#most struggled actresses

[workathomemom13]

Furiosa’ Fires Up Cannes With 6-Minute Standing Ovation for Anya Taylor-Joy and Teary Chris Hemsworth

In a remarkable display of cinematic fervor, "Furiosa" ignited the Cannes Film Festival with an electrifying premiere that left audiences in awe and admiration. As the highly anticipated prequel to George Miller's iconic "Mad Max" series, "Furiosa" has been the subject of much anticipation and speculation. However, its unveiling at Cannes exceeded even the loftiest of expectations, earning a thunderous six-minute standing ovation and moving its stars, Anya Taylor-Joy and Chris Hemsworth, to tears.

The film, directed by George Miller and starring Taylor-Joy as the eponymous Furiosa and Hemsworth in a yet undisclosed role, promises to delve deep into the backstory of one of cinema's most enigmatic and beloved characters. Set in the dystopian world of the Wasteland, "Furiosa" takes audiences on a thrilling journey through a harsh and unforgiving landscape, where survival is a constant struggle and hope is a rare commodity.

The Cannes premiere offered a tantalizing glimpse into the world of "Furiosa," showcasing its breathtaking visuals, adrenaline-pumping action sequences, and gripping emotional depth. From the moment the lights dimmed and the opening credits rolled, it was clear that audiences were in for a cinematic experience unlike any other.

Anya Taylor-Joy's portrayal of Furiosa captivated audiences, with her fierce determination and steely resolve bringing the character to life in vivid detail. Taylor-Joy's performance was nothing short of mesmerizing, showcasing her range as an actress and solidifying her status as one of Hollywood's brightest talents.

Equally impressive was Chris Hemsworth's performance, which reportedly left the actor visibly moved during the film's emotional climax. While details about Hemsworth's character remain shrouded in mystery, his presence on screen was undeniable, adding depth and complexity to the film's narrative.

But perhaps the most unforgettable moment of the evening came during the film's conclusion, when the credits began to roll and the audience rose to their feet in a spontaneous display of appreciation and admiration. For six minutes, the theater echoed with thunderous applause and cheers, a testament to the film's undeniable impact and the talent of its cast and crew.

As the applause finally subsided and the lights came back on, it was clear that "Furiosa" had left an indelible mark on the Cannes Film Festival and the hearts of all who had the privilege of witnessing its premiere. With its captivating story, stunning visuals, and powerhouse performances, "Furiosa" has set the stage for what promises to be an unforgettable cinematic journey, one that will undoubtedly leave a lasting impression on audiences around the world.

[maggiecheungs]

so I’ve got the empress of ayodhaya (with mai davika) and scarlet heart thailand (with tu tontawan) to look forward to….. icb i’m finally getting some big budget female-led historical thai dramas about political power struggles 😭😭 i have waited so long for this

[himblebo]

God the joy I see every time one of my interpreters puts on their costume for the first time is unparalleled

[mutter-of-dragons]

Not to mention, Sansa was in no position of true danger prior to that if you consider that the biggest threat to her life was the same as towards everyone else: the white walkers. But she had to antagonize the only person who had a proper army at that point, lmaooo. I wonder for how much long she would have survived without the Dothraki and the Unsulied to die to keep her ungrateful ass safe. She was the Lady of Winterfell, she still had authority, she was still relatively safe in her home, she had even reunited with what was left of her family. Her insistence on getting the North being independent came from either paranoia or pure greed (considering her ending I think it's the latter), Daenerys didn't even harmed her after all the disrespect thrown in her face. I doubt that Robert Baratheon or even Robb himself would let that shit go unpunished if they were disrespected like that. Sansa had no real motivation other than greed and keeping power to herself to be hostile towards Daenerys. I would have loved to see Dany actually letting the North being independent though, just to watch them trying to fend off for themselves after the true winter had arrived and most of the men having died

to be honest if i was daenerys during season eight episode one & sansa bitterly snipped "and may i ask how are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen? while i ensured our stores lasted through winter, i did not account for dothraki, unsullied and two full grown dragons. what do dragons eat anyway?" i would have said "lol nothing i guess," given the order for my troops to turn around & march back to dragonstone & let the north deal with whatever they had coming.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

mlb player!gojo who is the most arrogant player on the team, because he’s the best player in the baseball world.

mlb player!gojo who, during games, takes off his jersey and flexes his muscles after every home run, giving fans material for thirst trap edits on social media.

mlb player!gojo who is such a notorious womanizer that he’s seen with a new model, actress, or celebrity every week. He never looks for a serious relationship because nothing is more important to him than his career.

mlb player!gojo who gets scolded by his manager after a scandal breaks out about him and his best friend (NBA’s star player Suguru Geto) hooking up with the same girl at a nightclub.

mlb player!gojo who feels nervous for the game after the scandal because paparazzi won’t leave him alone, and the media has labeled him a “man-whore.”

mlb player!gojo who steps onto the field for the game but is too distracted to focus. When it’s his turn to bat, he makes the worst hit of his career—something no one would have expected from him—and the ball ends up hitting you, a spectator who only came to the game because your friend insisted.

mlb player!gojo who realizes what he’s done and immediately leaves the field to rush to your seat, hoping the person he accidentally hit is okay. Running up to your row, he spots you clutching your face in pain, and the sight makes him curse under his breath. Kneeling down, he asks, “Are you alright?”

mlb player!gojo whose heart nearly stops when he looks into your tear-filled eyes because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

mlb player!gojo who starts apologizing profusely but is suddenly snapped out of it when you slap him across the face. As he holds his stinging cheek, he hears a string of creative curses from you (ones even he hasn’t heard before) and struggles not to laugh. When your friend helps you leave the stadium, Gojo watches your retreating figure, knowing in that moment he’s just met the woman he’s been searching for his entire life.

mlb player!gojo who gets chewed out by his club and manager after the game but begs them for help finding the injured fan so he can make amends.

mlb player!gojo who, the day after the incident, contacts you through his manager via email to offer to cover your hospital expenses and asks to meet with you. When he sees your reply, stating, “Please tell your star player he can go straight to hell,” he bursts out laughing. While his manager thinks he’s lost his mind, Gojo is ready to try every possible way to reach you.

mlb player!gojo who doesn’t give up and tracks down the bookstore where you work. When he shows up, you’re still working despite having a bandage over your eye. Seeing the smug smile of “the best player in the sport you now hate the most,” you demand to know what he’s doing there and how he found you. With his usual calm demeanor, he replies, “Once I set my mind on something, I don’t stop until I make it happen.”

mlb player!gojo who somehow convinces you to go out for an apology dinner with him when your eye heals (you’re not even sure how you said yes). When he arrives outside your apartment at the time he promised, he's left breathless. Standing in front of him, blushing with embarrasment in your red dress, you watch Gojo opens the passenger door for you, and even though you still claim to hate him, his persistence makes you see him as a little more decent.

mlb player!gojo who spends the car ride battling his own desires because the most perfect woman in the world is sitting next to him.

mlb player!gojo who keeps you laughing throughout dinner and ensures you have an amazing time. To win your forgiveness, he gifts you an original 1894 edition of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book. Your stunned expression leaves you speechless, which only makes him laugh. (And of course, he doesn’t let you return the gift, no matter how much you protest.) When you kiss his cheek at the end of the night before heading into your apartment, he gazes at you with lovestruck eyes.

mlb player!gojo who texts you every morning when he wakes up, before and after practice, and on his way to your place to ask what you’d like to eat. Even though you beg him to stop, deep down, you don’t want him to. Besides, who could stop Gojo anyway?

mlb player!gojo who tries to convince you to come to another game. When you refuse, he promises not to hit you with the ball this time. After half-heartedly punching him, you finally give in and agree to attend next week’s game.

mlb player!gojo who is hectic on the day of the game, knowing the woman he loves will be watching him live. Though his teammates ask why he’s so excited, he keeps your identity a secret to protect your privacy.

mlb player!gojo who runs straight to your seat after making the game-winning hit. Overcome with excitement, he kisses you—the woman he knows likes him but has never admitted it—fulfilling his long-time dream. When you pull him back for another kiss, tossing aside all your reservations, he whispers, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” And from that moment on, you’re officially together.

mlb player!boyfriend!gojo who asks you to move in with him just two days after your first kiss because he can’t stand being apart from you any longer. Though it feels sudden, you don’t really want to be away from him either.

mlb player!boyfriend!gojo who keeps your relationship out of the public eye. While you’re willing to face the world for him, protecting your privacy means everything to him.

mlb player!boyfriend!gojo who, once a notorious playboy who cared about nothing but his career, has now found the most precious thing in his life—you.

.ᐟ would you like to meet gojo’s best friends? (nba star!geto headcanons┊uefa champion!nanami headcanons)

.ᐟ Champions League Masterlist

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

gojo art by @teaforgods on X.

divider by @enchanthings-a

[f1fantasys]

It ends with, how quick can you get it up?

Summary - y/n and lando are exes who meet again, some angst, then a whole lot of smut. ITS FILTHY. MINORS DNI !!

Warnings - angst, swearing, smuttttt, fingering, oral m and f receiving, p in v sex, anal, squirting, blowjobs, pure filth. Magui lol - no hate to her at all. Her character is a negative character.

7.3k words

It was coming up to years since the day that you and Lando had broken up. You were together for almost two years prior - young and in love, naive. But then the realities of both your jobs jumped right in front of you, and you mutually decided to breakup, it being too much to handle.

The breakup wasn't messy. You were both understanding of each other, and you'd decided to remain friends - though you could count the number of interactions you'd had since on one hand. That was the whole point of separating - not enough time to each other.

As hard and weird as it was to admit, the it affected you more than you let on, to anybody. You absolutely adored Lando. Yes you were young, but he'd stolen your heart the second you two met for the first time. You loved him with everything you had in you, and even know going you own ways hurt in the worst ways possible, you knew it was for the best.

During these two years, you struggled everyday, and had to build yourself up each day from what it seems. You still held onto a thread of love for the boy - you don't think you'd ever stop, and so whenever you saw a new picture of him on socials, or when you knew you were to be at the same event, you stayed as far away as possible, because you knew seeing him in person again would crumble all the walls you've built so hard to put up.

Neither of you had deleted pictures together on Instagram, and you still often wore things and precious gifts that Lando had showered you with - he had done the same. The one thing that always made your heart tingle was a certain silver bracelet. It was a gift you had given him after his first podium in F1, and he'd always say it was his favourite because it was a memory of the two things he loved the most - racing, and you.

Of course, you'd tried to move on, meet new people, but you only ever got as far as an hour into a date until you started comparing a guy to Lando. Although they'd be decent looking with a good body, you'd notice how none were close as to how devilishly handsome Lando was, how no one's body could be compared to his slim but stern and toned abs, no one's hair would curl in all the right places, and how no one would give you the smile that melted your heart.

You always told yourself that Lando was the man who was made for you. Everything about him was absolutely perfect. But, it wasn't to be, and that was something you had to keep reminding yourself.

Recently, Lando had been spotted a few times with an actress, Magui. You had known her through your modeling connections. From the time you knew her and had interacted with her on a few occasions, quite a few years ago, you knew she wasn't someone who you could ever be friends with. There was always something about her that made you hold a step back, no disrespect to her.

It was a surprise that Lando chose to be with someone like her - not that you were judging - but you just thought he could do better. But whatever - it was his life and as long as he's happy, that's all that mattered to you, even though a piece of your heart broke everytime you saw them together.

Last week, your agency had told you that you were to attend an event at the Singapore Grand Prix. This wasn't the first time since the break up that you'd be attending a race, but what hitched your breath was when you found out this morning that it was a McLaren event, where the full team would be present.

As much as your heart wanted to, you weren't sure if you were ready to meet Lando. Yes, it had been a long while, but again, you were scared of crumbling down.

But you had to be strong, because you were currently in the elevator to the top floor of the building for the event. Of course, you made sure you looked like a million bucks - not skimpy like a certain someone.

When the door opened, you held your breath and walked through, face lightening up when you immediately spotted a friend of yours that worked at a different agency.

''Y/N'' Lissie squealed, just as excited to see you.

''Fuck I'm so happy you're here'' you said as she hugged you tightly, knowing exactly why you appreciated seeing her here.

She pulled back. ''Think you'll be ok?'' she asked.

''Yeah'' you said, taking a breath, has to happen sooner or later.

The night was actually going well, until the presentation started and you saw none other than Lando walk on the stage, making his presence known for the evening.

You swore you stopped breathing for a second. Here he was, in the flesh, and even though you'd seen countless pictures of him since the last time you were together, he looked ten million times better, devilishly handsome.

The lights shining on his face showed off the perfect contour of his jaw, nose, lips, the way his eyes glistened beautifully, and don't even get me started on his hair. It was overgrown but his curls sat so effortlessly gorgeously on his head. You really couldn't tear your gaze away from him.

And as if not breathing properly wasn't enough, your legs turned jelly when his eyes found yours, staring into your soul, face shocked though a smile spread over it quickly when his brain caught up with who he was looking at. You smile back gently, when you heard the elevator ding from where you were standing, you watched how Lando's eyes left yours and instinctively looked over your shoulder, his smile widening even more so like a small boy seeing candy. You quickly looked back and felt a knot in your stomach.

It was her. She looked beautiful no doubt. Long curled hair, perfect taunt body. You felt Lissie grab your hand and squeeze it.

For some reason, the thought of her being here tonight hadn't crossed your mind.

You don't why the hell you did what you did next, but your eyes drifted over to Lando again, and it almost felt as if your heart broke into a million pieces when he winked at at her - it was something he'd always do to you in a crowd full of people, his way of telling you he loved you.

As the presentation went on, you tried your best to keep your mind and eyes from drifting to him, though when it was his turn to talk you allowed yourself to take him in for a few minutes. Your mind started drifting away to the days you'd wake up snuggled up in bed together, share looking looks, before Lando would ruin you by fucking you senseless.

''Shit'' you thought, that was the last thing that should be on your mind. You needed to focus on something else, but not surprisingly, you struggled to do so.

Once all the formalities were done, the evening went on with lots of food and drinks, dancing, catching up with people. There were a number of people you knew, which was good, and Lissie was stuck to your side through it all.

While you were at the bar waiting for another drink, your body shivered as you felt a presence next to yours.

Magui. ''Hey'' she greeted, leaning in to kiss your cheeks. You reciprocated the gesture.

She knew your history with Lando, hell the two of you were dating when you used to have to work with her before, so to say this was awkward would be an understatement.

''Hey, been a long time'' you pressed, hoping she would just leave already.

''Yeah it has. Works been busy, plus following Lando to a lot of races as well'' she said.

You tried to keep a neutral face, internally screaming for Lissie to come rescue you.

You chatted about random things, until she dropped the elephant in the room.

''So this must be weird, being here, seeing me and Lando together.''

''Uh, I mean, maybe a little, but we've all moved on with our lives. Each to their own'' you said, not believing yourself one bit.

''But still. I mean, do your feelings for someone so handsome just go away?'' she asked.

This time you had to keep a scoff in. Yes, Lando was a handsome man, but that's not all he was. He was passionate, clever, kind, caring, honest, intelligent, selfless, every single good wood in the dictionary. His looks did not define him. And even though you aren't together now, what you had with each other was real. Your love was real. And no one could take that away from you.

''I,-'' you started, but of course you had to get interrupted by the man himself.

''Y/n!'' he called your name out, came jogging over from where he was.

You held a breath as he hugged you, and it took everything in you not to keep him tucked in your arms.

''Lan Lando, hi'' you smiled gently.

''How are you? It's been forever'' he said.

You didn't miss the way Magui's arms slid around his waist as she kissed his cheek. He placed his hands above hers.

You cleared your throat. ''Yeah, um, I'm really good, keeping busy'' you cooed. ''How are you? Congratulations on your first win, by the way, you earned it'' you said.

His first win made you both cry with joy and sadness. When you were together, his first goal was always to get that win under his belt. It's what he worked tirelessly for day in and day out, and ultimately, towards the end of your relationship, it almost seemed that the only way he could do that would be to have zero distractions. At the time, and even now, you never took that as a reason for your break up or a reason to hate him for it. It was what was best back then, and you couldn't go back now. So as happy as you were for him, a part of you was sad that it was something that couldn't be celebrated by you at his side. It was her.

''Thank you, yeah, finally got that done. Next up, championship, hopefully'' he said, smiling year to ear.

The conversation went on for a few more minutes, but you decided you needed to get away from it. Magui was giving you eyes. Eyes that warned you, eyes that basically said back the fuck up, even though it was Lando who was making most of the conversation.

You excused yourself and made your way to the bathroom after failing to find Lissie in the crowd.

You fanned your face and tried to control your breathing to stop the tears that were threatening to spill down your face, as the door opened.

She walked in.

''What the fuck are you playing at?'' she all but shouted at you.

''What?'' you asked in disbelief.

''Seriously, stay the fuck away from him'' he spat before walking out the door.

You were shocked, where was this coming from? You had an innocent conversation with your ex boyfriend and his new girlfriend. What's more to it?

You went back out and found Lissie, told her everything that happened. She had been no where to be found as she was pulled to go do a few photos for her page, but now she was fuming with how it all played out.

You decided to block all of that out of your mind and enjoy the rest of the night, It was all you could do, besides curl up and cry in a corner, and you really weren't in the mood for the latter.

At some point, a few of the crowd had wanted to carry on the party at a nearby club, and so you found yourself at the back of a taxi, waiting for Lissie to come in, and until it was Lando who had taken a seat next to you, beaming at you.

Your breath halted as he closed the door and told the driver the address of the club. (Obviously it was a race weekend, so he wouldn't be drinking, but had to make an appearance)

You were glad it was dark out so Lando hopefully wouldn't be able to see the flush on your cheeks. But fuck, where was his girlfriend in all of this. Did she know he was here with you right now?

''I-'' you started though he cut you off.

''It's actually so good to see you y/n'' he said, softly.

''You too Lando'' you replied, not sure where this conversation was going.

''Even though we left each other as friends, i feel like i have to tell you...'' he started.

You just listened and waiting, not sure what to say back.

''What we had was good, so good. So real... Some of my best moments in life were the ones spent with you'' he almost whispered. ''I wish we could get those days back. Just be together, never have broken up, but just lived on with each other, loved each other forever..''

You let out a breath, more tears threatening to spill out your eyes.

''Lando..fuck. You know i feel the same way. But i don't think it's fair firstly to Magui, that we're talking about...us, like this, and secondly it's not fair to me. Because I've been trying to move on every fucking day since, and hearing you say that breaks down all the words I've built up.

''I just feel like there was too much left undone'' he said softly.

''Lando, stop. I..Where-where's Magui? Why are you here saying all to this to me right now?'' you asked.

''She got pissed that I came to talk to you. Went back to the hotel.''

''So go back to her then.''

Now he took a breath.

''Fuck..we're not even together. We're just hooking up. I mean, she's great, but i just don't see myself with someone like her, y'know?''

You kept quiet for a bit.

''Well that's not what she makes it seem to be. She fucking told me to stay away from you not even an hour ago'' you said, sounding angrier than you intended to.

''What?'' he questioned.

''Yeah'' you said softly. ''Honestly? with the way your fans are treating her, and all that she's said to me tonight, this is something i can't get involved with. She's toxic, and with where i am in my career, i can't be having her drama follow me'' you said.

Suddenly Lando's whole demeanor changed. He was agitated, fuming, metaphoric steam blowing out of his ears.''

He chucked, to himself then looked you. ''It's always gotta be about the other woman, right? Forget everything good we had, blame it on the other woman.''

''Lando what? What are you even talking about? I'm not blaming her for anything, just saying I don't want to be associated with her. And I'm sorry if i do become, I'm not willing to jeopardize myself to look like the bad one.'' you said.

''Honesty? fuck off'' he spat.

The rest of the ride was silent, you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay, and when you finally got to the club, Lando got up and slammed the door with such force it had you jolting in your seat.

You took a minute to compose yourself before telling the uber driver to take you back to your hotel. Your tears were flowing freely, uncontrollably.

The man you loved basically said he wanted to get back with you, and you shut him off because of the woman he's just fucking. And now he was done with you. Fucking fantastic.

Needless to say, you cried yourself to sleep that night. Seeing Lando, thinking back on memories you hadn't allowed yourself to for so long, having her there, Lando telling you things you'd wanted to hear forever though it wasn't so simple to live through them, and eventually ending with Lando basically telling you to fuck off. You were broke, all over again.

You were to attend the race as well, and you did, because you were cooped up in the Ferrari hospitality all day. Your heart clenched when Lando won the race. He deserved it, no doubt. But everything still hurt. Once again, it wasn't you he'd be celebrating with. And whatever good thing about your relationship ended a few nights ago.

Lissie had dragged you to a club to just let loose and forget about all your problems - something you'd kill for right now.

It was nice to have a night out with the other wags and people you knew, though your mind kept drifting back to Lando. He still had a hold on you, and no matter how much you tried to forget him, you just couldn't.

Him being less than 20 meters away from you wasn't helping either. You'd just seen him walk in, with Magui on his arm. The both of them joined at the hip.

He hadn't noticed you yet, though she did. She smirked, and quickly pulled Lando's face in for a heated kiss. You forced yourself to look away, and walked in the other direction.

Much to your mismay, you found yourself within your friends group, and now Lando and Magui included. They were sat directly opposite you. You seriously wanted the ground to swallow you up, rather be anywhere else but here.

It was awkward, sure, because only you, Lando and Lissie knew what went on the other night - unless he told anyone else.

Everyone was chattering and drinking, laughing and dancing, and for the first time tonight, Lando glanced your way.

You breath - hitching as it always does when he looks at you, caught in your throat as you took a sip of your drink, keeping your eyes trained on his, which were lingering at you still.

He was throwing daggers at you, and when Magui jolted him out of his trance, he immediately pulled her closer, practically on to his lap as he started nuzzling her neck.

You quickly busied yourself, trying to make conversation with Charles and Alex though your eyes kept involuntarily wandering back to Lando.

Now he was full on making out with her, tongue and all, as his hands groped at her ass.

Deciding you needed some air, you went to the bar to get another drink, and while waiting, as if the universe was playing tricks on you, the pair of them, landed beside you, Lando's back to you.

Although the club was loud, you could still just about make out what Lando was saying to her.

He was whisper-shouting dirty words into her ear. Telling her how plans to ruin her later. Fuck her into oblivion, kiss every inch of her body, devour her pussy, and salivate over her delicious juices. The most delicious he's ever had.

Forget the universe. It was Lando. Lando himself who was playing you dirty.

When you were together, dirty talk was one thing that you absolutely loved during sex. Lando knew how to do it well, and he'd fuck you for hours while whispering filthy words into your eyes, making you cum again and again until you had none left in you.

You knew he was playing you - trying to get a reaction from you. From what he old you the other night about whatever he had going on her Magui, you knew he would never have shown her a second glance or said things like this. It was all just a act to rile you up.

She, though, was loving it. Giggling in his neck as he showered her with kisses all over, hands roaming each others day, and you wouldn't be surprised if she was putting on her own show - to make it clear to you ''into her'' Lando was.

You grabbed your drink, downed it, as you clenched your thighs together, trying your hardest not to let Lando's words affect you as he knew they would, because what the fuck - you wouldn't stoop so low hearing him say those things to someone else, would you?

A short while later, needing some proper air this time, you made your way outside, using the excuse of needling a cig break to the others.

As soon as you walked out the door, you let out a big breath you didn't realize you holding on to. It felt like a weight lifted over your shoulders, though that chest-tightening feeling returned straight away when you saw Lando walk out behind you and follow you to a secluded area.

''Lan-'' you started but he cut you off, his eyes piercing through yours with something you weren't sure you'd ever seen from him. A mixture of longing yet laced with anger of some sort.

''Out celebrating my win, yeah?'' he said, cockiness oozing out of him.

You scoffed. ''Huh, what are you doing out here? Thought you'd be rushing out to get back to your hotel? Something about fucking your girl and all'' you said, gaining confidence from the few drinks you had.

''Y/n'' he warned, stepping into your space and bring his hand up to cover your mouth.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, like suddenly you were alive again.

''Shh'' he whispered softly. ''Only one person who gets to call themselves 'my girl,' and it ain't her.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You wanted to be mad at Lando, forget him and move on, but how can you do so when he was looking at you like this, talking to you like this?

''I-'' he cut you off again.

''Don't need to say anything right now, baby, but let's get out of here?'' he said, voice low and hoarse. The nickname sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, not knowing what to do. Your heart was telling you to go with him, though your head was screaming at you not to.

But all thoughts and hesitations were lost when Lando leaned down and kissed your cheek ever so gently, letting his head rest against it.

Instinctively, your hands reached up and cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him again.

''What about her? you asked.

''Already told her to fuck off, she was already throwing herself at someone else'' he said quickly.

''Lando''

''Fuck, please'' he said, licking his lips, while his hands were now wrapped around you and on the small of your back.

''Fuck'' you whispered, your mind racing more and more by the second the more you took into account what was really happening.

Lando so close you could feel his breath on your face, the smell of his musky and expensive cologne, the intensity of his crystal blue eyes staring right through you, his hold on you as if his life depended on it. Fuck, you were screwed.

''Baby'' he whispered, but this time you were quick to react.

You roughly pulled his face in, crashed your lips to his to which he responded immediately. It was rough, desperate, messy, but somewhere at the back of both your minds, there were fireworks going off.

Lando pulled you impossibly closer and his hands ran through your air, pulling at it from the ends as you both fought for dominance over the kiss, tongue battling each other until you gave in and let him slip his through. He explored your mouth like a starved man.

It may have been years since your last kiss, but right now, it felt like you were both home. It felt right, and with the way you knew each others triggers, it felt timeless.

You played with the hair on the back of his neck as his lips left yours, both desperate for air, sloppy smiles playing both your lips, until a voice broke you out of your trans.

''Are you fucking joking me? You're leaving me for this piece of shit?'' said the voice as you both looked to where it was coming from.

Magui.

Lando's hold on you tightened to a point where it was painful.

''Of fuck off'' he said. ''As if your tongue wasn't down that guys throat the minute i ended it with you, what not 10 minutes ago'' he spat.

''Don't turn the subject around. Seriously Lando, fucking going back to leftovers when you can have the finest ass in town?'' she pressed.

''Yeah actually, because the 'finest' ass in town already rotten though MY leftovers are as fresh as day 1'' he threw back.

Your heart clenched at that.

This time she didn't have any answer back, so she muttered something incoherent to herself and walked away.

''Don't listen to anything she said. Ignore her. I'm sorry for the way she spoke to you the other day as well. I'm sorry for how i fucking spoke to you. I was a dickhead and you deserved better'' he said softly, eyes begging for forgiveness.

You didn't say anything back. Instead you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling him in for a simple hug, pouring all your love for him into it.

''Take me back to the hotel'' you whispered. ''Now.''

Lando smiled to himself, took your hand and called for the valet to bring his car.

The ride back was palpable with tension, no words spoken again, just cheeky glances at each other, eyes dark with lust, as Lando let his hand rest on your thigh, achingly close to where you craved him the most.

Your mind was racing, not paying attention to where he was driving, so when he stopped the car and parked at an area overlooking the sea you were quick to question him.

''Lan?''

He said nothing, but adjusted his seat back, manhandling you and pulling you onto his lap.

You straddled him, your dress already bunched up at your stomach as his hands roamed your body, eyes glued to yours.

''Need you now'' he said breathlessly before leaning up to lock lips again, biting down harshly on your lower lip causing you to whimper.

You started grinding down on him, feeling his cock grow through his jeans as he practically ripped your dress into two pieces, eyes growing big when he saw you weren't wearing a bra.

''Fucking hell. Can't say i haven't missed my babies'' he said, smirking as he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and index fingers, earning a series of dirty moans from you.

''Please, Lan'' you begged. Your cunt, still grinding down and creating a wet patch through your panties and on his jeans, was clenching achingly around nothing.

As he continued to toy with you nipple, his mouth found your other one, wasting no time in biting and sucking on it harshly, making you pull his hair tightly, still begging for more.

''Still taste so good'' he mumbled, snaking his hand down your toned body until he reached your core. He ran his fingers over your clothed pussy, smirking when he realized how wet you were.

''Don't flatter yourself'' you teased when you saw his smirk.

Lando raised his brows, ''didn't say anything babygirl'' before he pushed your lacy panties to the side and finally touched you, sliding his fingers through your juices and quickly finding your clit. He knew your body better than you did.

''Fuck Lando please'' you begged again, the feeling of him on your clit having you more desperate than before.

''Patience love'' he whispered, holding your hips still to stop your movements.

His fingers suddenly pulled away from your cunt, you were about to protest when you saw what he was doing - licking them clean on your juices, before he bought them up to your own lips to take in.

''My favourite fucking taste'' he murmured and you moaned around him.

Finally though, he returned them down there and settled at your entrance His eyes gave you a questioning look and you eagerly nodded, before he thrust two fingers in at once, curling them straight away having you a shuddering mess in his arms.

You bit down on your lip, letting a few guttural moans escape you as Lando sped up his movements of thrusting in and out of you.

''Yes, fuck, so fucking good'' you said through bated breaths, while Lando started edging you on with his own words.

''Baby you're so fucking tight, how the hell are you gonna take my cock, huh? You think you can take it? Being so fuckin tight'' he threw at you.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you said, quickly feeling the warmth start to build up in your stomach.

''Lan I'm close,'' you warned, and this time he added a third finger while his thumb toyed with your clit, causing your orgasm to rip through your body as you came violently all over his fingers.

''Oh my, fuck'' you said, eyes squeezed shut as Lando didn't slow his movements. Instead he added a whole fourth finger, you heard him say something about ''needing to stretch you out before you were ready for his cock''

Within minutes you came again, your warm juices gushing out, making a mess of everything. Again, you were blanked out, just about hearing what Lando was saying again. Something like ''''you're so fucking good for me darling, such a good brat'' until he finally pulled his fingers out, and once again licked them clean as you sat there, eyes hooded, sweat shining on both your faces, and a shy smile on your face, chest heaving.

''Lan'' you said, pecking random parts of his pace.

''Think you're ready for me y/n? Wanna ride me? Then let me take you back to the hotel and take you from behind, yeah?''

His words had you dripping with want, needling more from him. When you dated before, you were young, but your sex life was amazing. You wondered though how it would feel now. Would it feel more fulfilling? Even better than before? You certainly couldn't wait to find out.

You bit your lip as you gently lifted yourself off Lando's lap, just enough o let him unzip and unbutton his jeans, pulling them down, together with his boxers.

You won't lie, seeing his thick girth spring out and stall tall before you had your mouth watering.

''Like what you see?'' he asked, a smirk on his face.

''Fuck off'' you threw.

''I'd rather you fuck me''

'''Gladly'' you said, before taking your place again, cupping him and pumping him a few times. You were internally thanking him for ''stretching'' you out because he was bigger than average, and you weren't sure how he'd have fitted easily.

Lando reached to his pocket and pulled out a condom, ripping the packet open with his teeth as he was about to roll it on though you stopped him.

''Lan we're not 20 anymore, I'm still non birth control, but fuck, i need to feel all of you. Please'' you begged.

His eyes turned even darker, breath hitching as he listened to your words before you grabbed the condom from him and threw it somewhere in the car, then palmed him again.

You slid his dick through your folds, which were clenching uncontrollably as Lando leaned back and shut his eyes, taking in the feeling of having your hands on the place he's dreamed about for almost two years.

''Fuck baby please'' he begged now, impatient to slide into you.

You mimicked his words from earlier. ''Patience baby'' you said, though you were just as desperate as he was.

Lando was not having it today, instead he roughly took a hold of his dick, and pushed you down onto him by your waist.

You gasped at the intrusion, mind foggy at how incredible it felt, but at the same time there was always the unavoidable sting because of just how much Lando stretched you out.

He bottomed out straight away, hips joined together, as you sat still on him, both your faces contorted with pleasure as you allowed your body a few minutes to respond.

After a few seconds though, your braced your hands on Lando's shoulders and began to move, up and down, up and down, riding his pole like your life depended on it.

''Fuck baby, that's it, so fuckin tight around my dick and taking me so well'' Lando cooed as he felt your walls clench around him, making his dick twitch uncontrollably through your movements.

''Fuck Lan, missed this, feels so good, fuck'' you said between breaths.

Both your moans were lewd, filthy, and anyone walking by your car would be able to hear how you were ruining each other, fucking each other hard and fast, rough,but you didn't care. You wanted the whole world to know. You wanted her to know.

''Lan I'm gonna come'' you said, feeling your orgasm approach, not holding back.

''Let it out, fuck y/n, cum all over me, then later cum again when i push my dick through your asshole'' he threw, his words instantly sending you over the edge, releasing your sap all over him.

''Oh my god, yes, uh, i can't you panted, body like jelly in his arms as Lando had to hold you upright, and now fuck himself into you to chase his own high.

You slumped forward on him as he placed his head over your shoulder, bouncing your body up and down his pole until suddenly he was ready for his own release.

''Uhhh, gonna cum y/n, where?'' he asked.

''In me! Please'' you all but shouted, needing distressingly needing to fell his cum inside of you.

Your words sent him into overdrive, and before he knew it, Lando was spraying your insides white with his warm cum, letting out a series of swear words through your ears as he held onto you tightly, spit flying out of his mouth.

''Feels so good'' you whispered, leaning back and cupping his face that was dripping with sweat, cheeks flushed.

Both your movements slowed, riding each other through the high as eventually it halted and you just sat there, Lando softening inside you.

He gave you a sheepish smile, chest heaving, before kissing you gently.

''How are you this fucking amazing?'' he asked. ''you were incredible back then, but now, fuck me, how did i survive this long with you?''

You bit your lip, ''feeling's mutual.''

''Back to the hotel? Let me ruin you again?'' asked, excitement in his voice.

'''Please'' you said, climbing off his dick and settling into your seat again.

Before he could zip himself up again, you leaned over the console and deep-throated him, having Lando jolt in his seat at the contact.

''Fucking hell'' he said as you pulled back, cum and spit running down your chin.

''Wanted to taste...us'' you said, watching the darkness in his eyes return.

The drive back was quick, desperate, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel painfully tight.

You had to wear his jacket, which luckily was oversized and big for you, for the walk up to his room, since he'd torn your dress.

As soon as the door was closed he pounced on you, shoving the jacket off leaving you standing bare in front of him.

Lando was about to kiss you before you pulled back and pouted.

''You're still wearing too many clothes'' you whined.

He chuckled, couldn't hold back his smile as he shed everything over, leaving himself bare you are were.

''Hmm better'' you said as your eyes shamelessly roamed his body, stopping at his dick which was twitching and growing harder by the second.

He cleared his throat. ''Permission to touch?'' he asked, already having cupped your face.

''Always'' you said, before he left your face and ran his hands down to pick you up, hauling you over his shoulder and giving your ass a few smacks.

He threw you on the bed before throwing himself on you, kissing you with an urgency, groping your body while his hands found your cunt, waltzing through your folds.

''Please fuck me?'' you asked innocently.

He smirked. ''Gonna destroy you'' he said lowly, leaning up and wrapping your legs tight around his hips before he pumped himself a few times, already hard as rock.

He lined himself up and pushed in gently, setting a slow, painfully slow pace as you whined and wriggled your body, begging for more.

''Noo Lan please, faster'' you pressed.

But he ignored you, instead bringing his mouth up to your boobs, ravishing them violently as he continued to thrust slowly in and out of you.

You were impatient though, and so you roughly grabbed his face and pulled it away from your boobs.

''Lando, fuck me now, or-'' you started sternly though he cut you off.

''Or?'' he asked teasingly, eyebrows raised.

You blushed, not having an answer. ''Or no sex for two weeks'' you threw.

''Hmm, survived two years, think I'll manage two weeks'' he said softly.

You eyes grew wild with shock. ''Of fuck off'' you said, thinking of what else to come up with but your brain short circuited when suddenly his pace was faster, rougher, harder, fucking his dick deep within you.

You shut your eyes, nails digging into his biceps and surely leaving bruises for tomorrow when you could practically hear him smirking at you.

''You fucking asked for it baby, don't take back your words now'' he said.

You got a burst of energy at his words, your eyes flying open.

''Not complaining, am i?'' you said, sending your own smirk his way.

''Fucking brat'' he mumbled, reaching his thumb down to your clit, pinching at it dramatically which within seconds had your body shaking underneath him, your cum coating him and leaking out of you with each thrust as your mind was blank again, no energy to say anything, just broken breaths as you bit down on his shoulder.

He slowed for a moment, before pulling out. ''Let me do you from the back? he asked.

''Uh huh'' you responded, though your body was jelly so he basically had to pick you up and manhandle you again until you were on your tummy, ass up in the air.

Lando coated two of his fingers in his spit before circling your rim, teasing you with a thrust but not in enough.

''Lando, now'' you threw at him, causing him to giggle.

''Okay baby, no more teasing'' he said, letting his two fingers enter your ass.

You held your breath, bit your lips together as he gave you a few licks as well.

''Gonna take me so well, my love, yeah?'' he asked.

''Yes, please, hurry'' you said, your body responding as if you haven't had multiple orgasms already.

Finally Lando coated his dick with his spit again, before pushing into you, both your moans obscene at the feeling.

He braced his hands on your hips as you held onto the headboard, his pace quickening quickly as he slammed himself in and out of you.

''Fuck, so good, look at you, such a whore for me, my own dirty slut, that's it baby, doing so fucken well for me'' he said between moans through gritted teeth.

''Lando, huh, gonna cum'' you said in a daze, letting him take full control of your body.

''Go on baby'' he pressed, and before he could even finish his sentence your orgasm rippled through you, shaking your body literally uncontrollably with the stimulation.

He slowed his movements, knowing how exhausted you were, though he didn't stop. He was just gentle now, letting you catch your breath as you body calmed down.

Lando pulled out and flipped you over again gently this time, kissing you long and slow as your wrapped your arms around him.

''Think you have one more in you baby?'' he asked. ''For me?''

Who were you to say no? You gently opened your tear-stained eyes and nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist again.

''You've done so well for me today, fuck'' he said, lining up against your cunt again, sliding in once again.

''Hmm, Lan, too much'' you cooed.

''I know love, almost there, you can do it'' he encouraged you.

By now, your brain was blacked out, you were saying things without thinking through, and your next words shook Lando to his core.

''Í love you Lando, missed you so fucking much. Baby, please, please, i fucking beg you, fuck a baby into me''

Lando had no words, no actions as to how to respond to you. He wasn't even fucking into you at a quick pace right now, but his dick thought faster than his brain, and in seconds he was cumming deep within you again, filling you up to the brink as his cock twitched painfully so inside of you.

''Lan?'' you questioned when he stayed silent - apart from his pornographic moans and pants.

''I love you too, so much, and fuck, i want a baby, like right now with you. Fuck y/n, you're it for me'' he whispered, and eventually his brain caught up to what was happening. He also noticed that you hadn't cum the last time, so he quickly pulled out and placed his tongue on your cunt.

You grabbed onto his hair and pulled it, unable to keep your groans in, as he lapped and lapped at your folds, moaning himself when he tasted the mix of both your cum.

You looked down to see his face a mess. Spit, cum, sweat, everything just sticky and dripping. Just the one look at him sent you spiraling over the edge, erratic noises leaving your mouth, though this time you didn't just cum, you squirted all over his face and hair, hands flying to cover your mouth in shock, though all Lando did was smirk and lick everything up, swallow as much as he could.

Eventually he pulled back and leaned down to your lips, letting all the juices drip down from his mouth and into yours.

You seriously didn't know how you were wake right now, but having Lando close like this had given you enough to carry on.

''That was so fucking hot, fuck y/n'' he whispered, leaving wet kisses all over your face.

All you did was hide your face in his chest and hold him tight, get both of your breaths back to a decent rate again, bask in what had just happened.

A short while later, as much as you both just wanted to doze off, your bodies were too slick and sticky to be comfortable.

With not enough energy to shower, Lando got up and gently cleaned you both up with a warm towel, before he jumped into bed beside you sleep-clad body, pulling you to his side.

You were half asleep, though awake enough to say something.

''I love you Lando, please don't leave.''

He kissed your forehead. ''Trust me baby, I'm stuck to you forever. And I'm so fucking sorry for the other night. I love you so much. So so much.''

''Nah, forget that. Just happy to be together now. I'm home'' you said, smiling in your daze.

Suddenly, something piped up and you shot out his arms.

''Lan!''

''Baby what, are you ok?'' he said, shocked at your burst of energy.

You giggled.

He shot his eyebrows and hands up.

''We did...a lot of things tonight..'' you started.

''Yeahh, and? he asked.

''I didn't get to blow you'' you pouted.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, and you didn't miss the way he palmed himself.

You wiggled your eyebrows.

''How quick can you get it up?'' you asked as he pulled you onto his lap.

''You're gonna fucking end me'' he whispered.

But finally, it was you and Lando. Together. Forever.

A.N - i think this is my longest fic. Wasn't sure if I liked where it was going, but pretty happy with how it turned out. The smut is probably my favorite that I've written, so please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments. Also - absolutely no hate to Magui.

[girlygguk]

STRAWBERRIES & CREAM | JJK

banner by the gorgeous @runariya <3

1/3 teaser for my pick the fic! poll 📊 starting off with the current lead, strawberries & cream...

[pairing] wealthy law student jk x aspiring actress & struggling waitress reader

[teaser content] sfw, 1.1k words, 21 jk | 21 yn, some internal monologue cursing, wrongful workplace treatment (yes, yet another one of my oc's has a shitty boss 😭), a group of rude fucks won’t leave the diner, oc just wants to buss her damn tables and skedaddle, jk is Whipped and oc is Worried.

📍 Seoulful Delight a rundown diner on a somewhat quiet corner of the city.

You were closing alone again.

The night cook had called in sick, leaving you to handle everything yourself. At first, you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.

It was a slow Monday, after all, and most of the regulars were already gone — the elderly folks who came for their nightly decaf and pie, the high school kids who hung around after school. But then, a group of rowdy guys strolled in, loud and obnoxious, ordering a ridiculous amount of food while making sure to throw in comments about the wait time despite it being painfully obvious you were the only one working.

And now, with their empty plates stacked high on the table and the lights of the diner dimming, they refused to leave no matter how many times you told them the place was closed.

You weren’t that stupid. Their sleazy smirks, the way they eyed you up and down, it was all warning enough not to push any further. And you didn’t.

The last time you had called the police on a group of guys a little worse than this, one of them ended up being the son of the officer on duty, and knowing your luck, one of these jerks would probably end up being the brother.

Your manager, Ahn Chang-min, was livid about the callout fee charged for what was deemed a false report, and he’d been deducting the cost from your paycheck bit by bit. You knew it was wrong — probably unconstitutional too, if you were using that word correctly — but you didn’t have the energy, support, nor the funds to fight it.

So instead of making a scene, you sighed, pursing your lips as you slipped behind the counter and texted Chang-min for advice. Unsurprisingly, your messages were left on read, and the group of dickheads showed no signs of leaving.

Your tired eyes scanned the diner. You had cleaned almost everything, except for their table and one booth in the back.

Jungkook’s booth.

He had become somewhat of a regular over the past few months. Always showing up an hour or two before closing, still dressed in his perfectly tailored suits, his hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.

You knew he was a law student — or maybe a graduate, possibly even a lawyer by now. You weren’t sure of his exact age, but you’d often seen him with his nose buried in thick law books late at night. 'Civil Procedure' was the title you recognized the most.

Despite how late he came in, Jungkook always ordered two servings of food, devouring it like he hadn't eaten all day. He seemed to have a thing for the all-day breakfast menu — extra crispy bacon, double helpings of fried eggs, sometimes toast, sometimes pancakes. 

When he couldn’t decide between dishes, he’d ask you to pick for him. Last week, you’d chosen the grilled steak sandwich, your personal favorite, which you’d prepared yourself since the cook was on break.

You’d learned to make everything on the menu by now, given how often the night cooks either called in or left early. Some recipes you’d been taught; others, you just winged it. So far, no one had complained about the quality. Though, most of the customers who came to this shitty little diner were either too drunk to notice or too polite to say anything.

Nevertheless, Jungkook had ordered two of that same sandwich every visit since.

You wondered how he managed his schedule. How he stayed so fit with all the food he consumed. He never came in before 10pm, and you found yourself hoping that his days didn’t start too early. That wouldn’t be healthy.

But then again, working almost back-to-back doubles and still barely scraping by after rent and utilities wasn’t exactly healthy either. But somehow, you managed. You just hoped his days weren’t as long as yours.

The moment your soft voice carried across the diner, announcing it was closing time, Jungkook snapped out of his trance, glancing at his phone and realizing how late it was. He began packing up, but his hands stilled when he overheard a group of guys’ crude remarks from the center table of the diner. They weren’t just refusing to leave — they were making inappropriate comments, and the way they talked to you made his grip tighten around his book.

He set it back on the table, his jaw clenching as he watched you back away from them, obviously trying to avoid escalating the situation. You looked like you were about to head toward his booth, maybe tell him it was time to leave as well. But after a moment of hesitation, you turned and disappeared into the kitchen instead, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Jungkook’s heart clenched.

He hoped you didn’t think he was anything like those assholes. He could never treat you that way. Never refuse you anything. After all, you made the best steak sandwich he’d ever had.

He doesn’t know if it was because he really liked steak, or if it was because he knew you were the one to prepare it for him that made it taste so good. Either way, it was perfect. Sweet. Just like you and just like everything you did.

The way you filled his coffee cup all the way to the top even though the lines on the mug told you to stop three-quarters up. The way you’d add a fried egg to his steak sandwich without charging extra. The care you put into everything for him, even when you were exhausted.

Jungkook always made sure to tip you directly. He never left the money on the table where your grimy little coworkers could pocket it while you were clearing another booth. He’d even downplay the amount when signing the bill because he knew your shitty boss was the type to skim what he could off the top.

Every time without fail, you’d frown at him, shake your head, tell him to stop doing that. But Jungkook never listened. Eventually you’d relent, let him slip the cash into your apron pocket, and the soft, sweet smile you gave him afterward always made it worth every penny.

He looked forward to that moment every night — to the smell of your berry-scented lotion mixed with your perfume when you leaned down to thank him and clear away his plates. He spent a lot of time wondering what kind of berry it was. Raspberry? Strawberry? Boysenberry? He wished he could ask. Maybe he’d buy some for himself just to have something that reminded him of you.

Not that he needed a physical memento.

You were already stuck in his head. All day, every day, for the past three months.

ermmm... yea i may have downplayed just how whipped jk actually is... forgive me 🙇‍♀️

he is a grump tho, TRUST ME...

but just to like everrrryoneeee but her 😭

lemme know what u think?! love you x

join the taglist

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 24/10/2024 Lando Norris - Humping/ ThighJob

Plot: You and Lando are great multitaskers

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, thighjob, humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

You and Lando were very busy people. Him going round the world for the majority of the year driving fast cars and you acting in your tv shows and movies as an up and coming actress.

That’s actually how you met Lando. A very long winded funny way but hey always say people are out in the same place at the same time for a reason and that is something you both loved by.

You’d taken on a role in the Gran Turismo Movie, as the girlfriend to Jann and it was an incredible experience working with all these amazing actors and being involved in cars.

Here you met Geri, who was a co-star of yours and that ended up meaning you met Christian Horner at the movie premiere. You’d gotten talking to him about all that you’d learnt about cars and how it fascinated you which led him to inviting you with RedBull to the paddock which is where you’d met and the rest was history.

Your relationship where you were both travelling so much was a little strained. You tried to go to as many races as possible which normally was at least half of the calendar.

So when you guys were together you were both incredibly clingy. Always around one another always trying to get some kind of physical contact.

That was where you guys struggled in intimacy too, a lot of your time was spent on dates and making sure to spend as much time together as possible that you were often very exhausted or still too busy to do anything or a sexual nature.

So a lot of the time you’d do things that worked around both your tight schedules.

Like right now, he was working on his sim racing and you were incredibly horny and needy for him. So you plopped yourself over him, straddling his thigh covered in his Quadrant tracksuit bottoms. You were bare, you’d made sure to come in like that. He was just doing laps for the upcoming race in Monza, so he didn’t have any issues you joining him.

You stayed there, kissing along his neck bringing moans out of him. His arms circled around you to grab the wheel restarting the sim. You start to move your hips up and down, and you can already feel a wet spot growing in his tracksuit bottoms. Your hips moved in tandem up and down little breathy gasps and moans coming from you mouth as you feel the pressure scrape along your sensitive clit.

“Fuck Lan” you moan into him and your hips speed up a bit. His leg also moves every now and then when he breaks going round a corner and jiggles when the other accelerates.

“Your such a good girl. Little multitasker” he smiles, as he finishes another really good lap time. He knew the circuit well enough that he could probably do it blindfolded so even having his insanely hot girlfriend above him couldn’t make him forget the racing line.

“I’m gonna, fuck” you moan as you speed up. His hands come down you your hips helping you move back and forth, the scrape against him delicious and insatiable.

“That’s it, cum for me gorgeous. Getting yourself of on my thigh like that. Such a good girl” he complements.

But it wasn’t just you who found pleasure in humping, especially against his thigh. There was many times where he’d be eating you out, as it was one of his favourite things to do to you, and he’d get so into it he’d start thrusting his hips into the bed, getting the needed pressure on his cock.

Usually it was you coming all over his face that had him creaming his pants, and looking at the dark spot against his boxers or joggers however far he’d gotten stripping his own clothes off.

The most recent time was when you were laying on the sofa, your script for you upcoming film where you’d gotten the lead role in front of you.

You were playing Poppy in You and Me on Vacation with Tom Blyth as Alex and you were so excited as there were so many different filming locations you could go to and strangely the schedule fit in really well with Lando’s races. You’d be filming a lot of the Florida scenes just after Miami so you could watch that race and would have plenty of time to go to the next one.

He is in the mood and you were actually pretty sore from the night before where he’d absolutely been a feral wild dog.

You were just rereading the scenes making sure you had Poppy’s vibe down, as you’d read the book and spoken to the author herself. When Lando came up behind you.

He lifted your thighs and hips up so you were sort of in doggy styled which made you groan ready to protest that you weren’t ready for sex as you were still exhausted after last night.

“I know baby, is it okay if I just use those pretty thighs of yours. I just need you so bad but I know we went hard last night!” He whines in a pleading way that had your head turning round to try and look at him over your shoulder.

“And that didn’t take the beast enough?” You ask wide eyes and he shakes his head with a guilty look.

“Argh fine go ahead just don’t distract me from the script. I need to read my lines out loud.

“Why don’t you move into one of those sex scenes huh?” He asks lightly biting the top bit of your ear making you giggle.

“Alright hmmmm I can’t remember where they have sex” you say flicking through the script until you find it.

“Will you actually have to have sex with this guy?” Lando asks looking at you.

“No you weirdo it’s all acting and we have stuff like in between us” you tell him with a laugh as you feel him slip his cock between your thighs. You squeeze them together and hear him moan above you as you start talking him through the sex scene you were supposed to perform with Tom.

His thrusts speed up as you talk him through the actions and what is being said until he pulls back his cum spurting into the back of your thighs as he sighs with a little whine.

“Thanks baby, you’re the best” he smiles, grabbing a tissue from the table to help clean you up. You highlight stuff in the scrip that you consider valuable information before you feel Lando’s weight on top of you.

“I love you so much. Thank you for always making time for me” you say genuinely closing the script and holding his hand that is on your forearm.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[hfjonewiki]

a non-comprehensive list of my favorite brian koch cheese credit card answers

pickle wishes he never met taco

nickel needs balloon way more than he realizes

salt needs pepper way more than she realizes

if taco had the chance to do it all again differently, she would

fan's favorite game would be lego star wars

apple still has her pony from santa, which she named "dino brawler". this is presumably the toy she was holding in episode 16

knife tried harder to be good at video games than he lets on

suitcase is still a little annoyed with oj for eliminating her for no reason in episode 7

oj and bomb are on better terms now, but will never be best friends again

he sees soap and microphone having a more sibling-like relationship, since their voice actresses are sisters (judging by the 20+ private replies, someone had some opinions on this one)

mephone 3gs didn't know his crew very well. when he watched them die, he was surprised by how much he felt

pickle genuinely made taco laugh a few times during season one

evil paper liked playing checkers (this implies that this is a trait exclusive to him that paper himself does not share)

mephone x would probably use he/him pronouns, but cobs doesn't put that much thought or humanity into the mephones anymore

mephone4 wanted to impress cobs for a long time, but meeting 3gs recontextualized a lot of his negative feelings

if mephone4 wasn't hosting inanimate insanity, he would probably be a lost media archivist

taco doesn't have nearly enough hobbies. brian thinks that's part of the problem

nickel sees himself as more worthless than most would assume

mephone4 and oj's relationship is "honestly not great"

under the guise of "scheming", taco and mic would sometimes just hang out together when there wasn't anything game-related to do

trophy struggles to do push-ups

despite being an outdated medium, cobs still sends out discs with nothing but propaganda material on them

despite not sharing much screentime together, brian thinks knife and pickle are the best ii yaoi

yin-yang likes being in cars. yin will drive, and yang will pick the music

soap would play splatoon, since all of the messes are just virtual

mephone4 is iffy on physical contact due to his past experiences with cobs

salt genuinely thought her and oj were in a relationship

just like mephone4, mephone4s' favorite food is cookies

cobs doesn't see himself as evil, he's just giving the people what they want. "not what they think they want. what they ACTUALLY want."

if silver spoon and candle are occupying the same space, people will leave because they can't take seeing how silver acts when he's around her

for a long time, baseball was the only person nickel respected

if mephone5 could live an everyday life, he would be a public menace. (destroying property, going up the down escalator)

taco actually enjoys the taste of lemon

while characters like fan weren't originally written with the intent of being on the autism spectrum, he lines right up with it

on a scale of 1-10, the amount that mepad misses toilet is "off the charts"

toilet wanted to impress mephone4 like a son would want to impress a father. "the cycle repeats a bit."

lightbulb and paintbrush take turns feeding baxter, but paintbrush usually ends up doing it because lightbulb isn't particular enough about what she considers "food"

mepad's favorite colors are black and white. "very mesmerizing."

walkie talkie (and presumably other invitational characters) didn't attend the hotel oj party

knife doesn't need to work out. he's just naturally like that

when someone asked if fantube was canon, brian answered "what more do they have to do?!"

springy hasn't had their own cereal in a long time

microphone and taco have both never been closer to someone else than they were with each other

silver and candle are a bit more distant now, but they both agree it's for the best

when the eliminated contestants were still being kept in the hotel oj closet, mepad would "unfeelingly" deliver and check in on them at mephone's request

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

WHAT IF... Tom and reader being sweet during behind the scene like you can see them hugging and just spreading love around the set lovebirds

Lovebirds || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: thank you for this request anon :)

Warnings: swearing (literally once lol)

Wc:

actress!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

“I’ve always done what’s best for you, you have to understand that!” His grip on your wrist was painful as you wince. “You’re hurting me Coryo,” You struggle as a single tear drops from your eyes. Coriolanus smiles in satisfaction, wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Now get fucking dressed,” He throws your clothes as you as you flinch and scramble. “Hurry up!” Coriolanus yells as your hands frantically pull your clothes onto your half naked body. “AND CUT!” The director calls out.

Tom immediately grabs a robe and rushes over to you on the bed, covering your slightly naked body as you thank him. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too much did I?” He asks, worried that his grip on you was too harsh.

“No, of course not. And I’m okay,” You chuckle, your hand on the side of his face as he looks relieved. His arms latch around your waist as he picks you up bridal style. “Tom!” You let out a hearty laugh as he carries you out of set and into your shared trailer.

You two chose to ate lunch in the comfort of each other’s arms as you talk about everything and anything. Soon enough, hair and makeup stylists come knocking in as they get you two ready for the next scene.

Your makeup and hair took the longest but Tom entertained you the entire time, sometimes even making you cry out in laughter which probably annoyed the makeup artist who was doing your eye makeup.

Eventually you two were done and you still had an hour spare. You crawled onto Tom’s lap as his arms securely wrapped around themselves around you, your face in the crook of his neck. Exhaustion from the couple of days of filming caught up to you as you fall into slumber in Tom’s arms.

Tom’s assistant chuckles and snaps a few pictures of you fast asleep in his arms as he poses. Then, a knock came from the door and in walked Josh and Rachel. “Hey-“ Rachel pauses when seeing you asleep. A filming camera in her hand pointed at the two of you.

Tom raises an eyebrow at her, wondering what she was doing with the camera. “I’m filming a tour of the set,” Rachel giggles as she comes closer to the two. “And here we have the two lovebirds of the set, y/n fast asleep in her lovers arms.” Rachel whispers, directing the camera to your curled up body Tom’s lap.

You had no idea that Rachel had recorded you while you were dozed off until you found out at one of the interviews in London. “Who in the cast was most sleepiest?” The interviewer asks. You think about it, making your decision as you settle on writing Rachel’s name.

“In 3, 2, 1.” You all flipped your boards as your mouth drops open. “Me?” You gasp as Tom, Rachel, Hunter, and Josh all wrote your name. They all burst out laughing as you look at them disbelief. “We actually have proof,” Rachel says with a snicker as you raise an eyebrow at her. “Proof? Are we able to see it?” The interviewer chuckles as you look at Rachel.

“Yeah, Rachel I’d really like to see this proof” You cross a leg over your knee as they start playing a video that you weren’t familiar with. Your eyes widen as the camera comes up to you and Tom, you were fast asleep in his lap. Photos were also shown of Tom posing and you asleep.

Everyone starts laughing as you cover your mouth, refraining yourself from laughing aswell. “Y/n also sleeps a lot while getting her hair and makeup done, honestly she sleeps everywhere and anywhere!” Tom chuckles, rubbing your thigh as you look at him with a smile on your face.

“Yeah I can sleep anywhere honestly, I remember this one time we were in the zoo cage and I literally dozed off on one of the rocks.” You reminisce, “You actually slept on one of the rocks?” Hunter says in disbelief as she places her hand on your shoulder. “Yup. I did.” You nod your head with a wide grin as the others laugh.

~

“Tom, Y/n, what was the most least glamorous day on set?” The two of you were asked as you look to Tom, thinking about an answer. “We had a few. We had a few gnarly days,” “Yeah, there were a few rainy days-“ “Y/n drowned me,” Tom interrupts, looking at you as you break into laughter. “I did.”

“You drowned me one day,” He continues as you throw your head back in laughter, “I was clinging to Tom for dear life in that lake,” You chuckle. “Oh right, there’s a bit where your properly on Tom’s shoulders!” The interviewer points out. “Yeah and they made it look romantic in the movie,”

“In reality, I was choking for my life cause Y/n isn’t the strongest swimmer in the relationship,” You lean your head against his shoulder in embarrassment as you laugh. “No- I can swim, only if somebody is chasing me,” You sheepishly say as Tom throws his arm around your shoulder, laughing as you could feel your whole body vibrate from his laughter.

“Oh and it was absolutely freezing in that water!” You shake your head as Tom agrees. “There’s actually footage of me wrapped in like three blankets after getting out, Tom included as a blanket” You remember as your mind goes back to that day where you were shooting at the lake.

“I’m so cold,” You squeak as you quickly walk out of the lake, Tom behind you ready to wrap you his arms around your frame “C’mere”. The filming team give you two blankets as you wrap it around your frame, your wet hair sticking to your forehead.

Tom’s body added to the warmth as he rocked you side to side. “Tom, Y/n, smile!” Rachel says, holding her film camera as you pull an awkward face as Tom does the same. You both laugh at the face expressions you made finding it hilarious.

“What was the most memorable day that you remember while on set?” The interviewer asks as you ponder. “My most memorable day was probably the day we finished shooting. Not many people know this but I originally turned down this role because it was back to back with my other project that I was working on.”

“And you know I had just arrived back in London from filming it for about 8 months I think?” You look to Tom as he nods, “Yeah 8 months hardly being able to see family and friends. But when Tom got the role as Coriolanus he sort of convinced me to take this role on and I’m so glad I listened to him.” You grip his hands in yours.

“That last day on set was quite emotional for me in many ways. I was of course sad that filming with these incredible people were over and also I think just remembering that I’ve gone so so long without my family really hit hard that day.” Tom nods and smiles as he admires your side profile as you talk.

“And Tom was there on set with me and I was just so relieved seeing him after finishing that when I gave him a hug I started crying.” You conclude make eye contact with Tom. “Speaking about you and Tom, can you tell us how you two met?” A smile immediately made it your lips as Tom chuckles, scratching his neck.

“You can tell them this one,” You nudge him with a cheeky smile. “I met Y/n on the set of Billy the Kid late 2021 when we started filming. Y/n’s dad was the producer of the film and I was introduced to her by him and then yeah,” He says giddily as you smile.

You still remember that day like it was yesterday. “I came to set on the second week Tom started filming and let me tell you, he looked really good in his outfit. Like really good,” You shyly say as Tom and interviewer laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me this,” Your boyfriend looks down at you with a slight smirk, “didn’t want you to think I was head over heels for you,” You wink playfully at him as he chuckles and kisses the back of your hand.

~

tomblyth

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, rachelzegler, lionsgate, y/nxtom4life and 4,938,038 others

Do not be fooled by the second and third picture. I was choking for my life!

tagged: @y/n_y/l/n

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—————————————————————————————

y/n_y/l/n: 😐

↘️ tomblyth: love u babe x

rachelzegler: first picture proves our point that y/n can sleep everywhere and anywhere 😭

↘️ hunterschaffer: @y/n_y/l/n is your neck okay?

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth, joshandresrivera, oliviarodrigo, rachelzegler and 5,947,309 others

Tboas dump coming soon 👀

tagged: @tomblyth

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—————————————————————————————

tomblyth: gonna miss the salads on set 💔

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: so will I :’(

y/nxtom4life: my parents are so cute I can’t 😭

Liked by y/n_y/l/n

[cool-fancier]

Kissed by Stardust

Jennie Kim x Female Reader

Synopsis: A blind date with global K-pop star Jennie Kim leads to an unexpected, magical connection—one kiss turning a surreal night into the beginning of something unforgettable.

Word Count:4.8K

You've always been one to pride yourself on your ability to keep calm under pressure. It's one of the many reasons you were able to succeed as an actress—calm, collected, composed. You could step onto any set, deliver any line, and face any high-stakes scene with the assurance that you would own the moment.

But tonight? Tonight, all of that composure is nowhere to be found.

Instead, you find yourself sitting at a candlelit table in one of LA's trendiest restaurants, staring blankly at the flickering flame as your nerves take over. There's an awkward tension buzzing inside of you, a mix of excitement and dread, and the more you try to suppress it, the more it builds, twisting your stomach into knots.

A blind date. That's what you've agreed to.

Your friends, Simi and Haze, had convinced you it was time to put yourself out there again. "You've been working too much," Simi had said, waving a hand dismissively when you tried to protest. "You never make time for fun."

"I have fun," you'd replied, though even you didn't believe it. The truth was, ever since your acting career had taken off, your personal life had taken a backseat. Sure, there had been a few flings here and there—brief, fleeting, but nothing serious. You were so busy traveling, attending press events, living on set for months on end, that the idea of getting to know someone felt... daunting. It was easier to focus on your work, to disappear into the roles you played on screen.

"You're going on this date, no excuses," Haze had chimed in, backing her twin up with a mischievous grin. "Trust us, Y/N. It's going to be amazing."

So here you are, nerves thrumming beneath your skin as you wait for your date to arrive, hoping against hope that tonight won't be a total disaster.

"You're going to love her," Simi had teased when she dropped you off. "Just trust me."

That's what worries you most. Simi and Haze are notorious for pulling pranks and dragging you into chaotic situations. You could only imagine what kind of person they'd chosen to set you up with.

The seconds tick by, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity. You glance around the restaurant, hoping the low light hides the anxious look on your face. It's a cozy spot, not overly fancy but still high-end enough to make you feel like you're underdressed, even though you'd spent a good hour fretting over what to wear. You settled on something simple—a sleek, black jumpsuit with a delicate silver necklace. Elegant but not over the top. Casual, yet sophisticated.

At least, you hope it's sophisticated.

Just as you're about to pull out your phone and distract yourself from the nerves that are gnawing at you, the door swings open, and you freeze.

Because standing in the doorway, casually glancing around the room with an air of confidence that only comes with fame, is none other than Jennie Kim.

Yes, that Jennie Kim.

Your breath catches in your throat.

No. No, this can't be right.

Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you're seeing. Jennie Kim, the global K-pop superstar, is not supposed to be your blind date tonight. This has to be some sort of mistake. Maybe she's just here for dinner with someone else. Maybe you've been set up at the wrong table, and any moment now, someone completely different will show up.

But as Jennie's gaze sweeps the room, it lands on you. Her eyes widen just slightly in recognition, and before you can even begin to process what's happening, she's making her way toward your table, a soft, knowing smile curving her lips.

Nope. This is real.

Your brain struggles to catch up with the situation as Jennie reaches your table, effortlessly slipping into the seat across from you like she belongs there.

"Hi," she says, her voice smooth and confident, like this is the most natural thing in the world. "You must be Y/N."

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You're too stunned to respond, your thoughts still scrambling to understand how this could possibly be happening. Jennie Kim? Your blind date? How? Why?

Jennie tilts her head slightly, her smile turning playful as she notices your stunned expression. "Simi and Haze didn't tell you, did they?"

You blink, finally finding your voice, though it comes out a little shaky. "N-no. They, uh, left out a few details."

Jennie chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "They have a habit of doing that. I should've known they'd surprise you."

You manage a weak smile, though your heart is still racing. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to leave me in the dark."

"Well, I hope you're not too disappointed," Jennie says, her smile turning a little more tentative, almost as if she's unsure of herself for a moment. "I know this is... probably not what you expected."

Disappointed? How could you be disappointed? You're sitting across from one of the most famous women in the world. You've followed her career, admired her from afar, but you never in your wildest dreams thought you'd be in this situation. Yet here she is, sitting across from you, looking just as human, just as vulnerable as anyone else.

"No, not disappointed," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Just... surprised."

Jennie seems to relax at that, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leans back in her chair. "Good. I was hoping this wouldn't be too awkward."

You let out a soft laugh, some of the tension in your body easing as you meet her gaze. "Honestly, I think I'm the one making it awkward. I just wasn't expecting... well, *you*."

Jennie grins at that, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I get that a lot."

You smile, feeling the ice between you two beginning to thaw. There's a moment of silence, but it's not uncomfortable—more like the calm after the initial storm of nerves. You take a deep breath, finally letting yourself settle into the moment.

This is happening. You're on a date with Jennie Kim. Might as well make the best of it.

"So," you say, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. "How do you know Simi and Haze?"

Jennie's smile brightens at the mention of the twins. "We've been friends for a few years now. I met them through mutual friends in the fashion world. We just clicked right away."

"That sounds about right," you reply, your lips quirking into a fond smile as you think of your two chaotic friends. "They're great at making friends."

Jennie nods, her expression softening. "They are. They've been like family to me, honestly. Whenever I'm in LA, they always take care of me."

You can hear the genuine affection in Jennie's voice, and it strikes you just how grounded she seems, despite the larger-than-life persona the world knows her for. There's something so... normal about the way she talks about her friendships, the way she carries herself. It's disarming, in the best possible way.

"Well, they certainly took care of me by setting this up," you say, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "I mean, I wasn't sure about the whole blind date thing, but... this is turning out better than I expected."

Jennie laughs, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," you reply, feeling a little bolder now that the initial shock is wearing off. "I just... I never thought I'd be sitting across from Jennie Kim on a blind date. It's kind of surreal."

Jennie's smile softens, her gaze flickering down to the table for a moment before she looks back at you. "I get that. It's kind of surreal for me too, sometimes. But, you know, at the end of the day, I'm just a person. I like meeting new people, just like anyone else."

Her honesty catches you off guard, and you find yourself smiling. "I guess that's true. But still... you're Jennie."

Jennie grins, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping into a playful tone. "And you're Y/N. I've heard a lot about you, you know."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You have?"

Jennie nods, her smile turning a little more secretive. "Simi and Haze are big fans of your work. They're always talking about how talented you are."

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected Jennie to know anything about you beyond the basics, let alone that your friends had been talking you up to her.

"Well, I hope I live up to the hype," you manage to say, trying to play it cool even though your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

Jennie's gaze softens as she looks at you, and there's something almost... warm in her eyes, something that makes your pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with nerves. "I'm sure you will."

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at each other across the table, and you can't help but feel like something's shifted. It's subtle, but it's there—a spark of connection that wasn't there before.

You're not sure how long the silence stretches between you, but it's comfortable, warm even, and for the first time since Jennie walked through the door, you find yourself relaxing fully into the moment. Her smile, soft yet mischievous, lingers, and the air around you feels lighter, as if the world outside the restaurant has momentarily faded away.

"So," Jennie says, breaking the silence with a teasing tilt to her voice. "Tell me, Y/N, what's it like being a rising star in Hollywood? Simi and Haze made it sound like you're the next big thing."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I wouldn't say that. I've been lucky with some good roles, but the whole 'rising star' thing? That feels a little exaggerated."

Jennie arches an eyebrow, resting her chin on her hand as she leans in, clearly intrigued. "Don't be modest. I saw you in that series everyone's talking about—what was it called again?"

You blink, surprised. "You watched that?"

"Of course," Jennie replies with a smirk. "You were incredible. I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting it, but you really pulled me in. The emotion, the way you carry yourself on screen—it's impressive."

You stare at her for a second, caught off guard by how genuine her praise sounds. It's one thing to hear compliments from fans or even critics, but coming from Jennie Kim, someone who understands the pressures of performing on a global stage, it hits differently.

"Thank you," you say, and despite your attempt to stay cool, you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. "That means a lot coming from you. I guess I've just been really focused on my work lately, trying to make the most of the opportunities I've been given."

Jennie nods, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. It's hard to find balance when you're so driven by what you love, right? There's always something else to achieve, something more to prove."

You nod, feeling a deep resonance with her words. "Exactly. Sometimes it feels like there's this constant pressure to be 'on' all the time, like you have to keep pushing or you'll lose momentum."

Jennie's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, her eyes thoughtful. "That's one of the hardest parts for me too. Being in the public eye, there's this expectation to always be perfect. But no one can live up to that, not really. It's exhausting."

Her words hit you harder than you expect. It's easy to forget that someone like Jennie, with her perfect image and worldwide fame, might feel the same way you do—caught between passion and pressure, driven yet sometimes drained. There's a vulnerability in her voice that makes her feel more real, more grounded than the polished idol the world knows her as.

You decide to follow her lead, dropping your own guard just a little. "Yeah, I can relate to that. It's like, no matter what you do, there's always this feeling that you have to do more. And on the days when it gets to be too much, it's hard to take a step back without feeling like you're letting people down."

Jennie nods slowly, her gaze locked with yours. "Exactly. It's like... sometimes I wish I could just turn it all off, you know? Take a break from being 'Jennie' and just... be."

You can't help but smile at that. "I'm pretty sure you've earned the right to take a break."

Jennie grins, her eyes twinkling again. "Maybe. But then Simi and Haze would probably drag me into something else."

You both laugh, and the tension that had lingered at the beginning of the night dissipates entirely. The conversation starts to flow naturally, easily, like you've known each other far longer than the hour you've spent together. You talk about your shared love for travel, the challenges of maintaining privacy in the entertainment world, and the tiny moments of joy that help keep you both grounded amidst the chaos of your careers.

As you chat, Jennie becomes more animated, her laughter spilling out freely as she shares funny anecdotes from her time as a trainee and stories about her bandmates. You find yourself relaxing more with every passing minute, captivated not just by her beauty—though it's hard not to be—but by the way she listens, really listens, and how she speaks with such genuine interest.

At one point, she leans forward conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, so you have to tell me... worst audition story."

You groan dramatically, burying your face in your hands. "Oh no, you're going to make me relive my trauma?"

Jennie laughs, a full, bright sound that makes your heart do a funny little flip. "Come on! I bet it's not as bad as you think."

You sigh, knowing you can't back out now. "Alright, fine. So, this was a few years ago when I was still trying to break into the industry. I got called in for this small role in an indie film—nothing big, but I was excited because it was one of my first real auditions."

Jennie nods, her eyes wide with anticipation, clearly enjoying where this is going.

"I walk into the audition room, ready to give it my all," you continue, gesturing for effect. "And I'm halfway through this really emotional monologue, right? Tears in my eyes, pouring my heart out. I'm thinking, 'This is it, I'm nailing it.' And then... I notice the casting director is on his phone."

Jennie gasps dramatically, her hand flying to her mouth. "No way."

"Way," you say, grinning at her reaction. "I froze. Completely forgot my lines. And the guy didn't even notice because he was too busy scrolling through Instagram."

Jennie bursts out laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's awful! I'm so sorry, but that's hilarious."

You can't help but laugh too, even though it had been a mortifying experience at the time. "Yeah, it wasn't funny back then, but now I can laugh about it."

Jennie wipes a tear from her eye, still giggling. "Well, I'm sure you showed them after that. Look at you now."

You shrug playfully. "I'd like to think so."

The conversation continues well into the night, and before you know it, you're both finishing dessert—a shared chocolate lava cake that Jennie insisted you try. There's a contentment between you now, a warmth that feels... easy. Natural. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be, sitting across from her, trading stories and smiles.

— — — —

As the evening winds down, you find yourself not wanting it to end. You've enjoyed every moment with Jennie, from the initial nerves to the laughter and everything in between. She's more than just a superstar—she's funny, smart, kind, and down-to-earth in ways you never would've expected.

Jennie looks up from her plate, catching your eye, and there's something in her gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. It's soft, almost shy, and it takes you by surprise because up until now, she's been so confident, so self-assured. But in this moment, she seems a little... uncertain.

"I had a really good time tonight, Y/N," she says quietly, her voice sincere. "I didn't know what to expect, but... this has been nice. Really nice."

You smile, your heart swelling at her words. "I had a great time too. Honestly, I'm glad Simi and Haze dragged me into this."

Jennie laughs softly, nodding. "Yeah, they're good at that."

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you charged with something unspoken. It's not awkward, but there's a tension there—a kind of anticipation that hangs in the space between you.

And then, without really thinking, you say, "Do you want to take a walk? It's still early, and I'm not ready for the night to end just yet."

Jennie looks up, surprised, but then her expression softens into a smile. "I'd like that."

You both stand up from the table, and as you exit the restaurant together, stepping out into the cool night air, you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. The streets are quieter now, the city settling into a calm lull, and the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow over everything.

Jennie walks beside you, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks. It's a comfortable silence, though, and you're content to just be in her presence, enjoying the quiet rhythm of your footsteps on the pavement.

After a while, Jennie glances over at you, her lips curving into a small, playful smile. "So... what do you usually do after a date?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Uh, I don't know. I don't go on a lot of dates, to be honest."

Jennie laughs softly, her gaze flicking up to the stars. "Yeah, me neither."

There's a pause, and then she adds, "But if I did, I think I'd want to end it on a high note. Something memorable."

You turn to look at her, intrigued. "Like what?"

Jennie stops walking for a moment, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Something like this."

Before you can Before you can fully process what's happening, Jennie steps closer, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a gentle light on her face, and for a split second, time seems to slow. Her eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet your gaze, silently asking a question.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the tension between you build, an electric current that hums in the air. It's not rushed or forced—it feels like the natural culmination of everything that's happened tonight. Every laugh, every shared story, every glance has led to this moment. And before you even have a chance to overthink it, you find yourself nodding ever so slightly, giving her the answer she was waiting for.

Jennie smiles, a barely-there curve of her lips, before she closes the final gap between you. Her lips press softly against yours, and it's like the world falls away, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of quiet intimacy. The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if she's testing the waters, but it's enough to send a warm thrill coursing through you.

You respond instinctively, leaning in just a little more, your hand finding its way to her arm as you deepen the kiss ever so slightly. Jennie's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, and in that moment, everything feels right. There's no pressure, no expectations—just the sweetness of this unexpected moment, the soft brush of her lips against yours.

When Jennie finally pulls back, it's slow and unhurried, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before she steps back slightly, her eyes still half-closed as if savoring the moment. You both stand there, breathing softly, the cool night air swirling around you, but neither of you says anything at first. There's no need for words right now.

Jennie's eyes flutter open, and when she looks at you, there's a soft glow in her expression—a quiet joy that mirrors what you're feeling. "That," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, "felt like a high note."

The warmth of Jennie's lips still lingers as she steps back, her breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. The kiss was soft, tender—unexpected in all the best ways. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence not awkward but charged, as if you're both savoring what just happened.

Jennie looks at you with a quiet smile, her eyes glowing beneath the streetlights, her hand still resting lightly on your arm. "That was..." she trails off, her voice soft and full of emotion she doesn't seem to have the words for.

You grin, feeling giddy, your heart still pounding from the kiss. "Yeah... that was something."

Jennie laughs, a light, carefree sound that fills the quiet street. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking almost bashful for the first time tonight. "I'm glad Simi and Haze set this up. I didn't expect to have such a good time."

"Same," you reply, your voice coming out a little breathless. "Honestly, this whole thing has been kind of surreal."

Jennie tilts her head, her gaze softening. "Surreal can be good, though. Sometimes you just have to go with it." Her lips quirk up into a smile, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you.

Before you can respond, Jennie glances down the street, her expression shifting slightly. "My manager should be here any minute," she says, her tone almost apologetic. "Duty calls, unfortunately."

Your stomach dips a little, not quite ready for the night to end, but you nod, understanding. She's Jennie Kim, after all—idol, global sensation. She doesn't get to slip away unnoticed like the rest of the world.

Jennie seems to sense your hesitation, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. "But," she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "this doesn't have to be goodbye forever, you know."

Your heart skips a beat at her words. "Oh?"

Jennie leans in slightly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I think we should do this again. Soon."

Your breath catches in your throat, and all you can manage is a wide-eyed nod. "I'd really like that."

Jennie's smile widens, and just then, a sleek black car pulls up to the curb, the back door opening as her manager steps out. Jennie glances at the car, then back at you, her eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than expected.

"Well," she says with a playful sigh, "I guess this is where I make my dramatic exit."

You chuckle, trying to keep the moment light, though your pulse quickens as you realize it's really happening—she's leaving. But before you can get too caught up in that thought, Jennie does something that makes your heart nearly stop.

She blows you a kiss. It's casual, light, but there's something about the way she does it—her eyes sparkling with mischief, her lips curling up just so—that makes it feel intimate, as if the two of you are sharing a private joke that no one else in the world could understand.

"Don't forget me," she says, her tone playful, but there's an underlying sincerity in her voice that catches you off guard.

You laugh, shaking your head as your heart does a little flip. "Trust me, I couldn't if I tried."

With one last smile, Jennie gives you a little wave before turning and slipping into the backseat of the car. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and you watch, rooted to the spot, as the car pulls away from the curb and disappears down the street.

For a moment, you just stand there, blinking in the quiet night, trying to process what just happened. Then, all at once, the excitement hits you like a tidal wave.

"Oh my God," you mutter under your breath, your hands coming up to cover your face as a wide grin breaks across your lips. "Oh my God."

You can't help it—you start bouncing on your toes, your whole body buzzing with an energy you can't contain. The cool night air feels electric against your skin, and before you even realize what you're doing, you're literally jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk like some giddy schoolgirl.

Did you just kiss Jennie Kim? Yes. Yes, you did.

You let out a breathless laugh, your heart pounding in your chest as you pull out your phone, immediately dialing Simi. The line rings once, then twice, before she picks up, her voice full of curiosity.

"Hey, Y/N! How'd it go? Are you still alive, or do I need to come scrape you off the floor?"

You can hardly get the words out, your voice spilling over with excitement. "Simi. I just... I just kissed Jennie Kim."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

"WHAT?"

You can practically hear the shock and excitement in Simi's voice, and it only makes you giggle harder, the joy bubbling up inside of you like champagne.

"I'm not joking!" you say, your voice full of breathless disbelief. "We kissed! Right there on the sidewalk, just now! And it was... amazing. Oh my God, Simi, she's so... she's perfect."

Simi lets out a loud, gleeful squeal, and you have to pull the phone away from your ear for a second as her excitement blasts through the speaker. "I TOLD YOU!" she shrieks, her voice barely containing her joy. "I told you it would be amazing! Oh my God, Y/N, I can't believe this! Haze is going to freak out when I tell her."

You're still grinning like a fool, your heart racing as you try to piece together everything that's just happened. "She blew me a kiss as she left," you add, unable to keep the giggles out of your voice. "Like, a literal kiss in the air. Who even does that?"

"Jennie Kim, that's who!" Simi shouts through the phone, her voice full of pride. "Oh my God, I knew she'd like you. I knew it. You're going to be the next power couple, I swear!"

Your face heats up at the thought, but you can't deny the thrill that rushes through you at her words. You bite your lip, trying to keep from getting too carried away, but the way Jennie had looked at you, the softness in her smile, the kiss—it all felt so real, so full of potential.

"Simi," you say, still catching your breath from both the excitement and the kiss, "I don't even know how to process this. I mean, I went into this thinking it was going to be awkward and weird, but... she was so easy to talk to. Like, we really connected."

Simi lets out a dreamy sigh on the other end. "You're totally smitten, aren't you?"

You laugh, running a hand through your hair. "Maybe just a little."

"Good," Simi says, her voice full of satisfaction. "Because I think Jennie's smitten too."

You feel your heart skip at the thought, remembering the way Jennie had smiled at you, the way she'd leaned in for that kiss. You can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Simi is right.

"Well," you say with a grin, "I guess we'll see."

Simi giggles, clearly as thrilled as you are. "I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Seriously. You deserve this."

You can't stop smiling, your excitement and nerves still buzzing under your skin as you stand on the sidewalk, the city quiet around you. "Thanks, Simi. Really. This was... honestly, one of the best nights I've had in a long time."

"And it's only the beginning," Simi says, her voice full of promise. "I can feel it."

You hang up the phone, still grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at the sky. The stars are twinkling above you, the city sounds distant and far away, and all you can think about is Jennie—her smile, her kiss, her soft laughter.

You don't know where this is going, but for the first time in a long time, you feel like something special is just beginning. And you can't wait to see what happens next.

[fangdokja]

🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

❤︎ Synopsis. Caught in a web of lies, a spy's double life unravels when her mafia husband discovers her betrayal—turning their love into a merciless game of dominance, vengeance, and obsession. She was his wife, his possession, and now, his prisoner.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. #1 -The Enemy in His Bed

♡ Word Count. 8,853

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, rape, blood play, forced oral, fear play, knife play, needle play, heavy bodily injury, slut shaming, objectification, psychological torment, actual torture methods, mature language, humiliation, degradation, forced orgasms, sadism, BDSM, groping, biting, bondage, nudity, fire play, gagging, physical assault and violence, choking / breath play

You are in a room that reeks of blood and mildew, the air so heavy it feels like it’s pressing down on your lungs. The faint hum of a fluorescent bulb flickering above casts the space in a sickly yellow light, illuminating the cold, concrete walls streaked with rust-colored stains. You’re tied to a chair—no, anchored. The ropes around your wrists and ankles are so tight you can feel the pulse of your blood struggling beneath them, the fibers cutting deep into your flesh. Your breathing is shallow, ragged, your chest rising and falling as if every breath might be your last.

He stands in front of you, a towering figure cloaked in shadow. His silhouette is broad and unyielding, the kind of presence that fills every corner of the room with an oppressive weight. This man—the man who used to call you lyubov moya—is no longer the husband you once knew. The ruthless Russian mafia boss whose name is whispered like a curse. His eyes, dark as pitch, are fixed on you with a predator’s focus, glinting with something primal, something vile. He’s not here to forgive. He’s here to destroy.

“Do you feel it?” His voice is low, gravelly, but it carries the force of an earthquake. He steps closer, the sound of his boots hitting the floor like a countdown. “That crawling under your skin? That’s fear. That’s regret. And yet, you still sit there,” he hisses, his tone sharp enough to flay skin, “with that fucking look in your eyes.”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with bruising force. His thumb digs into the soft flesh just below your cheekbone, forcing your face upward. The light catches his features, and for a moment, you see the rage carved into every hard line of his face. But it’s his eyes that terrify you most. They’re dead things, black holes where love once flickered.

“You betrayed me,” he snarls, the words laced with venom. His grip tightens, and you hear the faint crackle of cartilage in your jaw. “My wife. My fucking wife. And all this time, you were a spy. An actress in my bed, a liar in my world.” He releases you with a violent shove, and your head snaps back, the base of your skull colliding with the chair’s hard frame. Pain blooms, hot and electric, as blood trickles from your nose, the metallic tang filling your mouth.

The room is silent except for the sound of his breathing, heavy and deliberate, like a beast stalking its prey. He circles you now, each step echoing like the tolling of a bell. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asks, his voice quieter but infinitely more dangerous. He crouches down beside you, the leather of his gloves creaking as he pulls a blade from his belt. It’s thin, surgical, the kind of tool meant for precision rather than brute force. “Did you think I wouldn’t break you?”

The blade glides along your collarbone, its edge so sharp it almost feels cold. He presses just enough for the skin to part, a shallow cut that wells with blood and sends a sharp sting radiating through your nerves. “This is just the beginning,” he whispers, his lips so close to your ear you can feel the heat of his breath. “You don’t get to die yet. Not until I’ve carved every secret out of you. Not until you understand what betrayal costs.”

Your pulse is erratic, hammering in your chest as he stands again, looming over you like some ancient lord of vengeance. His fist connects with your cheek, and the world spins, your vision blurring as pain explodes across your face. Blood spatters across the floor in a violent arc, warm and sticky as it drips from the corner of your mouth.

“Where’s your defiance now?” he growls, his voice shaking with fury. He grabs a fistful of your hair, wrenching your head back so your gaze meets his. “You want to look brave, milaya, but I know better. I can see it in your eyes. You’re already breaking.”

His lips curl into a cruel smile as he lets go, letting your head drop forward. The room seems to tilt, the edges of your vision darkening, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of your surrender. Not yet. Not while there’s still air in your lungs.

But he’s not done. He won’t be until every inch of you is stripped raw, every nerve exposed and screaming. He reaches for a switch on the wall, and with a flick, the room is bathed in red light. It casts his shadow on the walls, grotesque and distorted, like a demon looming over the damned.

────────────

The door creaks open, and a figure, one of his subordinates, enters the room, dragging a metal tray laden with an assortment of cruel instruments. Your heart races as the cold steel glints under the flickering lights, each tool designed for a specific kind of torment.

The Russian mafia boss nods curtly, his eyes never leaving yours as the man sets the tray down with a clatter. "You're going to tell me everything," he says, his voice low and deadly.

"And then, I'm going to show you what it means to betray the one who gave you everything." He leans in, his hot breath on your neck, his grip on your chin painful.

"But first, I want you to remember what you used to be to me," he murmurs, the words a dark caress that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hand travels down, cupping your bruised cheek before sliding down to grasp your throat. You swallow hard, the fear rising like bile in your throat, but you refuse to show it. He squeezes, the pressure increasing until your eyes water, but you don't make a sound, not even a whimper.

His eyes narrow in frustration before he releases you, the hand moving to grip your jaw instead, forcing your mouth open.

With a sneer, he brings his face closer, his stubble scraping against your skin as he whispers, "You were once my sweet little bird, singing only for me. Now, you're a caged whore for the highest bidder." He slams his mouth down on yours, his kiss bruising and possessive.

You taste the rage and desperation in him, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a pang of pity.

But it's quickly replaced with a fiery resolve to survive, to somehow escape his clutches.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you bite down, hard. He pulls back with a growl of annoyance, but instead of releasing you, he laughs, a dark, chilling sound. "Good girl," he says, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

"You still have some fight left in you." His eyes scan the tray, and he selects a pair of pliers. "Let's see how much you can take."

He reaches for your shirt, his fingers deftly unbuttoning it despite your struggling. The fabric tears away from your body, exposing your bruised and bound breasts. He squeezes them, watching the pain flicker in your eyes with a twisted pleasure. "These used to be mine," he says, his voice filled with a sadistic glee. He leans in again, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "But now, I'll make sure no one else ever touches them again."

The air in the dimly lit room reeked of sweat and copper, a metallic tang that coated your tongue as you gasped for breath. His shadow loomed large, an oppressive specter that seemed to drink in your pain. The pliers in his hand gleamed under the flickering light—a surgeon’s precision wrapped in a sadist’s grip.

His voice slithered through the silence, low and venomous. “Tell me,” he hissed, his words thick with cruelty, “whose touch you’ve dared to crave besides mine.”

Your chest rose and fell, trembling under his gaze. You held your tongue, the taste of defiance as bitter as bile. His jaw tightened. Then, without hesitation, he snapped the cold steel jaws of the pliers onto your right nipple.

The first twist came like lightning, sharp and blinding, a searing current that jolted through your body. The delicate tissues twisted under the unyielding bite of the metal, the nerve endings igniting like fireworks. You clenched your teeth so hard your jaw ached, your scream lodged in your throat like a jagged stone.

He leaned in closer, his breath an unwanted warmth against your cheek. “Still stubborn, aren’t we?” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery and dark amusement. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

The second twist was slower, deliberate—a calculated cruelty that made your skin crawl. He pulled, the pliers dragging the sensitive flesh in directions it was never meant to go. You could feel the tissue straining, tearing, fibers unraveling like the threads of a fragile tapestry.

Your vision swam, black spots blooming like ink blots against the edges of your sight. He laughed softly, the sound of a predator savoring its kill. “Beautiful,” he said, almost reverent. “Even in pain, you’re mine. Always mine.”

The climax of his sadistic art came with a grotesque pop, the sound of tissue surrendering to force. The pain was an inferno, all-consuming, burning through every nerve as he wrenched the nipple free from your body. Warm blood spilled in rivulets, pooling on the filthy floor beneath you. The ruined flesh hung like a torn petal before he carelessly tossed it aside, letting it hit the ground with a wet slap.

He stepped back, his gaze fixed on your bloodied chest—a grotesque canvas of raw meat and trembling sinew. The shredded skin wept crimson tears, each droplet sliding down to trace the curve of your ribs. The room tilted; your body screamed for reprieve, but there was none to be had.

“You’re breathtaking like this,” he said softly, running a gloved hand over your mutilated breast. His touch was clinical, detached, as if admiring the precision of his own handiwork. “But we’re far from finished.”

The metal tray clattered as he reached for his next tool—a scalpel, gleaming with sterile menace. But before he could wield it, he paused, considering. With a dark smile, he reached instead for the salt.

The coarse grains glittered like tiny shards of glass as he grabbed a fistful. “Let’s ensure you remember this moment,” he whispered, and then he scattered the salt into the gaping wound.

It was as if the salt detonated on contact, each granule a fresh explosion of agony. Your body bucked involuntarily, the ropes digging into your wrists as you thrashed against your bindings. The scream that tore from your throat was raw and primal, reverberating off the walls like a wounded animal’s last cry.

His smile widened, a cruel crescent etched into his face. “Much better,” he said, almost soothingly. “Now we’re making progress.”

The pliers returned, their jaws still slick with blood as they moved to your remaining nipple. This time, you could see the shadow of his intent, the cold malice in his eyes as he clamped down. The pain came like a tidal wave, drowning you in its depths as he twisted, pulled, and twisted again.

The nipple tore loose with a sickening crunch, cartilage snapping, blood spurting in a violent arc. Your chest was no longer your own—it was a ravaged landscape of gore, a grotesque testament to his control. The raw, exposed tissue oozed and quivered, a mockery of what it once was.

He stepped back, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes drinking in the destruction he’d wrought. “You’re exquisite when you break,” he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. “But don’t worry, little wife. There’s so much more of you left to ruin.”

You hung limp in the chair, your body trembling, every nerve ablaze. Your silence persisted, but his words lingered, curling around you like smoke, a promise of horrors yet to come.

────────────

The mafia boss steps back, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes never leaving the destruction he's wrought upon your body. His hand reaches down to adjust his crotch, where a noticeable bulge has formed.

He's enjoying this, the sadist, getting off on your suffering.

"You're going to scream for me," he says, his voice low and filled with a primal hunger. "You're going to beg for me to stop. And when you do, I'll make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He moves to stand in front of you, his pants tenting obscenely. He unbuckles his belt, the leather making a harsh sound as it's pulled from the loops, the anticipation in the air thick and suffocating. He unbuttons his pants, and his cock springs free, hard and angry. He strokes it, the motion taunting you, a silent challenge to see how much more you can endure.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice a whip crack that slices through the pain.

You refuse to give him the satisfaction, keeping your eyes cast down, focusing on the puddle of blood forming around your chair.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Look at what you've done to me," he snarls. "You've turned me into a monster."

He steps closer, pressing his cock against your bruised and bleeding chest, the heat from his arousal a stark contrast to the cold steel of the pliers still digging into your skin. He grinds against you, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"You're going to take this," he says, his voice a mix of anger and lust. "You're going to take every inch of me until you remember who you are."

With a brutal yank, he twists the pliers on your nipples even more so, and you feel your body convulse in a silent scream.

He takes the opportunity to force himself inside your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. "Suck it," he orders, his hand fisted in your hair, pushing your face closer to his crotch.

With a burst of defiance, you clamp down on his cock with your teeth, biting as hard as you can, feeling the warm flesh between your teeth, the taste of his pre-cum mixing with the coppery tang of your own blood.

He roars in a mix of pain and pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening as he thrusts deeper into your mouth.

The mafia boss’s eyes widen in shock, but the arousal in them doesn't waver. Instead, it seems to intensify, his pupils dilating with a dark excitement.

"Fuck, you little bitch," he growls, his voice a mix of anger and desire. "You're going to regret that." His hand moves from your hair to the back of your head, pushing down harder, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with a sickening rhythm.

You refuse to give in, biting down again, the pain in your breasts and the metallic taste of blood only fueling your resolve to fight back.

He responds by slamming your head into the chair, stars exploding across your vision, but you don't let go. The pain radiates through your skull, but you hold on, biting even harder.

The Russian's hand trembles with a mix of rage and arousal as he pours an unmerciful amount of salt into the gaping wounds on your chest.

The agony is instant and overwhelming, your body arching off the chair as the salt sears into your flesh, setting every nerve ending alight with pain.

The scream that rips from your throat is muffled by his thick cock, still lodged in your mouth. His grip on the back of your head tightens even more, his hips jerking as your teeth graze his shaft, the scream vibrating along his length.

He watches your face contort in torment, his own expression a twisted blend of love and hatred. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Scream for me."

He pours more salt, the grains falling like a sadistic rain upon your ravaged breasts. Your teeth clench around his cock as you fight back the urge to pass out from the pain. Your eyes squeeze shut, and tears stream down your face, mixing with the blood and saliva that coats your chin. He seems to revel in your suffering, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breaths more ragged.

The henchman, his eyes wide and slightly horrified, watches from the corner, unsure of what to do. The Russian mafia boss, noticing his employee's discomfort, turns to him with a wicked smile. "You want a taste?" he asks, his voice a dark promise.

The man shakes his head, unable to tear his gaze away from the macabre scene unfolding before him. The mafia boss laughs, a low, chilling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Then get the fuck out," he snaps. "I'll handle this one."

The henchman nods hastily, retreating from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

You're alone with the monster you once called your husband.

The salt has stopped falling, but the pain remains, a constant reminder of your betrayal and his wrath.

He pulls back a bit, panting heavily, his cock still hard and slick with your saliva. He looks at your destroyed breasts with a twisted kind of fascination, the blood and salt creating a gruesome tableau. "You're so beautiful when you scream," he murmurs, his voice almost tender.

His hand reaches out to trace the edge of one of the wounds, his touch surprisingly gentle amidst the chaos.

You flinch away, the slightest of movements, but it's enough to snap him out of his daze.

The mafia boss’s hand clamps down on the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him again. His eyes are dark with lust and anger, a storm brewing in their depths. "You're going to pay for every lie," he says, his voice a promise of unspeakable torment.

He then pulls his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, the sound echoing through the room. You gasp for air, your throat raw from his rough treatment. He steps back, his gaze traveling down your body, taking in every bruise and tear. "But not before I make you feel everything I felt when I found out you were whoring around."

He grabs you by the hair, yanking you to your feet, the ropes around your ankles making you stumble. He pulls you to the tray of instruments, his eyes lingering on a long, thin knife.

The blade glitters in the light, a silent threat of the pain to come. He picks it up, his hand steady, his movements deliberate. "You're going to tell me who else has had you," he says, the knife hovering just above your skin. "Every name, every touch, every time you spread your legs for someone who wasn't me."

His grip tightens, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw. "And for every lie, I'll make sure you feel it here," he says, pressing the knife against your throat, the cold steel a stark reminder of the power he holds over you.

You stand before him, your body shaking with pain and fear, but you refuse to speak.

The Russian's eyes narrow, and he presses the knife harder, a thin line of blood welling up. "Tell me," he demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

But you remain silent, your teeth clenched, your eyes locked on his.

He sighs, a sound filled with disappointment and resentment. "Very well," he says, moving the knife to your chest.

He slices through your shredded shirt, the fabric giving way easily to reveal your bruised and bloodied skin. "If you won't tell me willingly, I'll make you confess."

He starts to cut, the blade digging into your flesh, tracing patterns of agony across your stomach and ribs. You bite your lip, the pain a living entity consuming you, but you refuse to break.

He pauses, looking up at you with a mix of admiration and anger. "You're so stubborn," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I used to love that about you."

His hand moves lower, the knife grazing your navel, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You can feel your body responding despite the pain, a traitorous arousal building within you. He notices and smirks, the knife moving lower, hovering just above the fabric of your pants. "But now, it's just another reason to make you suffer."

With a quick movement, he slices through the fabric, exposing your nakedness to the cold room. He traces the edge of the knife along the line of your underwear, the threat of what's to come clear in his eyes. "You're going to tell me," he says, his voice a seductive whisper. "Or I'll start peeling you like a damn orange."

You force yourself to remain still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

He leans in, his breath hot on your skin as he presses the knife against your inner thigh, the tip just barely breaking the surface. "Who else has been here?" he asks, his voice a dark caress.

You bite down on your tongue, tasting blood, but still you don't speak. The mafia boss’s eyes flash with anger, and he presses harder, the blade cutting through your skin. You grit your teeth, willing yourself not to scream, not to give in.

With a snarl of frustration, he slices through your underwear, the fabric falling away to reveal your most vulnerable areas. His hand moves to cup your pussy, his grip bruising. "So wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

"Do you get off on the pain I give you?" He strokes you roughly, the knife still pressing against your thigh, a constant reminder of the power he holds. "Or is it the fear?"

His thumb brushes against your clit, and despite the horror of the situation, you feel yourself respond. It's a traitorous betrayal of your own body, but you can't help it; his touch has always had this effect on you.

"You're mine," he says, his voice a low growl. "You'll always be mine." His hand moves from your pussy to your throat, squeezing tightly. You gasp for air, your eyes watering as he forces you to look at him.

"Say it," he demands. "Say you're mine."

You refuse, the word 'no' lodged in your throat, unspoken but clear.

His grip tightens, your vision swimming, but you stand firm, your resolve unbroken. He laughs, the sound a chilling echo in the room. "Fine," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "We'll do this the hard way."

The mafias boss’s patience is at an end, his rage and lust boiling over. He yanks the knife away from your throat, the sharp tip of the blade leaving a trail of fire across your skin as he moves it downward.

With a quick, violent thrust, he pushes the knife into your pussy, the cold steel parting your wet folds with ease.

You scream, the sound a mix of agony and despair, your body trembling as he uses the knife to fuck you.

He's merciless, his strokes deep and hard, the blade sliding in and out of your tight hole, the edges scraping against your inner walls with each brutal thrust. You can feel the warmth of your blood mingling with your arousal, the sensation making you want to gag.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispers, his breath hot on your ear. "You like it when I hurt you. Fucking masochist." His free hand snakes around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you on the edge of consciousness.

"You're such a good little slut, taking it all." He continues to use the knife, his knife thrusts growing more erratic as he gets closer to climax.

"Tell me," he grunts, his voice strained. "Tell me who you've been fucking." But you remain silent, your teeth clenched in a silent snarl of defiance.

The room spins around you, the pain in your breasts and the invasion of the knife in your pussy making it difficult to think straight.

Yet, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

The Russian's grip on the knife tightens, his strokes growing faster, harder. "I'll make you talk," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You can't hide from me forever."

The knife twists, hitting a particularly sensitive spot, and you can't help the scream that tears from your throat. He smiles, the sight of your pain seemingly pushing him closer to the edge.

As you feel the world fading around you, the older man’s grip on your throat tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of anger and arousal.

He slams the knife into your pussy one final time, the pain so intense you think you might actually pass out.

But just as the darkness begins to claim you, he pulls the knife out, the absence of the cold steel leaving you feeling violated and empty.

He throws the knife aside, his own breaths ragged and desperate, his cock pulsing with need.

"Fine," he snarls, his voice a harsh rasp. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way."

With a quick movement, he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down, his cock springing free, thick and hard. He grabs your hips, spinning you around so that you face the chair, your destroyed breasts pressed against the cold metal. He kicks your legs apart, and you feel the tip of his cock nudge against your bruised and bloodied entrance.

"You're going to tell me," he says, his breath hot against your neck. "You're going to tell me every name, every face, every cock that's been inside you."

His hand moves to the back of your head, pushing down until you're bent over the chair, your ass in the air. "And when you do, I'll make it all better. I'll make you forget them all."

His cock slams into you without warning, the pain so intense you can't help but cry out.

He's rough, his movements punishing, his anger and pain manifesting in every thrust. You can feel him stretching you, filling you completely, his cock hitting a spot that makes you see stars.

The Russian's cock slams into you with the force of a battering ram, the pain so intense it steals your breath away. He's not gentle; every thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a punishment for your silence.

Your body shakes with the impact, your bruised breasts smacking against the cold metal chair, the pain from the fresh wounds sending jolts of agony through your system. His hands are like iron bars, holding your hips in place as he uses you, his grip bruising your skin.

Each time he pulls out, you feel the warm gush of your blood and arousal, mixing with the sticky mess he's creating inside you.

"Who else?" he snarls, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your shoulder. The pain is a white-hot brand, but you refuse to give him what he wants.

Instead, you spit in his face, the saliva mixing with the sweat and blood that coats his skin.

He rears back, his eyes flashing with fury, and then he slams into you again, his hips moving like pistons, his cock a weapon of torment. "You think you can resist me?" he growls, his voice a dark whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "I'll make you beg for mercy, cunt."

You bite back a scream as he hits your g-spot, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses your body for his own sadistic pleasure. You can feel him thickening inside you, his orgasm building with every punishing thrust. "Tell me!" he roars, his hand reaching around to squeeze your throat again, cutting off your air supply.

"Tell me who you've been fucking, and maybe I'll let you live." Your eyes bulge, your nails clawing at the chair as you fight the urge to pass out.

After a particularly brutal thrust, the mafia boss releases your throat, and you gasp for air, your lungs burning. "You're going to tell me," he whispers, his voice a promise of more pain to come. "You're going to tell me, or I'll make sure you never feel anything but pain again."

His grip on your hips tightens, and he starts to move faster, his cock pistoning in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. You feel your body betraying you, your walls clenching around his shaft despite the pain, the traitorous orgasm building within you.

"Never," you croak out, your voice barely a whisper.

It's all you can manage, but it's enough to fuel his rage. He slams into you again, his cock hitting a spot that makes you see white. "You're mine," he says, his voice a harsh rasp. "You've always been mine."

His hand moves from your hip to your clit, and he starts to rub it roughly, the friction sending sparks of pain through your body. "You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a dark command. "And then you're going to tell me everything."

Your body is pushed to its limits as the Russian's relentless assault continues. Each thrust feels like a hot iron rod being driven into your soul, the pain unbearable as your body is stretched and filled with his monstrous cock.

The sound of your flesh slapping against his is like a grim symphony of agony, echoing through the cold, sterile room. You can feel your insides tearing, the warmth of your blood mixing with his seed, a grim reminder of his ownership over you. His hand on your clit is a sadistic maestro's touch, forcing pleasure from your bruised and abused body despite the pain.

"Tell me!" he roars, his grip on your hips like vice. "Tell me who's been inside you, and maybe I'll stop." His voice is desperate now, a mix of anger and love warring within him, his need for control overshadowing any shred of humanity he might have once had.

But you remain silent, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind a haze of torment. The only sound in the room is the harsh grunts of his exertion and your muffled whimpers.

The mafia boss’s sadistic stroking of your clit reaches a crescendo, and despite the agony of your injuries, your body responds to his command. You cum around his cock, your muscles clenching tightly, trying to push him out even as they pull him deeper.

He groans in victory, feeling your pussy pulse and spasm around him, his own orgasm building. He fucks you harder, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing down mercilessly on your clit, forcing wave after wave of unwanted pleasure through your trembling form. You scream, the sound a mix of pain and climax, your body shaking as you cum for the second time, blood and fluids painting the chair beneath you.

"Fuck," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so fucking beautiful when you're in pain."

He doesn't stop, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chases his own release. You feel his cock thicken, his grip on your hips tightening until it's almost painful. "Again," he says, his voice a dark whisper. "Cum for me again." And despite yourself, you do, your body responding to the twisted game he's playing with your emotions and your pain.

The mafia man’s orgasm hits like a freight train, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his seed. You feel the warmth of his cum mixing with your blood, the sensation making you want to retch.

But you stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing your despair.

He pulls out, his cock slick with your blood and his cum, and you collapse onto the chair, your legs giving out beneath you. You're sobbing now, the pain and humiliation too much to hold in.

He stands over you, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and glistening. "Look at what you've done to yourself," he says, his voice a mix of anger and pity.

"This is what happens when you betray me." He grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head up so you have to meet his gaze.

His eyes are wild, the love and hurt swirling together in a toxic brew. "But I can fix you," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I can make you mine again." He releases you, and you slump back down, your head hanging limply.

The mafia boss stares down at you, his chest heaving with his own release. The rage in his eyes hasn't dimmed, but there's something else there now. Something that looks almost like hope.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a mix of disgust and admiration. "You're still fighting." He steps closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw, his touch gentle despite the bruises he's left there.

"But you can't win, my love."

You spit in his face again, the defiance burning in your eyes like a dying ember.

It's all you have left, and you cling to it with everything you have.

He wipes the spit away with the back of his hand, his smile twisted. "Oh, how I've missed your fire," he says, his voice a low growl. He grabs you by the shoulders, spinning you around to face him. "But it's time to put it out."

With a swift movement, he pulls you to your feet, the ropes around your ankles cutting into your skin as you stand. He yanks your torn shirt up, the fabric sticking to your blood-covered breasts.

His eyes travel over your body, a mix of hunger and disgust. "You're a mess," he says, his voice filled with contempt. "But I'll make you clean again."

He pulls you closer, his cock still hard against your stomach. "You're going to tell me," he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. "And when you do, I'll make you forget all about them."

The Russian's eyes gleam with a dark excitement as he takes in your bruised and bloodied form. He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat.

His free hand reaches down to a specific part of his belt, unbuckling it with a sharp click that echoes through the room. He then pulls out a set of keys from it and unlocks a drawer in the desk, revealing an assortment of whips, chains, and other tools of torture. His hand lingers over them, a sadistic smile playing on his lips as he selects a particularly vicious-looking whip.

The mafia boss selects the spiked whip, the leather crackling with anticipation. He takes a moment to appreciate the gleaming metal spikes, the sight of them making your stomach churn. He grabs a bottle of vodka from the same drawer, the clear liquid sloshing in the bottle as he brings it to your blood-soaked crotch.

You try to jerk away, but his grip on your hair is unyielding. With a cruel smirk, he pours the alcohol over your wounds, the stinging pain making your vision swim.

You scream as the liquid seeps into your freshly torn flesh, the coldness of the vodka a stark contrast to the heat of your blood.

He doesn't give you a chance to recover, instead bringing the whip down in a vicious arc that connects with your bruised and abused pussy with a wet slap.

The pain is a white-hot brand, searing through you as the spikes tear into your sensitive flesh.

You can feel the alcohol burning into your wounds, a fresh agony added to the symphony of pain already playing in your body.

He doesn't stop there, though; he brings the whip down again and again, each strike more precise and brutal than the last.

You thrash in his grip, trying to escape the torment, but he's too strong, too determined to break you. His strikes are methodical, a twisted dance of pain and power, the whip's spikes digging deeper with every hit.

The mafia boss then wraps the end of the whip around your throat, the spikes biting into your tender flesh as he squeezes, cutting off your air supply. You claw at his wrist, your nails leaving bloody furrows in his skin, but he only tightens his grip.

Your eyes bulge, your chest heaving for air that won't come, your vision swimming with stars.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction as he watches the life drain from you. "Tell me," he whispers, his voice a dark promise of more pain if you don't.

But you refuse to give in, even as your lungs burn and your chest feels like it's going to explode.

Your hands fall to your sides, your body going limp in his grip, the only sound in the room the wet, gurgling noise of your struggles. He holds you there for a moment longer, watching you with a twisted fascination before finally letting go.

You gasp for air, your throat raw and burning, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. He smiles, a twisted parody of affection, and pulls out another tool from the drawer.

It's a metal rod, the end shaped into a cruel hook.

"This," he says, his voice a dark purr, "Is for when you decide to be more… cooperative."

He steps closer, the rod in his hand glinting in the harsh light of the room.

You can see your reflection in the gleaming surface, a broken doll covered in blood and sweat. He runs the hook over your skin, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch that's somehow more terrifying than the pain of the whip.

"You're going to tell me," he says, his voice a gentle coaxing that's more unsettling than his previous roars. "And when you do, I'll make it all better."

You spit blood in his face again, your voice a harsh whisper. "Never."

The word is a declaration of war, a challenge he seems to relish.

He laughs, a sound devoid of humor, and brings the hook closer to your pussy.

"We'll see about that," he murmurs, the hook pressing against your bruised and swollen flesh.

You tense, expecting the worst, but he surprises you by sliding it along your slit, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your pain. The mafia boss uses the hook to spread your labia, exposing the raw, bloody mess he's made of your most intimate parts.

"Look at this," he says, his voice filled with a twisted admiration. "You're so beautiful when you're broken."

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he runs the tip of the hook along your clit. The sensation is so intense, you almost pass out from the pain.

"But you're going to be even more beautiful when you're mine again."

He pushes the hook inside you, the spikes scraping along the inside of your pussy, and you scream hysterically, your body arching in agony.

The mafia boss’s smile widens as he watches you writhe in pain, the hook still embedded in your pussy. He takes a step back, admiring his handiwork, and then reaches for a small, black case on the desk.

Inside, you see a collection of needles, glinting in the cold light of the room.

His eyes never leave yours as he selects one, long and thin, with a wicked curve at the end. You can feel your body tightening around the hook, your muscles spasming in a futile attempt to push it out.

"This is for when you're feeling particularly uncooperative," he says, his voice a dark purr. He takes the needle between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently.

"But I suspect you're going to be feeling quite cooperative very soon." He brings the needle closer to your pussy, the curve lining up with your clit.

You can feel the sharpness of the tip against your swollen flesh, and you fight the urge to beg him to stop.

But you won't give him that power.

With a swift, precise movement, he inserts the needle, the point piercing your clit and sliding deep into your pussy.

The pain is like nothing you've ever felt before, a searing agony that makes you want to pass out.

You scream, your body jerking against the chair, but he holds you steady, his grip unyielding. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal.

"Take it like the good little whore you are." He starts to move the needle, twisting it inside you, the curve scraping along your inner walls.

Each twist sends a fresh wave of pain through you, making you want to vomit.

The mafia boss steps back, admiring his work, as you sob and whimper in pain. "You see," he says, his voice almost gentle, "It doesn't have to be this way. Tell me what I want to know, and I can make this all stop."

But you stay silent, your teeth clenched, your eyes squeezed shut.

He sighs, the sound filled with disappointment. "Very well," he says, his voice cold again. "But you're going to wish you had talked sooner."

He selects another needle from the case, his eyes never leaving yours.

He brings it to your pussy, the tip hovering just above your clit. "I'll give you one more chance," he says, his voice a deadly whisper. "Tell me who's been fucking you, and maybe I'll go easy on you."

You remain silent, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back your screams.

With a shrug, he pushes the second needle in alongside the first, the sensation of the sharp points tearing through your tender flesh making you want to pass out.

The Russian's eyes darken as he watches your silent defiance.

He starts to play with the needles, twisting and moving them with a precision that speaks of practice and skill. You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain.

"So stubborn," he murmurs, his voice a mix of admiration and anger. "But you'll break eventually." He grabs another handful of needles, his eyes traveling over your body, considering where to insert them next. You can feel the cold sweat trickling down your back, the pain making your vision blur.

The mafia boss’s hand moves with the precision of a surgeon, inserting needle after needle into your pussy. Each one sinks into your flesh with a sickening pop, the pain so intense you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

You're a pincushion of pain, each movement sending a fresh wave of agony through your body.

The needles are inserted at different angles, some going deep while others skim the surface, the varying depths creating a tapestry of torment that makes you want to scream.

Then the Russian's hand moves with a newfound fervor, the needles sliding into your flesh with an eerie grace.

The hook remains lodged deep inside you, the spikes scraping along your swollen walls as he twists it in a sickening rhythm that matches the insertion of the needles.

The pain is so intense, it feels like your entire body is on fire, your pussy a focal point of agony that threatens to consume you.

You feel the wetness of your blood mixing with the lubricant he's used, creating a macabre dance of red and clear fluids that dribble down your thighs.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You've always been mine, and you always will be."

His words are a knife, twisting in the wound of your soul, as he adds another needle, the metal scraping against the hook with an almost musical sound. You can feel the sharp points digging in deeper, the pain an almost tangible presence in the room. "Tell me," he says, his voice a gentle coaxing that makes your skin crawl. "Tell me who's been fucking my wife."

The mafia boss slightly smirks, stepping back from you, as his eyes gleaming with a twisted excitement.

He reaches for a small, red canister on the desk, the label written in a language you don't recognize.

You know what it is, though; you've seen it used in interrogations before. It's a can of lighter fluid, and you know what he's planning.

He douses the needles and the hook with the fluid, the harsh smell of the gasoline-like substance filling the room.

Your heart races, fear mixing with the pain as he takes a step back and flicks open a lighter.

The flame dances in the air, the light flickering over the needles embedded in your pussy, making the metal glint ominously.

"This is your last chance," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me, and I'll make it quick."

The flame hovers near the needles, the heat making your skin crawl. You clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the unimaginable agony that's about to come. "Who have you been fucking?" he demands again.

But you stay silent, your resolve unbroken despite the hell you're enduring.

With a snarl of frustration, he brings the flame closer, the heat growing more intense until it's almost unbearable.

You can feel your skin blistering around the base of the needles, the smell of burning flesh making you gag.

The mafia boss’s hand hovers over the needles, the flame reflecting in his eyes. "Fine," he says, his voice cold. "You want to play the martyr, I'll give you a performance to remember."

In one swift motion, he presses the lighter to the needles.

The fluid catches fire, the heat searing through your pussy in an explosion of agony that makes you arch off the chair.

You scream, the sound echoing through the room as the flames dance along the metal, the heat spreading through your insides like molten lava. The mafia boss watches you burn, his expression a twisted mix of anger and fascination.

The needles glow red-hot, the heat so intense it feels like your soul is being torn from your body. You can feel the flesh around the hook contracting, the spikes and needles digging deeper with each spasm of pain.

The flames lick at your tender flesh, the pain so intense that it's all you can focus on.

Your screams fill the room, a cacophony of agony and despair that seems to echo off the walls.

The mafia boss watches, his eyes alight with a perverse excitement as he sees you finally break.

Your body jerks and spasms against the chair, the ropes cutting into your skin as you struggle to escape the fire.

The needles are embedded so deeply now, the metal searing your insides as the flames dance around them.

The smell of your burning flesh fills the room, a sickeningly sweet aroma that makes your stomach churn.

────────────

The flames from the needles flicker and die out, leaving behind smoking metal embedded in your burnt flesh. The hook remains lodged deep inside you, a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your body is a wreck, a canvas of bruises, cuts, and burns, a testament to the extreme lengths he's willing to go to break you. Your breathing is shallow and erratic, each inhale a battle against the pain that threatens to swallow you whole.

The mafia boss’s smile fades as he watches you slip into unconsciousness, your body a broken doll in the chair.

He sighs, his frustration clear as he puts out the last of the flames with a damp cloth. He's impressed by your endurance, by the sheer force of your will to survive and not give him what he wants.

But he's not done with you yet.

He can't be.

You're his, and he won't let you die until you're his again.

The mafia boss leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, as he presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your bruised and bloody lips.

The contrast between his gentle touch and the agony of your burnt flesh sends a shiver down your spine.

His hand moves to the hook, gripping it firmly as he slowly pulls it out of you, the spikes tearing through your raw, swollen pussy with a wet, squelching sound that makes you whimper despite being unconscious.

The hook comes out with a final, sickening pop, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

"You're so stubborn," he murmurs, his voice a soft caress that seems to mock the pain he's inflicted on you. He carefully removes the needles one by one, his movements efficient and precise despite the anger that still lingers in his eyes.

Each removal sends a fresh wave of pain through your body, making you jerk and gasp even in your unconscious state. "But that's what I love about you," he says, his voice a mix of admiration and frustration.

The mafia boss sets aside the bloody needles and hook, reaching for a first aid kit that seems out of place in the room of torture.

He cleans your wounds with a gentle touch, his fingers deftly applying ointment and bandages to the burns and cuts. You can feel the coolness of the medical supplies against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the flames that had just been there.

He seems almost disappointed that you're not awake to see his 'care' for you, his eyes lingering on your bruised and broken form with a disturbing mix of love and anger.

"You're going to be okay," he whispers, his voice a strange blend of sweetness and malice. "I'll make sure of it."

He tapes the last bandage into place, his eyes lingering on the gaping hole where the hook had been. His thumb traces the edge of the wound, the pad of his finger coming away sticky with your blood.

He brings it to his lips, tasting you, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he opens them again, the anger in them burning like the embers of a dying fire.

You're vaguely aware of the pain as he tends to you, the fog of unconsciousness lifting slightly.

Each touch feels like a brand, a reminder of your submission to his will.

He wraps you in a blanket, lifting you with surprising gentleness from the chair, and carries you to a cot in the corner of the room.

He lays you down, his hand brushing through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "Rest," he says, his voice a command wrapped in a velvet glove. "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

The mafia boss locks the door behind him with a final click, leaving you alone in the cold, sterile room.

The cot is hard and uncomfortable, but it's the closest thing to relief you've felt in what seems like an eternity.

Your eyes fully drift shut, the darkness behind your lids offering a temporary reprieve from the horrors you've endured.

But sleep doesn't come easy.

The pain keeps you on the edge of consciousness, a constant reminder of the hell you're in.

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | parts i-iii

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni), fluff at the end

warnings: smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole but he gets better, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), oral (f. receiving), dom!gyu, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 18.7k

notes: ... hi. literally nobody asked for this, but i realized that part 2 of this work didn't even show up in the tags, so i decided to compile all of the previous parts as well as the ending together. hopefully, you all enjoy this. i'm still struggling, but i pray you all still like it even if it's not me at my best. feedback is always appreciated :) thank you!

part i: august

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck. 

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful. 

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now. 

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens. 

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is. 

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway. 

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you. 

-

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu. 

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown. 

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures. 

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story. 

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof. 

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion. 

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair. 

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something?  please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too. 

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh. 

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt. 

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —” 

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch. 

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole. 

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace. 

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste. 

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed. 

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject. 

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression. 

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you. 

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading. 

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself. 

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.” 

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely. 

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says. 

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you. 

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?” 

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy. 

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret. 

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?” 

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else. 

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

-

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them. 

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame. 

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words. 

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?” 

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.” 

-

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced. 

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —” 

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed. 

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod. 

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.” 

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?” 

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words. 

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

because it was easy. 

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance. 

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me” 

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him. 

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out. 

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

-

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong. 

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off. 

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.” 

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth. 

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly. 

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion. 

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…” 

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even. 

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again. 

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

-

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize. 

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside. 

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure. 

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response. 

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison. 

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral. 

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance. 

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —” 

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out. 

“i think — i know —  i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods. 

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?” 

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

part ii: cardigan

beomgyu can’t tell if his eyes are stinging from the alcohol you splashed in his face or from the sheer humiliation he feels. maybe from both. probably from both. either way, tears fall as a result. he probably looks like a madman as he stumbles along the concrete on his walk home from the bar. he still has the beer bottle you shoved at him in his hand, and luckily for him, there’s still enough in there to help him get a little tipsier than he already is. he needs it, too, because your words play like a broken record in his head.

you don’t know the first thing about love. 

do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore.

each and every word feels like you knew exactly the right thing to say to pierce his heart, but he knows better than to think you cared enough to think about it to the point of choosing them so carefully. no, the words you said were what you really felt at the moment. you didn’t even have to try to hurt him, you just had to tell the truth. somehow, that hurts even more. 

he replays the entire debacle in his head and tries to think of what he could have said differently. to be honest, there are a lot things, but he has a feeling that no matter what he said, you would’ve reacted the same exact way. if he really thinks about it, maybe some small, ugly part of him hoped you’d forgive him as easily as you have always been wont to do, but it's clear to him now that he was just being delusional. maybe he was still under the impression that you’d be as easy to please as ever, but with how repulsed you seemed to be by his words, his touch, him, he has no such expectations anymore.

he now finds himself at an impasse. where does he go from here? you made it clear that you’re done with him, but he still loves you. you don't want his love anymore, so where is that love supposed to go? the only person he feels like he can ask no longer wants to speak to him. he’s unsure if he wants to turn to you because you’d understand, or just because you’re the only person he trusts.

needless to say, the walk home from the bar is a long one, indeed. one filled with pensive silence, save for the steady sound of swigs being taken from his bottle and the occasional sob. 

-

most people in your friend group have no idea what transpired between you and beomgyu, but the smart ones, like taehyun, know something must have happened by the way you avoid hangouts in which beomgyu is present like the plague. he doesn’t pry when you bail, though, for which you are thankful. a few weeks pass before you have the epiphany that beomgyu has already ruined enough, and you won’t let him ruin your friendships, too.

when you show up to taehyun’s for his celebratory house party in lieu of a promotion at his job, everyone cheers when you walk through the door, which makes your cheeks heat up, and you feel so relieved that your friends are still the same even when it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve seen them. taehyun pulls you in for a hug, and you eagerly reciprocate it.

“glad you made it,” he grins. 

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile, which just makes him beam even more.

you’re pleasantly surprised to note that beomgyu is nowhere to be seen, and you relax for a bit before falling into the familiar rhythm that is being with your friends. you missed this. you missed them. and it seems like they’ve missed you just as much if their excited chatter is anything to go by. you were, admittedly, a little tense when you first came in, but all of that melts away as you join in on the banter and pure fun that is being with the people you love the most.

although beomgyu is nowhere to be found, soobin still never leaves your side. he watches the door like a hawk, and you feel at ease with the knowledge that he’s beside you regardless of the outcome. so what if beomgyu shows up? you belong here, and you have soobin and the rest of your friends with you. knowing beomgyu like you do, his passing fancy has almost certainly ended and he will ignore you like the son of a bitch that he is. 

with this notion in mind, you are not at all prepared for the way the aforementioned boy slams taehyun’s front door open and drunkenly stumbles in. the room gets quiet after he does so, and everyone stares as he scans the room with blank, reddened eyes. when his gaze catches yours, you break eye contact almost immediately, opting to turn to soobin with what you hope is an unbothered look, not to keep up any pretenses with him, but because you don’t want anyone other than him to know how uncomfortable you are. in turn, he grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and he does not move to unlace his hand with yours even after he does it.

while you’re trying to be discreet, beomgyu is anything but as he continues to stare at you with a dumbed out look on his face. the intense atmosphere is only broken when taehyun stands up to greet him with a side hug and a pat on the other boy’s back. 

“hey, gyu. i’m happy you’re here,” he says.

“mm,” beomgyu replies, eyes still never leaving you and lingering at the way you and soobin have your hands joined, and taehyun’s casual side hug turns into him having to support beomgyu’s weight as beomgyu almost falls over while standing. 

“you’re really fucking drunk,” taehyun murmurs with a wrinkled nose as he smells the alcohol on beomgyu’s entire person. “c’mon, you can relax in my room for a bit.”

beomgyu can only nod as he leans on taehyun for stability and walks towards taehyun’s room. his gaze on you only breaks when taehyun shuts the door behind him, and if your friends didn’t know that something odd was afoot with the two of you, they certainly seem to know now as they look between taehyun’s room and your awkward figure.

“you okay?” a soft, sweet voice whispers. you turn to soobin and muster up a forced smile and a nod. his hand is still holding yours and he soothingly brushes his thumb over your hand in order to try to calm you down. somehow, it actually kind of works. 

-

you’re here. beomgyu thought he may be hallucinating or something just because you seem to haunt him everywhere he goes now, but he knew it was the real thing when he saw how uncomfortable you were. he knows this because in his delusions, you’re either flatout rejecting him or, in the good ones, you’re forgiving him. those are the ones he likes the most, but he hates the sobering aftermath when he realizes they are, in fact, only figments of his imagination.

so now he sits on taehyun’s bed in a daze as he focuses on the door. you’re so close that his heart physically aches in yearning as it insists on closing the distance between you two, but taehyun’s sharp look stops him from doing anything too terribly stupid. 

“this has got to stop,” taehyun halfway pleads, halfway scolds.

“what does?” beomgyu asks dumbly.

“showing up everywhere drunk as hell,” he replies. “look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i know it has to do with her, and i know you’re probably — definitely — in the wrong.” 

beomgyu has enough shame to hang his head and purse his lips in response.

“i don’t know what you did, i don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, i know you’re not making any of it better by getting fucked up every night. stay in here, sober up, and only come out when you’re ready to act like an adult.” and with that, taehyun stalks over to the door before shutting it behind him.

beomgyu is not stupid, but he’s not exactly emotionally intelligent, either; so while taehyun’s words sting, they’re not enough to pull him out of his pity party. all he seems to care about in this moment is being next to you, but he remembers the scene of your hands locking with soobin’s. are you seeing each other now? that can’t be it. the heart does not move on that quickly, but maybe yours did. maybe you buried your feelings for him as deep as they could go in the face of the seemingly repulsive confession of love he gave to you. maybe you belong with somebody like soobin, who’s so gentle and caring. soobin definitely listens to you, cherishes you, treats you gently. maybe beomgyu didn’t exactly understand it before now, but he really understands it at this moment: soobin loves you.

maybe, in a way, he always sort of knew. maybe he felt some sort of sick satisfaction at the way you kept your eyes trained on him while soobin was training his eyes on you. maybe he felt some 12-year-old boy kind of pride at the way you seemed to put him before anyone else in spite of such a viable prospective suitor, but any contentment he may have felt is flushed away at the anxiety of you having somebody so good right besides you — somebody who is obviously much better than him.

do you feel the same way? no, even before that, are you okay? he knows he hurt you really badly. are you still hurting? he wants to know. he has to know. so before he can talk himself out of it, he’s stumbling towards the door.

-

things are still pretty tense when taehyun walks out, but they begin to calm down after everyone asks if beomgyu is alright and taehyun answers in the positive, and you think you might just be in the clear before realizing things are never that easy. beomgyu stumbles out of the door and his gaze immediately locks on you.

“hey,” he says a little too loudly. the room is quiet, and though he didn’t say who he was addressing, it’s obvious it’s you with the way he’s staring so intensely. 

“hey,” he repeats even louder this time. to his chagrin, soobin is still next to you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t slide into the open space on the other side of you. of course, propriety would say that he shouldn’t, but propriety means nothing to beomgyu at this moment. not when he’s so drunk he smells like rubbing alcohol, and not when he’s so openly desperate he looks like a man gone mad.

with no grace to be seen, he plops down next to you, and even through your clothes and his jeans, his legs against yours still feel like they burn you. you try to move to avoid his touch so aggressively that poor, large soobin is squeezed into the armrest even more; and it’s all for naught, anyway, because beomgyu just scoots himself even closer. 

“how’re you?” he slurs, and though everyone tries their best not to seem like they’re eavesdropping, they most certainly are. no matter how hard they try not to stare, their gazes keep flicking towards the two of you and their voices are a little more hushed. you’re beyond embarrassed, but beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind their looks one bit.

“beomgyu…” you whisper exasperatedly, accepting your fate as the spectacle that you currently are and trying to nip it in the bud with your obvious distaste for the situation.

“i jus’ wanna know how you are,” he says desperately as he senses your clear rejection, but to his eventual regret, he doesn't stop. you try to keep your voice low as you say your next words.

“good. look, i really don’t wanna do this with you right now. i have nothing to say to you and you don’t have anything to say to me that i actually want to hear, so i think it’s best if —” 

“but i told you i love you!” he exclaims, and everyone around you ceases to pretend that they aren’t listening. how can they even pretend when he’s quite literally yelling? you don’t notice a thing, though. you’re too absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before you, in which you are in the starring role. “i… i jus’ love you so much, i —” and before he can get out his next words, you’re swiftly standing up with soobin in tow and thanking taehyun for the invite while shuffling out of the front door.

-

beomgyu is devastated when you leave. he takes to walking outside to taehyun’s balcony as he lets tears roam freely down his reddened face. he thinks he’s alone before he hears somebody opening the door and shutting it behind them.

“do you seriously still not get it?” chaewon sneers.

“get what?” he sniffles, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh before she gets out her next words.

“you love her, right? and you miss her?” she asks slowly, as if he’s so stupid, he wouldn’t understand her if she said it any other way.

“of course i do,” he snaps, not appreciating the condescension in her tone, but all the bite is lost in translation because he looks nothing short of pathetic as his tears steadily fall. 

“right. you love her, you miss her, you want to talk to her. you, you, you. it’s still all about you and what you feel, but what about what she feels?” she asks, and he falters at her words. “all you’re doing is making things hard on her, and i can promise you that this ‘woe-is-me’ shit you’re doing right now isn’t gonna change her mind.” 

he thinks back to how you acted when you loved him — how you bent over backwards to try to conceal your feelings so as not to inconvenience him. how everything you did was to make life easier on him, no matter how difficult it was for you. yes, you loved him, but you did it in a way he could accept. you did things his way, and for so long; and all he’s done in return is demand your love in his way, yet again.

“so what do i do?” he earnestly asks. “how do i get her back?” 

“... after what you've done to her? you don't,” she answers after a pause, and he deflates at her words. she’s right, of course.

he thinks about how he’d feel if you treated him the way he treated you. he feels like his heart is dying in his chest just at the memory of you rejecting him, but to be rejected so cruelly? what do you even do with yourself then? he wonders how people live with that kind of hurt, but then, you did it for so long and were even able to paste a smile on your face as you did it. he remembers when he thought that you were a horrible actress because of how he could still see through you despite how bothered you obviously were by his actions, but only now does he understand how much resilience it must've taken. somehow, it just makes him miss you even more. makes him love you even more.

-

beomgyu is a pervert. a sick-in-the-head, nasty, freakish, bottom-of-the-barrel, lowdown, dirty pervert. that's the only way he can accurately describe himself in this moment, and the guilt is strong, but not stronger than his need to let this dream play out the way he wants it to. and the way he wants it to goes like this:

your naked body is splayed across beomgyu’s bed as you watch him undress with watery eyes. 

“i need you, gyu,” you whimper as tears threaten to fall.

“shh, baby. lemme take care of you,” he whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance.

you brace yourself by locking your hands around his neck as he pushes in, and you both groan as your pussy struggles to take him in. it’s so real, he feels you spasm around him like it did on the night you spent together, and he knows he’s a goner.

he lets you adjust for a few moments before slowly pulling out, then thrusting himself back in again. each stroke feels like heaven as you cry out with every movement. he grips your hips, but he tries his best not to hurt you when he does it. you’re far too precious to leave marks on, after all. 

beomgyu gets lost in the feeling all too quickly. he wants to be uncharacteristically gentle, but the feeling of you squeezing around him makes his eyes redden, and before long, he’s drilling into you. 

“‘m close!” you cry out.

“me too, baby,” he whispers, and the feeling of you clenching around him as you come is enough to send him over the edge. he spills himself into you with a broken moan. 

“i love you,” he says desperately as he tries to catch his breath. but even in his dreams, you don’t reply. 

-

soobin has always been sweet, but ever since the beomgyu incident he’s been even sweeter. he shows up to your place with your favorite snacks and never asks any unsavory questions. he takes your calls in the dead of night when he’s clearly been trying to sleep. he holds your hand when you start to space out. 

at first, it was easy to chalk it all up to what best friends do, but as the physical intimacy begins to increase, you start suspecting that something deeper is going on. you are not a cruel person — you’re not the type to pretend not to see something so clear when it inconveniences you (unlike a certain someone). so when soobin places your head on his shoulder during a movie night, against your meek disposition, you ask him a very simple question.

“binnie, do you like me?” and you don’t quite have the courage to look up at him while you ask him, opting to stare at the screen before you.

“yeah. yes, i do,” he replies, and while you would rather continue to avoid eye contact, you have enough respect for him to sit up and look him in his eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you say, because what else can you say? 

“i know. i know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to tell me,” he answers with a soft, forced smile.

“i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i know you don’t.”

“what can i do?” you ask sincerely.

“i… i don’t need you to do anything. if you need me, you have me. if you don’t need me, you still have me,” he tells you.

“that’s not fair to you.”

“then just give me some time,” he replies. “i’ll get over it if you just give me some time.”

“okay,” you nod.

“are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, still as concerned about you as ever. as if you’re not breaking his heart.

“i will be,” you lie. regardless of whether he believes you or not, he nods and gathers his things before leaving.

-

you are, in the most crass of terms, pissy drunk. your sticky situation with soobin is one for the history books, if you do say so yourself, and you lack the proper vernacular at the moment to express just how awful it is. who knew your best friend on this planet had secret feelings for you? well, it seems like everyone, actually, because as you confide in your friends, none seem to be particularly surprised. it appears that you’re the last one to find out. 

of course, you’re only able to deal with the revelation by visiting your favorite bar. against your better judgment, you go alone. usually, you’d ask soobin to come with you, but you can’t do that with the way things are right now, which just makes you feel even worse. you’re on drink number three (or four…  or five…) when an unknown man slides into the barstool next to you. you don’t quite catch his name, but you know you’re not interested in him, or, well, anyone at the moment. you’re far too distracted by your current circumstances to even entertain the thought of another man right now, but even as you deny, deny, deny him, he doesn’t quite seem to get the message.

your vision is blurred as you try to hint to him for what must be the umpteenth time that you’re not looking for anything at the moment, but he still doesn’t understand, and you’re starting to feel every ounce of alcohol you’ve consumed until now. you place your head in your hands as you try to keep the room from spinning, but it doesn’t seem to help, and you can feel his hand squeezing your upper thigh. you’re not the most assertive person at the best of times, and you are certainly even less so in your drunken state, so you’re trying to gather your bearings to reject him once and for all when you feel an arm sliding around your neck. 

“there you are, baby. who’s this?” a baritone voice asks rather loudly, a voice you’d recognize anywhere. beomgyu’s. your gut reaction is to push him off and cuss him out, but even with your delayed reactions, you’re able to register that he’s trying to help you out as you lock eyes with his hesitant brown ones.

“gyu,” you say with what you hope is a believable smile. 

“you’re taken?” the man asks disappointedly.

“yep,” you reply, and he scoffs before pushing out his barstool so abruptly, the chair squeaks before storming away. 

“are you alright?” beomgyu asks quietly.

“‘m fine,” you tell him as you rip his arm off from your shoulder. “i don’t need your help.” 

“i know!” he exclaims a little too desperately. “i-i know that, i just —” but the universe smacks you across the face as you begin to gag, alcohol choosing now of all times to rock your stomach with a vengeance. you begin to try to scramble off of the stool, but you’re so drunk, you’re having trouble even standing up. 

without any prompting, beomgyu hurriedly pulls you up and places your arm around his shoulder before hustling you to the bathroom. you don’t even have time to close the door behind you before you’re hunched over the toilet and choking vomit out of your throat. beomgyu slams the door behind him and rushes over to your pitiful frame before shushing you and rubbing circles into your back in an attempt to calm you down. in turn, you bat his hands away without even condescending to look at him when you do it. his heart stings, but he realizes it’s not about him as you lurch forward and continue to empty your stomach. 

when you’re finally finished, you feel a wet paper towel gently rubbing the sweat off of your forehead, then it travels down to your lips where vomit still pools around them. beomgyu intently cleans you up without saying a word.

“a-are you alright?” he asks meekly, and as if only now registering that it’s him, you push his hands away and say your next words. 

“i thought i told you i didn’t need your fucking help. i hate when people make me repeat myself, didn’t you know?” he winces at your harsh words and sharpness of tone.

“i… i know. i’m sorry. i just thought that you might want somebody with you. i’m really sorry.” and even through your drunken stupor, you know he’s not just apologizing for his interference. but you don’t care.

“and why would i want you?” he’s silent at this before finally replying. 

“you know, when you told me i’d regret it, i didn’t really understand what you meant; but i understand it now. i’m really, really regretting it. i should’ve listened to you,” he says softly with tears brimming in his reddened eyes. 

you’re at a loss for words at this. what do you say? what can you say besides “i told you so”? somehow, that doesn’t quite do the sentiment justice.

part iii: betty

after vomiting, you actually feel like you’ve sobered up quite a bit, but you’re still not speaking, which beomgyu takes to heart.

“i can’t — i’m just really, really sorry,” he brokenly sobs in the face of your silence. “so sorry.” 

“i know,” you reply after a pause, and you do know. you didn’t before, but his pathetic actions and demeanor have shown you that he means what he says. your acknowledgment of his repentance just makes him cry even harder, though. because it doesn’t seem to have changed a thing.

“i was a bastard. i was so fucking awful to you when you were just trying to help me, and i didn’t know what i had until you were gone,” he continues, quite openly sobbing at this point. he looks like a man gone mad as he cries in the public restroom of a bar, but what's the point of trying to keep his cool now? maybe this way, you’ll understand just how much he means what he says.

but you’re the victim. you’re the one who should be crying her heart out at the moment. you didn’t even do anything besides reject him after he’s been continuously rejecting you and treating you like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe for years. why does he get to cry and get what he wants? what about you?  you want to hold onto this injustice, but the way he crumbles in front of you makes your heart soften. no matter how angry you may be, you can't help but try to reason with him.

“beomgyu, i know you’re sorry. i really do,” you sigh, and your tone tells him everything he needs to know, but he still hangs onto every word as if they’re the most important things he’ll ever hear. still, he feels dread at what you have to say next tugging on his heartstrings.

“but it’s just not enough. you treated me like i was garbage for years. you used me and my feelings, and tossed me away whenever you wanted.” and he withers even more with every word. “and i let you do it because i loved you and i thought you didn’t know how i felt, but you fucking knew what you were doing; and you still slept with me while knowing how i felt about you. how can you expect me to forgive you for that?” you ask, and it is not completely rhetorical. you seem to be searching for an answer, but he doesn’t have one. he never did. if he could figure out how to justify any of his actions, he would, but he can’t seem to come up with anything even as he scrambles for a response. 

he knows he's losing you, so why not just be honest? as a last ditch effort, he lays everything out on the table. 

“you said you loved me,” he says. “m-maybe, if i can be better, you’ll love me again. i can be good for you, i-i know i can. so if you just —” 

“beomgyu,” you interrupt, though not maliciously. you seem to have some level of patience for him even in spite of everything. “i still love you. love was never the problem.” and he can’t help but feel a shred of hope bud in the wake of your words, but it’s killed in its crib at what you say next. “but that’s just not enough anymore. the way you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks is how i’ve felt for years. i bet you can’t even imagine that — i don’t even want you to imagine that, actually. it just hurts too much.” 

and while you just said that you didn’t want him to, he can’t help but envision exactly that: the feeling that he had when you were with soobin multiplied exponentially. and for so long. and with different people. that same pain over and over and over again with no reprieve besides for the hope that someday, if you’re lucky, you might have a chance. someday, maybe any day, but probably not any time soon. to live like that and for so long, just thinking about it makes his heart ache and his stomach churn. 

“do you understand me now?” you ask, and gone are the traces of resentment and disgust. your gaze is only filled with pity. somehow, that makes him feel even worse. 

“y-yeah,” he says breathlessly with an inhale so sharp, it’s as if he’s in physical pain, all the while trying desperately to gather his bearings and to look and sound like a functioning member of society. he fails in light of his constant stream of tears. “i, um, i get it now.” 

“okay,” you say softly. “i’m going to call yunjin so she can pick me up. can you get home safely?” this is it. you don’t have to say it, but he knows that you two will never speak again after this. what else is there to say, after all? 

“i can.”

“good,” you smile, and he tries his best to smile, too, but he doesn’t quite make it there. “goodbye, beomgyu.”

“goodbye,” he whispers shakily, and he looks so profoundly devastated that you wish you could comfort him, but you know it’d just make things worse; so without another word, you leave him alone as you prepare to call yunjin.

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he spends in the wake of your absence, but he cries until no more tears will leave his eyes. when he's all cried out, eyes swollen and face red, he leaves the bar in a state of borderline delirium. your words echo in his unstable state of mind, and he realizes that even when you had every right to treat him like the scum of the earth, you were kinder than he could ever reasonably expect for you to be. it seems that you still gave him more than he ever deserved. as always.

-

things with soobin have stayed in an odd sort of purgatory for weeks now, but unfortunately or not, life goes on, so you don't have the luxury of ruminating on it as much as you probably need to. you don't reach out very much for fear of unwittingly making your circumstances with him even more difficult for him to move past, but that certainly doesn't mean that you don't miss him. still, you prioritize his feelings in the matter over your own and patiently await the day where he finally feels comfortable enough to be friends with you once more. he forgoes most of the gatherings that your friends arrange, and it's like a knife to the heart every time. 

as for your situation with beomgyu, you deliberately try to push that out of your mind as frequently as humanly possible. you feel like things have ended on the best note you could ever ask for, and your friends know better than to bring him up around you, so you figure that ignorance is bliss. old habits die hard, though, and you find yourself wanting to check on him, but you remind yourself that that’s not your job anymore — and it never should have been in the first place, really, which is enough to stop you in your tracks on the bad nights where you want nothing more than to reach out. you reason with yourself that he has friends, so there’s no need to concern yourself with him. 

but you miss him. you miss when you were stupid enough to believe that he didn’t know about your feelings. you wish you could go back and erase your love for him so you two could go back to just being friends. what he did was unforgivable, you know that, but you still miss all the times he made you laugh. still, that pales in comparison to all the times he made you cry, right? that's how you should look at things. that's how you will look at things. 

as it is, you’re perfectly fine with never speaking to him again. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

-

“are you okay?” taehyun asks in a hushed tone. he hasn’t seen beomgyu in over a month now, but beomgyu finally agreed to come out with him after taehyun said he missed him. now, they are seated in a booth at the dimly lit bar just down the street from taehyun’s place.

“y-yeah,” beomgyu replies with a forced upturn of his lips as he sloshes around the non-alcoholic drink in his cup. after the last time you saw him, he decided to ditch alcohol for the time being. taehyun was right about him needing to act like an adult, and he just knows that if he were to get even a drop of alcohol in him, he’d come crawling back to you, probably to your disgust. 

“good,” taehyun sighs in relief. “i was really worried about you for a while there, you know? everyone was.”

“i know,” beomgyu answers perfunctorily. everyone has been worried about him and has said as much. well, pretty much everyone except for you. 

“are you ever gonna talk about what happened?” taehyun carefully probes, which causes beomgyu to cease all actions and stare blankly at his cup — liquid still gently swishing back and forth. 

“nothing happened that you probably didn’t already guess,” beomgyu says with a derisive smile. its sentiment is not directed at taehyun, however, but at himself. 

“that doesn't mean i don't want to hear it from you,” taehyun replies.

with a sigh of defeat, beomgyu begrudgingly recounts his circumstances with you, sparing no details. at first, taehyun's eyes widen every so often, but after a while, his face relaxes into something somber and resigned. when beomgyu is finished, his gaze remains locked on taehyun’s face, searching for any semblance of a reaction, but he remains stoic.

“well?” beomgyu asks impatiently.

“well, what?” taehyun says after a moment, and he's tempted to just leave it at that, but after looking into beomgyu’s pleading eyes, he realizes that he needs to say more. “you fucked up, but you know that already. i would say that i can't believe you did that, but if it's you, i can believe it,” he sighs, and beomgyu really wishes he hadn't pressed taehyun for more, because he feels smaller and smaller with every new word. 

“i know. i’m a piece of shit who doesn't deserve her. i never did,” beomgyu relents, feeling completely helpless. he wasn't expecting comfort or anything like that — he doesn't deserve it, but he's still hurt by taehyun's words, regardless of their validity. they just further confirm what he already knows.

“yeah, you're right,” taehyun agrees with a nod, and beomgyu deflates even more, if that's even possible. 

“is… is she okay?” beomgyu asks timidly. he's been too afraid to ask about you, but now that taehyun knows the truth, it seems pointless to beat around the bush.

“not really,” taehyun says with a twitch of his lips. 

“why not?!” beomgyu exclaims a little too loudly. taehyun hurriedly shushes him before glancing around the bar to make sure nobody’s attention has been drawn to the two of them. 

“why not?” beomgyu repeats, voice lower this time, but urgency just as palpable.

“i don't know. i think something happened between her and soobin, but neither of them will talk about it. i'm sure you can guess what happened, though,” taehyun sighs. and he's right. beomgyu can guess, but he can't quite believe it. you must've rejected soobin, but why? why would you reject someone so perfect for you? does it have anything to do with him?

-

beomgyu can’t shake the feeling that your situation with soobin has something to do with him. he knows he’s being vain, he knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help but hope. he doesn't tell anyone about this, though, for fear that reality will be much crueler than he can cope with. he tells himself he's perfectly content with living with said hope and deluding himself into thinking he still has a place in your heart, but he can't control the way his mind wanders to places he scarcely dares to dream of these days. dreams where you miss him, where you still think about him, where you forgive him play out in a number of ways, but in the end, they're nothing more than, well, dreams.

-

as much as some would like to avoid it, gathering for taehyun’s friendsgiving party is inevitable. no matter the circumstances, nobody can quite justify missing out on your friend group’s collective tradition. you try to steel yourself for the potentially awkward encounters with soobin and beomgyu, but you can’t help but worry about potential “what if’s”. still, you decide to be as mature as possible. if you see soobin, you'll make light conversation before excusing yourself if he seems uncomfortable. if you see beomgyu, well, hopefully he'll just ignore you as you've ignored him.

when you arrive at taehyun's, you greet everyone as usual. honestly, as awful as it sounds, you're pretty relieved to see that neither soobin nor beomgyu have arrived just yet. you drink just enough to take some of the edge off, so when soobin comes in, it's not an earth-shattering event. when he greets you, you're prepared to just leave it at a cordial, somewhat distant conversation, and he seems to be on the exact same page. he says hello and performs all of the necessary niceties before wandering off and getting himself a drink. it hurts your heart that this is what your friendship has been reduced to, but you know it's what's best at the moment. you don't want to unintentionally hurt him by insisting he push his limits by being with you. 

you try to shove this out of your mind, and you're talking to yunjin about nothing in particular when beomgyu walks through the door. you can’t help but look up when he enters, but you will yourself to look away while plastering a smile on your face you already know isn’t believable in the slightest. mercifully, he doesn’t do anything other than wave at you and yunjin before getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the party.

you think the worst of the night is over, and you calmly go through the motions of your friendsgiving traditions as if everything is fine. after dinner, you find yourself sitting alone, wondering if you should just hang it up and go home a bit early. before you can do that, though, you notice soobin approaching your spot on the couch. 

“hey,” he says a little unsteadily as he plops down next to you, no doubt a little tipsy from the drinks he’s had.

“hey,” you shyly reply with a smile. 

“how are you?” he asks. 

“i’m okay,” you answer, trying to maintain your composure. “what about you?”

“better,” he says before hesitantly continuing. “i miss you.” your heart soars, but it also somewhat aches.

“i miss you, too,” you tell him honestly. he smiles, albeit very softly.

“how are things with beomgyu?” he probes.

“as good as they’ll get, i guess.”

“so not very good, huh?”

“no, not very good,” you say truthfully. 

“well, why don't you just cut the bullshit, then?” you're very clearly taken aback by his words. you're even actually offended that he could casually say such a thing.

“what are you talking about?” your tone is more defensive than bewildered, but he just looks at you with knowing eyes that make you feel microscopic.

“you know what i’m talking about,” he argues. “this whole fucked up charade that you two are performing isn’t fooling anybody, so why even try?” 

“he doesn't deserve me,” you scoff. “he can't just treat me like shit and get away with it because he's sorry now. he needs to pay for what he's done.”

“and who are you punishing by doing that? him or yourself?” you're, again, surprised, so you don't quite know what to say in response.

“i know you. i know what you want, and denying that doesn't do anything but hurt the both of you. you might as well get what you want. maybe he doesn't deserve it — i'm not really sure, but don't you want to try, at least? with how desperate he’s been acting, i don’t think he’ll hurt you again.” you seriously ponder his words, but the main conclusion you come to is that soobin is still so, so kind. he had — or has — feelings for you, but he still wants to see you happy. you don’t have to say anything, though, because it seems like he understands how grateful you are just from your smile.

he pulls you in for a hug, one so warm and loving you can't help but melt into it. you could cry at how relieved you are that you two will soon overcome the awkwardness and distance. it seems he wasn't one of your best friends for nothing. when you two break apart, you look up at him with a watery smile. before you can say anything, though, you register the odd look on his face. you look confused for just a second before he says his next words in a hushed, hurried tone.

“i'm doing this for your own good,” he whispers as he leans down and catches your lips in a tender kiss. to say you're stunned is an understatement, indeed, but the kiss ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaving you reeling. 

“w-why did you —” 

“i said it was for your own good, but it was kind of for me, too,” he softly chuckles. “maybe i want to punish him a little bit.” you don't really understand what he means until you follow his gaze and catch beomgyu in his line of sight. oh, you get it now. who knew soobin was such a sadist? 

your conversation with soobin ends and you feel a lot lighter than you have in a long, long time, but his words leave you with more than enough to think about. you shake your head and go out to the balcony to clear your head. after a few minutes, you hear the door behind you creak open. you know it's beomgyu before he even says anything. 

“so, you and soobin, huh?” he questions softly as he settles next to you, leaning against the railing. you glance up at him to respond, but his mirthless smile stops you before you can say a word. 

“i’m happy for you,” he adds as sincerely as he can, and you’re not sure you buy that, but at the very least, he seems to want you to believe it. you're not really sure how to respond. you don't even know if you want to explain everything to him, actually, because you're still debating on whether or not you should forgive him. can things really be that easy? does he deserve your forgiveness? who's to say he won't just break your heart again? as you struggle with how to answer, he continues.

“i'm, um, i'm glad you found somebody. especially soobin. he'll treat you right — you deserve it,” he says before timidly rambling. “s-sorry if i’m overstepping, i just wanted you to know that; and, uh, if you ever need anything, i'm here.”

“need anything? like what?” you can't help but wonder aloud. now, this is unlike the beomgyu you've come to know. if it were, then he'd be throwing a fit trying to get you to change your mind so you'd be with him instead of soobin. 

“l-like, if you need advice or something,” he earnestly answers, somewhat surprised you said anything at all. “or if you just want to talk or complain or anything. whatever it is that you need, i’ll be here. i owe you that much after all you’ve done for me.” you look confused for a moment before you answer him.

“i didn’t do those things so you’d owe me, beomgyu,” you tell him, and his heart flutters against his will at the use of his name.

“i-i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. s-sorry. i just want you to know that there’s someone who wants to be there for you, especially since you were always there for me, but even if you weren’t, i would still want to be there for you,” he nervously replies. 

“why?” you quietly ask, and that actually brings a wistful smile to his face. 

“because i care about you,” he says, voice dripping with sincerity and solemnity. what he really wants to tell you is that it's because he loves you, but it's clear that it's the wrong time. he can't just dump his feelings onto you again — that would be wrong since you're obviously involved with someone now. if it were the old him, he'd do it with absolutely no regrets if it meant that you'd come back to him, but he can't do that to you. he can't just steamroll over your wants and feelings like he's always done. 

“but why?” you question persistently. he never saw anything of value in you before, not outside of how he could use you, so what’s so great about you now? you just can’t understand it. his sincere smile turns wry, teeming with a sense of self-mockery as he whispers his next words.

“because you're amazing. you're everything anyone could ever want.” anything i could ever want. he doesn't have to say that last part, because you can already hear the meaning of his words. just because you can hear it, however, doesn't mean you understand it.

“i never thought you, of all people, would think that,” you say honestly. 

“i know, but that's my fault, not yours,” he replies. you purse your lips in response, mulling over your options. you could just walk away right now and go back to ignoring beomgyu forever. it's what he deserves, you reason. he humiliated you in a way like none other, and nobody would blame you if you never let that go; but you look at how hard he's trying, and your heart softens. maybe you want to give it a try. maybe you'll get hurt again, but with how desperate he is, you really don't think so. still, you can’t let him get away with it so easily. you just have to make sure his feelings are pure.

“i know you still have feelings for me,” you say after a long pause, and his face reddens in shame, feeling like his ugly heart that he was desperately trying to conceal has been exposed. he supposes this is the way it should be, but he doesn't want to guilt you into anything, so he chooses to remain silent in his humiliation. “if it were like before, you would just tell me that. why is it different now?” you continue. well, that's it then. he should be truthful and say what he wants to say, and unbeknownst to him, what you want to hear.

“because your feelings should be more important than my own. that's what you do when you love somebody,” he chokes out. “you taught me that.”

you're quiet for a long, long time. too long, in fact. so long, he thinks it's time to call it quits and suppress his unrequited feelings for you until he feels them no longer. he can't imagine a world where he successfully does so, but for your sake, he should try. before he can say his goodbye, though, you speak again.

“okay,” you sigh.

“what?” he asks confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.

“i said, ‘okay’. don't make me regret this,” you tell him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. your lips softly meet each other and his eyes widen in sheer shock, though he doesn't resist you. his breath is labored when you finally part, eyes hazy with his lips red and swollen. 

“w-what are you — i thought — why are you —”

“i'll give you one chance,” you interrupt. “if you fuck up, it's over. do you understand?” he takes a second to process your words — but it's just a second — and his eyes well up with relieved tears when he understands. he dumbly nods in agreement, too afraid that if he speaks, no intelligible noise will come out. 

“good.” the corners of your mouth curl with a ghost of a smile, and you're prepared to leave it at that as you pull away from him; but like a dog, he earnestly chases after your touch before pulling you towards him, lips meeting yours again. the kiss is hungrier this time — more insistent, but he doesn't push his luck. eventually, he parts from you, leaving you both panting. his tears, which he was previously holding back, now flow from his eyes with no resistance. 

“thank you,” he says gently.

“for what?” you ask, head a little clouded from the kiss, but he just shakes his head with a smile. you will never understand just how grateful he is for the mercy you’ve shown him, but he’ll try to show you how much it means to him. 

-

things go slowly after that — you do your best to ensure that they do; and beomgyu, to his credit, tries to oblige. you’re not official or anything like that, but you let him take you on dates, and he’s always trying to woo you in one way or another. he sends flowers when you work, he shows up to your place with food and drinks, he texts you every morning asking how you’ve slept. it’s everything you could have ever asked for, and you can really see how hard he’s trying, but when kisses become heated, you always pull away before things can go any further. beomgyu tries his best not to show his dejection, but you always end up apologizing before he adamantly insists that he’s more than okay with it. you appreciate his understanding because every time you think about going any further, you can’t help but remember the indelible scar that his previous betrayal left upon you. 

-

christmas parties at beomgyu’s, much like friendsgivings at taehyun’s, are a tradition within your friend group. now that the tension with soobin and (most of) the tension with beomgyu is no longer there, you find that you’re actually really excited to gather again. you have no intention of revealing the nature of your… circumstances with beomgyu to everyone, though, and beomgyu will never say it for fear of making you uncomfortable, but it makes his heart ache. he can't really blame you for not wanting to be tied to him, but that doesn't soothe the pain in his chest.

secret santa takes place without a hitch. that is, until you open up your gift, which is a necklace with a pendant of a silver sun, and it is revealed that soobin got it for you. it’s not the most expensive gift in the world, but it is uncommonly sentimental. many write it off as a pretty, but ultimately meaningless piece of jewelry, but beomgyu instinctively knows it’s because of how so much of you resembles the sun. how could he not understand? you’re warm and nurturing, but it’s unsettling to realize that you’re not his alone. he tries to tell himself that it's not the end of the world, but when soobin turns you around and gently clasps the necklace for you before smoothing out your hair, he can't help but feel like it is. that’s enough for him to excuse himself to his room, but you’re far too preoccupied with gushing over how much you love the gift to soobin to really notice. 

when he enters his room, he sits on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands with a groan. he shouldn't be feeling like this. he has no right to feel like this. you had already taken the time to explain that you and soobin are just friends, and you stressed that he’ll have to be okay with that fact if he wants to be with you, to which he eagerly agreed; but he can't help but think that it's only a matter of time before you come to your senses and leave him to be with soobin for good. 

you two aren't even technically official, and your hesitance to be classified as such to your closest friends only shows him just how much you want that to continue to be true. what if he's just a pit stop in yours and soobin's love story? that seems like the most likely outcome. he can just see it now, you and soobin laughingly recalling your tumultuous history to your future kids. is beomgyu being dramatic? probably, but that doesn't stop his mind from running wild. why would you choose to stay with him when soobin, who's been devoted to you since the beginning, is right there? 

the door to his room opens, and he whips his head up in hopes that it's you coming back to him, so he can't hide his disappointment when he's greeted by chaewon’s figure shutting the door behind her before she plops down beside him. his mood turns even more sour than it already was when he sees her.

“if you're here to laugh at me for how pathetic i am, i don’t want to hear it,” he says bitingly. she’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s digesting his words, before she nods.

“you’re right, you are pathetic,” she deadpans. his temper flares, but before he can lash out, she continues. “you look stupid just sulking here because your little girlfriend got attention from another man.”

“h-how did you kn—” 

“she may be subtle, but you definitely aren’t,” she snorts. 

“oh,” he defeatedly replies with a laughably crestfallen look.

“doesn't feel good, does it? seeing the person you love with somebody else,” she asks snarkily. “it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, if you ask me.” 

“and what the hell do you know about that?” he spits. chaewon is one of the most spiteful and bull-headed people he knows. he can't imagine her being too broken up about supposed unrequited love. 

“because that's how i feel when i look at the both of you,” she says matter-of-factly, as if she didn't just drop the bomb of the century. he knew that she was attracted to him, obviously, but he never knew her feelings ran any deeper than that. he sputters as he looks at her, but she cuts him off.

“i know you didn't know about my feelings, for real this time. i guess i'm a better actress than her, or maybe you just never cared enough to find out. whatever it is, i know it's hopeless, so you don't have to tell me.”

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs, but she just shakes her head.

“thanks, but your apology just makes me feel worse,” she scoffs. “i don’t need or want the pity of the most pitiful person in the world.” her words are undeniably harsh, but he can register the amount of hurt in them.

“i'm still sorry,” he says. “i know how you feel, and i know it's really hard. i'm sorry for never noticing.” his sincerity makes her calloused heart soften.

“yeah, it's hard; but for what it's worth, i think she loves you, too,” she tells him.

“i really hope so,” he replies with a sardonic smile before it melts into something more genuine. “thank you for telling me about your feelings. i'm sorry that i don't feel the same way, but i hope you find somebody who does.”

“thank you,” she says, more sincerely this time. “friends?” with this, she extends her hand for him to shake. he smiles at her gesture as he complies. 

“friends.” hesitantly, she pulls him into a hug. he’s stunned for a second before patting her back in reciprocation. he can’t love her, but he can learn to appreciate her, which he has never done, even with all of her help. maybe he’s becoming a better person because of you. 

as if on cue, the door opens the moment that thought is fully formed. he’s relieved to see you for the split second before he realizes how this must look to you. he madly breaks away from her in a haste.

“it's not what it looks like!” he exclaims, and chaewon tactfully rises and scurries out of the door before shutting it behind her, but you remain silent and rooted to your spot.

“i swear! it's really not what it looks like,” he says pleadingly as he stands and grabs your hands, which you promptly smack away. 

“i just fucking knew this would happen,” you spit. “i won't give it up to you, so you turn around and pull this shit — is that it?”

“n-no! seriously, we’re just friends! she told me that she had feelings for me, but i rejected her, and we said we would just be friends,” he desperately explains. “i swear to god i would never do that to y—” he wants to continue, but the way your shoulders shake as you put your head in your hands stops him in his tracks. 

he hurriedly embraces you as he hears muffled cries escape your lips.

“i’m so sorry, please don’t cry. it wasn’t what it looked like, i promise,” he says as soothingly as he can muster, but that doesn't seem to stop your tears. he feels more and more helpless as you continue to break down in front of him, so he resorts to saying whatever he can think of to calm you down. 

“i’m sorry, it’s all my fault. i never should’ve touched her. just don't cry, okay? i hate seeing you cry,” he whispers as he draws circles on your back, pressing you closer to him. after a while, your sobs die out and your breathing becomes more steady. 

“a-are you okay?” he timidly probes. you stare at him with eyebrows furrowed for a bit before you slightly nod. he purses his lips before continuing.

“are you going to leave me?” he whispers, and he regrets asking as soon as the words leave his lips. 

it's okay if you're only indulging him in this would-be relationship because you pity him. it's okay if he's just a pit stop in your love story with soobin. it's okay if he turns out to be nothing more than a momentary distraction from the actual love of your life, just as long as you stay with him for as long as you can stand it. why would he question his place in your life? why would he ruin a good thing by making you tell him to his face that you don't want him? he should've just waited for you to figure it out on your own instead of forcing you to confront the true nature of your feelings for him. 

when he’s met with nothing but your pensive silence, he speaks again.

“i-i’m sorry i asked. i, um, i understand,” he adds defeatedly.

“no,” you croak. 

“n-no? what do you mean by —” 

“no, i won’t leave you,” you declare, a little bit more confidently this time.

“you won’t?” he asks doubtfully, taken aback by this sentiment.

“do you want me to?” 

“no! i-i just can’t believe it. why would you stay with me?” 

“because i think you love me. do you?” 

“of course!” he exclaims.

“then will you show me? how much you love me, i mean?” you ask.

“h-how do you mean?”

you look up at him and pull him by his collar so his lips meet yours, and his eyes widen before he melts into the kiss. he feels like he’s floating as you move your lips against his, but he groans when you softly tug his hair, which allows you to snake your tongue into his welcoming mouth. that’s enough to replace the floating feeling with one of pure need. when you part, you're both gasping for air. 

“are you sure?” he seemed so lost in the feeling before, but he looks nothing short of timid right now, endearing you in a way you previously thought was impossible.

“yes.”

he gulps and guides you to his bed, firmly gripping your hand as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t hold onto you. carefully, reverently, he begins to undress you, making sure not to be too rough, juxtaposing how crass he was the first (and last) time you two did this. when you’re fully undressed, he shamelessly takes the view of you in. you subconsciously feel embarrassed and start to cover yourself, and he gently, but firmly, takes your arms and pulls them away from your shivering frame.

“don’t hide from me. you’re beautiful,” he whispers, before ducking down and pulling you in for a heated kiss. it’s still gentle, but there’s more fire behind it than usual. eventually, he breaks away and quickly rids himself of his clothes, contrasting greatly with the tenderness he showed you as he took yours off. when he’s finished, he kisses you again. this time, though, he doesn’t just stop at your lips, and he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck before he pushes you down onto the bed and finds his way down to your aching pussy.

he plants kisses on your open thighs until your legs are trembling and your core is glistening with anticipation. greedily, he takes one experimental, flat-tongued lick from your pussy and groans at your taste. he starts slowly — licking stripes until his movements become a series of alternating between this and more focused licks to your folds and clit. eventually, he takes one of his fingers and prods at your weeping hole before pushing it in to the knuckle. he curls and teases until he finds your sweet spot with little effort. 

“o-oh,” you sigh, but before you can get used to the feeling, he slides another finger in and repeats his movements, softly sucking on your clit as he does it. beomgyu tries to show restraint, he really does, but you taste so good that before long, he’s practically hammering his fingers into you while he licks and sucks on your lower lips. you’re no match for his skilled tongue, so you’re falling apart more quickly than you’d like to admit. you hold onto his hair for dear life, tugging a little harder than you probably should, but you’re in no state to control your harshness as you reach the end. 

“gyu, i’m gonna — oh, shit — i’m coming! i’m coming!” you cry as your legs buckle, tightening around his head against your will. he doesn’t pull away, however; he just lets you cage him in between your thighs as if he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. as you come down, he laps up your cum and removes his fingers to directly stick his tongue in your clenching hole. you think you might have to pull him off of you due to overstimulation, but he (reluctantly) does it himself before you can quite get there. 

he makes no move to clean himself up, and his expression is one of pure bliss, as if you were the one who just gave him the best oral of his life and not the other way around. he pulls you in for a heavy kiss, and you taste yourself along with the sweetness that is beomgyu. he tries to be patient, but he can't help but frantically line himself up with your entrance, poking and prodding his tip against your still-spasming hole as he takes one of your hands into his own while using the other to guide himself into you. 

“is this okay?” he nervously asks. you nod. with a strained breath, he slowly begins to push into you. 

it's a struggle to push himself in, meeting resistance as you clench around him, pussy trying desperately to accommodate his length. your hand tightly grips his as you feel the almost unbearable stretch, and he soothingly caresses his thumb over your finger, shuddering as you take him in inch by inch. it feels even better than the first time, somehow — you're even warmer and wetter than before. with labored breaths, he tries to keep himself from coming early as he feels you contracting around him. when he’s finally completely sheathed in you, it's like puzzle pieces fitting together; things seem more right than they have since, well, the last time you two did this. you stay like  that for what must be a long time — just feeling each other in an act of pure intimacy as you both heave out labored breaths. 

“are you ready?” he whispers, and after a few seconds, you nod. he shakily pulls out, feeling your pussy struggling to keep him in, and takes a deep breath before piercing you in one fluid motion, scraping against your g-spot with ease. you whimper at the sensation as he pulls himself out before ramming back in again. 

“relax, baby. i know you can take me. you were made for me,” he says soothingly as he sets his pace. he tries to take things slowly, but it’s difficult when it feels like you’re sucking him in with every thrust. his words comfort you, and before long, you're melting into his touch.

“so good,” he groans as he repeatedly hits your cervix. “you’re so fucking perfect.” all you can do is moan in response, feeling so detached from reality that the only thing chaining you to it is the way he’s fucking you. your grip on his hand tightens until you’re sure his fingers are numb, but he makes no move to stop you. he even leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, which was meant to be mostly innocent, but it quickly devolves into your tongues and teeth clashing against  each other as he snaps his hips into yours. you feel more than full as he stretches you out and pounds into you so deeply, you feel him in your stomach. you can only be described as lightheaded as he hits the deepest parts of you relentlessly, and you feel yourself getting closer to your climax — causing you to let out an animalistic whine.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. just let go, okay?” you have no choice but to oblige when he continues drilling into you. you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. it's only a few moments before your eyes are rolling backwards as you mercilessly clamp down around him. the feeling of you tightening on his length pushes him to his own end, and he moans out “oh, g-god, i love you,” while he spills himself into you, shuddering as he does it. you feel his hot cum flooding your insides, eventually leaking out of your aching cunt as he slowly thrusts it into you. you stay like that, just joined together, for a long while.

with reluctance, he pulls out of you. you're both silent as he collapses on top of you and mindlessly toys with your hair. 

“i love you, too,” you whisper.

“w-what?” he shoots up and stares at you in disbelief, scanning your face in earnest.

“you heard me,” you reply. 

“can you — can you say it again? please?” your purse your lips before responding.

“i love you, too.”

he doesn't mean for them to, but his eyes well up with tears. he grabs you and flips you on top of him before locking his arms around you. your head rests comfortably against his chest as he pulls you closer and closer, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of your head. 

“i can't believe this is real,” he whispers between his tears, and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the sheer amount of awe in his tone. “i'll be so good to you, you won't believe it.”

“okay,” you chuckle, in spite of yourself. what can you do other than believe him when he's so damn desperate? 

notes pt. 2: finishing this has most certainly been an uphill battle. i was writing like a few sentences a day for the longest time. still, i hope you all enjoyed this. i love you very much, my friends. also, please let me know what you thought about it (as long as it's not mean!)

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[multidimensionalguidance]

Uttara Bhadrapada: Princess Dreams

"Anora" is movie of a young sex worker from Brooklyn, getting her chance at a Cinderella story when she meets and impulsively marries the son of an oligarch.

Mikey Madison, the actress playing as the main protagonist has Sun-Jupiter in UBP (Pisces) and Moon in Punarvasu (Gemini). The "marrying rich" and Cinderella theme trope mentioned by Claire Nakti continues to prove itself.

Of course, it has WAY deeper connections and themes about resilience despite challenges and obstacle. The ways in which our own sense of duty and responsibilities help us refine our selves into almost perfection, but only after we choose to do it feeling humble about it.

"From rags to riches" fits all Saturn nakshatras because this is the natural path and order. All water signs are more likely to attract wealth because Jupiter and Venus exalts in this element. It always comes with struggle, hardships, obstacles though.

What called my attention the most is Saturn ruling over employment, concubines, low-caste women, and the protagonist fitting all the themes. These nakshatras experience harshness from a young age. Yet, their resilience and longevity allows them to be rewarded on the long run.

Either way I’m truly mind blown how this specific nakshatra found in Pisces carries these elements, but extensively how all the other sings (Anuradha and Pushya) do as well.

Please do keep in mind that even though they carry this trope, it doesn't always end up in a happy ending. An easy and out of the top of my head example is Grimes (Sun in UBP) marrying Elon Musk a whole billionaire and even having kids with him, but only to end separated and experiencing the aftermath of this turbulent relationship.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Smut Headcanons - Furina & Navia

A/N: While I have the Furina stuff I promised (smut + relationship + parenting headcanons) ready, I decided to split them up in three posts to go with another character. This way, the reader can enjoy exactly what they want. Anyway, enjoy! CW: Nothing, just vanilla ice cream here.

Furina de Fontaine? Yes, of course she is nothing if not the best at this whole “sex” thing! There are hardly any things she struggles with less than marital fornication, she'll have you know! 

Please go easy on her. She has no idea whatsoever. 

While it's true that throughout her long life she had read through many explicit books and brochures, mostly without pictures, her lack of personal interaction with the male body leads to her being quite clueless the first few times around. She doesn't really know how to please you, more - she barely even knows what she likes herself.

It's natural for gods to be less sexual than humans, which is all the more unfortunate for Furina. She kept the lifespan, but was left with a human set of emotions and needs that was doomed to wither over the centuries. But not all is lost - now that her days of godhood are over and she could finally become human - with a human lifespan and the ability to fully express her emotions. It will take time, but, with enough practice, she'll catch up. 

Communication is key. Don't hesitate to “order” her around. Tell her what feels good, what doesn't, what you'd like her to do and more. Furina will follow your example and share what she can - although the storm of moans and whimpers should serve as more than enough of a pointer. 

Furina is surprisingly confident in the bedroom. When she finds something she likes, she'll definitely let you know. She will, between shivering and gripping the sheets, encourage you or give you some pointers, as much as her state will allow. She's not scared to initiate and when she does, she always goes in with a plan. Knocking her off balance with some teasing of your own is sure to leave her in tatters though…

Furina is quite the fan of plays and works talking about romance, so her view of the subject is much closer to “making love” than to any other way to describe sex. As such, she enjoys plenty of prep before the main event - a romantic dinner, some proper foreplay, some teasing beforehand… She enjoys working yourselves up to the main thing. Getting in the right mood is a must for her, and when she's there, there's no keeping her hands off you.

Don't let her outspoken and loud way of carrying herself fool you - the closer you get to her, the more shy Furina becomes - especially if no clothes are involved. She'll have you believe that it's completely natural for a small girl like her to be intimidated by a taller and far stronger man, unwilling to openly state that she happily lays back and lets you do whatever you want to her most days. 

On the occasion that she has something specific in mind, it usually involves a bit of dressing up - she's quite fond of theater, after all. She can afford costumes and dresses galore, both for you and herself. It does take quite a bit of time, getting herself perfectly dolled up for the occasion, but it's no problem - seeing herself so disheveled, undressed and messy after you're done with her is totally worth the effort. 

A nice session of light play-acting is Furina’s favourite way to spice things up. She can be whoever you want - a damsel in distress, longing for the body of her noble knight, an actress getting some more hands-on rehearsals, or perhaps her favourite - the shy, freshly taken bride. Furina never parted with her wedding dress and takes it out for a spin, from time to time. It fits her perfectly, and thanks to Chiori’s expertise in material selection, is also easy to clean from… certain substances. 

But sometimes all Furina wants to do is let loose, be herself and just get some lovely, passionate pounding. Doggy no doubt has its bonuses in that regard, but she’d much rather see your face twist in pleasure as her slick hole pleasures you to completion. She enjoys missionary the most, with her hands clasping around yours for support or desperately clinging onto the sheets below. Furina is all about kissing, so expect your mouth to be occupied, and remember - nothing is hotter for her than you looking her straight in the eye as you nut inside. She won’t complain if you boast about how much you’ve filled her up - after all, you’re quite the lover, and it’s only right for you to be proud of what you can do to her. 

Don’t be alarmed if you find Furina shedding a few tears while her guts are being rearranged - that’s just how she responds to overstimulation. She doesn’t want you to stop any time soon, of course… But a kiss and a squeeze of her hand would surely motivate her to take you further in! 

She spends a lot of time grooming herself to perfection, with most of the time going towards shaving herself. She enjoys nice, smooth skin everywhere below the neck. Furina does mind hair, and you would make her very happy if you kept yourself like that as well. Why would she want to have all this nasty hair obscuring the goods? 

Furina is aware of how unlucky she is, to be created with not much of a cleavage. She tends to be hyper aware of her deficiency - or at least that’s how she views it. Your girl tends to skip out on nipple or boob play for that exact reason. She’s yours, and so is her body - if her body can’t offer you all it should, she’s not a good wife, is she? She would love you to be able to slide your cock between them and fuck them to completion, but they are, unfortunately, very flat. Over time, however, your love and encouragement helped her dismiss these harmful beliefs of inadequacy. So much so that she's grown to cherish her form.

She's proud of what she has, and loves to show herself off with expensive sets of lingerie. Unlike, say, the extendable cutlery she bought, these come in use regularly. She always picks those one size smaller to accentuate the nice fluff around her thighs and belly - a woman must have some plush on herself, after all! Couple that with long gloves and thigh highs, one darker and one brighter to match her eyes of course, and you've got yourself an outfit Furina feels beautiful in. 

And desired, too. They are nice, yes, but not as much as the feeling of you stripping them off her. She likes passion, and very much enjoys seeing you lose control of your desire for her. Don't hold your moans, say whatever comes to mind - even if it is her name over and over and over again, she will listen intently and whine your name in concert. 

The bed’s your stage, while you and her play the main roles. 

For her, you are the main attraction of the show. You and your glorious, male body. Navia? She's a big fan of that. 

The straight posture, the beautifully flat, strong chest, these powerful arms, the big hands, the meaty calves… You're incredibly handsome, so why wouldn't she spend her nights worshiping and touching you? 

When it comes to herself, she doesn't mind most things. Sure, she likes being the center of your attention, but being the receiver excites her much less than giving. While she'll take a long while to cum with your tongue, just sucking you off is enough to make her squirt on her fingers. Sex is all good, but she'll be more passionate if you just lay back and let her do the work. 

Let her take the lead - here, you're the star, and she's more than eager to see you enjoy yourself. Navia loves servicing you and bringing out those delicious, deep moans and sighs. She gets absolutely soaking at the thought that it's all the doing of her skillful hands and abundant body. 

Navia Rich cleavage, fat butt and a spacious pussy - Navia has it all, and you're more than welcome to help yourself. She'll be thrilled if you make good and frequent use of her, as - surprise surprise - women have needs too. It's unfair - why can you be absolutely horny for her, but it's improper for her to drool over you? Well, that's how it is in public, but behind closed doors, you're game. 

Navia is the unchallenged queen of handling your manhood. Learning about you, memorising the shape of your cock, adjusting her insides to fit you like a glove, learning where to touch to make you shiver… It was great fun, and Navia enjoys having the chance to explore you further with various kinks. She's not going to say no to anything when it comes to your hefty package, that's for sure. 

While not having much for herself, Navia owns a host of toys to use on you in the sheets. Would you like her to tie you up? Maybe edge you with a pocket pussy? How about tying the base of your cock for some extended sessions? Whatever you want, whatever you need, she likely has it in her collection - and if she doesn't, it won't be for long. All she needs is your word.

Navia is known for her positive and energetic approach to her role, but every girl needs a pick-me-up once in a while, doesn't she? Navia won't mind if you come over and sneak with her into a closet or let her get under the desk for some naughty time~

Nothing turns her on more than your pleasure. Seeing your hand tighten around the armrest as she edges you, feeling your hand push her head up and down as you use her throat as a toy or hearing you struggle to get all the cum out when she milks you for all your worth is something she greatly looks forward to. So much so that, if you give her this privilege, she'll whip out a Kamera to keep that moment for years to come. 

Of course, it will be focused on you. She wants to capture what she loves the most - your pleasure. She'll let the Kamera roll as you rail her into the bed, capturing all these lovely moans and expressions of bliss, as well as your grunts as you selfishly chase your own pleasure, uncaring if she will handle the pounding. One of her favourites is recording your balls as they slam against her cunt in doggy or missionary, capturing your voice and the obscene noises her pussy makes as your fuck her to completion. She'll return to them when she’s away, rubbing and fingering herself to the image of you in careless, primal bliss. 

That's another thing she loves to see - primal lust. The sight of you senselessly and violently fucking a toy is her favourite thing to get off to, especially that she knows she's going to be the toy next. Be rough with her - she can take it. Just don't you dare go silent on her, now! You have a voice, so use it - moan, whine, sigh and growl for her. Navia wants to know just how much you enjoy using her body. 

But sometimes she's in a more needy mood, especially when you've been quiet the last few times around. Navia knows that there's nothing worse for a guy than denial, so she'll strap you down and play with your dick, edging you without pause until you cry and beg for release. Or, alternatively, she'll work your head and prostate, forcing you to give up everything in your balls to her. The longer it goes on, the more you struggle, and the more frantic your pleas become. Music to her ears. 

Navia finds it so hot when you act needy, even when it's as simple as asking for some attention. Want a handy? She'll give you a helping hand, no questions asked. Need your balls emptied with some mouth work? Navia is on the case. You're in need of a quickie? Feel free to bend her over and yank those panties down - she's on the pill, so cum away. Be ready to zip down your fly for her too - sometimes, a quick suck can really lift her spirits. When she has a day off, expect lots of messing in the sheets. 

Morning sex? Yes please! She'll gladly have you wake up to lewd sounds of slurping and her lips wrapped around your cock, if you'll let her. And once you fully wake up, you'll get to feel her ride you in the rays of the morning light. 

She's the type of girl that loves cum. Expect lots of positive encouragement to blow your load, no matter if it comes quickly - it's a compliment for her doing a great job, right? When you finally give in to her talented ministrations, she'll make sure to put on a show for you. Each part of her (except the hair, cum is quite annoying to get out of there without taking a shower) is fair game when it comes to coming. If you feel like giving her a mouthful, she'll swallow it up and show you a clean mouth as proof. Her favourite spot, though, is the face - it might mess with her make-up, but its warmth and smell feels so naughtily good on her face, and she'll make sure you're watching her gather it up and lick it off her fingers with a proud, smug smirk.

Navia isn't a fan of condoms, not at all. She’d much rather take a pill or slap on a patch than wrap you in rubber. Besides, Navia always wanted to have plenty of kids, so when the time comes, she'll passionately encourage you to knock her up. Having her stomach swollen with a baby - that you put into her, which she will make sure to praise you for - makes her feel beautiful, even if she has to buy bigger clothes. Luckily for her, she can still suck your cock with a big belly, so it's not much of a problem in that department. 

With Navia, it's cowgirl all the way. Not only do you get to see her tits swing and her beautiful face, but you also get a taste of her excellent riding skills. She likes this position as it allows her to see your face contorted in pleasure. She will adjust the pace and depth to better milk you, or keep you on the edge of orgasm and enjoy seeing you lose your mind to pleasure. 

Thanks for reading!

[justanotherhornycatgirl]

the most unfortunate part of my family constantly watching How I Met Your Mother when i was a kid (besides the obvious lingering psychological damage of being a young trans girl subjected to HIMYM) is the fact that i will never be able to stop thinking about it

specifically, HIMYM is a deeply transmisogynistic show, probably the most transmisogynistic sitcom I've ever seen (which would say a lot even if I'd only seen 2)

trans women, street queens, and the spectre of the tranny are the second most consistent humorous fallback the show relies on, just after "it's funny just how much of a rapist Barney is"

and yet what has always baffled me about the show is that, despite all the transmisogyny, Robin Scherbatsky feels so much as if she was written by someone who understands the transfem experience

a woman in the main cast defined by how she's different from other chicks

she wears suits, she drinks scotch, she likes guns

but we learn very quickly in the show that she is like this because she grew up as a boy, she talks through tears about how her father was so disappointed to have a daughter, and raised her as a son instead

how when puberty hit she couldnt ignore the fact that she was a girl anymore, and felt like a girl, and that she was attracted to men like a girl

and how it caused her to have a falling out with her father because he couldnt accept that he didnt have a son, and never did, not matter how much he convinced himself

we see her struggle with the bittersweet feeling of connectedness at the fact that the men in her life view her as "one of the bros", and the pain when that results in them struggling to love her like a woman

her anxieties over not knowing how girlfriends are "supposed" to act, the fact that in her late teenage years she went from pretending to be a boy and leaned hard into becoming a hyperfeminine pop singer and actress, the fact that she so relentlessly pursues a career in journalism where she would both be seen as a respected voice and attractive/admired

there are far too many examples of this to list, but i especially want to focus on her relationship to motherhood

she is consistently shown as averse to and afraid of motherhood

afraid to touch babies out of fear of holding them wrong or hurting them

but later in the series, when she learns she is infertile, it makes her distraught

and she spends multiple episodes mourning the fact that she will never be a mother

and im aware that this is a common trope with infertile women in media, but the implications absolutely change in this perspective

i dont have any big conclusion for this, just a mess of thoughts about a show i hate and also cant stop thinking about