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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

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party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet.

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n

6K notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

Text

Paparazzi.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: TOO META, m*sturbation, mentions of s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me... Y/N Y/L/N writes Marvel fanfictions. One day, Sebastian stumbles upon her account and, unable to help himself, reads all the stuff she has written about him. He didn't mean to fall so hard for her but he does. How can he not? She has shown him parts of himself that he never even knew existed.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so a few weeks ago I read a similar (but dark) fanfic and I really wanted to write a softer version of it... Enjoy!

---

Same old, boring routine.

Y/N hit post and slumped against the headrest of her bed, sighing. She waited; a minute, then two passed and she noticed that someone had liked her post. She smiled to herself as she kept her phone away. Though boring, she wouldn't trade her life for the world. Y/N… well, she was a university student first and foremost but she was also a writer.

Being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she had started writing fanfictions a few years ago. She posted them on Tumblr, where her blog, though not very well-known, stood out enough for her posts to get around 800-1000 likes per post. She loved it; she loved writing, she loved posting her stories and especially, she loved the feedback.

Sometimes people were rude, but most times, the reviews she got were fantastic. She read each and every one of them, smiling goofily as people freaked out over her fanfictions. It warmed her heart. A smile automatically blooming on her face, Y/N lay down on the bed and decided to go to sleep, it being almost 3 am.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was up at the same time, tossing and turning in his bed, restless.

Sebastian sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He drank some water and lay down again, closing his eyes but it was like sleep was mad at him. Refused to be anywhere near him. He groaned to himself and picked up his phone from the nightstand, deciding to go through Instagram, hoping he'd finally fall asleep to the glare of the screen.

As he logged into his account, he skipped the activity page and went straight to the explore page. Bored, he continued scrolling until his eyes landed on a specific photo. And the breath escaped his lungs when he clicked on it; the woman in the picture was absolutely gorgeous. He just couldn't resist going to her page, smiling widely when he read her bio.

It gave him her basic information; her name, her age, the university she attended. But what caught his eye was the link below the bio. My Marvel Fanfictions Master List. Marvel fanfictions? She was a writer? Smirking, he clicked on the link and it took him to Tumblr. Of course, he'd heard of the site, but didn't have an account on there. At 3 am, his mind sure wasn't working right.

A post popped up on the screen, the same master list she had mentioned earlier. And his eyes bulged out of their sockets; damn, those are a lot of fanfictions. He went through the whole thing, smirking again when he noticed that she had written the most fanfictions about him. Not Bucky Barnes, no, Sebastian Stan.

He clicked on the first one. The date of posting was way back, in 2019. He started reading; nothing about it felt weird to him; he was intrigued, if anything. And as he continued reading, he couldn't help but imagine her being in the stead of the female protagonist. Her, the writer. The woman whose picture had made him end up reading in the first place.

When he finished the story, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Wow, she really has a way with words. And he had also noticed how in the author's note, she used a lot of slang but reading the story had made him realize that she had an amazing, extensive vocabulary. He went back to the master list and clicked on the latest post under his name.

Posted: 15 minutes ago.

His breath hitched in his throat when he read the warnings: there was going to be sexual intercourse in this one. For one moment, he hesitated; did he really want to read this? "Oh fuck it," he huffed and scrolled, starting to read. The more he read, the more his shaft twitched in his pants. He wasn't really like that during… but oh damn, he wasn't complaining.

"Oh, Seb…"

His hand slid down and he rubbed himself through his boxers, unable to take his eyes off the text in front of him. His strokes got harder and faster as the sex got steamier. "Ungh, I'm gonna cum—" And he suddenly came in his boxers, groaning. Slumping down on the bed, he quickly finished reading the rest of it, going back to the master list.

He took a screenshot with the account's name in it and then went back to her Instagram account to take another screenshot. Keeping his phone away, he slipped out of his boxers, cleaned himself and pulled the covers on top of him, finally feeling tired enough to fall asleep.

---

Y/N was walking across the campus of her university, going to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, she opened Tumblr to read the message someone had sent her just then.

his-username: Hi there! I was binging your account last night, you write really well

your-username: Omg thank you!!!! I really appreciate it, I love getting feedback! 🥺❤

his-username: You're welcome! Especially your latest post, that was really good ;)

your-username: hehe 😈 glad you liked it!

Smiling widely, she kept her phone away and continued walking, not knowing that the person who had texted her was the same man she had written about. Sebastian smiled to himself when he read her text. After getting up in the morning, the first thing he had done was install Tumblr on his phone. Then he made an account for himself.

Figuring out the app was easy; he found out that there was an option to keep your liked posts and the accounts you followed hidden, and selected it immediately. No one needed to know what he did on the app. Then he went back to her account, pressed the follow button and started binge-reading her fanfictions again. Last night had he read only two, and that had left him wanting more.

Funny how much things can change in a night. He liked and reblogged all her posts without a second thought; he even read all her Bucky Barnes posts. She understood his character so well, put him on what he thought was an undeserved pedestal while writing about him. Some of the stories were AUs, which he found out stood for Alternate Universes. Mostly mobster or mafia stuff.

He had the day off, and he spent the entire time cooped up in his apartment, on his bed, reading. The more he read, the more he started fawning over her, over the version of him that she put out to the world. Dominating, suave and just perfect. He loved it. At the end of the day, he decided to text her again, hoping she wouldn't think he was weird or find out the truth.

his-username: do you wanna be friends, maybe? I'm new to the app, don't really have any friends here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That was a lie, he knew Mark Ruffalo had an active Tumblr account. But it's not like he could tell him.

your-username: Yes sure!!!! I was also thinking of making some friends on this app lol

his-username: You don't have any on here? But you've been here for years, haven't you?

your-username: haha yeah, but I don't really reach out to people much. Sometimes people leave their feedbacks on my posts, text me but that's that

his-username: Ohhh

his-username: well, let's start with names. Mine's Sebastian

your-username: Really?????? omg that's so cool lmaooooooo (didn't think you were a boy but 😳👀)

his-username: Not a boy, I'm a man 😤😂

your-username: 🤣 im y/n, btw

his-username: Y/N, that's a nice name

your-username: thank you!!!! So, what do you do?

his-username: nothing really that interesting, I'm in theatre

your-username: theatre is nice! I'm studying at [university] in New York lmao

his-username: Wait you're in New York? So am I!

your-username: ASDFHKSHKGF that's awesome!!! also I noticed that you've been going through my account the whole day 😏 notifications upon notifications keeping my phone busy

his-username: Oopsie?

your-username: 😂😂 I really don't mind, it was great! Despite the amount of likes on my posts, I only have a few loyal followers lmao gaining one more felt nice

your-username: You a big fan of Sebastian Stan? Cuz I noticed that you were only reading his and Bucky's fics 👀

Sebastian's face heated up.

his-username: kinda yeah 🤷🏻‍♂️😁

your-username: Cool cool cool, I'm a big fan of his too!!!! also got a crush on him but whatever 😳

Sebastian smirked at his phone. A crush on him, huh? That… was acceptable. He suddenly felt his cocky side coming out; the one she described in nearly all her fanfictions.

his-username: wouldn't blame ya, I mean, look at him. You have also written the most fics about him and Bucky

your-username: right????? damn that man has raised my standards. Anyway, I gtg now, I have to finish a paper before midnight. ttyl!

his-username: Bye! 👋🏻

He kept his phone away and took in a deep breath. This was the most fun he had had in years, and he was not letting her go so easy. He realized he was quickly falling for her; rather unhealthy, but he couldn't help it. Look at her. She looks like a goddamn angel, writes like one, makes him feel like one, do you really expect him not to fall for her? That's insane.

---

Months passed by like a breeze. Y/N and Sebastian had become very good friends, and he knew his way around words just enough to keep her from finding out his identity while not lying to her. Y/N also appreciated his friendship, because he was the one to whom she could rant about her most favorite man in the world— Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes, she thought about how weird of a coincidence it was that her new friend and the actor shared the same names, but then she used to brush it off; that was a common name, right? They talked for hours on end; Sebastian (her friend, not the actor) was extremely witty, smart and fun to talk to, she had to admit. Sebastian felt the same way.

His feelings had worsened. Y/N entirely owned his heart now. Somedays, he'd just go on Instagram, go to her account— her username memorized by him— and stare at her photos until he grew tired; he'd never get tired of looking at her beautiful face but his stiff body afterwards begged to differ. She was just so Elysian. He longed for the moment when he could meet her in real life.

His personality had also changed majorly, and people had caught on. Especially his Marvel co-stars, who knew him to be introverted, shy and, in Anthony Mackie's words, "boring". They were surprised at his sudden change in attitude; he knew his worth and Y/N had helped tremendously in finding it. Now, all those adjectives that she used in her fanfictions fit him perfectly.

Sebastian was never tempted to read fanfictions about himself from authors other than Y/N. No, he only loved her work. He was sure no one else could write as beautifully as she did, he was her #1 fan. Y/N even sent him funny Marvel memes she found on the app and he used to enjoy them heartily; God, the others have no idea what they're missing out on. Our fans are awesome.

Everything was going well.

Until one day.

Sebastian was getting bored at home, so he decided to go to the nearby library to clear his mind. He had read not one book in the past few months, hung up on Y/N's fanfictions. At this point, he was obsessed with her and he knew it. It was nothing dark, per se, it was— it was similar to how Y/N was attracted to Sebastian. How she was a fan of his work.

Just the same. He was a fan of her work in the same way. Just how she was attracted to him, he was attracted to her. Walking into the library that he visited often, he gave the librarian a smile and ventured further into the dark place. He checked his watch; the library closed at 12 am, it was currently 9:30 pm.

Not many people were around, heck, nobody was around. He thought himself to be all alone until he heard it. A sigh, coming from a few aisles away. He walked in that direction and peeked around the corner, freezing when he saw the other person. Y/N? Her books were strewn all across the table as she sat alone at the booth, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?"

She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. I'm dreaming. This is not real. Now I know for a fact that Sebastian Stan is not standing in front of me, asking me if I'm— "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I, uh— I'm— h-hi," she stammered and he almost chuckled. "Hi." She gulped visibly and blinked at the table, not meeting his eyes.

"Can I have a seat?" He wants to sit with me?! "Y-Yes, sure, sir," she blurted out and he easily slid into the booth next to her. "Hey, please, call me Sebastian. What's your name?" He gave her a friendly smile, even though all he wanted to do was push her back into the booth and kiss her wildly. His shaft twitched just by thinking about it; Y/N was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you, I'm… I'm a fan," she admitted, playing with the ring she wore on her left thumb. I'm your fan too, sweetheart, the biggest one. "Y/N, nice name. You come here often? I haven't really seen you around." She shook her head. "Oh no no, I moved to this part of the city just a week ago, this is my first time here. The library is cozy," she shrugged, easing out of her tense position.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know, this place is awesome. Got all my favorite books here," he chuckled and she smiled at him. "What's all this?" A groan left her lips. "Ugh, stupid university work. I have to write a book report but I don't even know what to write about." He smiled gently. "Well, I have a few favorite books, would you like some suggestions?"

"Oh, please! Tell me!"

He started listing some of his favorite works and Y/N noted the names down until he said the last name. At that, she froze. That's the name of my latest— She looked up but he had a smile on his face. "Oh, and the last one is by my favorite author." He took a pause. "Y/N Y/L/N." She froze completely, staring at the man with her jaw dropped.

Sebastian grinned. "We finally meet, Y/N, I've been waiting for months." Her mouth opened and closed several times as she recalled every interaction she had had with her online best friend— scratch that— her celebrity crush. All the times she had confessed her love for Sebastian Stan, all the dirty and inappropriate memes that she'd sent him…

Embarrassment flooded her entire body as she exhaled shakily. "It was you," she croaked out, "On Tumblr, the account— I'm so sorry—" Sebastian frowned in confusion when she blinked back sudden tears, a few still rolling down her cheeks as shame replaced embarrassment. "Y/N, please don't cry…" She looked up at him, his figure blurry due to her tears.

"You've read everything, haven't you? I just— I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—" He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Y/N couldn't hug back, though she appreciated the hug especially since it came from him. "You don't know how much you mean to me, doll," he mumbled into her shoulder, using the nickname she often used in the stories she wrote about him. He grew accustomed to it easily.

"Huh?"

He pulled away to wipe her tears. "It was an accident," he admitted, "But I stumbled onto your Instagram account from my explore page. Then I clicked on your account, saw that you wrote Marvel fanfictions and I just couldn't resist the urge to read what you had written. Blame it on 3 am me, to be honest. You're a great writer, and I was immediately drawn to your works. They're awesome.

"They've helped me so much in the past few months. You see this changed attitude that everyone's been talking about lately? All because of you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for keeping my identity secret, but after reading your works, I knew I had to get closer to you. I made the Tumblr account just for you, just so I could talk to you. I'm sorry for lying, but thank you."

Y/N dumbfoundedly stared at him for a few moments, her heart beat getting steady with each thump. Here was a man she admired, loved more than anyone else in the world, telling her that he harbored the same feelings for her. How crazy was that?! Not trusting her words, she simply pulled him into another hug. Sebastian wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Can I kiss you, doll?"

She slowly pulled away from him and nodded, shyly biting her lip. Grinning at the endearing gesture, Sebastian cupped her face and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. The kiss grew hungry in a matter of seconds, and Y/N responded just as eagerly. His hands slid down to her waist and tugged on it, pulling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs as they continued kissing.

"Fuck," he groaned when they finally pulled away from each other, out of breath and panting. "You see what you do to me, doll?" Sebastian spoke huskily as he took her hand, placing it right on top of the tent that was forming in his pants. "Oh," Y/N whimpered when she felt him, the sound going straight to his shaft. "How about I take you home and we recreate some of the scenes from your stories, hm?"

"O-Okay."

"Good girl."

---

A/N: What a meta experience 🤡 Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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otakusheep15 · 3 years ago

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SFW Alphabet - Simeon

This man seriously owns my entire heart. Like, I would trade all of the brothers just to be with him, no questions asked lmao

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Surprisingly, he’s not that affectionate. Well, at least not physically. He enjoys spending time with you and being in the same room, but he hardly ever craves psychical affection like the brothers do. The farthest he usually goes is hand-holding and maybe a little hand kiss too, but he rarely goes beyond that unless he’s feeling especially clingy that day. Just being near you is enough for him really.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship with him can go one of two ways. He’d either baby you like he does with Luke, or lowkey bully you like he does with Lucifer, no in between. It really depends on how you are as a person and how he sees you. If he sees you as someone who needs protecting and is a bot more on the childish side, you’ll totally be another Luke to him. And if you’re someone whose more on the opposite end of that spectrum, calm, composed, serious, he’ll treat you more like he does Lucifer. But he loves you all the same.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is probably the one exception to the lack of physical affection. He loves nothing more than to curl up next to you in bed after a long day of dealing with RAD, Luke, and Solomon’s “cooking”. He especially loves laying his head on your chest so that he can listen to your heartbeat. It just calms him down and reminds him that you’re really here with him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Man is the definition of malewife (besides Barb), so of course he’s amazing at any kind of chore. He’s also gotten quite good at household chores after having to take care of Luke for so long. And, trust me, he would love to settle down with you. Maybe Luke could come along too? That would be ideal.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be super gentle about it. The last thing he wants is to make the situation any worse than it’s gonna get, so he breaks the news as calmly as possible. If the situation did somehow escalate, he would try is best to get everything under control lest someone get hurt (physically or emotionally).

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As much as he’d love to get married, he also wants to take it slow. He understands that relationships need time to develop, so he wants to wait until both of you are absolutely sure before going any further. After all, marriage is a big commitment to an angel, so it’s important that everything is perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is so gentle. Like, he’s the best when it comes to care. Maybe it’s just his instincts as an angel, but he feels the need to protect you from any harm whatsoever. He always makes sure he has permission before touching you anywhere, and he’s constantly checking up on you and making sure you’re feeling well. really, he just wants you to feel as comfortable as possible with him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but he doesn’t give them out too often. It’s almost always you who goes to him for hugs first unless he’s in a really good mood. But he’ll never deny anyone who does want a hug, especially you (and Luke).

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Honestly, he probably waits a while before saying it. In fact, you might end up being the one to say it first. He wants to take things slow, and the last thing he wants is to make you feel rushed by saying it too quickly. He loves you very much, and you’re both highly aware of that, but actually saying the words takes time for him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Surprisingly, he gets really jealous really easily. Not so surprisingly, he’s very good at hiding it. He just hates how much time you spend with the brothers, and he’ll use anything to get you to come over. His most common excuses usually involve either Luke or Solomon needing supervision and him needing help with that. He never means to guilt trip or gaslight, but he lowkey might if it means getting you to him quicker.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He is a sucker for for hand kisses, both giving and receiving. They’re just so romantic to him, and they don’t take much effort either. His kisses, regardless of where they are, are super loving and romantic. All he wants to do is sweep you off your feet and make you feel loved.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

*cough*Luke*cough* All jokes aside, he does really love children. He just loves how innocent and joyful they can be, and he loves how they speak their minds since most don’t have a filter. The chaos they can get into is also an added bonus, even if it can be a hassle to clean up afterwards.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings can go one of two ways. The preferred way is you two waking up around the same time and just staying in bed for a couple hours enjoying each other’s company. These mornings are usually filled with sweet words and soft touches. The other, less preferred way, is absolute chaos. It doesn’t matter if you stay at the HoL or PH, there will be chaos. And one (or both) of you is going to have to fix it.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He tends to stay up late working, so you can either go to bed and he’ll join later, or you can stay up with him. Either way, he’ll try and finish up as quickly as possible so that he can curl up with you in bed. If his day was especially stressful, he’ll hold you close to him and rant about all of his worries. Side note: please pet his hair, he deserves it.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s actually pretty open with you, which is kinda surprising. I mean, he does have his secrets he’d much rather keep, but who doesn’t. However, he also knows the value of trust in a relationship, so he tries his hardest to be open and honest with you as possible. He hopes that you’ll do the same as well.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The freakin definition of patience. He’s dealt with so much throughout his life, so he’s grown to have an amazing temperament. Of course he can get annoyed (*cough*the play*cough*) but he does so well at controlling it most of the time. This patience is specifically applied to you and Luke. You could literally murder someone and he probably still wouldn’t be mad.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’d remember most of what you say, but he’d hardly ever utilize it like some of the brothers do. He’ll use the information in more subtle ways. You mention. a certain flavor of cake you like? He makes sure Luke makes some during hsi next baking session. Any shows you enjoy? He may not watch them depending on the length, but he’ll do some research on them so that he can talk to you about it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory is this one time you came over to bake with Luke. Luke, precious thing, was trying out this new recipe, and he was super excited about it. But, of course, Solomon had to come in and mess everything up and now the kitchen and half the house is a mess. Luke is super upset, Solomon is lowkey enjoying it, and Simeon is there watching the world burn around him. And through it all, you stayed there and helped them clean up even when you didn’t have to. He just found it so sweet that you took the time to help Luke and also the rest of the Hall as well. It ended up being a fun day even if he did scold Solomon for hours afterwards.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s decently protective, but that’s mostly is angelic instincts. Angels have that natural instinct to protect humans, so he had that urge even before you two became a thing. And that urge only became stronger as you two got closer. However, his protection comes in more subtle ways, like most of his gestures. Someone getting a bit too close to you? He’ll put his arm about you and slowly back you away. The brothers are fighting again? He’ll step in front of you to make sure you’re not caught in the cross-fire.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Like pretty much everything else, he’s much more subtle with his dates. He prefers more lowkey options, like a picnic or just hanging out in either his room or yours. You guys never do anything over-the-top, and he likes it that way.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to prioritize others over himself a lot, and he’s been trying to work on it for a while. And, obviously, he’s terrible with tech. I honestly have no clue how he’s survived this long not knowing how a D.D.D. works past the basics.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s naturally pretty, so he doesn’t need to care. Jokes aside, he isn’t one to particularly care for his looks. He does want to look nice and presentable, but it isn’t usually a top priority compared to someone like Asmo or Mammon.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

WIthout a doubt. He tends to get attached to people very easily, and you’re no exception. Once you two being getting close, it’s over for him. From then on, he’s attached to you. If something were to happen to you, he would simply cease to exist.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He and Michael totally had something going on at one point. Maybe they still have something going on. Hell, maybe even Luci was involved at one point. I have no clue where this idea came from, but it’s in my head and so now all of you are being subjected to it as well.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People who dislike Luke are a big no for him. Sorry, they’re a package deal. You want him? Well, now you have a child too.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He tends to make noises in his sleep. It’s not really cohearent words or anything, more just like light snores and stuff. Kinda like a dog when it really gets into a dream, ya know?

#OBEY ME #shall we date obey me #shall we date simeon #scenarios #sfw alphabet #Headcanon

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years ago

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why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us.

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics.

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp meta #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #sorry i have a lot of feelings about this topic kjahsflkjhsjkghfd #but yes!#i think mc being able to help him was more about her sensibility and the mental fortitude/space to be able to care about him as he needed #i don't think it's necessarily that she's SpEcIaL #trauma is a sensitive subject--especially considering he's a war veteran #but i also think it's simple and complex at the same time #simple in the sense that people really do just need consistent support and love to be able to care for themselves again #complex in the sense that support can come in so many permutations and some of them are very delicate and multi-faceted #and thus must be handled with extreme caution in some regards #anywho not that i'm any kind of expert this is just what i understand and see #also in case it wasn't clear i love him and cry every day (look away comte it's my whoring hours)#though i hope this helps??? i went off harder than anticipated lakjhglkj #thank you for the ask!!! <3333 #asks #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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officialgritty · 4 years ago

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How I Would Humble NHL Players

An essay written by bigboigritty.

I would humble hockey players the only way I know how to, by sending them to Australia. Let’s suppose that they have decided to hold the All Star game over here (forget about it’s usual date) (forget that some players I have listed below might not be invited) (and while you're at it, please forget that Australia’s rinks are Not Good).

I think that they would suffer but in an entertaining way so it’s fine.

First of all, their biggest concern is getting sunburnt. It would effect all of their dumb asses but I’m particularly worried about Pierre-Luc Dubois and Mitch Marner. Boys are practically translucent. Vince Dunn would be fine, he’d probably wear a shirt most of the time which is a very smart decision.

You may wonder why I didn’t mention Nolan Patrick because I am a certified slut for him, well I don't think he would have a problem. He would spend most of the time inside and when he joins the others, I think his Virgo ass would reapply sunscreen. Maybe he would burn slightly but I don't think it'd be enough to make him uncomfortable.

Another thing that I think they will gain from this experience is a higher pain tolerance. Now you’re probably thinking, “Zoe they are NHL players so they can handle pain.” Wrong.

Real pain is running barefoot on cement at theme parks while you race to get to the next ride. Also getting into the car and having to avoid touching every piece of metal to not get branded like a cow. Or better yet, when the heat gets so bad that there’s a black out because everyone has their air conditioning turned on.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that other countries have scary animals but I would pay to see them panic over ours. Crocodiles here can grow up to 5.2 metres / 17 feet. We have a box jellyfish season where it’s advised to avoid swimming or wear wetsuits for coverage. Funnel web spiders can survive underwater for hours by trapping air bubbles around their skin. We have several of the worlds deadliest snakes present across the country.

Listen, I don't want anyone to get injured but the constant fear that they would have when doing anything would be enough to make me happy.

My biggest question is who would survive in the shady areas, who would survive the eshays?

Under no circumstances can you look them in the eyes or cross their path. They are not to be feared individually but in groups caution is advised. I think the players would attempt to assert dominance and that is simply not an option. You are better off to ignore the eshay.

Nolan would have no issues here if im being honest. He is big and I don't think they’d find it worth it to fuck with him. But you know who they would target? Matthew Tkachuk. “Where are you going pretty boy?” “Oi braa did we hurt your feelings ya pussy cunt?” They would make fun of his hair in particular.

Travis Konecny would be an eshay. I don't think I need to make further comment. (So would Louis Tomlinson but I am not a 1D account and I will continue to repeat that until it’s true.)

I would also give them a few iconic tasks to get the true Australian experience. Activities for the ‘vacation’ include triathlon events, beach flags, bush walking and climbing the harbour bridge. They could attend a cricket match but they tend to like golf so unfortunately they would probably enjoy this :(

AFL is an extremely popular sport here and I think they would loose their shit when they learn the rules of this game. No protective equipment is used other than mouthguards, that's it. That’s all you get. And jumping onto other players for leverage is encouraged. I would thoroughly enjoy the fights that would break out because of this.

Another task would be to use a map to make their way to a servo for a slurpee. The catch is that they will be required to pass through multiple alleyways. Also, the season is Spring, it’s swooping season mother fuckers. Let’s see how brave you are when birds chase you down the block. Personally I don’t think any of them would pass this test, maybe McDavid because the birds may not be able to detect a heartbeat.

Australian food would disgust them, I just know it. Things that they would need to try are a Bunnings sausage sanga, fairy bread, lamingtons, baked beans on toast, Milo and Vegemite. Because I’m me I would give them no butter with their Vegemite.

An after thought I had was money so I’m editing this to include it. Everything here is EXPENSIVE so they would need to learn how to budget. Upon doing research, Canadians would be fine but the Americans will be mad.

1000 CAD = 1019 AUD

1000 USD = 1297 AUD

Another after thought was the fact that they won’t be able to drive (or at least drive well) here. We drive on the left and not the right, same goes for walking paths too. I can sense a lot of them bumping into people.

Where I think players would live based on vibes alone:

Carter Hart and Vince Dunn: North Shore Beaches, NSW. Daddy’s money. Carter probably did Nippers whereas Vince was a skater boy.

Travis Konecny: Darwin, NT. Would 100% live there and enjoy it. He would try to conduct crocodile tours but gets assigned to feeding the baby crocs and doing shows for little kids.

Tyson Barrie: Perisher, NSW. One of the only ski resorts we have to offer, major friendly mountain man energy.

Nolan Patrick: Byron Bay, NSW. @antoineroussel enlightened me, steering away from my original thought of Katoomba, NSW. Byron Bay is a magnet for hippies and links rainforest to the ocean. Chris Hemsworth and his family also live there.

William Nylander: Perth, WA. I don’t know much about Perth other than they wouldn’t shut up about partying while the other states had to quarantine. For some reason, I also associate Perth with Tik Tok.

Sidney Crosby and Connor McDavid: Melbourne CBD, VIC. These two would live in the same apartment building in the city, Connor one level above Sidney. It’s the most boring looking block of them all and Crosby would send in complaints to the landlord about McDavid pacing during the night.

Tyler Seguin: Surfers Paradise, QLD. Party central, not many people are actually from this area and he would be sure to tell absolutely everyone that he was. I also think he would get a Meter Maid tattoo, specifically on his leg. Has definitely slept on the beach before because he couldn’t find his way home.

Jamie Benn: Hobart, TAS. Tasmania is usually forgotten about. Another one with mountain man energy except he is more creepy than friendly.

Mitch Marner: Fitzroy, VIC. @antoineroussel is responsible for this one too. Hipster central, makes you question how the hell someone so young can have so much money. Would chug $45 wine and not blink an eye.

(honourable mentions include = Sammy Blais: Hobart, Tas. Once again no comment on Tasmania. TJ Oshie: Cairns, QLD. Would do reef tours. Haydn Fleury: Western Sydney, NSW. Haydn would 100% own a ute or a white holden commodore and you can’t tell me otherwise. Roman Josi: Adelaide, SA. Small town history teacher vibes.)

I have attached a handy map for those who may need it.

In conclusion, the NHL should send their players over here to teach them some manners and while they’re at it, management should bring themselves too. Nolan Patrick could pass as an Australian if he built up a tan. (So does Nylander in this picture but we won’t talk about that.) Come over anytime baby, I’m free.

Glossary

Servo - A service station, also known as a petrol or gas station. Example: 7/11

Theme park - An amusement park. Can be said in reference to both normal parks and water parks and usually means those in QLD. Example: Six Flags

Swooping season - August to October in Australia. When birds attack and chase humans and / or pets for getting close to their babies. Magpies are notoriously bad for this.

Bunnings sausage sanga - A cheap feed / meal found at the front of a hardware and gardening store called Bunnings. Made up of white bread, sausage, onion and your choice of sauce.

Fairy bread - White bread with margarine and topped with 100s and 1000s / sprinkles.

Meter Maids - Women who work along the beach dressed in gold bikinis. They top up parking meters to save tourists from getting fined and will often stop for photos.

Nippers - Surf lifesaving programs carried out for children between 5 and 14.

Ute - A pick up truck.

Eshay - A person who partakes in drug use, graffiti, listens to EDM and targets victims in groups. Below is the typical style of an eshay.

Tagging a few friends so this doesn’t completely flop but feel free to ignore if it isn't your thing. I won’t be offended lmao

@scheifefe @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @d00dlebob @bowenbyram @kempe @prettyboyroope @quintonsbyfield @travisgermy @pitoftrash @kspitehockey @ballsakic @canadianheaters @bricksatlandyswindow @powerblais @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @jamiedrysdales

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non-binharry · 3 years ago

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hi asia! hope you’re well. absolutely no obligation to answer this but i had a general gender question (about myself) and i don’t have many queer friends to turn to atm. adult genderfluid person here, and i’ve been noticing the way my gender sometimes feels in flux in accordance with what i’m wearing. so like gender identity and gender presentation are obv two different things that can interrelate but like specifically i’ve been trying out more “feminine” things that i always shied away from when i was younger bc some instinctual part of me knew i didn’t love being coded as a feminine binary woman (unfortunately it also manifested as some nlog energy but i digress), including dresses and skirts and i’ve found myself wishing and wishing i could be a man wearing dresses every time i’ve done so and then was always like well i know i’m genderfluid like i still do feel connection to other forms of identity so it’s not that i’m necessarily a trans man. and then i was sorta like wait duh i’m genderfluid maybe i can be a sort of man when i feel like it? but then i worry that that’s invalidating of like other identities that aren’t fluid so idk i guess i’m just here spilling my thoughts bc i’m confused. at other times i’ll be wearing a binder and baggy shorts and be like i am the womanliest woman to ever woman. which i guess now that I’m typing it I’m like okay if i were my friend i would be like dude this is valid but bc it’s me I’m like ~no other ppl’s identities are all valid but i must be faking it for attention (even tho I’m literally closeted) etc etc~ also sometimes i feel way more comfortable just performing “femininity” if i feel like i “look like a boy” (quotes bc this is all socialized) i’ll be more flamboyant in my expressions etc. does this even make sense? and when i “look like a girl” i’ll often manspread and talk in my lower register and i don’t even think that’s like a conscious decision on my part it’s just what feels comfortable. so am i just comfortable like not fitting neatly into presentation categories? is that part of my gender fluidity? are questions I’m asking myself, obv not trying to like put all this on you (even though i am in your inbox, ahh i just find you really really comforting and supportive and affirming as a trans poc!)

anyway sorry for long rant, i’m in a totally okay and like stable spot and no worries if this is like not something you can respond to for whatever reason! i don’t really even know where i’m going with this other than I’m confused and sometimes i might want to be a boy? but usually it’s when I’m presenting as feminine? do i just like fucking w peoples minds?? does that matter is that even a meaningful distinction??

anon, i wish i could apologize a million times over for how long it has taken me to respond to this message, and frankly, it hurts me when you all are like "you don't have to respond" because i worry that my lack of response will make you think that's the option i've chosen lmao i've been so devastatingly busy with work and life lately when i do find a moment of quiet i can't even find a way to articulate anything other than "harr style big tittle" like a caveman

that being said, i love you, and i'm in love with you. i think you're doing exactly what a funky little fluid fella would do and should do and could do and i don't think you should doubt yourself for one minute because fucking with gender is sort of exactly what you're designed to do.

the thing is, your presentation is for yourself, even if no one else gets it. it's an expression of your gender identity, whether that's a fluid man in a dress, or a woman in a binder and baggy clothes, but that's YOU, and that's you expressing yourself how you best can. you're never going to nearly fit into anything, and that's the point. i don't want you to stress over thinking so much whether you're faking it because you're not, you're just experiencing yourself how you're meant to be. and i think that's neat.

i hope you're still around and see the response to this message because i do get the feeling that you are very settled into yourself despite whatever curiosities you may have, but it's always nice to have some reassurance and i'm here to say you're doing great 💗

#anonymous #mensaje mensaje

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bixbiting · 2 years ago

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I'm gonna talk about my dumb batfam succession tv show pipedream!! Too long lmao!!

cold open- x-rays of Bruce's fucked up spine, Leslie explaining that it really is only going to take one more ~good~ hit for his vertebrae to sever completely. stressing that at this point it's highly irresponsible for him to be going out every night/ he's actively risking permeant paralysis.

title sequence- it's my pipedream!! opening sequence is a collection of casefiles/red thread murder board tracing from the very beginning with the botched crime alley mugging all the way through Talia dropping Damian off at the manor.

(Liberties Will Be Taken because this isn't an adaptation, if anything this is what if wfa was fucked up and bad lmao. I specifically want to tweak Tim's origins because godd I'm sorry but I don't care about the Drakes at all.)

Establishing Bruce- match cut from the cold open- mid-shot Bruce staring blankly forward in a hospital gown, cold, green led-lighting as Leslie's voice distorts into droning MATCHED to mid-shot Bruce is a nice suit, warm rich tones distorted sounds of people talking/laughing same blank, hollow expression. A hand with a gold ring clasps him on the shoulder, and in a fraction of a second it's like you're looking at a completely different person— wry, joyful expression on his face as he turns to see who's touching him. the effect is deeply unsettling.

If this was an outline for a real storyboard I'd cut in with something else here to build suspense, maybe cut to Dick? Damian? But that's not the point lmao. The purpose of the scene with the Gold Ring Man is to set up A. Bruce Wayne is rich, B. Whatever they're talking about is the set up for either the crime/corporate drama or both, and C. there is something deeply wrong with him.

Ends with a sequence of Bruce being driven home in the back of a town car. It's dark, Bruce's face is only gently illuminated by the ambient light in the car, but two things stand out: 1. he's alone, silent, in the dark. 2. the dead expression is back.

Establishing Dick- unproblematic king! contrasted with Bruce, Dick is walking to work in the golden glow of an early morning commute. He's walking by himself, but he smiles/engages with all the people he sees, and they all know him by name. In contrast to the sheer wealth on display in Bruce's scene, Dick's clothes are athletic, cheap, and casual. He works at one of those kids gymnastics clubs (sue me) that kind of double as daycare? He usually works the afterschool shift but swapped with a coworker as a favor.

The purpose of Dick's At Work scene is to establish 1. he doesn't care about WE in the slightest. he doesn't care about money. 2. he misses when the batboys were small. he wants to be a part of a real family again, very badly. the politicking that occurs within the family he finds distasteful at the start, this will change later as Dick loses options, but this is how it starts: Dick has forsaken his adopted father's world. at least during the day.

He may be the eldest son, but he doesn't want his inheritance.

Establishing Jason and Tim: this is corny and cliche and I don't care!! my pipedream!! Tim's on his bed in what appears to be a dorm setting when Jason, in full red-hood gear, breaks in through the window; match-cut from Dick tumbling to Jason crawling in.

Jason needs help, help Bruce is either unwilling or unable to provide.

Tim is bitter, dialogue implies that he and Bruce have had some sort of falling out, with Tim making the claim that he's out of the game, retired, he's at school now, says Jason should be asking Damian for his help instead. Jason calls his bluff, he never believed Tim quit for a second, he's too smart to have watched Dickie make the same move only to be devastated when Bruce didn't come chasing after him.

Tim admits that he's right, Tim's "nest" is in the basement, he owns the building outright, it's not a real dorm/apartment, but he is really still pissed at Bruce; they haven't been talking. Tim leads Jason to his version of the batcave, and expresses willingness to hear him out.

The purpose of Jason and Tim being established together to set up a couple foils between them. One being the theme of wealth, paralleled with Bruce/Dick. Jason won't touch any of Bruce's money (he makes money,, as a drug dealer lmao he's a complicated boy), Tim has taken to spending a fuck ton of Bruce's money, mainly to piss him off. They both have wildly different financial backgrounds. I'll explain the rest later. Jason doesn't seem to have a day-life, and Tim doesn't seem to have a night-life. both assumptions are proven incorrect.

Establishing Damian- Damian's graduated high school, and he doesn't know what he wants to do with his life (I will fuck all their ages to make this work I don't care). He wants to figure out who he is, he's ignoring mostly everyone, and Dick misses him so, so much. The opening sequence is Damian talking to Dick on the phone while he crosses rooftops.

He's fallen into the life he honestly kind of expected Tim to fall into, before Tim stormed out to go try and be normal or whatever. Damian doesn't really have much of a day life— he still has Daddy's unlimited credit card, he doesn't have to work. He's currently stuck between his values, what he feels he should be versus what he wants to be, and in the face of that budding ennui has reverted somewhat to the principles he was raised on.

His scene is him in costume, following leads on the case he's working on, when he runs into Batman. It's stilted. And awkward. It's revealed that Damian has been using the cave, using Bruce's resources, but always careful never to be there while Bruce is there.

Bruce goes to move in a certain way, and makes a little huff of pain, and Damian knows immediately something is wrong. And so, Damian becomes the first person Bruce tells about his impending retirement. It's a difficult conversation, charged, but it starts Damian thinking about the future. About what his father's legacy will be.

The purpose of Father/Son bonding is to establish the realtionship between Dick/Damian and Bruce/Damian, and to start the ball rolling on the actual succession-y plot. Dick might not want his inheritance, but that doesn't mean Damian's not allowed to want it either. Tim's out of the picture, and Jason's cosplaying a baddie. It's not a betrayal if he goes after what it seems like uncharacteristically his father is leaving to chance. If he just,, becomes his dad, he doesn't have to worry about the kind of person he's going to be.

There will be more lmao

#bix bites #succession au #b@fam nonsense

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autisticcassandracain · 3 years ago

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I have many thoughts on the weird phenomena in the DC fandom and the Batfam fandom specifically where probably the majority of people just straight up. haven’t interacted with the source material. and almost all of those thoughts can be summarized as ‘lmao that’s weird and mildly concerning’.

and because I’m annoying I will list them all here right now <3

1. To preface this post, I mean, obviously, comics are inaccessible as all hell, both in the disability kind of way and the ‘you need to understand the concept of hypertime to fully comprehend the DC timeline’ kind of way. Because of this, even if you don’t have a disability that prevents you from reading comics, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to look at the amount of comics you need to read to have even a base understanding of a character and go ‘no thanks <3′ and just enjoy fanart and fanfic in a vacuum. Ultimately, this is fandom, this is supposed to be fun, it doesn’t really matter.

2. That said, it’s VERY weird to me that the majority of this fandom just straight up hasn’t interacted with the source material, and moreover, that it’s considered rude to tell people that they should do so. It’s especially weird considering the amount of fanon-only fans I’ve seen who straight up have a superiority complex over canon. The idea that it’s gatekeeping to tell fans of something to actually interact with canon is just. so weird, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘gatekeeping’ actually entails.

3. But honestly I’m less interested in discussing the ways in which canon and fanon fans should interact with each other (personally, I think it would be helpful to create separate tags of some kind, but that’d require quite a big overhaul of the current fandom state) than in figuring out how this actually happened in the first place. On the one hand, it’s obvious; long-running superhero comics the way DC writes them have made themselves so thoroughly inaccessible that most people are simply too daunted to even try. Most media has a cohesive beginning and end (or at least, a planned end somewhere). Comics just... don’t.

But I do think it says something that, even among people who are clearly interested in the characters (since they have, you know, entire blogs about them), the effort to get into comics just seems to be too much to even bother. This really doesn’t bode well for the future of DC Comics. Obviously, I am no expert on anything at all ever, but I’d personally be surprised if DC survives beyond the few decades, at least in its current form/without a big overhaul.

4. But on the other hand, I don’t think the confusing state of DC Comics is the only thing to blame here. Fandom has a well-known problem with reducing any character down to archetypes to more easily ship and write fic/make content with. This problem is particularly prominent in fanfic, which, if you read enough of it, you’ll eventually start seeing not just the same tropes and trends, but essentially the same fics over and over again. And not just within the same fandom; everywhere, or every large fandom, at least.

Fanon Batfam is entirely built on a bunch of those tropes; insecure/depressed sadboy Tim, team mom with optional hidden trauma/emotional problems Dick, bad boy with a heart of gold + sadboy combo Jason, abused sadboy Damian/angry easily-villified-for-fic-reasons monster Damian, good dad Bruce for found family fic and bad dad Bruce for angst fic, etc. This all culminates in a found family dynamic that’s generic and malleable to whatever fic the writer wants to write.

(This isn’t getting into the ship fic, which I avoid like the plague because the vast majority of it is incest, but I’d bet real actual money that the tropes in those fics fall under what is often preferred by the Migratory Slash Fandom.)

By having a decent excuse not to get into canon (the inaccessibility of comics) and a, by now, well-established fanon fandom, many fans feel free to use the batfam fandom as essentially an excuse to write whatever fic with reduced archetypes and tropes they personally feel the itch to write, without having to bother with even consuming a canon. This is compounded by the fact that canon itself is often contradictory and frankly bad, meaning that whatever interpretation of a character you want/need to go for your fic is at least theoretically backed up by canon (for example, you can just as easily cast Bruce as an abusive shithole dad who his kids need to get away from as a loving father figure who cares deeply for his children), which you can always use as a defense if people question your characterization.

5. This focus on fandom trends and tropes over actual creativity or care for the characters is also visible in the way bigotry manifests in this fandom; namely, in literally the exact way you’d expect. The female characters and characters of colour are shuffled to the side, non-existent, vilified, and/or reduced to harmful stereotypes.

Barbara is probably the one I saw the most often in fanfic, but usually just as ‘Dick’s girlfriend’, and even then, she was often vilified for Dick angst (especially in fics about examining Dick’s trauma from his canon sexual assault; Kori also often gets the short end of the stick in those). After that, probably Stephanie, who fanon fans don’t really seem to know what to do with, so she’s basically just there as comic relief waffle girl, most of the time, though sometimes she can be used to either further Tim angst or further vilify Tim, whatever the fic calls for. Cass has gotten included more in batfam fics as of late, likely in response to critiques of fandom racism for leaving her out, but again, it’s clear people don’t actually know what to do with her. She’s often reduced to a racist stereotype of a quite, stoic therapist for whatever guy du jour needs it. That, or she’s in Hong Kong and just not there. Duke especially gets left in the dust in fandom, usually just being non-existent, but when he’s there, he’s almost always nothing more than the straight man for the actual fun characters to play off of. Talia probably has it the worst, though, and almost universally gets vilified by fanon stans in order to write sadboy Damian.

All of this is extremely predictable behaviour and falls entirely in line with general fandom misogyny and racism; ignoring or vilifying women and characters of colour, or using them as very minor characters at best. The only two characters of colour who aren’t regularly left out of fic are Dick and Damian, who are both also conveniently the two characters most often drawn and written in a whitewashed manner. In addition, there’s a real trend of demonizing Damian in fanon fics where he isn’t written as an abused sadboy, which I’d argue is in no small part due to fandom racism, considering Damian’s behaviour is in no way as bad as Jason’s, who doesn’t get anywhere close to the same demonization and gets woobiefied instead. I also find it convenient that Damian is probably the batboy who receives the most vilification in fic, when he’s the most obviously non-white of the batboys they’re willing to acknowledge.

Fandom often cries for more diversity in canon, only to ignore the diversity already there and focus on the same generic white guys. The batfam fandom is a brilliant example of this.

Which is not to say that fandom racism and misogyny isn’t present in the canon parts of the fandom (and canon itself); it absolutely 100% is. But I’ve found that canon fans are also more likely to like and care about at least one of the characters I’ve listed as ignored/vilified, and are willing to create and consume content for them, whereas fanon fans... aren’t, really. I’ve never seen a fan of fanon Cass the way I’ve seen fans of fanon Dick, for example. Obviously, this could just be by coincidence, or I’ve just surrounded myself with people like that, but it’s been a trend I noticed. Racism and misogyny is present in every part of this fandom and should be addressed as such, but I feel like it manifests the most blatantly in the fanon parts of this fandom.

(I’d also recommend the articles Migratory Slash Fandom’s Focus and Beige Blank Slates, which expand more on the type of fandom racism I think is especially prominent in the batfam fandom, as well as literally every article in the What Fandom Racism Looks Like series.)

6. All this leads me to conclude that the majority of fanon fans don’t actually like the characters all that much; they’re convenient excuses for them to participate in fandom. Which I also think is, in no small part, a reason why so many of them react so negatively to being told to pick up a comic; they came to this fandom specifically to consume it as a fandom, because they wanted the fandom experience without having to consume a canon.

This is not a phenomena unique to the batfam fandom (again, see the Migratory Slash Fandom), but it does fascinate me. While fandom is often said to be an experience focusing on transformative art, I think it’s also safe to say that, especially as fandom has become more mainstream, an increasing amount of people are looking to it less as a way to engage with their favourite pieces of media, and more as a type of media in and of itself. I think the reasons for this are similar to the reasons mass media entertainment like the MCU are so popular; you gain a lot of enjoyment out of it with very little risk involved.

By consuming the same fics of the same characters (or the same archetypes) over and over again, you are rarely at risk of being challenged or even disappointed. It’s often very clear right from the start whether or not a fic will appeal to you, and if it isn’t, it’s easy to just look for another one. It requires less emotional investment than most other types of media, even ‘popcorn media’ like the MCU - or, yes, DC Comics. It’s safe, it’s enjoyable, it’s comforting, like McDonalds, but just like McDonalds, it’s ultimately bland and unsubstantial.

7, TL;DR. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s like, wrong to enjoy the fanon version of the batfam without wanting to engage with canon, and I certainly don’t think it’s okay to harrass people over it. But I do think it’s in large part based on a desire to interact with fandom rather than other pieces of media because people are scared of being let down by those pieces of media (or worse, just uninterested in actually thinking), which is mildly concerning.

#long post #my posts #infodumping #btw i say this as someone who also has trouble consuming much more than popcorn media/fanfic due to emotional exhaustion #but it's not a healthy habit and it's something people can and should try to break out of #also obviously this isn't about EVERY fanon fan specifically so if this doesn't apply to you specifically great then move on

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koutone-moved · 4 years ago

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Saeran/Ray After Ending: My Thoughts

Hey everyone! I’m not one to really go in-depth about stuff in here, but I really felt the urge to talk about this since Saeran is a character that is really dear to me and this After Ending was something that I and many, many other people had been looking forward to for a long time.

I’ll be talking spoilers about the entire AE below the cut, so please beware!

I wanted to start off with the things I really did enjoy.

Cheritz trying new things with the AEs for both V and Saeran was really great, in my opinion. They could have stuck with the previous format of just giving us sneak peeks into the respective couple’s life after getting together but instead decided to turn them into complete story expansions that felt more like Secret Endings. The effort and care everyone at Cheritz has put into these storylines is incredible and they deserve all the kudos and praise.

The chatroom format was a really cool idea and having the player influence the outcome was something I greatly enjoyed. Having the story be a romance/thriller combination was super fun and immersive, too. The prologue was a great hook in my opinion--it had my heart beating fast with anxiety from the very start lolol.

ALL THE SAERAN FLUFF AND CALLS, LORD ALMIGHTY. I ADORED EVERY SECOND OF IT! I totally picture Saeran being a really cheesy and adoring boyfriend, especially since MC is so precious to him. I think they hit the nail right in the head with this.

The CGs were BEAUTIFUL. I was shocked at how many we got for a 4-day story, and they all really brought the story to life. Huge props to Cheritz for the immense effort they put into them.

The first two days of the AE (though extremely anxiety-inducing and emotionally painful for most of their duration, lol) were super entertaining and how I had always envisioned the story going down. I think having the PM and the agency unite forces as the main antagonistic force was awesome, and I really wish the story had solely focused on them.

Now, the things I didn’t like.

The Rika drama. I totally understand why addressing and breaking down Rika’s terrible actions is important for Saeran’s story. But... why, why did we need to revisit the “actually Rika has always been a good person that did some bad things” plot point when it was already done to death in V’s AE and route? I’m sorry, but this makes my blood boil.

Rika abused Saeran so badly to the point that he had to split his personality into two different people to survive, drugged him into hating his own brother, constantly told him and made him believe he was worthless if he didn’t work his ass off 24/7, killed his fucking mother, etc. The list goes on. Not to mention: she broke and drugged the minds of many other people! Not just Saeran!

I understand that the story gives us options to call Rika and V out on this bs and it encourages us to do it, but... just the fact that we have to entertain the possibility of forgiving her and letting her get off scot-free truly, truly fucking floors me.

What really bothered me about this is that this subplot took an entire day out of the 4-day story. A whole ass day that could have been spent developing the PM-agency storyline (which, again, I truly wish they had focused on). It really sucked that we had to spend a day exclusively talking to Rika and V about the same thing over, over, and over again.

V. What in the hell did Cheritz do to his character, lmao? I don’t like V at all and the actions he’s chosen to take in regards to Rika and Saeran have always truly infuriated and baffled me. But, I’ve never thought of him as someone who would willingly hurt the RFA.

I was SHOCKED to see how selfish and twisted he was in this story, especially in Day 3. He said he would never try to change Rika again and hoped she would flourish as a result and become a better person. But. My good man, how in the hell did he ever think that kidnapping two grown ass adults and forcing them to be their children was a sane decision?

I was truly convinced until the very last moment that V returning to Rika was a red herring and that he had a plan all along to keep her in check and protect the RFA. But nope.

I may not be a V stan, but even I know that V would never act so selfishly.

The GE/NE resolution. It felt so rushed and is the main reason why I think Day 3 should have been handled differently. The truly bullshit thing that stood out to me about it was how a short confrontation with the illegitimate son he gives no shits about is enough for the PM to have a change of heart. LOL. The corrupt, greedy prime minister that has his entire life and career hanging on a line is suddenly enlightened on his evil ways and turns himself in. Am I too cynical for thinking this resolution is stupid and makes no sense? I know at this point it was basically impossible for him to not get arrested, but I really didn’t buy this and it felt like cop-out from Cheritz’s part, writing-wise.

How Saeran’s trauma was handled. I know I already expressed loving how Saeran was towards MC in this AE, but that does not include this part specifically, lol.

I understand a big part of Saeran’s story is learning to forgive and understand to find true happiness and freedom. And I love that, it truly is a beautiful direction for his character.

I know Cheritz is not great at writing realistic trauma recovery for his characters--that was already apparent in Saeran’s route. But, I never found it so unrealistic to the point of breaking immersion for me until this AE. It just felt so silly at some points that I couldn’t even convince myself that maybe it was possible.

It’s been two weeks since he escaped Mint Eye, and... he is completely fine with talking casually to Rika, trying to understand her, and being in the same room as her? He is fine with confronting the PM and telling him he forgives him because ‘he must have a tragic past’? Really?

Maybe he is just a better person than I am lol, but this was too much. I completely understand how someone could reach this level of inner peace and choose to forgive their abusers in order to heal. But. Two weeks. Although the circumstances were different, I think the Secret Ending handled Saeran’s recovery a lot better in this sense.

In Summary: LOVED Day 1 and 2, hated Day 3 and 4

I’m sorry if I got a bit too rant-y on the reasons why I disliked the AE LOL. I just had many feelings about it and couldn’t stop myself. If anyone wants to send me or comment their own thoughts, please feel free to do so!! I would love to read some different perspectives.

I don’t hate the AE as whole, but it really let me down in some big ways. I’ll probably try to replay it in the future and see if I change my mind about some aspects about it, though. It’s sad to say this, but V’s AE left me feeling more fulfilled in some regards than this lol. I really wish Saeyoung would have had more involvement in the story, too.

I did love the very final epilogue for both the GE and NE, which was the main thing I was hoping for--so there’s that, I guess.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading!

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran after ending #ray after ending

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zodiyack · 5 years ago

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Born To Die

Requested by anon: Can you do a imagine with Tommy Shelby? A song fic maybe Lana Del Rey's Born To Die but fluffy and angsty?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, *in Italian voice* mention of mafia stuff, mention of death, death not Reader’s or Tommy’s, fluff

Song: Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

Note: I can’t remember if they say how their mother died, I’m guessing it was when she gave birth to Finn, I dunno, I’m assuming so because...yeah idk. I hope you like it!

Edit: OH SHIT I JUST REALIZED I REMEMBER WHEN HER DEATH IS MENTIONED- I'M BIG DUMB LMAO

Lyrics = Bold + Italic | Memories = Italic | Thoughts = Apostrophe + Italic + Apostrophe

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @peakysputain

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Feet don't fail me now, take me to your finish line. Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take, but I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine.

Walking through the city streets, is it by mistake or design? I feel so alone on a Friday night, can you make me feel like home if I tell you you're mine?

Tommy sighed, watching the woman he loved walk angerly out the door of his office. He informed her of the Changretta’s vendetta and how she would need to leave him to live. He told her that he didn’t care whether or not she wanted to, that it was his decision because he was the one the Italians wanted to kill.

“I can fend for myself!”

“I don’t doubt that, love, but you need to leave.” He looked away, the quivering of her lip too much for him to handle. Tom almost cried, his eyes were watery and his heart was aching, he really didn’t want it to come to this. “Maybe being able to protect yourself will keep you alive if you ever need-”

“Whatever. I’m not leaving. I’ll just go home until you can change your mind or learn that I’m no coward. Perhaps when you do choose the right decision, you could come stay with me. Otherwise, enjoy your time here, Husband.” Venom dripped from the word, hitting him hard as he watched her spin around, grab her coat, and hurriedly stomp out the building.

Y/n smiled slightly, only for a moment, responding to the sorry expression Lizzie gave her as she walked past. The smile soon dropped from her face, showing that it was only for Lizzie to see, that she too was sorry. The woman flinched as the doors slammed, rubbing the sides of her head with a deep sigh.

“Thomas. She’s right, ya know. I’ve seen that girl do some extraordinary shit. Think about it.” With that, Lizzie followed Y/n’s actions, quieter and calmer, but still leaving him to drink his sorrows away while he “thought” about everything.

He downed another shot. What had been? His hundredth shot? His desk was already a mess, his office no better, and his heart still bared the burden of knowing Y/n would either be hurt by him or hurt by the mafia. There was no loophole this time.

The girl he thought of made her way to her old home, drenched in the rain, and utterly tired. Mentally. Emotionally. Slightly Physically. She knew exactly what she was getting into; Shelby business usually always had guns involved. Pol often told her that Tommy really did love her, that he was just stubborn.

Y/n laughed mockingly. Thomas was stubborn, but stubborn could be broken with choices. So that’s what she gave Tommy. Two of the hardest choices she’d ever thrown at him. Y/n grew worried as she neared her home, the feeling in her stomach and heart. ‘What if he doesn’t follow?’

She halted in her steps, turning and looking around. He wasn’t there.

Her walking continued, this time feeling very, very, very, very, alone. Each time she passed a block, knowing she was nearing her house, she felt all hope leave her body. She felt strength, bravery, and faith deteriorate as her heart slowly tore in two.

The door to her house taunted her. It’s readiness to be opened, to have her brain laugh in self-mockery, to tease her about how stupid she was to believe Tommy would actually care.

Or maybe- he’d be behind the door. Raced her to her home to prove her wrong with a pleasant surprise. Her front door was full of tricks, and her heart was pounding with anticipation.

She opened the door, revealing the nothingness of her home. It’s interior dark and Tommy-less. Y/n didn’t know what to do. Her plan to hurt him just a little backfired into hurting her just a lot. The couch was her bed that night. She was alone.

Tommy failed her.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, lets go get high, the road is long, we carry on; try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane, So choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

Ever since that weekend, she’d been avoiding Tommy. She only stopped by their mansion to see Charlie and the other Shelbys, but other than that, she stayed in her old house. The Y/n Tommy knew was clinging onto the edge, praying he’d change his mind.

Tommy was too damn stubborn for his own good.

“Thomas. You have to apologize-”

“No, Pol. I don’t have to apologize nor admit that she’s right. You know why? Eh? Because she’s not. I will not have the woman I love get murdered in front of my own eyes, or at all. If Y/n is to die, I’d rather it be old age or peacefully in her sleep than by the son of the man who tried to kill her at our own wedding.”

He knew the mafia would make it harder to prevent deaths, which he’d learned from John, and Y/n would be shown no mercy by Luca, so he took his time, for once, to think about his options.

“See? She’s escaped death once, who’s to say she won’t laugh in his face again?” Polly scoffed at her nephew, walking out the door to visit Y/n like she’d been doing for the past few days.

Y/n needed company, and Polly was the perfect person for it. She made Y/n tea and helped her unwind, allowing her to know more of her past than her own family member did. Y/n ranted to Polly, about the things she missed and the things she didn’t. About the things that made her want to lash out and the things that made her want to cry with joy.

“How’s Tommy?” Y/n spoke through sniffles.

“Horrible, still a stubborn bastard. But lets not focus on his actions in the now. Instead, why don’t you think of the things you love...no, loved, about Tommy, more specifically, how he was before the paranoia caught up to him?”

“I mean, can you blame him? His brother was-”

Polly pursed her lips, hinting to Y/n that she was not in the best of moods to be discussing anything of John’s death. Y/n stopped, looking to Pol, waiting for her to continue. “Tell me, what did Tommy do to win you over?”

“He was... kind. And very caring.”

A small boy chased a smaller girl through the woods, their bare feet crunching the leaves under them, cold air nipping at their noses and uncovered parts of their skin.

“Tommy!”

The younger girl cried as she tripped over a branch in the path. Only nine, she was sure she’d fallen in love with the twelve year old boy. He’d been sure of the same thing as well.

“It’s okay, Y/n, I’ve got you!” He raced over, jumping skillfully over the wood and dropping to his knees. His hands reached for her leg, she hissed in pain and brought her leg back towards herself. “No, you have to let me see it if I’m to help.”

“Promise you won’t hurt it more?”

“I promise.” The boy smiled brightly up at the girl before inspecting her leg. When he discovered it was nothing major, he pressed a chaste kiss to her injury, then helped her up and onto his back.

“He knew just how to make me laugh..still does,” she chuckled quietly.

“Thomas! I can’t believe you did that!” The teen girl gasped at her admirer, his story being more amusing than he’d thought. It was a relief. “Polly must’ve been pissed!”

“She was. Told me to stop doing the impressions, that it was disrespectful. But John enjoys it, so Aunt Polly doesn’t have to know everything...” They stopped, Y/n put out her cigarette and pulled Tommy’s from his mouth, putting it out as well. “It’s um..raining.”

“I know.” Y/n smirked at the boy, biting her lip shyly before extending her hand, “May I have this dance?”

“Isn’t it the boy who asks the girl?” She rolled her eyes playfully, Thomas joining her in their laughter, “Fine fine, yes, you may. As long as I lead.”

“Can’t promise you anything, princess.”

Tommy gasped, feigning offence, “Oh you didn’t-”

“Oh but I did.” Her smile made his heartbeat rush, the blush on her face mirrored his, and the dinosaurs in their stomachs evolved into giants. Once butterflies, now giants, their teen crushes never hesitated to bring them closer.

They danced, Y/n’s dress sticking to her skin like Tommy’s dress-shirt. They’d came from the church, Tommy’s story about how he talked to John in the preacher’s voice, and their Sunday Bests were now soaked with the skies tears, which their melody came from.

“Y/n?” She nodded in response. “Lets run away. Together.” He dipped her, and then pulled her back up to see her reaction. A wild, even mischievous, smile rested on her lips before he leaned forward to join their grins in a rough kiss.

“Polly will kill us, you know?”

“Oh I don’t doubt that for a second.” He pulled away from her, twirling her with his hand and basking in her giggles, “So I suppose we should think of what our final words’ll be, huh?”

Lost but now I am found. I can see but once I was blind. I was so confused as a little child, Tried to take what I could get, Scared that I couldn't find; All the answers honey.

She winced, crying out in emotional pain as the priest slapped Tommy. Pol collected her nephew, but no one came for Y/n. She was going to give up, allow the church to take her wherever they planned, but the door opened again. Polly waited by it.

The older woman blinked in surprise as the teen wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “T-thank you.”

“You’re very welcome dear. Now, come along, we mustn’t stall.”

Ever since that day, she’d been so bothered with the curiosity of what led Polly to help her. Even now, as an adult and married to a Shelby, she was confused. Polly was still helping her, even though she wasn’t on the best terms with Tommy.

“Why?” Pol looked up. “Why’d you help me that day? Did Tommy ask you too?”

Polly thought back, smiling and shaking her head. “No.”

“Then what made you help me?”

“Nothing, Y/n. I just... I just felt the need to help. Thomas had no say in the matter, as he believed your parents were coming. I believe I... I could see his love for you. The way he looked at you, the gleam in his eyes when someone brought you up, the pep in his step whenever he went where you were. Tom was happy, and that was important... especially when their mother passed.”

Y/n nodded, a single, yet still sad, tear rolling down her cheek.

“Tommy? what’s wrong?” The 18 year old boy crawled through her window, eyes red and puffy. He mumbled something of his mother dying after giving birth to the youngest, and the last, Shelby brother.

She felt her eyes well up with tears, knowing his pain and feeling the need to hold him close to her.

And she did. His head rested on her chest as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, waking up with tear-stained cheeks, tired eyes, and matching red hazes across their faces.

She fell asleep with him that night. And the next. And the next. And the next. He continued coming over, crying to her, sometimes with her. Despite them not confessing their feelings for one another yet, they knew full well how in love they both were, after all, they’d kissed before.

1908 was a wild year.

But it was also the year they finally vowed to be together. The sooner three more years had passed, the sooner she’d be with the man she loved. She smiled, stretching as much as she could with a sleeping Tommy on her. The sunlight danced across his sleeping face, allowing her to admire him and all his beauty.

The sleepy smile on his face too. It showed how happy he was.

That, or how much he enjoyed the feeling of her nails combing through his hair.

Either way, they were both happy.

“That’s why I helped.”

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high. The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, you like your girls insane, Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die. We were born to die We were born to die.

Come and take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane~

Luca blinked, blood in his eyes, as Y/n walked through the door and raised her gun. Thomas’ eyes widened; he was expecting Arthur, not his wife to push past him. And he certainly wasn’t expecting Arthur to just stand there, doing nothing to stop her.

She smirked at the Italian before shooting him, the bullet passing through his head and hitting the barrel behind him. She didn’t so much as flinch as the gunshot rang throughout the building.

Changretta’s body hit the floor with a loud thud, splashing sounds following. Gin poured from the hole in it’s barrel, but no one cared.

They were too focused on Tommy’s wife, who was tucking her gun away.

The woman looked at Tommy, a sigh of relief, possibly from the fact that he was still alive, escaped her mouth. She turned and left without saying anything.

He let out a shaky breath, speaking with pants every now and the,. “Tell your people in Chicago, that Michael Gray will sign the import licence to New York. 300 barrels of English dry gin a month.”

“Leave. All of ya. Tell your boss what you saw here today. Tell him...you don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” Arthur stepped aside once the men had left. “And uh brother? I believe you have your own business to attend to?”

“What?”

Polly flicked Tommy’s ear with a shocked expression. It was not from Y/n killing Luca, though she did feel proud of the girl, but from Tommy’s stubborn dumbassery. “Quit being such a stubborn bastard and go after her, idiot!”

“Right-” He swallowed before nodding and rushing out of the building.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry, Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why. Keep making me laugh, Lets go get high, The road is long, we carry on, Try to have fun in the meantime.

Come take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane. Choose your last words, this is the last time, Cause you and I, we were born to die.

The slam of the door caused Y/n to stop and turn around.

“What do you wa-” She started, only for her to be grabbed by the back of her neck and pulled into a kiss. Their lips fit together perfectly, dancing before separating for the horribly-timed human need of oxygen.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you-” Y/n cut him off, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket. The rain began to pour, dousing the couple in a familiar melody. She pulled away, grinning widely. “Oh.. it’s raining. Should we head back ins-”

“I know.” She extended her arm to her husband, her action and interruption catching him by surprise. “May I have this dance?”

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ssscentral · 4 years ago

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dancing in the dark | for fluff

Summary: Sometimes things just go wrong, even on your birthday - but as long as someone is here to build you up each time you fall, everything will always be perfectly fine.

Pairing : Hoseok x female reader

Genre : Fluff.

Warnings : Kissing lmao - nothing else, really

WC : 1.8k

Member : Rid || @taegularities

A/N : This is for my funny, sweet, caring, beautiful BIRTHDAY BABY @hoebii - GIRL, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! This is probably still not the best thing I’ve ever written, but I really wanted you to feel loved by your husband Hoseok :D I wish you the bestest year ever and hope you keep giving us wonderful, creative content as always! SMOOCHES, BABY!! - also, thank you @voiceswithoutlips for professionally betain this fic and giving me the title idea, I love YOU, too! (Also, I’m posting this right meow, cuz it’s already her birthday at her place hehe AND I apologize that it’s not night in the banner lmao the pic was just so boyfriend material).

~~~~~

There was a little, cozy restaurant that you’d always liked.

Hoseok had never understood how you’d find food places in the most uncommon alleyways, hidden behind walls, pathways or buildings. And he also didn’t know why the owners of the restaurants had decided to settle there – but there was no doubt that you knew where to get delicious food in this town and he was always happy to tag along.

That was probably one of the uncountable things he loved so much about you. You were extraordinary, always smart, always countered with logical arguments, the funniest person in the room, never failing to bring a gentle smile to your loved ones’ faces.

Then, you had this strange yet endearing habit of constantly calling yourself a clown; and to this day, he hadn’t found out whether that was a good self-title or not. But he still ruffled your hair every time he heard you say it.

You were tired from college when you came home today. Your professors had almost not accepted your exam because it had taken you thirty seconds longer to finish and you were exhausted – mentally as well as physically.

Plummeting on your couch, you put your arm over your eyes, ready to knock yourself out for the day. You were probably laying there for a few minutes before you heard your boyfriend clear his throat, startling you.

You opened your eyes, ready to give him a piece of your mind before your expression softened, taking in his whole appearance before you broke out into a wide cheesy smile. There he was, nervously fumbling at the petal of a yellow flower that was part of a huge and impressive bouquet he had apparently gotten you. He was dressed neatly, a white shirt that was tucked in his black pants, and his dark and soft hair parted at the side.

“Wow, you look- wow, Hobi,” you said, the smile not leaving your face for a second.

He looked at you affectionately, the love he had stored for you all day threatening to burst out. He came closer as one of his hands cupped your chin, making you look up into his eyes. His body came down to press his lips on yours, passionately kissing you before he pulled away just a little, smiling against your mouth. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You chuckled shyly; but then you realized that he had dressed up to go out, while you were a stinking mess that had walked around town and college the whole day.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to do whatever surprise you’ve planned,” you said, kissing his nose softly, before you turned around.

“What makes you think I’ve planned something?”

“I’ve known you for six years. I think you’re pretty predictable by now, baby.”

-------

A little less than half an hour later and you were strolling through the city, a beautiful dress embracing your body under your coat that Hoseok could never get used to. It was a cold February night, but having him right by your side, day by day, made your chest feel warm.

Hoseok had made a reservation at your absolute favourite restaurant. You’d noticed that as soon as you had recognized the street, growing more and more excited as you approached your table. There was this one specific pasta meal that you always ate when you came here. You daydreamed about it a lot, randomly bursting into whines, telling Hoseok how much you missed the creamy homemade sauce on your tongue.

And as you went through the menu, despite knowing what you wanted, you called the waiter to order – only for him to tell you that they were out of a few ingredients today and could therefore not serve you what you wanted.

He started listing other options instead, forcing you to pick something that was probably good, too, but nothing compared to your go-to-food. Your smile faltered, the painted mouth turning into a frown as you looked at the table with pressed lips. “No fettuccine.” You sighed sadly as Hoseok looked at you empathetically.

He felt incredibly sorry for you and about the fact that he hadn’t informed himself earlier about the menu. From across the table, he took your hand into his and smiled at you, reassuring you that this was not the end of the world and that you could still have a beautiful evening together. This guy always knew what to say.

As it turned out, it could have been a lot worse - the alternative that they served you was almost just as delicious. You swallowed the food eagerly, pouting at Hoseok as he laughed at the way your hot dinner almost burnt your mouth.

“Baby,” he said at some point when you were silently eating, getting slightly drunk from the glasses of wine you were both sipping on.

You looked up at him, a smile appearing on your gorgeous face. The lipstick had long faded and your cheeks were glowing from the alcohol - and he could only look at you in awe, mesmerized and speechless. “Yeah?”

“I love you. And you look beautiful today,” he declared, sliding a hand across the table again to hold yours.

You teasingly raised an eyebrow, smirking as he understood what you meant even before you said it. He rolled his eyes before saying, “not just today, obviously. I just love this dress so much.”

You giggled, a soft sound that made his heart swell instantly. And when you’d finished eating and walked out into the freezing and refreshing breeze, he was eager to finally wrap his arm around your waist and pull you as close into his chest as he could.

He peppered your face with kisses, making you laugh into the night air like a teenage girl, and when he reached your neck, you crooked your neck at the tickling sensation of his lips against your skin.

And for some while, that was all you did: tumble through the streets, not caring to call a taxi, not yet ready to go home - instead, you walked and walked, the urge to slip out of your heels and hold them in your hand becoming stronger as the world became blurrier.

The journey to your home felt endless today - the streetlights were dim, only a few people walking past you as you entered alleys you had never known. You felt light hearted, laughing as if you’d never been as happy as you were now. That was until you suddenly felt wet drops land on your cheeks.

It had started raining. Great. Cold February rain.

“Seriously?!” you shouted into the sky, not believing that all the things that could go wrong specifically today, were indeed going wrong.

And suddenly, intoxicated and dizzy, you let out a whine as crocodile tears started streaming down your face. Hoseok glanced at you with furrowed eyebrows, looking at you for only two seconds before he broke out in a laugh.

“Oh, baby. There, there,” he cooed, pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead affectionately. He patted your back while you smeared some of the mascara onto his beautiful, poor shirt. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

He was still snickering and you pulled away. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I just-” he started, trying hard to press his lips together and hold back a giggle, “you’re crying over rain, baby.”

“No. It’s not about the rain,” you complained, hiccuping between the sentences which only made it harder for your boyfriend to suppress a smile. “My professor riled me up so much today - then I don’t get my favourite food at my favourite place and now we’re getting soaked and probably sick…”

Hoseok leaned down to you, wiping away the mascara inked tears that were quickly mixing up with the rain. “It’s not that bad, Y/N. Everything worked out in the end. And rain is not that bad. Look.”

He stepped back, your hand in his as he smiled at you, little dimples forming at the corners of his lips. You sniffed, shivering from the cold and trying to anticipate his next move. The only reason you were not frozen to a stick was the warming alcohol in your system.

“Ready?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He spun you around in a smooth move before he pulled you into his chest, one hand snaking around your waist, while the fingers of the other intertwined with yours. He leaned his forehead against yours as you softly began dancing in the rain.

Somewhere, deep inside your brain, you imagined pleasant piano tunes that matched your moves, accompanied by his low hums that he always provided you with on nights you were unable to fall asleep.

Looking deep into your eyes, he said, “now, is that so bad?”

You noticed that your tears had stopped streaming down your face and made way to the rain that suddenly didn’t feel that terrible anymore. Pressed against Hoseok, you couldn’t quite describe what it was that you were feeling - with him, you never could. The emotions he ignited in you had always felt different, always new and like breathing in fresh, crisp air.

You inhaled as the cool wind reached your mind, mixed with his scent that you were so close to right now. “It could be worse.”

And then you danced for a while as the rain poured down on you, the sky restless and not even thinking of calming down. Your make up was probably ruined, your hair even more so; but you didn’t care. All you cared for was the man in front of you who was leaning down at this very moment, his lips approaching yours before he finally kissed you with every ounce of passion he could bring up.

You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself even more against his chest as he stopped moving. His hands were roaming your back, pushing you further into him, although it seemed impossible. Your mouths moved in a sweet pace, tongues crashing against the other’s.

And as he pulled away, his nose grazing yours, he took a deep breath, panting slightly, before he said, “I love you. My pretty girl. So. So. Much.” He gave you a peck on your neck between every sentence, smiling against your skin as he heard you giggle. “Can’t wait to go home and rip this dress off of you.”

At these words, your body tensed, the familiar feeling of excitement flooding through your body as you tried to hold onto him, the whole world spinning a little in front of your eyes. “I’m surely not going to stop you,” you whispered, wondering if he had even heard you.

He noticed you getting groggy as he put an arm around your waist, laughing into the night before he said, “let’s get you home, then, my birthday baby. Can’t get sick.”

Although the day had finished differently than you had expected, with way more surprises than you had surely anticipated, you felt content with what you had. You knew that as long as he was there, he would always find a way to brighten up your day.

As long as he was here to cheer you up in the worst situation possible, you knew you would, without a doubt, always find your happiness, even on sorrowful days.

#bts x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #ssscentral #sssc #jung hoseok x reader #kissing #kissing in the rain #bts #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #hoseok imagine #birthday au #bts birthday au #hobi as a boyfriend #rid #taegularities #HAPPY BIRTHDAY FLUFF BABY

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nandolonso · 5 years ago

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SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS (John Wick X Reader)

("TEACHER" X STUDENT COLLEGE AU)

Pairing: John Wick x Reader (AU - ish?)

Summary: John Wick lives a different life before his "retirement". He becomes a sort of vigilante, who is taking out the bad guys. His next goal is to catch a drug dealer who mainly distributes in Y/N's college. However, after meeting Y/N, not only Y/N's life turn upside down but also John's.

Word count: 8281

Warnings: ugh, so many. But it's John Wick, so... blood, swearing, college, anxiety, panic attacks, loneliness, shyness, angst, slow-burn, age gap, smut, DIRTY SMUT, fluff.

ALSO, IM NOT A NATIVE SPEAKER OF ENGLISH SO PLEASE FORGIVE MY MISTAKES!

Author’s note: GUYS!! I've found this fanfic deep down in my-never-posted-writings and I was re-reading it when I thought, this is just utter shit, let me post that (lol), I hate myself. 😂 I was cringing at some part, but I managed to write them over, so it is a little bit bearable. I don't know if you'll like it, but I hope you do. I wanted to post something to cheer you up in this hard time. I wish the best for all of you. ♥️ The inspiration came from some many places, but mostly from "calling teachers by their first name" videos. You'll see why I got the idea from it... After that, I've given some thought about "fake" teacher John and gosh... let me tell you, it got me hot and bothered. Also inspired by 21/22 Jump Street. Please, please, leave some feedback.

P.S.: Sadly, I don't know any Italian, so thank you for Google Translation for "sponsoring" this fic lmao.

This was your very last year of college. More specifically, your last semester. Thank God. You could not be happier as you thought about it. Even though you enjoyed studying, you were overwhelmed with your lectures as you were a maximalist and wanted to give 100% in everything. You enjoyed learning and finding new topics but the assignments, the presentations, and the exams stressed you out incredibly. You did not apply for any further study at least at the moment as you wanted to rest a little bit and work somewhere till you find out what you really wanted to achieve in life.

The first week went by quite easily, as the teachers mostly talked about the syllabus and what you can expect from the rest of the semester. Thankfully, everyone seemed kind of nice except your Italian teacher and his lesson, which you took up as an optional course in the first place since you wanted to earn some extra credits. Now, it seemed like a bad decision. The teacher was old, who did not enjoy his teaching at all. It was difficult to follow and boring, not to mention that he continually talked in Italian even though it was a beginner's course. When the others tried to tell him, he became mad and gave out even more assignments for next week.

So now, that you were sitting in class and waited for him the nervousness which you felt was understandable. You were chatting with one of your classmates who sat behind you. You could not say that you had any friends. You were mostly alone in your whole life, which sometimes was a curse, while other times it was a blessing. You opened up for so many people who disappointed you and let you down that this was the safest way of living your life now. Just talk to someone if necessary, otherwise living your life as you wish. Sometimes it was really depressing as there was basically no one to talk to, you could not share any interest with someone, not your desires, your goals, nothing. Even when you did, you became the focus of mockery.

Suddenly everyone became silent as most certainly, the teacher approached into the room. However, when you turned around your last week's grumpy teacher was nowhere to be found, instead of him, you meet with a totally different man. You looked straight him into the eye as you took up his presence. He was tall, he had a skinny physique but you could certainly see that he was muscular, even though the black shirt and jeans he wore covered his entire body. He had dark, semi-long hair which was slicked back, while he also had dark stubble, which was framing his face aesthetically. Now, his dark brown eyes laid on you and it was like it burned a hole into your soul. He had some characteristic which you could not explain, but you were sure that he was attractive. Very much. And exactly your type. Not to mention that he was older than you, around his mid-30s - early 40s, which you thought was the perfect age as you were always fond of older men.

"Uhm... hey everyone" he started as he finally looked away from you to gaze at the others as well. His voice sent shivers down your spine. It was deep and husky. "I'm John Wick and I'll substitute your last teacher, who became ill. He will turn up as soon as he feels like it, but we don't know when that will happen," he stated. Maybe, the previous teacher would have been better. Now, it will be really hard to focus and now you wanted to study even more just to impress him, which is sounded insane. You immediately started to curse yourself in your head because what you did was completely silly.

"I'm not by any means an Italian teacher, but I'm fluent in Italian, as I've lived in Italy and since this is a beginner's and optional course I thought I will be just as good for this short time as Y/LT/N would have been." as he finished he clapped his palms together, facing towards the desk which now became his. "Firstly, let's start with an introduction and what your goals are, and from that on we can move with the rest of the lecture," he said and turned and pointed towards you. This gesture was unexpected for you and you immediately felt that your cheeks burned up as you tried to collect yourself. You were a great student but you were dealing with anxiety when you had to speak in front of others. Your mind and desires were totally different that you could actually manage out from yourself, and this was true in every situation.

"Uhm..." you started as you cleared your throat. "I'm Y/N and I'm a final year student here. To be honest, I don't really have many goals at the moment, because..." the way he was looking at you completely took your breath away. It was like he sees all of your secrets. "...I want to take a little bit of break from studying after I've finished. I want to work somewhere, see the word. Just those cliché things that usually everyone says." he started to chuckle and honestly, it was the best thing ever.

"Thank you, Y/N" the way your name rolled out of his tongue was beautiful. "I hope everything turns out great for you and one day you even get to Italy as well." he smiled and turned to the next person, so the magic moment you felt completely disappeared within a second. He was just nice. With everyone. He listened to everyone's word with actual interest and wished something friendly before turning to the next person. How could you think that he sees something different in you?

The course actually ended sooner than you would expect, the time flew with him. He gave you a short assignment for next week, collecting all those things you would like to talk about in Italian. On your way out you glazed at him once more, however, his eyes were glued to the paper in front of him. You left out a soft sigh as you left the room.

This was the first time in your college years that you really waited for a lecture but at the same time, you also dreaded from it. You could not wait to meet John again or you could say Mr. Wick, but this just fueled your fantasy about him even more. You were sitting in the front row with your classmates, whom you talked about your new teacher. They were eagerly fond of him, but not as you did. Even though they find him attractive, he was just a teacher for them. However, for you, he started to become something else. You could feel something different from him and you thought that he should not be a teacher because it was just not his field. Not that he was a bad teacher or anything, but he was not that teacher type that you could imagine. You felt something which you could not explain. You were always a curious person, and this case was like a puzzle that needed to be solved.

"Buona sera a tutti! (Good evening, everyone!)" he greeted, his eyes lingering on you. You did not want to look away, so the two of your's gaze intertwined with each other for a few seconds. You managed to smile a little bit, but at that same time, he turned away. He was just as good looking as the last time, wearing a light grey t-shirt, regular jeans, and a leather jacket. How could he be this handsome?

"Okay, let's go through those things which you like to learn about, and then we can build the lecture from there." everyone nodded as he said it, preparing their notes on what they would be interested in learning in this course. Your eyes were glued on your paper, your head tilted down trying to avoid eye contact with him when you heard your name.

"Y/N" he stated. "Let's start with you just like last time." you were quite shocked. Nobody managed to remember their students' names in the first weeks. Hell, sometimes not even at the end of the semester either. You looked up at him, seeing his face focusing on you, slightly furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

"Ordering food..." you breathed out and you started to blame yourself immediately.

"Ordering food in Italian in a restaurant?" he helped you out, stating as it was a declarative sentence, but he shifted the tone in the end. You were grateful for his help. You nodded and he returned a smile to ease your frustration. "Nice, good idea," he said. "Let's move on."

The first months of the semester went by rapidly. The first two weeks was just a warm-up, but after that assignments came after assignments as so did exams and such. You could not fantasize about Mr. Wick anymore in your free time as you were loaded with anxiety to finish every task just in time. However, you always waited for the class, even though your mind wandered somewhere else. Thankfully, about two weeks spring break will come.

"You can handle your assignments on your way out. That's the end of the class. Thank you everyone." he said and at that point, you realized that you completely forgot about your essay which you should have written for today. You thought that is due next week. Well, fuck. Basically, everyone handled in their assignment, as you approached John you became very nervous. You did not really know what to say.

"Jonathan" the words fell out of your lips without thinking. You realized that what you said was rude and you just tried to make the situation better, even though your teacher's expression did not change. "John... I mean Mr. Wick." you cursed yourself, trying to get out of the situation somehow.

"Yes, Y/N?" he asked, as he was looking down at you. He was so much taller than you, the way he looked consumed your whole being.

"I'm so sorry but I forgot to write my essay for this week. I thought it was due to next week. I'm sorry." you jabbered, looking at your feet to ease your nervousness.

"It's okay, Y/N," he said calmly. "You can handle it next week as well." when you looked up at him he was slightly smiling. That damn smirk made butterflies in your stomach, causing your heart rate to quicken.

"Really?" you asked back. "No punishments?" without thinking, the question just rolled out of your tongue.

He turned his head a little bit, trying to hide his ever-growing smile.

"Would you like to?" you started to blush at his deep voice, thinking about something inappropriate when he clearly was just talking about the assignment.

"No..." you answered. "Not for an essay, no." you just started to make everything worse. You wished that the ground would swallow you on the spot.

"Periodt then," he said to ease the tension a little bit. "Or whatever slang you use these days." You genuinely started to laugh, and it was really good after a long time. Nobody made you laugh these days and it was really nice to talk to someone besides listening to lectures all the time.

"Wow, I'm impressed" it was just absurd to hear this word from his mouth. But you really felt this way.

"My goal is accomplished than" was all he answered. Was he flirting with you? You just wished that. But the whole situation was just weird. Just the way you felt like before. He is not in the right place, something is off with him. You learned these few signals over the years just to protect yourself, still, something keeps attracted you to him.

"I'll try to write it as soon as I can and bring you in your office hours." you smiled shyly.

"It's okay, Y/N, don't worry about it" he smiled back and that smile made you go crazy. You turned your back to him to leave the room. You were standing in the door when you suddenly turned back towards him once again. He was still watching you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wick," you said, waiting for no answer when he said:

"You can call me Jonathan or John. Whichever you like." you were just standing there, completely in shock. This never happened to you before. None of your previous teachers of yours allowed to call them on their first name. To be honest, you did not even try but with John, it just slipped out. You did not know what to say so you just nodded, leaving him standing there watching after you.

The rest of the week was awful. You could not wait for the weekend when you could rest a little bit. You were extremely overwhelmed with work and it seemed that nothing wants to work out for you. It was Friday morning, thankfully you did not have any classes left so you finally could work on your assignment for Mr. Wick. You meant, Jonathan. Thinking about him and the way he said that you can call him on his first name made your heart beat faster. Since that day you could not stop thinking about him, which is why everything became harder than it should have been.

It was around 11 in the morning, but you already did a lot of work. You went to the store, then you cooked something for you for the weekend, you cleaned the house as well as doing the laundry. Your roommate was not home, as usual. Since she got that boyfriend of hers, they always spent the time together. At least, you were alone and nobody could bother you. You always did the house chores anyway, as she not usually cleaned up. After everything fallen from your hands and you basically had to clean up twice, the last task was taking out the trash. You somehow managed to take all of her and your trash into three bags. You were already on your way out when you realized that something from one of the bags was leaking. You started to become really angry and mad. At the edge of crying and breaking something, to say the least. You tried to hold back yourself together, taking a deep breath and hoping that the bag will hold on till you reached the bin in front of the street. As it was mentioned before, this was not your day.

Half of the stuff fallen on the ground just when you dumped the rest of it into the trash.

"FUCK" you cried out, hitting the top of the trash and also kicking into it to release those pressure which started to build up in you.

"Y/N" you heard a deep voice behind you. When you turned around you realized that John was there. Who probably watched the previous scene when you freaked out. What was he doing here? "You need any help?"

"Mr. Wick" you started but he interrupted you.

"John."

"Yes, John." you started. "This isn't my day. Could you please wait here as I get another bag?" you asked. You could just said that everything was fine and he could go on his day. But no. Because you did not want him to leave, even though you had no idea what was he doing here.

"Don't worry, I got some," he said while reaching for a plastic bag from his pockets. You lifted your eyebrow while he handed one to you as well as ripping one for himself. "I have a dog, so..." he said, while the two of you collected the rest of the trash. Well, this was not romantic at all. Your cheeks started to burn as you felt the situation kind of humiliating.

"What kind of dog you have?" you asked, trying to pick up the stuff as fast as you could.

"A blue English Staffordshire Bull Terrier" he breathed out when the two of you finally dumped away the rest of the trash.

"Oh, those are really nice dogs even though everyone seems to be afraid of them" you started the conversation and you could swear that his eyes lit up at your compliment.

"Oh, totally. They are super nice when they are raised well," he said smiling. "There are no bad dogs just bad owners." you just nodded, did not know what to say. A few seconds passed by just looking at each other, none of you said anything or moved.

"I should get..." he started, but at the same time, you started as well.

"Would you like a coffee or something in return?" you asked.

"Yeah, sure" he breathed but turned away from you to his car. Which you only realized just now. "Can I park here?" he asked as he gesticulated towards his Mustang. Your jaw just dropped.

"Wow. She's beautiful," you said coming closer to his car. You did not realize what you did until you actually did it. You reached out to touch the roof and at the same time approach John incredibly close. You just recognized that you did not answer his previous question. "And yes, I think you can park here but I'm not sure though."

He said nothing, just looking at you and monitoring every movement you made. He appreciated how your eyes were shining with excitement. Your fingertips which caressed his car so gently. Your hair, which slightly fallen into your face, framing it beautifully. You took his breath away.

"Would you like to try it out?" you did not really comprehend his question, as you were still focusing on his car. When the question finally hit you, you turned towards him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Is this allowed?" you asked. At this moment you wanted nothing more than him taking you out for a ride.

"Why wouldn't be allowed?" he asked back, kind of confused.

"Because you're my teacher." you simply answered back. At that moment you could swear that the smile frozen to his lips, like the reality hit him or something. Something was off. Just like you suspected before. "If you're a teacher at all," you added carefully.

"Who else would I be?" the confidence which was radiating from him started to slowly fade away. He was nervous, you could see that.

"I don't know, you just not seem to be a teacher type of guy." you started. "You don't look like it... and, surely, teachers cannot afford cars like this." you pointed towards his engine. In that second, he moved closer to you, which is why the air stuck in your throat. You looked up at him, his eyes were dark with some emotion which you could not read. You have not seen this side of him yet.

"Maybe, I got it as a gift" his voice comes through your fast heartbeat which was throbbing in your ear.

"I doubt it" you had no idea where this bravery was coming from, even you were surprised. Before he could manage to say something his phone started to ring. He pulled away from you to answer it.

"I'll be there," he said shortly, hanging up the phone. "Sorry, Y/N. I have to go." he was fast. Before you could realize he already got into his car. "Maybe next time," he added, and before you could realize he was already on his way leaving you on the sidewalk alone.

The next time you meet him was after his Italian class. You did not attend class, but you managed to arrive at the end of the session to give your essay to him. He was looking good as always, wearing dark clothes highlighting every muscle on his bare skin which was not covered.

"I'm sorry John that I couldn't come for today's class, but I had some family issues" you breathed out which was kind of true. You had family issues, anxiety issues, university issues, and just issues of issues. On top of that, you got a lot of anxiety attacks lately, which did not help you at all. Your hands were shaking as you handed your essay to him. "I know I said that I can manage to finish earlier but I couldn't," you added and he did not say a word. He did not even look at you as he took away the essay. You were heartbroken.

As he did not say anything else you just left the room completely taken aback, trying to suppress the tears which you could feel that going to burst out. When you arrived in the hallway, it was harder and harder to suppress it. You quickly went to the bathroom and when you closed the door behind you everything just came out. All of those tensions were building inside up you. Those feelings which constantly taken up your mind. That you're never good enough, that you have no one to rely on, not even a friend, not family. Nobody. You had nothing and no one. Besides that, you were constantly under stress because of the university. You wanted to perform as the best version of yourself, but you just could not hold back anymore.

After the tears came out and your breathing became a little bit better you went to the basin to wash your face with cold water and to make yourself a little bit more presentable as you still had class. You took a deep breath and got out to the next lesson. Everyone was waiting at the door as the room was not open yet. At this moment, one of your classmates who was kind of nice to you touched your arm.

"Hey, Y/N" she started. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Even though you appreciated her question, you did not know what to say.

"Yeah, sure. Why?" you lied, but it was enough for her to completely change the topic.

"Will you come to the party next week?"

"I don't know" you started. "I haven't really thought about it." as soon as you finished one of the other classmates of yours spoken up.

"She doesn't know because he is waiting for John. I mean, Mr. Wick," he said, bursting out into laughter. You did not know how he found out but your cheeks started to burn up.

"What did you just say?" you asked back, almost shouting at him when you heard the others whispering.

"Oh shit, here he comes," said one of them. When you turned back John was standing next to you. You were sure that he heard the whole conversation. When he looked at you his eyes stuck at your red ones. You were sure that he knew that you were crying. Even though the cold water helped, you still looked like a mess.

"Is there a problem?" he asked using his deep, "discipline" teacher voice. His voice was dangerously low, which sent a shiver down your spine and a feeling to your core which you tried not to think about.

"Not at all" smiled back the douchebag who started everything in the first place. John lightly grabbed your arm, turning his whole body towards you.

"Y/N, can we talk?" he whispered, but the others still managed to figure out the situation. As you answered, they started to chuckle, but at that point, you could not care less as John guided towards his office.

When there were just the two of you, he looked at you with concern on his face.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" he asked but you just could not look at him. Your eyes were fixated on your shoes. Why would he care? He did not even look at you half an hour ago. You did not answer. You did not know what to say. He was your teacher. You could not tell him your problems even though you wanted to. "Y/N?" he asked again.

This time you looked up at him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, waiting for your answer.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Wick" you stressed his last name. A sudden expression went through his face which you could not read. "Why would you care, you're just a teacher anyway," you said without thinking of the consequences as you stormed out of his office.

The last week before spring break went quite quickly even though you felt like a zombie. You did not attend your class with John, even though you desperately wanted to. You just skipped that class, while you were attending the others. You were hiding in the hallway, trying to avoid anyone. Just arriving at the beginning of the course and coming out as soon as you could. In this way, you could survive university. Now, thankfully you had a free week when you could charge up your battery and just rest a little. Your mind wandered at the party which your classmate mentioned to you, wondering if John would be there. A few teachers had to be there, because it was a university party and they were still responsible for you somehow.

You really wanted to go. To dance, to drink and to forget all of your problems.

That is why you were standing in front of your mirror trying to soothe imaginary creases on your black dress. You kept finding mistakes on yourself, about your makeup, about your hair. But at the same time, you kept reminding yourself that this is just a party and the main goal is that you should enjoy the night without constantly thinking bullshit about yourself.

This is what you kept saying in your head on your way to the party. The place was already buzzing with music and people's voices, radiating a certain kind of heat as well. As you step inside, you were already washed away by the crowd, seeing people who you never saw before.

As you looked around you saw a giant plaque that said that it was a retro vs. modern age night. All night, songs from the 80/90s were played, after that came a piece of current music and the whole mass went insane. Everybody moved as a whole in perfect sync swaying to the rhythm of the music. Sadly, you could see that a lot of people were high and drunk, which you could never do, but you still wanted to dance. You just started to move your body alone, when your all-time a favorite song started to play from the speakers.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world

And the seven seas,

Everybody's looking for something

At that point, your eyes stuck at a dark figure which you could recognize even in your dreams. John Wick was standing there, looking at you. He was wearing a full black suit with his hair slicked back. You were constantly gazing at him. Even though you wanted him to be here the whole situation was absurd and unbelievable. However, he still managed to surprise you all the time.

Some of them want to use you

Some of them want to get used by you

Some of them want to abuse you

Some of them want to be abused.

Looking at him and listening to these lines hit you. Hit you really hard. As you looked at him, all of your desires and hidden fantasies started to take over your body. Your nasty hidden feelings. All of those things which you could never share with anyone. You wanted to be used, you wanted to be abused. But you wanted these in a good way. You wanted this as a thing, where the two of you want this not just you. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel appreciated, you wanted to feel special, you wanted to be WANTED. You wanted a man, who makes you feel things you never felt before. Who does things to you and touches you like you never experienced before. Maybe, just the daddy issues were speaking from you but looking at John you could feel that he could fulfill all of your wishes and desires. Not to mention that he would be there for you as a friend, as a lover, even as a soulmate. And as someone, who just genuinely cares about you. At least, you hoped so. But it could never happen because he was just a teacher and you were just a silly student.

However, the way he was looking at you consumed your whole being. You did not know what happened to you but you started to sensually move your hips, turning your back to him to kind of show him what he can get.

After a few seconds, you felt a muscular, hard chest pushing against your body.

"Mind if I join?" a deep voice asked and you could recognize this tone everywhere. You did not even answer as you did not have to. You just turned back towards him, getting as close as possible. He was even more handsome up close, taking your breath away.

"Is this allowed?" you shouted, but it sounded like a whisper in the crowd.

He pulled you closer to him, resting his hands on your waist and tilting his head down to bury his face into your hair.

"I don't even care anymore" he answered, his breath caressing your ear as well as the side of your neck. This sent a shiver down your spine, causing your thighs to rub together to ease the sensation which was building in your core deep down. He could feel that your body tense up between his palms, but he kept you steady with his strong and firm hands.

"What does that mean?" he looked up at you, with some expression on your face which you could not read. He wanted to tell you something, you could see that but something changed as he looked at your side.

"Stay here," he said and suddenly his touch disappeared causing you to shiver as he was not there anymore.

You could barely react, but you still managed to see where he went to. Without thinking, you started to follow him.

You looked at him everywhere when you find him outside the field of the campus. To be honest, you could barely see him but you could hear him grunting and... fighting? He was the last man standing with someone else, besides them, there were laying bodies. You could never dream of being a situation like this. You did not know what to do. You were completely frozen and could not move. Your panic started to take over your mind and you could barely manage your breathing.

"John" suddenly you cried out. He immediately looked at you, which the opponent took as a chance and hit him right in the gut. He sunk into his knees, while the other man started to approach you.

"Y/N run," he said but you could not even lift your finger. You could see as the other man was getting closer and closer to you when John grabbed him from behind and started to choke him. The other man started to run out of the air and suddenly collapsed into John's arms. John did not even think twice, he dropped the enemy onto the ground. Before you could realize, John grabbed your arm, dragging you across the field into the parking lot where you saw his car.

"Get in the car!" he ushered you, but you could barely move. You were completely frozen which was insane thinking that your body was on fire just a few minutes ago.

"Why?" you managed to push this word out of you when he started to yell.

"Get in the fucking car!" he said and that predatory look on his face with some bruises and blood made him look like a totally different person. You got in the car, slowly breathing out that air that you did not know you were holding. He started the engine and drive at a very high speed toward somewhere which you could not recognize.

"Where are you taking me?" your throat was dry. It was hard to speak, but this was the only sentence which you dared to ask after minutes.

"Home. To me," he answered shortly.

"Why?" you whispered but he could hear it. After minutes, you finally looked at him. He was holding the wheel so damn strong that his knuckles went white. He was angry, you could see that. His whole expression changed as he was not looking at you, just fixating his eyes on the road.

"Because you fucking messed up your goddamn life" to hear him swearing made you sense that you are truly in deep trouble.

"What did I do?" you asked softly and suddenly all of his muscles started to loosen up at your tone.

"I was taking out a gang when you just showed up, risking your whole life just to look after me." he started.

"So you..." you started softly as you could feel that the ice between the two of you started to melt. "You're not a teacher." was all you managed to say.

"God no," he answered, and before you could realize you started to laugh. It came from the bottom of your heart. He looked at you the first time, furrowing his brows. "It's not funny, Y/N.," he said and before you could stop yourself the following words just slip out of your mouth:

"Thank God, 'cause ever since I saw you I've kept telling myself that I can't fall for a teacher" as soon as you said it your cheek started to burn. He looked at you with piercing eyes.

"I'm not a teacher, but I'm way worse," he said in a dangerously low voice. And thinking back to those guys around him finally hit you.

"Who are you?" you whispered. He looked back at the road as he could not bear to see your expression when he told you the truth.

"I'm a ..." he started, but he did not want to say assassin. Because that was just too much the handle. "I'm the one who takes out the bad guys." you nodded, did not know what to do with this information. You have always known that there is something wrong with him, but you could not explain why. Now, this was the reason and you wished that you did not know. Still, you fell for him even more.

"Did you kill them?" you asked.

"No." he answered back. "I didn't have my gun." suddenly you felt that breathing becomes heavier.

"Have you killed someone?" you barely dared to ask this question but the heavy silence which felt on you told more than words.

You did not say a word until he finally stopped at his garage. His house was beautiful, so big that it was unbelievable that it only belonged to him.

"Wow..." you whispered and he smiled.

"Y/N" he started and you turned towards him. "I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I just wanted to protect you. You'll stay here until I finish this business and make sure that no one harms you. After that, you're free to go." you did not know what to say. You wanted to say something, but you could not. Your mind wandered somewhere else, constantly thinking about what the two of you talked about in the car. You told him about your feelings and he did not even say anything. "I have a room for you here," he said and ushered you to a room, leaving you alone.

You could barely get some sleep. Your mind was constantly thinking about John and his life. How dangerously he lived and how he managed to keep his camouflage at the university. Honestly, you even cried that night as well. You did not know what to do and how to react, even though you wanted him. Your mind could not be silenced after you saw him in action and what he did you still thought about his arms, his hands, and his body as he pulled you closer to him at the party. Not to mention that you felt his goddamn intoxicating perfume in his whole house as well as in the sheets.

After being up all evening, you woke up late in the afternoon. It was already 5 when you looked at the clock on the nightstand on your left. You left out a sigh, focusing on sounds. But you could not hear any. You slowly got up and opened to the door.

“John?” you cried out but no answers came. Instead of that, you heard something which was running towards you. Then you saw John’s dog. “Oh my God, you’re so cute” you kneeled to the ground to pet the dog which was in its early months. It was still small, but you could see the strong, robust figure which started to form underneath its skin. “Where were you last night?” you asked as if the dog could answer you. However, after petting and talking to it all of your stress and doubts left the mind.

You went to the kitchen, where on the counter you found a note. It was written by John and he had beautiful handwriting.

“Make yourself at home.” was all it said. Straightforward. Just like John.

After taking a shower and finding a long t-shirt in John’s wardrobe you finally sat down onto the sofa when the front door opened. John came in, the dog immediately cheered him licking and panting all over him. You watched the scene with a smile on your face. After John returned the same excitement as the dog, he finally looked at you. You were wearing one of his t-shirts. And that was it.

“What are you wearing?” he demanded. You stood up immediately, trying to explain yourself.

“You said that make yourself at home, so I’ve showered and searched for something to wear because the dress was really uncomfortable,” you said quickly. John left out a soft “oh” as he could have thought about this in the first place. Even though he did not want to admit, but he really liked the way it looked on you.

“Everything is clear now,” he stated simply. “I’m taking you home. Are you ready?” he asked and you were just standing there as if your legs got stuck into the ground.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” you started carefully, hinting to your previous unfinished conversation last night as well how he “cleared everything up”.

“No.” was all he said which felt like ripping and turning up your insides. You just nodded, turning away to suppress all of your emotions. That’s it. All of your fantasies about this man ended. He did not want to do anything with you. This was just business after all. And he finished it.

“I’m grabbing my stuff” you whispered, your throat was dry you could barely speak.

After collecting your dress and purse you were standing in front of him again. “Take me home,” you said firmly when his form started to loosen up.

“Y/N” he followed you as you were heading into the garage. His beautiful car was there, standing next to another one.

“Just take me home.” was all you said before he grabbed your wrist, pulling back to him and pushing his lips against yours. The kiss was not a soft one. It was passionate and hard. It took a few milliseconds to react, but gosh… it was desperate. From the two of you. Teeth clicked, tongues rolled against each other as the two of you started to express which words could not. He was cupping one of your cheeks, pushing you closer to him as much as he could. Your hands started to explore his body, caressing the soft material of his suit. You could feel as he started to harden beneath your touch, basically… everywhere. Just like in a second, which made you even more insane. He wanted you so much, he could barely hold himself back. He was rucking up your shirt with his other hand, grabbing your waist strongly which sent goosebumps all over your body. His touch was just like you imagined. No… it was even better. It took a side of you which you did not even know you had.

You could feel that you started to wet your panties even though he did not even touch you there yet. He was now kissing you a little bit softer but still passionately, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You started to moan as it did whole new sensations to your body which you never experienced before. He lifted you up from the ground before you could realize, to make you sit on the hood of his car. At that exact moment, you hooked your legs around his legs, pulling him closer to you. It was insane how the two of you moved in sync. It was like a perfect dance and choreography, even though you have not done this before to the other. But still, it was like you found a long lost piece from yourself. And he felt the same. The two of you did not stop kissing until his hands reached up to your neck, softly squeezing it to make out a moan from you which you could not even stop. John immediately stopped looking at you with concern on his face.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly looking at your neck if he caused any injuries. He did not even know what he has done until you moaned.

“Gosh no,” you started to laugh and blush. “It just… felt really good.” his eyes lit up with lust. It became even darker than it already was. He was looking at you, constantly holding his gaze when he reached again to your neck. He squeezed it a little bit harder this time, but it was even better. Your eyes rolled back as your core started to throb with desire.

“Fuck, Y/N” he breathed at the sight. “You’re making me insane.” was all he said before sinking to his knees. He pulled you closer to him, making you lay on the edge of his car. He looked so good kneeling between your thighs. And he looked even better when he started to stroke your clit through your underwear. He sharply sucked the air just by the sight of it.

You were laying on his car in your black lace panties. This was even better than he could ever dream for. He was holding himself back, but he was about to burst out.

“You look so good,” he said as he pushed your panties to the side to insert one finger slowly into you. You laid back all the way on his car as he started to finger your inside with one hand and your clit with his other one. You bite your lip to hold your moans back, but it was a really difficult thing to do. As he was so freaking good with his hand. You could barely hold yourself back when suddenly he pulled his finger out of you. Before you could realize, your panties were on the floor, and John grabbed your thighs to draw you closer to him. Now, he used his tongue instead of his fingers to play with your wetness, causing you to arch your back pushing your backside closer to his face. He grabbed your ass firmly with his hands, he wanted to control and drive you insane. He could not let you chase for your own pleasure. He wanted to make your pleasure. He wanted to make you lose your mind. He wanted you to scream his name.

He was flicking his tongue, constantly changing position between your clit and inside thing, delving his tongue deeper and deeper. You were moaning, making sounds, saying his name with some curse words as well. You were right. He truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

Suddenly, your most intense orgasm ever washed over you out of nothing, clenching all over John’s hands and tongue as he was still fucking you mercilessly with it to help over your after wave. Your hands were still grabbing his hair, rocking your hips against his face.

“Jonathan,” you said after a few seconds when he stood up, looking at you laying on his car finally satisfied. You sit up to push a soft kiss against his lips, which on you could feel your juices. Which caused you to be even hornier. As it was possible.

“I love when you say my name” he chuckled which made your stomach flop from happiness. “That is why I can’t wait to hear you screaming it,” he added with a dangerously low voice.

“Can I ask you something, Jonathan?” you said carefully, pulling him closer to you.

“Anything, doll” he answered.

“Then, fuck me” you whispered shyly. You did not know where this bravery was from, but John truly made you feel things that you never felt before.

“You don’t even have to ask,” he said as you started to undress him. His expensive suit and tie dropped onto the floor and the same time he removed the t-shirt and bra which you were still wearing as well.

He took your whole body in and admired every sight of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before pressing another urgent kiss to your lips. He grabbed your hair, making you moan into his mouth at how good all of this felt. At that exact moment, he thrust into you and your whole world rocked. He stretched you all the way up, cause you to cry out his name louder than you anticipated.

“Tell me if it hurts” he added and you couldn’t form a single word because the pleasure mixed with all the pain, caused to build your second orgasm and he was restlessly fucking you. You were a moaning mess, so is he. He was grunting and cursing as the two of you started to reach climax.

“Ah, fuck-“you cried out as your walls started to clench. “Let me cum, Mr. Wick” you added and you could actually feel that Jonathan is twitching inside of you. He suddenly stopped and grabbed your neck, ushering you to look at him.

“Say that again,” he demanded.

“Which part?” you asked shyly, thinking that it was a mistake and you’ve ruined everything.

“All of it.”

“Let me cum, Mr. Wick,” you looked straight into his eyes when you said it. The fact that you’re biting your bottom lip didn’t help him at all.

“Gosh…” he huffed and continued to mercilessly pound into you, deeper and deeper each time. You were overwhelmed with the new sensations and your whole-body shake, when the second, but most intense orgasm of the night hit you. John was approaching his own climax as well, every thrust of his became a little bit sloppier and out of pace. He kissed you so softly, when he reached his own pleasure, moaning into your mouth which sent a vibration down to your body. You tensed your legs around his waist, taking him in more while lying down on the top of his car.

“I’m sorry we made a mess,” you whispered and he started to chuckle.

“Don’t worry about that, especially that we’re only getting started,” he said in a dangerously low voice. And oh boy, he was right…

This is it. It was the end of suffering. End of your university years. As for now. You couldn’t be happier as you’ve left the building and saw a beautiful mustang parked on the driveway. It was from John Wick. You were quite surprised as he said that he has to leave the town for some… business. You didn’t expect him to be back this soon. Now, you’re smile grew even bigger.

“Here is my graduated girl,” he smiled at you and pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips when you got next to him. You gave him a half-hug in this position, laughing into his shoulders.

“I did it.”

“Yes, you did,” he said, looking straight into your eyes now. He took out an envelope from his jacket. “I brought you this,” he said softly, and you were surprised.

“John, you shouldn’t…” but he cut you off.

“Just open it!” and you did. You carefully ripped off the edges taking out two flight tickets to Italy. Tears started to gather in your eyes.

“John…” you started but you didn’t even know how to begin. He also became emotional, as he looked at you.

“At our first Italian class, you’ve said that you want to see the world. I hope this will be a good start.” you didn’t know how you got a man like John, but it was more than you deserved.

“I love you, John,” you breathed out and this was the first time you’ve actually said this. He looked at you and his whole expression changed, suddenly his body tensed up. You suddenly became afraid that you said something wrong. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe…

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said finally and he pressed a kiss into your lips which told more than words. This was just the beginning. The very beginning of your life and also the adventure, which you continued with John Wick till the very end.

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