and living their lives, you were home by yourself most of the time. Craving. Consuming. Expanding.

With total freedom from a schedule and your last reason for even limited physical activity gone, the creeping tide of weight gain over the past few years turned into a flood. The snacking, meals, grocery deliveries, and takeout orders became constant. You would look like a completely different person to someone who had gone a couple months without seeing you, packing on fifty pounds or more from season to season. Eventually, your friends and family gave up on trying to save you from what was increasingly looking like an unstoppable force, propelling you faster and faster toward destroying yourself.

I suppose for normal people, there’s never an age where it’s expected someone will be too fat to leave the house. But it’s your mid-20s, and here you are. You spend eighteen hours a day on the couch, pinned beneath a flowing belly the size of a bean bag chair and two bulbous titties connecting to the massive rolls of fat under your arms. Laptop perched atop your wobbling stomach, you try to type with sausage fingers you’re even starting to have trouble bending, taking breaks every few minutes to rest your bloated arms.

As they fall to your sides, the fat on your biceps — bigger around than a healthy adult’s waist — puckers, flowing over the layers of rolls bulging from your abdomen. Your forearm fat shifts down toward your hands, making an impressive roll around your pudgy wrist. You try and shift a little to get more comfortable, wiggling your tremendous butt and shapeless legs around to try and resettle yourself. As you take up most of the couch now, there’s not much room to change positions. Instead, you stretch, wiggling the toes peeking out from the distended blobs of fat, now hundreds of pounds in their own right, that pass for your legs.

Shocking as those legs are, they can still support you during your labored, stumbling trips to the front door a couple times a day. Here, you collect the tens of thousands of calories you have to put away to keep you in this lard prison you’ve built for yourself. But you don’t think of it that way. You see it as a treat. After all, you just did a full-body workout lumbering to the door and back; why shouldn’t you reward yourself for keeping up with your fitness?

Except that nobody’s fooled by what’s going on here — not even you, on those rare occasions when the delusion lifts and you get a lucid look at your situation. There’s nothing normal about a twentysomething eating themself to the size of a California king mattress. There’s no excuse for being too heavy to waddle out your front door, ignoring whether you could even still squeeze your outrageous bulk through it. And all those admirers on the internet — talking about how sexy you look, how much they want to feed you, how they’d love to see you even bigger — are all really thinking the same thing.

They would push you to your limit if they had half a chance. Forget being able to waddle to the door; they want you so blown up with lard and full of food that you’re not rolling over without help. They want you a wheezing, blubbery mess with so many rolls, folds, blobs, and bulges covering your body that you’re almost unrecognizable as a person. They want to see you reaching pathetically across your expanse of fat, trying to get the feeding tube that’s slipped away from you, and looking at them pleadingly for help to restore the sickening flow of calories into your ruined body. They want you to end your twenties as a fat cow, insatiably feeding and alarmingly obese, eating yourself to death.

And they’d probably tease you by telling you about their day out of the house, and all the things that they got to do that a half-ton bariatric patient like you can never hope to do again. Fit in a car. Go shopping, mobility scooter or not. Literally just be outside without having countless amazed stares and snarky comments from all the people, shocked at seeing someone in their twenties who already weighs as much as five or six people. Shame those are off the table for you, they’d say; guess you better eat some more to make yourself feel better.

You’re not quite that big — not yet, at least. Your weight may be wildly out of control compared to most people your age, but even so it takes some time for those bad eating habits to reach critical mass. Give it a few years, though. Even if you manage to get a handle on your rapid expansion, there’s no chance you’re losing any weight. You’re too used to living this way to give it up. That number on the scale will keep creeping up, slowly but surely. You’ll be reminded of your inevitable fate by how your clothes feel like they’re slowly constricting, squeezing your belly and rolls tighter and tighter; how it feels like someone’s turning up gravity on you a little every day. But you can’t pin this on your clothes or the laws of physics. You only have yourself, and your gluttony, to blame.

You didn’t get this big, this fast, without wanting to on some level. And as long as that something is there, driving you, you won’t be stopping. So make peace with the fact that you have just a few more years, at most, before you’re too big to be anything but someone’s fantasy feedee. You may as well have another bite, another helping, another meal. Because age — and weight — is just a number, right?

#extreme weight gain #feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #wg story #weight gain story

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 2 years

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3 Pink Roses Mean, "I Love You"

- Nanami Kento (ch6)

synopsis: Boston has so much to offer, that Nanami's plans end up surprising you. WARNING: you will scream into your pillow.

masterlist

“Are you cold?”

“Kind of.”

“Is it the sheets?”

“I think they’re a bit too thin.” you awkwardly shift in between the covers, “Do you think they might have more in the closet?”

“I’ll check.”

“I’ll check with you.” An excuse.

“How big is this place even? I swear there’s a door for every wall.”

There are three closet doors for the room, and none hold spare blankets nor pillows. Once you finish searching the room, you and Nanami opt for the hall. There, once he opens the door, you slightly bump against Nanami.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” he says, bringing down some blankets, “Think this will be enough? Or shall I contact the front desk?”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” Once you arrive and settle, you and Nanami both spread the blanket across the bed. It’s large enough that it nearly reaches the floor.

“I’ll never understand Boston weather,” you sigh as you and Nanami climb into bed.

“And why is that?”

“Well, for starters,” you adjust your body, facing up the ceiling, “It’s nothing like California. Not even San Francisco. The summer mornings are windy, the day is slightly humid but dry and wet at the same time, and at night…it’s nearly freezing. Like, what is going on with Mother Nature?”

“Global Warming.”

You release a short HA.

“You’re right. All the pollution is killing us. Hey- you never told me, where did you grow up? I grew up in California and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Boston, so where did you grow up? I bet you grew up somewhere like upstate New York. Or maybe in the city.”

“I grew up in New York.” Nanami answered, turning to you, “Looks like your observation was correct. What gave it away?”

“ You .” It's your comment and laugh that amuses him.

As you had calmed down, you stared at the ceiling in comfortable silence. You figured that perhaps this was the most you have ever spoken to him, and you kind of liked it.

“Hey,” you said, shifting your body to face him. He hums, “Do we have to wake up early tomorrow? Like last time?”

“No,” Nanami watches you. It’s in this silence that you think perhaps your relationship is shifting. “We do not.”

“Oh great,” relief is evident in your voice that you shut your eyes. You stretch, “What time do we have to leave tomorrow?”

“5pm,” he answers lowly, “but I can extend the hours if you wish.”

You nod, slightly scooching towards him.

“I liked today.” It’s a brief moment where you feel comfortably warm. Unsure whether or not Nanami is asleep, you bring your knees to your stomach. The King sized bed is big enough, yet the distance Nanami is in is somewhat within an arm’s reach. You take his stillness and calm breathing as an indicator that he was asleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper under your breath. Loud enough for him to hear. While you may have thought that he was asleep, Nanami had a hand over the back of his hand as he was lost in his thoughts. Your voice drew him back, and he realized it was best to leave you to sleep.

That night, he slept at peace.

+++++++++++++++++

You wake up the next morning without Nanami on the other side.

The end of his bed was neatly made and it was likely that he was out. You frown, missing the events from last night. Worried that you had overslept, you headed straight for the bathroom to take care of your necessities. Walking out, you enter the living room seeing Nanami place a plate on the table for two.

“Good morning.”

“Oh- Good Morning!” you chirp, “What time is it?”

“9:32am.” he says, “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you.” He nods at your politeness, inviting you for breakfast. “I figured that eating breakfast inside would be best. We spent a majority of yesterday walking, so I’m sure you might want to relax for the first part of this morning. How do you like your eggs? I ordered scrambled if that’s fine.”

“Yes that’s fine,” Pulling yourself, you notice how a variety of trays are neatly on display. Fruits, eggs, bacon, toast, and a variety of jellies and syrups were spread. Across from you, Nanami sits. A black coffee on his right. The Sunday paper is on his left.

“You drink coffee.”

“I do. I drink black coffee in order to keep me awake. Sometimes, that is.”

“I’m sorry,” you quickly frown, apologizing. Panic filters your voice. “Did I snore? I think I do-”

“-No, no,” he shakes his hand dismissively, feeling bad for the misunderstanding, “You were fine.” he says, “No snoring. I normally struggle with sleep, so coffee tends to help. It’s normal.”

“Oh,”

He nods, “I thought about what we could do today,”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of his coffee, “There’s a brief art gallery in town we can stop by if you’re interested.” He looks up to watch your reaction, “I recall you mentioned you liked History-”

“-Then I’m sure it’ll be great.” In the comfort of your suite, you and Nanami agree to visit once you finish breakfast. And less than two hours later, you and Nanami are at the head of the Gallery. The architecture of the establishment preserved its history. Modern windows and furnishings were on display.

Paintings, portraits, landscapes, and sculptures were placed for viewings. Art ranging from modern to 18th century are present. And you wonder why some of these weren't properly in a museum.

It’s during your walk with Nanami where you stop on your tracks. Staring at a painting that has your eyes glued. In the painting, various colors that appeal to you are present, and you can’t find but to find the texture and choice of paint appealing.

“This one’s pretty…” you mumble, taking more time to view this painting than the rest. You turn to Nanami, who is leaning towards you as he watches the painting. His hands are behind his back. “Do you have any favorite paintings?”

“Well that’s a very broad question,” he says, “I personally enjoy Robert Lemler’s work, but if we were to mention ‘well known’ I’d say Gustav Klimt.”

“Robert Lemler,” you repeat, bringing your phone to write the name in your notes as Nanami watches.

NOTES:

Robert Lemler- painter Nanami likes.

Also likes Gustav Klimt.

“Gustav Klimt is a good option though,” you admit, “I remember reading that it was theorized that he was inspired by Greek Mythology in ‘The Kiss’ .”

“ Apollo and Daphne, ” Nanami’s expressionless eyes are still on the painting. Still trying to analyze it.

“I read that article as well. Solid references I have to admit.”

“Do you have a favorite painting of his?” you ask.

“ ‘Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer’ and ‘Death & Life’ .”

“I liked ‘The Kiss’ . It’s very basic, but I do like it. Adele Bloch is another close second.” You smile, “It’s alluring.”

“Right indeed,” he says, and you can’t help but to agree. Feeling like you have stayed for too long, you decide to move on and enjoy the rest of the Gallery.

While walking with him, you noted that he was fond of paintings with specific characteristics. Many of which had women, and it itched you to know why the paintings he normally stared at the longest, were of women.

Towards the end of your walk, one of the employees at the gallery handed Nanami a brochure with instructions. He placed a hand on your shoulder before walking with you towards a room. The sign above the room reads:

Bostonian Annual Auction Charity Homage (BAACH)

“Nanami...” you turned to him, “you...brought me to an auction?”

He ignores your question by leading you to one of the wooden chairs. Intricate chairs that were covered in velvety magenta cushions. You almost feel guilty for sitting on them.

“It’s an annual event they hold.” He says, “Plenty of people show up for it, however, it seems like we’re earlier than the rest.” When he says that, as if on cue, a crowd of nearly 50 people sit themselves. Many of whom wear flattering suits, dresses, and other professional attire.

You sit, acknowledging he’s right.

“So it seems.”

When he sees that you’re not fully convinced, your hands unknowingly fidget. Nanami places a reassuring hand over your own. “You have nothing to be worried about,” he softly says, “No one is going to ask you questions, or make you speak in front of this crowd. I can assure you.”

When you turn to him, you see that his eyes are softly set on yours and his face is a pull away from your own. Possibly the closest it has ever been.

You nod, finding comfort in his eyes, “Okay.” you place a hand over his.

“Okay,” he answers back. Once 40 minutes of the event have passed, you were reassured that the event was going to end well. With nearly all the paintings sold that were previewed, your jaw nearly fell when you saw the painting you had paid close attention to earlier that day. It was displayed for a starting price of $12,500 USD.

There was no doubt Nanami had made the auction appear smaller than it actually was, in fact, it was relatively mid-sized. There were two journalists at the side of the room with cameras while people (primarily in their late 30’s +) were participants of the exposition.

You and Nanami happened to be the youngest.

“$13,000.” A man in a light brown suit raises his hand. He looked anywhere from his mid 30’s to late 40’s.

“$13,200.” Another man, this time older, speaks. He wears glasses, a blue sky shirt, and holds white hair.

The auctioneer asks for more offers.

“$13,300.” A woman raises her hand, her platinum blonde hair is professionally tied as she holds a phone to her cheek.

You can hear Nanami mutter something from the side, and although you cannot make the words out, you can assume that he was criticizing the bidders.

“$13,400.” Someone else offered, and that seemed to annoy Nanami. Sensing how the auction went through, all you could do was watch. It was a lovely painting, one with color variety. You guessed that whoever took that painting home, would be able to nicely decorate their mansion.

“$14,000.” On a more serious note, whoever bid the $600 difference received a few stares. From their seats, people turned around in your direction. Confused, you frown, only to see Nanami holding his hand up. An expressionless look is plastered on his face. You guessed that (to the common public), he seems unapproachable. But that was far from the case with you.

“$14,500.” The first man raises his hand. Sparing an annoyed look at Nanami. Pleased, the Auctioneer grins. Sensing that there might be competition.

“$15,000.” Nanami stares at the man as well. Between the two of them, a conversation is exchanged solely based on the gaze of their eyes.

“$16,000.” When people turn to see the man, he grins. Pleased. More than anyone, it is the Auctioneer who is proudly following the procedure.

“$18,000.” Sternly, Nanami tightens his jaw.

“$20,000.” Some people in the crowd jump from their seats. The man staring at Nanami gives him a quick glance. A rude one, if you were being honest, but Nanami paid no attention to it.

“$22,000.” With a bothered look, and with Nanami’s offer, you think to have seen the man’s upper lip twitch.

“$23,000.”

With a final huff, Nanami clears his throat.

“$25,000.” The crowd is silenced only for the occasional journalist to snap a photo, the Auctioneer counts to 3. The man, now beaten, hangs his head in the opposite direction. Avoiding the gaze of the public.

“SOLD! For $25,000 to the gentleman with the blue dress shirt. Next to the lovely lady in yellow." When the Auctioneer points to you, you catch the glimpse of a group of women smiling. Some applauded, and it struck you that you were not a spectator. You were with the buyer. With Nanami.

He had bought the painting.

With the look as if you have seen a ghost, you turn to Nanami.

“D-did you just…?” you find the words in your vocabulary to not sound broken, “Purchase that painting?”

Glancing down at you, his frown softens. “What’s wrong?” he asks, while the auction resumes, “Did you not like the painting?”

“I- I liked it, but I didn’t think you’d buy it!” you whisper under your breath.

He hums. “I believe you have forgotten the foundation of which our relationship was built upon. I provide the monetary expenses. This was merely a gift.” You don’t hide your gaze.

“I thought this trip was already the gift.”

“And you are correct,” you can feel an unknown emotion radiate from him, “However, this was the souvenir.”

+++++++++

For the most part of your trip, you spent the day shopping. While you were primarily window shopping, Nanami was insistent on purchasing more items.

“Nanami, I am not buying a $4,500 pair of slippers.”

“Well, I am the one purchasing. Now what shoe size are you?”

“You just bought me a $25,000 painting. I am not giving you my shoe size.”

“Fine. Then I guess I’ll find out myself.” When he grabs a nearby tool, your cheeks fluster when Nanami is already on his knees, holding your ankle. Blood rushes to your face.

“Place your foot on the measuring instrument.”

“Nanami, I am not giving you my shoe size!” slipping from his hold, you compose yourself, “Not now at least.” staring out a nearby window, you watch him, confusion slightly plastered on his eyes. “In fact, I’m starving. How about we eat? We only have limited time before we leave, right?” When he stands, pull him by his arm, “Come on,” you nudge, “Let’s at least have a nice meal before we leave Boston. You can pick the place, okay?”

For the remainder of your time in Boston, Nanami picked a sea-view restaurant. A view with a nice sunset. One that happened to have a nice porch-like view.

By the time the clock had struck 7, all of your belongings were packed in a bag. Already on board. The same air captain greeted Nanami, you waved politely, while the uniformed man smiled. He exchanged a few words with Nanami before his smile stretched, patting Nanami’s back.

“I wanted to give you the painting,” Spoke Nanami, already seated on the plane. You held the painting against your lap.

“When you moved in, I noticed how monotonous my apartment was. That’s why I’m letting you redecorate.” he explains, “I have already deposited a fair amount of money on your account and have hired an interior designer if you need assistance. If you don’t like her, then we can get another.”

Dumbfounded by the information and overwhelmed with the painting in your arms, you look up at him. He waits for your response.

“You bought me a painting.” You say, still in adoration. For the entirety of the plane ride, Nanami watched you smile down at your painting. Running your hands along the frame. During this time, he felt a warmth enter the base of his stomach.

And for the first time in a while, his lip tugged upwards. The fraction of a smile.

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seiyasabi · 3 years

Text

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc..

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) )

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt.

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for.

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare.

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed.

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?”

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.”

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone.

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.”

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her.

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences.

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that.

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!”

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before.

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh.

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage.

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home.

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces.

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before.

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor.

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this.

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso.

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably.

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!”

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat.

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.”

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well.

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.”

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!”

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid.

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form.

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone.

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face.

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it.

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight.

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling.

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well.

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him.

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?”

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you.

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets.

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt.

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties.

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!”

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart!

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal.

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly.

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.”

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can.

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute.

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so.

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties.

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.”

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead.

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you.

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour.

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you?

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?”

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before.

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny.

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you.

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on.

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing.

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls.

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more.

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest.

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth.

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you.

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously.

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it.

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven.

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you.

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?”

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin.

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading.

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh.

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.”

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive.

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table.

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation.

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you.

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket.

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?”

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera.

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you?

#yelena #yelena x reader #yandere yelena #yandere aot #yelena brainrot #yelena aot #aot x reader #yelena thirst #yelena smut #yelena supremacy #yandere aot x reader

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daisiesonafield-blog · 2 years

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Remember when the pandemic forced all those 2020 concerts to move to 2022? Those delayed shows are rolling out now, including Louis Tomlinson’s long-sold-out concert Saturday night at the Pageant.

Originally scheduled for July 2020, the English pop-rock singer who rose to fame as part of One Direction was finally able to make good on his St. Louis date. Fans started lining up outside the Pageant, in freezing temperatures, the night before in order to lock in prime positions near the stage.

Tomlinson opened the show with “We Made It,” from his 2020 debut album, “Walls,” and that song choice seemed to sum up the sentiment of the delayed tour finally getting underway. Fans were clearly overwhelmed by Tomlinson’s long-anticipated presence.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, specifically thinking what it might be like," he told the screaming crowd. "Anyone else waiting for this gig? I got a good feeling about it.”

He later added: “St. Louie, it feels (expletive) good to be in a place that’s my namesake.”

Accompanied by a five-piece band on a simple stage with little more than a back wall of lighting, Tomlinson kept the energy high, a task that seemed easy enough considering the crowd's built-in excitement.

“Already I’m starting to feel like it might be the loudest show,” Tomlinson said.

While the unassuming Tomlinson may not be as big or buzzy as his One Direction comrade Harry Styles (who sold out the much larger Enterprise Center in 2021), he's doing his own thing — and it works. It’s doubtful Tomlinson will play venues the size of the Pageant after this tour.

His 90-minute set leaned heavily on “Walls,” with songs such as “Too Young,” “Two of Us,” “Habit,” “Always You,” “Don’t Let It Break Your Heart" and “Fearless,” catchy if occasionally disposable pop that left the crowd swooning and singing along.

Tomlinson gave his fans the One Direction they needed, embracing his roots with three songs spread throughout the show: “Drag Me Down,” “Little Black Dress” and “Through the Dark,” the latter surfacing in the encore.

With just one album under his belt, he not only filled out the set with 1D songs, but with a few covers and a collaboration. He called his take on Kings of Leon’s “Beautiful War” one of his favorite moments on the tour and embraced a rock turn with Catfish and the Bottlemen’s “7,” inviting audience members to sing along.

He also treated the crowd to “Just Hold On,” which he recorded with DJ-producer Steve Aoki.

After an abrupt close to the title track, “Walls,” followed by some awkward dead time, Tomlinson and the band bounced back for an encore that included “Only the Brave” and “Kill My Mind.”

Southern California band Sun Room opened the show.

Photos by Jon Gitchoff.

Linked tweets:

#Jon Gitchoff #kevin c johnson #st louis post dispatch #long post #louis feb 2022 articles #LTT st louis #louis february 2022 #feb 6 2022 #feb 2022

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years

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Harry’s the Problem. His wife is the symptom. He is the real Diana 2.0 Wannabe...

Since the Oprah interview aired, my whole perspective regarding the spare and his spouse has shifted. It would seem that I’m not alone in my thought process as more and more media outlets start reporting similar stances. Just recently, there was an article suggesting Harry didn’t change; but rather, he is only finally revealing his true self. The more I think about it all, the more I’ve come to the realization #6 is the real culprit behind everything.

I’m not saying that his wife doesn’t have her own agenda or shares responsibility for her part in all this. Her hands are far from clean. What I am saying is it’s finally time for all of us to consider the cold, hard truth. Harry is his mother’s child. Harry is the bad egg, and his wife is only a side effect of the real problem here.

Had it not been for the Oprah interview, I would have never put it all together. The problem with oversharing is too much information gets put out in the public. Most assume PR firms would worry about oversaturation in the press, but the real problem comes from personal interviews they cannot control in real-time. Puff pieces can be edited before publishing so facts and statements align; live interviews cannot. Over time, one of two patterns form from this oversaturation. Consistencies, repetitions, and similarities can be found in oversaturated truth-telling. Inconsistencies, changes, and huge differences result from those like Harry who prefer their trousers scorching hot from bursting into flames from deception. When you consistently lie, the only constant is the inconsistencies.

Now, those of us who have been following these two already know by now inconsistencies and changing stories should be expected. But the Oprah interview really highlighted some interesting things I had previously missed. The interview with Dax Shephard only solidifies my theories. Up until lately, those two have been together through most everything. Very seldom have we seen Harry alone in an interview or speech. There’s never a time where the missus isn’t popping up. James Corden proved that. Then we have the Oprah interview where she was supposed to be the star of the show. But, that was the moment it all changed. That interview was the moment she became the understudy.

Think about it. Who is the one being used in the media lately? Most people would suggest that the impending delivery of child number dos is why the missus is absent. One would then argue the Apple + special with Oprah started production well before the second child was a topic for discussion. The missus is being used less and less on camera or in the media. Everything is all about Harry. Forget about when Harry met Sally; Harry Met Hollywood!

Harry is the one doing the interviews, dropping projects, and talking with big Hollywood names. Even their announced Netflix projects are focused on one of Harry’s pre-married concepts. All the wife has going for her is a book that’s only number one in the “Books written by ex-Royals who couldn’t hack it” category. Seriously though, as of this posting the Bench is #2130 on the Amazon Books list, #12 in Children’s Black and African American Story Books, #73 in Children’s Emotions Books, and #167 in Children’s Family Life Books. Being pregnant isn’t a disqualifier for being interviewed. But, apparently being just the wife is.

So, if it was his wife’s plan from the beginning to marry Harry, get him to abandon his family, move to California, and become a big star with a Prince for a husband, her plans have been ruined. And if you think about what she said in the interview with Oprah, you can actually see the moments she told us all exactly that. She clearly tells Oprah Harry was her direct link and source to the Royal Family and everything she needed to know. She didn’t misspeak or misunderstand a thing; she was telling us that Harry’s next to be markled. In every weird answer or revelation where she gave her versions for why their child(ren) were without title, saying they wed three days before the chapel, or having to cry out to HR since Harry failed to help her while she was so depressed she wanted to kill herself and her unborn child... all of it. It was all just the beginning. It may seem like she is attacking her husband’s family, but Harry’s the real target now.

In just a couple sentences, she managed to reveal who Harry really was. Harry, of all people, should (and does) know how to navigate the press. Clearly, he failed to not only help her acclimate to Royal life, but it could also even be argued he set her up for failure for the get go. Let me give you an example. When my husband introduced me to his family for the first time, he told me little tidbits of information he found important for me to know. He essentially prepped me for the meeting so things went well. He wanted his family to like me because he loved me. I wanted them to like me because I loved him, too. So, I took to heart everything he told me. Yet, Harry’s wife shared with the world how little Harry cared about that. She credits Fergie with teaching her to curtsey, google for teaching her the National Anthem, and even said Her Majesty made her feel especially welcomed. So how did Harry not do more? If they started seeing one another in the early Summer of 2016, how is it Harry failed to teach or explain anything to her prior to meeting his grandmother, the Queen, when he had months and months of time to do so? How is it he failed his wife so miserably, she didn’t even understand basic UK custom, laws, or protocols? Why might you ask?

Simply put, Harry is so much like his mother, all he knows is how to play the victim narrative while using the link to the Royal family as a nonstop ATM machine. Many people aren’t honest with themselves when it comes to Diana. She wasn’t the Mother Theresa everyone makes her out to be. Mother Theresa wasn’t a Mother Theresa either, though. Did Diana do some great things? Absolutely. Did she do them only because they were nice or great? Absolutely… not. Diana’s PR team would even have her switch up her charity causes whenever they felt it was getting to martyrdom level. They’d refer to her PR stunts as flavors. Does that sound like an innocent woman?

Not to me. This whole time we all have seen his wife as the root of all issues, but she’s the side effect. It’s becoming more clear by the day that Harry searched out her. He wanted someone with the basic Hollywood connections that he could capitalize. Someone that seemed so controlling and ambitious it would be easy to believe they were controlling him, too. Of course he knew she would invite all the celebs she did. He probably inspired that guest list. Instead of guiding her in the press and in British society, he leads her to slaughter. He hides behind her repeated gaffes and wokeness to keep on his own mission.

You see, Harry is obsessed with his brother eventually becoming king, being the “Second Son of Diana” and being the misfit. He is obsessed with his brother and father. They are all he talks about. When you obsess on something like that, it is more revealing than anything you say. Harry’s true motives aren’t protecting his wife and children. His real motive is making a name for himself like his mother did. If he can manage to get some revenge by making the Firm feel some backlash, hey that’s a bonus.

While his wife may think in her mind she will be the next Diana 2.0, the truth is we all missed who really will be. Harry is the one wanting to be Diana 2.0. If that’s the case, then that means the much older spouse for whom there are two children with, aka the wife, would be his Charles. Remember, Diana lost her HRH and titles. And we have Harry being very aggressive and pushy, to the point it seems he is trying to get ahead of a Palace announcement of them losing their titles. But it makes sense now.

They aren’t trying to lose anything, but instead Harry keeps opening his mouth to create pressure in the media. He knows his wife does not want to give those titles back. But if he himself keeps saying outrageous things, then it would put everyone in ultimatum mode. Either Harry will push hard enough that Parliament and the Queen will have enough, or the press will get so critical of the two, Harry will push his wife to agree to returning the titles.

Harry is following the Diana business model. While in the Royal Family, they both were seen as rock stars who had more star power the the Sovereign, which was an issue. Then, they couldn’t take all the abuse, coldness, and inhumanity, so they bolted for freedom. Instead of putting the past behind them, they use the past to monetize grief and trauma in such a way, they become their own brand. Right now, the trauma being monetized comes from the past, but the problem will soon come when that trauma is tapped out. He will need a source of new pain or victimhood. Enters the wife stage left.

The wife is a tool. She of course has her own plans and thinks she is the one in control or the genius. She thinks she is the one everyone wants to work with. But it’s becoming clear to her that isn’t the case and she’s been played by her elite buddies. They all want him, not her. They all duped her for him. If I can see it, and I can see her already finger pointing that Harry is the failure here, then she can see it. And that means paradise will soon be lost in those Montecito hills. His wife won’t go down without a serious fight here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she eventually causes him to lose his special visa.

Overall, Harry hides behind his wife like a beard or shield protecting him from the press’s glaring lens. He lets her do and say whatever she thinks is great so he can keep plotting his own plans. He allows her to take the fall, look stupid, pull stunts people can see through, etc. for a reason. He isn’t completely sure he can make it in his new California life. He knows he can’t if he keeps her for too long, but he also knows he needs an exit strategy in case it blows up. So, he pins the press to attack her as the true culprit. If they split and he has to, he can return home and play the victim of her. If they split and he is doing okay in Hollywood, she can be the reason he plays victim to big named people like Oprah and Gayle.

I can see it now. An Oprah Special with Harry tonight on Apple +. Something cheesy or corny that is almost plagiarism. Like Narcissus and the Prince or something. Watch. Mark my words. Oprah talking to Harry about surviving the marriage while trying to rescue two small kids, being in the spotlight as a Royal while being gaslit by a narcissistic wife… yes I can see the green screen set up now.

I know this is difficult to digest, but I do ask you to try. While his wife is not innocent, she clearly is guilty for her own part indeed, his wife isn’t the true problem. The true problem here is a man who has a serious issue with living in the shadow of his future-King father and future-King brother, and his future-King nephew, that he has chosen to use the same exact attack model his own mother used to merch and marginally disrupt the institution that made her a star. Harry and his mother both wanted the entire spotlight, but both knew they could never have it the way they wanted it. So, they wrote their own victimhood narrative.

And here we are now. Mark my words. Harry will keep pushing until those remaining titles are removed by them forcing the hands of Parliament and the Queen. Or, they’ll push and push in the press so much the outrage and hypocrisy will leave them no other option but to renounce and re-gift those titles and rights to the line of succession. That is what he wants, even if his missus doesn’t. Also make no mistake about it. Harry is the real Diana 2.0 wannabe, not his wife. Keep an eye out. I have this gnawing feeling that soon enough, there will be plenty leaks from the wife about the husband. She won’t go quietly into the Beverly Hills… but neither will he.

#megxit #6 #harryswife #yankeewally #murky meg #diana2.0

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doyumacy · 3 years

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RIDE OUT - 12

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx. ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ) ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ, ᴄᴀʀ ᴄʀᴀꜱʜ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo@xcharlottemikaelsonx@marksquare@tomorrowxforever@yoongsicles @neococo7 @angels-from-california@ahgastayzen@hiraarri @uhyikesbro

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ !!

the morning of the race you find yourself sitting on a bench on the santa monica pier. it’s 6 am. your hands are in the pockets of your hoodie and you're watching the ocean waves. this may be the last time you ever see and hear them.

you also think about yuta and mark, and you've come to the conclusion that you can't live like this. if everything goes according to yuta's plan, the first thing you would do is talk to them and let them know that you've made a decision. and your decision is final.

you take a deep breath and purse your lips thinking.

you can't help but think of all the memories with yuta, all the things you did and went through together. all the moments with him and how his presence brightened your days and how happy he made you. yuta would remain as a memory in your mind and you know it's time to move on. you also know you could never forget yuta because he is your first love, and maybe the love of your life. but things don't always happen the way you expect them to, and that's okay.

and yes, you will always be grateful to yuta for protecting you and your brothers, but from the moment he made the decision, the relationship would never be the same again

mark is your future and if there is one thing you are completely sure of, it's your feelings for him. you deserve the happiness you have found with mark, and mark offers you a real relationship with no secrets. and honestly, being with him has given you back the happiness you had lost a long time ago.

you notice out of the corner of your eye that someone is sitting next to you. it's yuta. he leans back, sliding a little on the bench.

without looking at you, he looks out at the waves and he can tell you’ve made your decision.

he sighs and slowly turns his head to you. “it’s mark, isn’t it?”

your eyes dart to him. “yes.”

yuta nods. “i figured you’d choose him, so that’ why i brought you this.”

yuta hands you a yellow folder with a bunch of papers inside of it. you take it and you open the folder. the big bold black letters call your attention. “LOS ANGELES SUPERIOR COURT”. you look at him. “they just need your signature, i already signed them.”

“yuta…” you mutter.

he shakes his head. “it’s okay, y/n. i really hope mark can make you happy. you deserve it.”

you tilt your head, looking at him. “you deserve to be happy too, yuta.”

he sighs. “i was once and lost it, but it’s alright. the fact you’re standing here, alive is enough for me.”

“i’ll always love you, yuta.”

“i know,” he nods. “i’ll always love you too, y/n.”

his hand reaches for yours and kisses it. “i should go. i’ll see you tonight.”

he stands up from the bench and you stop him by taking him by the hand. “wait. i got something that’s yours.”

you shove your hand in your hoodie pocket and take out the golden chain he gave you. “you should have it back.”

yuta shakes his head. “it’s yours, you keep it as a sign of our love.” he approaches you and cups your face kissing your forehead. “goodbye, y/n.”

you hug yuta tightly. “thank you for everything, yuta.”

you go to mark’s place and after knocking twice and getting no response, you use the key he gave you. you unlock the door and there’s no sign of mark in the living room or the kitchen. he must be sleeping. you go to his bedroom and open the door trying to not make any sounds. mark is comfortably sleeping, you look at the clock on the wall and it’s almost 7 am.

you take your sneakers off and your socks as well. you walk over to the bed and crawl under the covers, spooning mark, he moves a little when you rest your hands on his chest and he places his on yours. your feet touch his and he groans.

he instantly rolls to look down at you, the expression of a kicked puppy, expecting an explanation.

“y/n,” he says, “your feet are icebergs!”

you smile looking at him. "i love you."

"i love you, too," he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. "but if you touch me again with those cold feet i'm kicking you out."

you giggle and your right foot brushes his left foot. he groans again. "y/n!"

you laugh. "shh, go back to sleep."

"i'm trying," he closes his eyes and his right hand makes its way down to your lower back, getting to your ass. you take his hand and place it again on your waist. he frowns and opens his eyes. "hey, that was not nice."

"if i make breakfast will you stop whining?"

"are you trying to poison me?"

"hey, that was not nice either," you pinch his abs.

he chuckles. "baby, you are smart, a badass, sexy, caring, emphatic and give the best blowjobs, but cooking ain't your thing."

you smile, shrugging. "i couldn't have every trait."

"i'd still bang you," he kiss your temple.

"even though i'm not a married woman anymore?"

mark tilts his head confused. you grin and rest your chin on his chest, looking at him. "got the divorce papers today and i signed them."

"oh..." mark nods. "oh... wait, hold on, why? i mean, that is great news, i just didn't expect it would happen anytime soon."

"you're my future, mark." you rest your hand on his cheek, cupping that side of his face. "so, here i am and i don't want to be anywhere else."

mark beams and takes the hand that is cupping his cheek and plants a kiss on it. "are you proposing?"

you roll your eyes and groan, making him chuckle. "come here, baby." he pulls you for a kiss and cups your face. "i'm never letting you go. ever. i love you."

you kiss mark back. you sigh into his mouth moving your lips against his and then biting his lower lip slowly, pulling it. soon your tongue massage his and explores his mouth

you grab his jaw and turn his face to the side. the kiss is soft and sweet, just under his sharp jaw and then, you bite lower. he bites his lip.

your lips move down his neck slowly tasting his skin as you breathe in his wonderful scent. “honestly i don't understand why you use perfume to sleep," you chuckle against his neck. "but i love it so much."

mark giggles. “you never know when your girlfriend will break into your house and seduce you at 7 am.”

you laugh and sigh. “this is how i want to spend the rest of my mornings.”

“it feels like you’re proposing again,” mark purses his lips. you roll your eyes and pinch him again. “ouch! i was joking, geez.”

“i’m gonna leave, mark,” you warn. “show me some love.” you pout.

“my god,” he scoffs. “you’re so needy.”

“mark!” you whine.

he smirks and gives your nose a peck. “i’m so glad you walked into my life.”

you smile. “are you proposing, mark lee?”

“please explain to me how we are together?”

you shrug. “because we’re both a pain in the ass.”

“yeah,” he nods. “but you’re the biggest pain in the ass.”

you squint your eyes. “loser.”

“christer,” he grins.

“what even is that?” you laugh.

“oh baby, i need to take you home,” he sighs. “my home.”

“i thought i was your home?” you raise an eyebrow.

“you are my second home,” he pecks your nose.

you nod as you start drawing circles on his neck with your finger. “so, is the seducing thing working?”

mark smiles. “who’s the horny one now?”

“let’s say you're wearing black shirt and grey sweatpants, turn me on,” your hand goes down his stomach and you look at him smiling, “and guess what?”

he hums, his eyes not leaving yours. “i’m not wearing any panties and a bra.”

he smiles sideways. “naughty girl. what should i do about it?”

you shrug, your hand going lower until you find the hem of his sweatpants. “i don’t know, teach me a lesson?”

and that’s how you end up with mark between your tights, your hands pulling from his hair as you arch your back and choke a loud moan when you feel cumming for the second time. “fuck fuck fuck m-ma ah,” you look down at him and you notice his eyes are on you as his mouth and fingers work on your heat.

as you’re coming down from your high, you feel his fingers start moving inside you again, his thumb slowly rubbing on your swollen clit. “mark i-i can’t,” you whine and the grip on his hair gets tighter.

mark hovers over your body and kisses your jaw. your hair is all messed up and his fingers are glistening with your juices. he places his fingers on your lips, gently tapping them so you can open them. you take his lips, sucking them and tasting yourself on them. you lick them clean and mark smirks. “good girl.”

your hands push his black shirt up, over his head making him pull away. you slowly stroke his stomach and his eyes are focused on you, burning holes through you. “god, you’re so hot.” you mutter.

he smirks and cups your face kissing you. “you’re a goddess. deadly sexy.” he bites your lip.

“fuck me, mark,” you murmur, kissing him.

“okay,” he smiles teasingly.

mark sits up and frees himself from his grey sweatpant, running his damp hand over his hard shaft. you lick your lips looking down at his hardened cock. “your dick is pretty.”

mark laughs, jerking himself. “you wanna know how it looks prettier?”

you nod. “inside of you.”

you grin and rest your back on the bed again, spreading your legs for him. “then let’s make it look prettier.”

mark smirks as he moves and positions himself at your entrance. he pushes his tip into you and moves slowly, making sure you feel the stretch as he pushes every inch into you. his hands grab your hips and sighs. “i fucking love how you take me so well.” he takes one of your legs, hooking it at his hip.

“mark,” you moan, biting your lip. he grins softly, his thrusts are slow as he slides his dick in and out.

“yes, love?” he hums, sliding in until he’s balls deep inside you.

you moan again, throwing your head back. “oh shit.”

mark giggles and starts fucking you harder, king and deep strokes, his hands holding tightly your waist. he runs his thumb over your clit as he rocks his hips. he moans under his breath as you clench arohnd him. he thruts deeper, groaning as he feels your nails dig on his back.

you whine as mark pushes your leg up to your chest and his thrusts are quicker and hard. you moan. “oh my god. mark!”

loud moans tumbling from your lips as he thrusts deep inside of you. your hands tangle in his hair, “i’m gonna cum, mark. oh god. you fuck me so good,” you exclaim.

mark pushes your legs a bit further to gain a deeper angle. you whine out, your pussy clenching around him. he moans, he loves feeling you cum around his cock. you feel mark cumming deep inside of you. he moans, snuggling into your neck. “oh lord. i love you so much,” he mutters, panting.

“you’re so cheesy after sex,” you reply, panting as well making mark laugh.

he rolls off you and takes his shirt cleaning your thighs. “we made a mess, baby.”

“let’s take a shower together,” you smile.

“that i like better,” he helps you to get up from the bed and hugs you from behind, walking to the bathroom.

mark kisses your neck as you open the door and laugh when you feel something poking in your ass. “again?”

“you’re so hot, i can’t help it,” he shrugs. “besides, i haven’t fucked you in my shower yet.”

“then what are we waiting for?” you pull him closer.

mark is driving you home when you feel your phone buzzing, you frown when you see doyoung has texted you. you unlock your phone.

from: doyoung.

to: y/n

there has been a change of plans. we’ll meet at hollywood boulevard. be there at 10 pm.

“what is it, baby?” mark asks, his eyes focused on the road.

“doyoung changed the location,” you look at him and gulp. “what if he knows something?”

“let’s not think ahead of ourselves, okay?” his right hand finds your left hand. “text yuta and tell him.”

you nod and with your free hand, you text yuta and sigh locking your phone once the message has been sent. “y/n?” you turn to face mark. “i’m coming tonight.”

jisung doesn’t tell you, but he’s panicking. and he’s scared. scared that you or him, or both end up getting hurt, or worse, dead just because his stupid mistake.

he walks around the living room thinking what he can do to fix it, but whatever comes to his head, it’s too late.

“no!” johnny’s voice startles him, making jisung turn his head towards his upset brother.

“johnny, listen to me!” you take his arm. “this is the only way. the plan we had won’t work.”

“she’s right,” yuta mutters from the corner he’s standing. “it’s too risky and maybe too crowded.”

“i don’t give a fuck about other people!” johnny exclaims. “i only care about my sister and my brother’s safety for fuck’s sake.”

“what’s the new plan?” jisung asks, everyone’s eyes going to him.

you take a deep breath. “i will be driving your car and you mine.”

jisung frowns, confused. “what good will that do?”

“it will give us time so yuta can finally arrest doyoung,” you explain. “when he realises i’m the one driving, you’ll be miles away. safe and sound.”

“and what about you?” jisung glances at you.

“i can take care of myself,” you reply.

“i’ll be there,” yuta and mark say at the same time. they look at each other for a few seconds.

you shake your head. “don’t worry about me, jisung.” you approach him and stand in front of him. “as soon as we hit the ending line, you keep driving. i’m gonna pretend i’m you and i’m gonna lose on purpose.”

“and when ‘jwi’ has to face him, doyoung will realise that well, the real jwi escaped and yuta’s men will be there already,” mark tells jisung. “you’ll drive to my place where a friend of mine will be waiting for you. you’re gonna be safe there.”

“it’s stupid.” johnny spits. “and suicidal.”

“it’s our only chance,” you look at him.

“tell her she’s wrong.” johnny stares at yuta.

yuta slowly shakes his head. “it’s our only shot.”

johnny groans and runs a hand through his hair. he stares at you and then at jisung. “if one of you dares to not return home tonight, i’m gonna be pissed so you better be here.” he clears his throat.

johnny hugs you both at the same time and sighs. “you two won’t ever stop giving me headaches.” you and jisung giggle and you hug johnny tightly. he responds to the gesture by kissing your forehead.

johnny looks up at yuta and mark, who are standing in the living room watching the scene. he cocks an eyebrow. “you guys wanna join?”

yuta laughs, scoffing, shaking his head. “i actually should be going. see you later.”

yuta leaves your house and you look at mark. you open up an arm so he can join your hug and he smiles softly walking to you and hugs you. jisung and johnny laugh. “this is so awkward.” jisung murmurs.

“let’s stay like this for one more minute,” you say.

hollywood boulevard is crowded as hell that night. tourists, locals, everyone going everywhere. you’re inside of your car, waiting for doyoung to call or text.

several minutes pass and your cell phone vibrates. it's another message from doyoung.

from: doyoung.

to: y/n

drive to la brea avenue.

you do as doyoung says and once you’re on the avenue, you spot his luxurious car. you park your car and walk to him. he smiles when he sees you. “long time no see, my dear.”

“what’s the route?” you ask.

“rude,” he cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms on his chest. “the route, you’re gonna drive through hollywood hills until you get to the 101, and i really hope you get there first, y/n. i’ve waited enough.”

“are you insane?” you look at him. “we can’t drive through residential neighborhoods, there’s not enough space for two cars.”

doyoung rolls his eyes. “okay, you’re backing off. let’s just wait for that dude, and as soon as they arrive, i’ll have my sniper to shoot them.”

“no!” you clear your throat. “fine. i’ll do it.”

“that’s my girl,” he smirks. “i’ll be waiting on the 101, don’t take too long.”

doyoung gets inside his car and drives away. you’re trembling at this point, the streets of the hills are not exactly the best for a race; streets with very sharp curves, the space is very small even for a single car and the most risky thing: entry and exit of cars.

you sigh and shut your eyes, praying everything will be fine.

you hear jisung’s car motor and you turn on your heels. he gets off from his car and you walk to him. “ready to wake up some people?” you joke.

“yeah, hope it won’t be me crashing into their gates,” jisung jokes as well.

you bite your lip. “we should start.”

jisung nods and hands you a black cap. “i always use it when i drive.”

you take the cap and stare at him. “try driving as if you were me.”

“i’m definitely losing then,” he mocks.

you chuckle and take a deep breath. “i will see you at mark’s place, okay?”

“yes.” he nods and hugs you tight, kissing your cheek. “be safe, y/n.”

“you too, jisung.”

you get into his car and take your hair inside of the cap just in case, since the windows are too dark for anyone to notice who’s driving. you start the car and line up next to jisung.

your stomach is in knots as you start your engines. the rumble that usually brings you excitement frightened you now. you grasp your hand again and are holding tight.

the cars go with the roar of engines and squeals of tires. jisung shoots ahead, but you're close behind. luckily, you barely ran into a few cars.

you can tell the 101 is close since you start spotting more cars and traffic, but that doesn't stop you. you keep driving and as you're about to reach the ending line, you slow down so jisung can pass you and win.

but jisung's car doesn't slow down. you frown and push the brakes so you can start slowing down but they don't respond. you see how jisung keeps driving. 'at least he's gonna be safe.'

you try to use the emergency brake but it doesn't work either. you grip at the steering wheel and you decide to exit the 101 where the traffic is lighter until you reach a point where the road is empty and you can still stop the car.

your eyes go to the emergency brake to check quickly if there's something that can give you the idea why they're failing. in time to see your headlights illuminate an animal bolting across the street in front of you. you veere hard to avoid it. you feel your heart skip a beat and your breath catches in your throat as the right side of the car lifted into the air, time seeming to stand still for a second.

and then the car is flipping, the window slamming into the ground first, the force of it driving out any remaining air your lungs may have contained. glass from the driver side window scattered across you, forcing you to shut your eyes to protect them. the car rolls over and over, finally coming to rest on its roof.

suspended from the seat belt you can feel the blood rushing into your head. glass cut at your hands and arms as you try to unfasten the seat belt. you can see the pavement right outside the windshield. you scramble for the door handle but the frame around the door is too dented to allow it to open. and you're scared of moving too much. you hands are shaking and you don't feel any pain. you touch your face and feel warm liquid falling from your head. it's blood. and now it's dripping off on your neck.

you hear footsteps approaching the car and when you turn your head slightly, you quickly recognize who those black patent leather shoes belong to. you gulp as you notice he stands at the height of the window and peeks out his head. doyoung smiling and clicks his tongue. "look what we have over here."

doyoung sticks his hand through the window and grabs your jaw hard, tightening. you whine and try to take his hand off your face, but he is only tight at the grip. "where the fuck is your brother?"

"i-i don't know what you're talking about," you whisper.

doyoung groans and yanks your jaw free violently. "i'm gonna ask you one more time, where is jisung?"

you keep your mouth shut and doyoung sighs. "okay, i see you like things the hard way." he spots a deep cut on your chest and presses on it with force, hurting you. you cry, almost screaming but refuse to tell any information about jisung.

"fucking whore," doyoung mutters as he keeps adding pressure on the wound. you feel tears falling down your eyes and let out a sigh of relief when doyoung removes his fingers.

"i see you're willing to die for him," he stands up, dusting off the dust from his expensive dress pants and wiping his blood-stained fingers on them. "then you'll die."

you hear more footsteps approaching and spot two pairs of shoes. the two men remove the door and one they have taken off the seat belt, doyoung bends down again and, grabbing you by the hair, pulls you out of the car. you whimper trying to get him away from you but your body is too weak. you know you're hurt everywhere but feel numb.

doyoung drops you to the ground, your hands keeping your head from hitting the hard pavement. he rolls you on your stomach and takes your hair making you kneel. his face is close to yours. "it was a pleasure working with you, gorgeous."

you see doyoung taking a gun out from the back of his shirt and loads it. you gasp as you close your eyes, lowering your head. and then, all you remember is hearing a gunshot right in front of you.

i'm sorry, johnny. i love you.

i'm sorry, jisung. i love you.

i'm sorry, mark. i love you.

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