#plot twist: i’m the camera

[stromer]

brendan “👀” brisson

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

i've rotated glazed defects in my mind about once a month since i read it and i want you to know that matt murdock fanfiction is now my favorite method to learn about supreme court cases and if you ever want to write another supreme court crossover i will gladly show up to your lecture with my three-ring binder and different colored pens

oh thank fuck I have truly found my target audience thank you beautiful readers i am absolutely going to be writing more about the Supreme Court in my fanfiction

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[jwanniie]

Can u do gp assassin minji x reader where minji was tasked to take down an important person but as she was observing he

Pairings: G!p Assasin Minji x f!reader!

Warnings: dub-con, somno,slight non-con at first, Assasin minji, knife play, degrading, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), slight breeding at the end, cervix fucking, mention of pregnancy, kinda kidnapping at the end, not proofread, just filthy smut!!

Word count: 1,6k

Jwans note: huh😮‍💨 after a month of not posting, it was difficult to actually start writing and I felt ashy and dry.🫣 but my long ass summer break started, so I will be posting more (yayy), I’m going to a trip with my friends in few days so YIPPEEEEE😍😍I’m so excited (uwu)👁️👅👁️

—————————————————————————

Minji was good at her job, or that’s what she could say, extremely good. Don’t you get fooled by the sweet plump lips, gorgeous smile that made everyone forget about their worries or the eyes that stared at you so delicately. To say that at first when you meet her you’d think she’d work on those cat cafes, kindergarten teacher or a major that inquired art would be an understatement.

The plot twist is that the most innocent and dreamy looking people turn into the most twisted and full of secrets individuals. The ones that you’d look at and think ‘no way they would do that?!’. But like the famous George Eliot said “don’t judge a book by its cover.” applied in most situations.

Minji worked as a professional assasin, she took 47 people down without an ounce of effort, the police tried to investigate those cases, but the outcome would always be a hair gripping disappointment. Nonetheless the only hope the police always had was the small ‘Mj’ that was slowly tatted into the victim’s skin with probably a dagger or an extremely sharp blade. They tried to see possible nail scratches, DNA, fingerprints, they even tried to look at the security cameras but there was no sign of anyone entering or leaving, it was like she appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into thin air.

Minji did not like the idea of being under someone's authority or taking orders from anyone. She preferred to work for herself and to be her own boss. However, on occasions, she would consider offers that came with a filthy payment. And that’s what happened with you.

There was this guy who came to Minji and told her he will give her a horrible amount of money if she can take you down. From what she heard from that guy is that you were some really famous and wealthy man’s daughter, and an only child. Your father had a company and by that company he hid his illegal business like money laundering, drug producing, tax evasion and bribery. And to what she also heard is that your dad had stolen money and refuses to give it back to the guy who came to her and that’s why he wanted to get a revenge from your father.

Minji has figured out your schedule with her ways and planned a day when you'll be very busy and tired, so you'll go straight to bed. This will make Minji's job much easier.

Minji wore baggy jeans and a long sleeved black shirt to avoid any suspicion. She let her hair loose to make her features appear more unrecognizable and she had black mask in her black tote bag to wear once she’s in your apartment and in case you’ll wake up.

She tip toed to your apartment building. The building was very minimalistic compared to what she heard who your dad was and how filthy rich you are. She expected a whole apartment building just for you to live in. But it turned out that you lived in an apartment which had families, students and office workers, like any apartment.

She pressed the elevator button and soon she stepped inside. She looked for number ‘12’ and soon she found it. The elevator was pretty fast and it wasn’t long till she was in her desired floor.-Her eyes traveled to all of the doors, in search for the apartment ‘47’. She later stood in front of the door, the lock getting destroyed by her and the door opening. A dark hall getting exposed to her eyes. She timidly and slowly walks in, taking in every little detail.

The hall was soon done and she was met with a closed door by her right, this was where your room could be since all of the other doors of the apartment were open and this was the only door closed.

She quietly opened the door being met with a laying figure, blanket draped over your thighs and lower abdomen while your upper body was exposed to cold air. The moon shining through the window making a dainty and delicate silhouette appear on the wall.

You were in a deep void, so out of this world, too deep in sleep to wake up anytime soon. Your breathing was soft and almost soundless while your chest was inhaling and exhaling slowly.

She was so fascinated by the sight she almost forgot her mission, she felt a rush of blood down her member, her pants feeling way too tight for her liking. She was ripped back to reality when you changed your position, now laying on your back.

She walked closer to your bed, admiring you now from so close. Taking in the little details, she couldn’t adore from far there. She noticed how the cold air made your nipples poke from your silky black night gown. The way the blanket was so down that your thighs were bare till the knees.

Since she already came all the way here, why can’t she have you at least once or maybe twice and then murder you? It would be fast and beside who can stop her, you are asleep and even if you did wake up. Would you fight her back? You can’t. She can just end you with a second. You were basically under her mercy.

She placed her bag on the nightstand before hovering over you. Her legs straddling your thighs. She slid down her slacks before tossing them across the bedroom. You had easy clothing, fast to remove or even rip. She took the hem of the night gown and lifted it till your breasts. She groaned at the sight, you had no panties on, just so easy and beautiful to use. Your perky mounds were soft and so plushy begging to be sucked and worshipped. While the hips to waist ratio was absolutely perfect.

Fuck, she had to kill such a precious and beautiful doll.

Her length was at this point so upwards, the tip angry red while spilling creamy white substance and her balls heavy and almost purple-ish.-Without any prepping or anything she slammed herself in, immediately groaning at the suck of your cunt. Your walls hugging her so tightly, almost too hard to move.

Her both hands went to your breasts, cupping them, while the pad of her thumb started toying with your nipples. Twisting and squeezing the hardened bud.

Your cunt got wetter with every thrust of her hips which made her pace pick up even more, her tip kissing your cervix with every single thrust.

The uncomfortable feeling in your lower region made your eyes flutter open, slightly contemplating is this a dream or the reality. But with every passing second the feeling got even more real and you were getting conscious back again.

When you were fully aware. You were going to let out a bloody scream but before you could even open your mouth, her hand found it way above your mouth. She didn’t stop her hips movements instead, getting even more faster.

Her other hand went to the nightstand, she was rummaging through her back and you were trying to see what she was trying to find. Your curiosity was soon replaced with fear when you saw what she was looking for.

She was looking for one of those kitchen knives in every typical horror movies.-There was soon a sinister evil smile across her face. Her dark eyes looked at your fear full ones.

“I’m not stopping doll, so you better also enjoy this, don’t cause me trouble and if you do..you know your faith.” She said while the tip of the knife was running across your skin. Hard enough to make a small scratch, but not hard enough to let out blood.

Her movements were in halt but soon she started again. She was ramming your insides, you hated to admit that it felt good, way too good.

She was pounding you like there was no tomorrow, well it kinda is true. Her hands let go from your mouth and you wish she didn’t. Now she has to hear the sounds you let for her. Then she thinks you are enjoying this.

With another hit of her tip on your cervix, you let out a loud moan, a pressure on your lower abdomen lingering there.

She chuckled darkly at the sound her tip taking the knife in her grasp.

“Turned out you were enjoying this, huh? Such a pretty little slut!” The sharp blade was running across your inner thighs the fear turning into pleasure. She slightly made the blade sink into your skin, a small bloody cut was now on your inner thighs.

The pain turned you even more on. The pain making your walls clasp around her uncontrollably. Nonetheless she continued her ramming, her tip was completely out before slamming with full force in. The cycle continued.

With the last womb fucking of her cock you reached your climax. Pleasure running through your body while squirming now underneath her.

Your pussy was squeezing her cock after your release and that made her reach her own high, she fucked you faster and with more passion now that she was close.

Without warning her essence painted your walls white, splashing right into your womb. She fucked harder through her high, you were whining and moving under her, the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation hitting you harder than ever. Her cum was now deeper, leaving you with a risk of pregnancy.

“Maybe I should keep you and just tell them I killed you? You would be my personal fuck doll!” She said before wrapping a tape right on top of your mouth, not even waiting to hear your answer.

[fairlyang]

miguel’s version🕷️

w/c: 1.5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x peter b parker x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mig’s bright idea, tiny bit of possessiveness, fingering, fucking, kind of a 3some but not really, unprotected sex x2

notes: didn’t expect this to be my comeback but I’ll take it! my phone is on 2 😀 no translations bc I’m so tired n it’s barely anything dw also no part 2 tis a one thingie

miguel, who was such a dirty fucking pervert, had the grand idea of doing one of those tiktok challenges where people play rock paper scissors for delicious food and the winner gets to eat it while the other has to run behind them then come back

but the plot twist for his version is that it’s not food they’ll get to eat, instead he and peter b will be playing for your pussy

he had the idea as soon as he saw one of those challenges that had crumbl cookies and thought, “I know something that’s sweeter.”

so on a whim he just blurted it out while you guys were just chillin in his office in that exact moment because why the fuck not and because he was already hard

he really couldn’t help it

peter didn’t need any convincing and you were just unsure you heard him right

he repeated it and you just bit your lip as well as subconsciously squeezing your thighs together because that just sounded so hot

he grabbed a chair near him then dragged it over to you and while you blinked, looking all confused but pretty, he turned you around and had you arch your back then you got the hint and grabbed onto the back of the chair

now fortunately for all of you, your suit was just like miguel’s, holographic in a sense so with a touch of a button on his own watch, he made the lower half of your suit disappear

you gasped and shivered at the slight cold breeze but now just felt pure excitement

“hope you won’t get in trouble Parker.” Miguel scoffs before passing you his phone so you could record it

you hit the camera on his phone and you felt Peter behind you then seeing him when you flipped the camera so you could get them both in frame

you stuck your ass out like a good girl and you could’ve sworn you heard a groan

“we run to where those bookshelves are then come back.” miguel points and peter eagerly nods

you saw miguel nod on the screen and you switched it so it’d be a video and quickly hit record while you recorded over your shoulder a bit so your ass could be in view along with the two men

miguel’s office was quite large so they had plenty of room to run and then come back

“rock paper scissors!”

miguel pulled rock and peter scissors.

miguel dropped to his knees and immediately began devouring your pussy while peter full on sprinted towards the bookshelf

you moaned as miguel sucked on your folds and you had to grip the chair harder just in case your legs wanted to give up on you

he wrapped his arms around your ass and moaned, sending shivers down your spine as you slowly started to grind yourself against his face

he gave your ass a hard smack, earning himself a whimper while he went lower and started sucking on your clit

suddenly his mouth is gone and you look at the camera to see peter was back and they went back into it

“rock paper scissors!!”

peter pulled scissors and miguel paper

peter dropped to his knees and teased your hole with the tip of his finger before slowly sliding it in, then after one singular second he started pumping it into you at a fast pace with no care if you were ready for it

you cried out and felt your walls clenching on his fingers meanwhile he was just leaving kisses on your ass as if it were nothing

“p-peter-“ you moaned and felt your eyes flutter

he hummed and went even faster, the noises from your pussy becoming louder then suddenly the pleasure is gone

“what the fuck-“ you whined and miguel was back

you groaned, not realizing this was just going to be “edge the fuck out of your girlfriend day” but with how desperate they are to please you maybe an orgasm will come

through glossy eyes you saw they had a tie with rock then miguel won with paper

he got to his knees and just slid two of his fingers inside you before just slamming them into you relentlessly making you let out a full-throated moan

“baby- fuck I didn’t think-“ you start then can’t form a coherent sentence as he starts sucking on your clit

“Mmm fuck! j-jus- like that-“ you cry and roll your eyes back

your juices were leaking down and he could taste every drop you were giving him, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to control himself anymore

peter came back and he shoved miguel off you as he caught his breath, bringing his fist up

trying to control your shaky hands to steady the camera a little but at this point it might just be useless

especially after feeling three fingers slip inside you and you couldn’t even see the screen anymore so just having to guess who won

you felt a kiss on your ass and that answered your question so you just moaned out his name

“fuck peter! p-please don’t stop-“

he moaned against your skin and fucked you harder, just having the need to hear your pretty moans

then he felt hands on his shoulder and he was harshly pushed to the floor

you whined feeling the emptiness and weren’t sure you liked this idea so much anymore

you tried to wipe your eyes with your arm when you let out a gasp followed by a moan now feeling a thick cock inside over some fingers

you could see miguel’s patience ran thin, especially with the way he bottomed out immediately and just stayed deep inside you

“feel so good baby.” he groans into your ear and pulls a bit back before shoving his hips into yours making you both moan

“hard mig please-“

he groaned and pounded into you with all his force, the sounds of your skin slapping echoing throughout his office peter was able to hear it clearly

“tan perfecta, tan bella-“ he moans and grabs onto your hips making you fuck yourself back into him

you tried your hardest to keep the phone steady but at this point it was useless and just focused on how amazing miguel was fucking you

it was like he was trying to prove a point, what it was who knows but it sure did feel incredible

suddenly it was gone and you groaned, making sure both of them knew you didn’t want this stupid game to go on for much longer

after an eye roll you looked at the camera and peter positioned himself behind you when you heard a rip

before even getting the chance to clown him on how cheap his suit must’ve been, he slammed himself into you

not wasting any time he lowered his body so his chest was against your back and he was holding your stomach with one hand and your face with the other

you slightly turned your head to the left and looked at him with fucked out glossy eyes and he did not hesitate to kiss you as he gave you deep strokes

you kissed back and closed your eyes, letting your sense of touch take over your entire body

he presses his hand on your stomach a little bit making you whimper into his mouth which just drove him absolutely insane

then the expected happens and miguel forcibly shoved him off with all his strength because he was calling it

“last round” he growled making you and peter both whine

“but-“

“I don’t care-“

“pero-“

“Bebé me vale.”

you pouted, mainly because as much as it was tortureous it was also so much fun

you calmed your breathing as you watched the screen, both of them all sweaty and out of breath

boy did they look good

“rock paper scissors!”

they both pulled paper

they tried again and both pulled rock

they tried once again and both pulled paper

“just choose scissors!” you yelled and they both shushed you

they tried and the final winner was miguel with rock because peter chose scissors

“you sneaky fu-“

miguel slipped inside you then took peter’s previous position and started pounding into you as hard as he could

he pressed onto your stomach so it could intensify the pleasure for you and you shut your eyes, letting out the prettiest of moans and cries while he fucked you in such a relentless pace

he was fucking you as if it would be the last and he couldn’t bring himself to slow down because he was feeling so close and he just needed to fill you in front of peter no matter what

“fuck baby- god you’re fucking perfect.” he groans and moves his hand from your face to your jaw to kiss you

you kissed him and somehow that little piece of sweet affection threw you over the edge unexpectedly and you were letting out whimpers into his mouth while he dumped his load inside you, making sure he was as deep as he could be

your body shook and you just let the slow sloppy make out happen as you both came down from your highs meanwhile peter just exploded himself because of course he wasn’t going to run that final lap and just stayed back to watch and jerk off

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi, how are you? Hope everything's peachy. I've been waiting for your requests to be open since probably December. I figured, maybe I could leave you my thoughts and you'll decide what to do with them. Is that fine? 😅 You can throw it straight to the trash if you'd like.

So that now every F1 Team have a girl driver in F1 Academy, I thought maybe they want to promote the Academy more and includes it in DTS series. So the reader is a driver for Ferrari. They assign her to Carlos and they've to film a Training camp before the season. Carlos sort of being her PT. Plot twist: they HATE each other. But their combined fury can easily catch on fire and lead them to other type of sport, more sensual one. So it's like enemies but/to lovers sort of thing. A lot of arguing, angst but also a bunch of steamy sex

The Uphill Battle || CS55

Warnings: Smut, angst, name calling WC: 1.8k

Pre-season Training - Dolomites This had to be the worst PR disaster in the making. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to pair you up with Jr Sainz needed to fall right off this mountainside. To make matters worse, they had a TV crew following you around all day and you were fairly sure your suite was bugged like Big Brother.

“Hurry up, I want to make it back in time for dinner,” Carlos growled as he stopped to look back at you. 

You narrowed your eyes, not that he could see them beneath the snow goggles, and sarcastically replied, “Oh no, baby boy can’t go to bed without his supper.”

He stabbed his sticks into the snow and pulled his googles up over his beanie. “You think I want to be out here babysitting a spoiled little brat? I am crawling just so you don’t get left behind and lost up here. Pick. Up. The. Pace.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you pushed harder, your calves protesting the hardship you were putting them through to prove a point. You overtook the Spaniard and made sure to only just miss his foot from the piercing pike on your ski stick. “Keep up, Junior.”

You were both panting by the time you arrived back at the luxury accommodation in the resort town at the base of the mountain. You were starving but you were also damp with sweat beneath the layers of cashmere and feather-stuffed coats so you went straight to the private pool. You figured after the whining Carlos had done about his dinner you wouldn’t be disturbed in the heated outdoor pool, but you were wrong.

Carlos curled a brow at the trail of clothes that led from the twin penthouse suites to the rooftop pool they shared, each layer getting thinner until it ended with a sports bra and panties. Snow littered the ground and he shivered in his bathrobe as he watched you float on the surface of the steaming water with your eyes closed. You looked relaxed, peaceful. It was a look he rarely saw on your face and it immediately washed away when you opened your eyes and caught him watching.

“Dirty perv,” you hissed as you slipped back beneath the water up to your neck and covered your breasts. 

“I’m not the one going for a skinny dip. You’re just looking for attention.”

“I don’t have to look for attention, it comes looking for me,” you said as you eyed up the goosebumps on his legs below the robe. “I figured you were too busy stuffing your face.”

“The Netflix crew were in the dining hall,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so you are not nearly as comfortable in front of them as you act. Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t think that would be hard.”

“I hope your balls get frostbite.”

Carlos winced at the idea and took a step closer to the water's edge and the warmth it promised. 

“If you get in here with me we are going to have a problem,” you warned, swimming closer to defend your territory. “There’s no cameras around to keep you safe.”

Carlo snickered and dipped his foot in. “I’ve seen your training in the ring, I think I can handle it.”

“Brave words when you are all the way over there.”

Your blood could have heated the water to boiling point as he slipped his robe off and tossed it over the rail before taking another step in, then another. You watched the water disappear over his skin tight trunks and darken the happy trail before rising over his abs. The team at Ferrari at least assigned you someone who was taking their PT position seriously, you could see from his physique that he kept his own routine solid and you could learn a thing or two - if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Take a picture, malcriada,” he said with a wink when your eyes finally reached his face.

“Such a shame,” you murmured wistfully.

“What?”

You dragged your eyes back over his body before sighing. “That a body that fine has a personality like yours.”

A wave splashed over you as he dove into the water and you lost sight of him in the dark. You should have put the underwater lights on but hadn’t wanted to light the water up when you hadn’t bothered to even change into a bikini. 

A large hand grabbed your ankle and you barely had time to inhale a breath before you were pulled under. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he was gone again and you spluttered to the surface, wiping the water from your eyes. “Asshole!” 

“Is that the best you can do?” he laughed from the edge he was leisurely reclining against. 

“Come here and find out.”

He slipped beneath the water but this time you were prepared and met him halfway. Your bodies collided, twisting and turning trying to fathom some kind of dominance until your legs wrapped around his waist and he sank to the bottom with you on top. His hands found your thighs and dug into the soft skin until your lips parted with a sudden thought and the last of your air bubbled to the surface. 

“Not the attack I was expecting,” he taunted as he rose to the surface behind you. The water falling from his hair cooled as it dropped to your shoulder and his hand traced the curve of your neck. “Someone plays dirty.”

“I’m not playing.” Your voice wasn’t the cold detached sound you had hoped it would be, but a needy sigh. Your legs pressed together and you were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. 

“Is that another invitation? You almost won that time.”

You turned around with a glare to find his smirk growing as wide as his pupils as he looked down at your body. “It’s not a fair fight anyway. I am naked and vulnerable.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you as vulnerable, malcriada, not with that prickly attitude and sharp tongue. But, if it would make you feel better about losing again…” his hands brushed over his hips and pushed his trunks down his thighs before he tossed them out of the pool. “Happy now?”

“I’m certainly something,” you murmured before realising you spoke aloud. Anger flushed your body again at the distraction he caused and you shoved your hand across the surface, spraying him in the face with the water. His momentary surprise was only that, momentary, and he leapt into your personal space with his own attack.

You weren’t quite sure how it happened, or how it started. Maybe the tension that had been brimming all week finally reached its breaking point and it was a mutual decision. One moment you were writhing to escape from his attack, your hands trying to find purchase on his body as you wriggled in his arms, the next you were writhing for an entirely different reason. 

His chest brushed over your sensitive peaks and your nails scraped down his back. Your legs tightened around his waist and felt the large length pressed between your stomachs. Your heads broke the surface but the gasp had nothing to do with the need for air when his palms squeezed your ass to hold you still. 

“What are you doing?” you moaned as you clit pressed to his shaft and every little movement rode you over the rigid veins. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt the heat of your core on him. “I’m trying to not fuck you right now.”

“Right, because you hate me,” you laughed humorlessly as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but you both moaned at the feeling.

“No, because you hate me.”

It had been a while since you last had sex, that was the excuse you gave for being so needy and wanting to be filled right at that moment. “I can hate you and still want to fuck.”

Carlos stared into your eyes and saw the desire in them, felt the desire that had your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. “Fuck it,” he decided aloud. “I can hate you and still make you come.”

“Bold words.”

He didn’t give you a response, at least not in words. His strong hands lifted you higher and pulled you back down on his cock. Your teeth clamped around the muscle where his shoulder met his neck and he groaned at the pain and your muffled cry. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You’re too big,” you whispered as he slowly speared you down his shaft until you looked down your body expecting to see a bugle at your belly button. Easing you back up, he set a slow rhythm as your body adjusted to his size and walked you both to the edge of the pool.

“You can take it,” he promised as your legs untangled from around him and you found yourself facing the mountain you had climbed earlier. His hips snapped forward and buried himself back in you from behind and your cry echoed out into the night. “That’s it, make an avalanche, malcriada.”

You didn’t care that he called you brat. You didn’t care if you brought the mountain down on the whole town. You only cared about reaching your own high and you chased it with your hips, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke. Waves rippled out across the water and soon turned to splashes as your core tightened and those ripples began to make their way down your spine.

“I can feel you shaking,” he teased in your ear, his hand snaking over your hip to find your clit. “Let go, dulce, let me feel you come.”

Your eyes slammed shut as waves of pleasure rocked through you and his name tumbled from your lips, betraying yourself with the reverent tone it held. His pleasure grew at the sound and he slammed himself as deep as he could in your cunt, letting your tight walls milk him as he came. There should have been anger at the idea of being filled with his seed, but you took delight in the liquid warmth pooling inside you. You had made him come undone, it was a win of sorts in your mind.

Satisfied for the moment, you pushed his body back and walked up the steps, into the biting cold night. Carlos was still high from his release and he didn't realise until it was too late. You were already halfway to the suites when he noticed his robe was missing, a quick scan of the snow confirmed his trunks had found the same fate.

“Brat!” he called out as you disappeared inside.

“Asshole.”

Click here for part two.

[mentally-gone002]

spencer reid headcannons because i said so!!!!! these are kinda dating headcannons but some general stuff too

a/n: plot twist guys im bored… again… (i’m unemployed and can’t drive so im stuck at home all day) (update: i wrote this two days ago and now i have my license)

———————————————————————

spencer doesn’t catch onto how relationships work very fast 

^^^ it’s very much so a “trust the process” with him but when he’s got it he’s good 

he likes contact but also hates it at the same time

he has certain borders he doesn’t want crossed so like… if you’re dating him linking pinkies happens more often than holding hands

memorizes things abt you just because (the color of pen you like most or your fav lip balm, just little details)

takes him a minute to get used to like romantic stuff too

so if you surprise him with like… dinner that’s somewhat romantic at home he’s like 

“why’re there so many candles?” 

or something like that because he’s smart but dumb at the same time 

he doesn’t laugh often so when he does you’re all surprised and it perplexes him 

i feel like his love languages would be like… words of affirmation and quality time 

like yes he’ll get all nervous if you compliment him but he rlly likes it because i feel like he craves it in a way

quality time to him would consist of just being in the same room 

^^^ he’d be reading and you’d be finishing work from the day and the only noise is like breathing and page turning and computer keys and he’s just loving it

spencer seems like the guy who would get butterflies in the palms of his hands and he gets like sensory overload from that sometimes 

so when you make him happy or flustered he’s gonna be digging his nails into his palm to make the feeling go away because he’s never felt like that before????

doesn’t listen to music very often but he does have a few cds of classical or jazz (music taste is so hard to determine)

he would definitely get surprised when you try and take pictures with him 

^^^ you’ll just get your camera and sit beside him on the couch and tell him to smile and he’d be confused because there’s probably not a lot of pictures of him 

he writes you notes and leaves them on the fridge or on your nightstand 

kisses on the cheek more than on the lips 

he knows how to dance 

can’t explain it he just does lol

the bau team would find out about you by seeing both him and you out in public somewhere in DC and would sneak a picture and then ask him abt it later at work

if you work with him the whole team knows abt the relationship before you tell them or if you don’t keep it a secret they’re still like “we know” and spencer’s surprised 

goes nonverbal sometimes if somethings bothering him 

little spoon when he is okay with cuddling

he is a talker okay! so he’ll sometimes just go on and on about something and you’ll just listen because it’s CUTE

he doodles when he’s bored so sometimes he has a sticky note on his desk covered in little pictures 

^^^ morgan teases about it so spencer keeps all his drawing hidden in a drawer 

he likes to stand in the rain sometimes even though it makes his socks wet (which he hates because sensory stuff) but he likes how it makes everything smell clean 

can’t cook but he can bake because it’s just science and he’s a little nerd baby so he’s got baking in the bag

he decorates for halloween a month early and leaves decorations up until thanksgiving

phone calls>>> texts 

i feel like spencer would have tics for some reason??? like either his mouth will twitch or it’ll be smth with his hands??

he collects coffee mugs

very subtle sleeper build

loves having his hair played with

he likes cats 

teaches you chess and looses to you a few times 

he writes abt you in his letters to his mom 

^^^ when you eventually meet diana she immediately likes you

[morganxwritess]

Your new Carlos fic!! I’m obsessed💕 If you ever did a part 2 for it there would be no complaints lol. Will definitely be checking your other works out! Keep up the good work and thank you as well.

⋆｡°✩ 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭.

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: once again, you can't resist capturing carlos's beauty, leading to some spicy photos you never would have taken if you had known your brother would stumble across them.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, cute fluffy smut, p in v sex, voyeurism, camera in the bedroom, oral sex (female receiving), essentially porn with plot

note: pt. 2 of picture perfect, and might i say i think it’s better than the original

word count: 3.3k

This Saturday was just another pulse-pounding race weekend, but with a touch of mischief that made it unforgettable. You woke up in Carlos's bed, the soft morning light spilling through the curtains and the lingering scent of his cologne mingling with the sheets. As you gently slipped out of his embrace, your heart fluttered with the thrill of the secret rendezvous. You crept back to your hotel room, the excitement of the morning still buzzing through your veins as you prepped for the day's work.

The circuit was alive with a crackling energy. Fans' cheers, engines roaring, and the palpable anticipation of the races electrified the air. You dove into your work, your camera capturing the raw intensity of Charles’s steely gaze and Carlos’s fierce determination. Each click of the shutter told a tale of competition and camaraderie. Between P3 and Qualifying, you navigated the paddock like a pro, snapping photos that showcased both the heat of the competition and the warmth of the drivers' friendships.

As the sun set, painting the sky in a mesmerizing blend of orange and pink, you headed back to your hotel room. After a quiet dinner, you felt the day's adrenaline begin to wane, replaced by eager anticipation for the evening's escapades.

You had wanted to go to Carlos’s room now, but you knew to wait for either his text to come over or Charles’s text letting you know he was going to bed. While you were really starting to fall for Carlos you didn’t want your relationship with him to affect your work or your relationship with your brother.

While you waited for the green light to go see him, you slipped into the matching red lace set that always made Carlos's eyes light up, layering a fluffy white hotel robe over it for that extra touch of mystery. With at least an hour to kill, you dove into editing the day's photos.

As you scanned through the shots uploading onto your computer, you couldn’t help but smile. The way the light danced off the red cars was simply breathtaking, and you knew the team would be just as impressed. But there was one photo that stood out among the rest: Carlos, fresh off setting pole in Qualifying, captured in a moment of pure intensity.

He was beside his race engineer, pouring over stats and data, with the top half of his race suit draped around his waist, revealing his fireproofs beneath. His powerful arms were crossed over his chest, sweat gleaming on his face and through his thick black hair. And then there was that secretive wink he shot towards the camera—an undeniable hint of the personal connection you shared.

Even though this shot was by far your favorite of the day, you knew you’d have to keep it under wraps. Sharing it with the team would be like accidentally sharing a love letter, and you weren’t quite ready for that plot twist just yet.

As you got lost in your photo edits, a sudden, assertive knock jolted you from your focus. Curious about who might be seeking you out at this late hour, you tiptoed over to the door with the grace of a cat on a mission. Peeking through the peephole, you squinted to make sure you knew exactly who was on the other side.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a smirk when you saw Carlos making a goofy face at the peephole, clearly hoping to make you laugh. With a chuckle, you undid the safety lock and swung open the door, letting him in but feeling a bit puzzled.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him in your room—far from it! It was just that it was usually simpler for you to head to his place, given his busier schedule during race weekends. Plus, his room was generally a lot nicer than yours. So, seeing him here now, looking like he was up to something, added a touch of delightful confusion to the evening.

As soon as you clicked the door shut behind you, Carlos didn't waste a second. He leaned in and delivered the sweetest, most tender kiss you’d ever felt, like a warm promise that everything was going to be just fine.

“How are you this evening, mi amor?” he whispered, his voice a soft caress.

Your heart skipped a beat at the endearing nickname he reserved just for you. You grinned and rose on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders like a warm, affectionate embrace.

“So much better now that I’m with you,” you murmured. “I thought you were going to text me when you wanted me to come over.”

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I got impatient and decided I couldn’t wait to see you any longer.”

Before you could even respond, his gaze darted to the desk in the corner where your camera and computer were set up. Noticing his own face on the screen, he grinned and made a beeline for it.

“Is that me?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You darted in front of him, trying to shield the screen. “No, Carlos! I’m still editing these. They need a lot of work.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on his lips. “My face doesn’t need any editing, mi amor. Let me see your masterpiece.”

Despite being very protective of your work, you let Carlos by. You knew that if you really didn’t want him to see your photos he would respect that, but you also knew that if you’d let anyone look through your unfiltered shots, it was definitely him.

Carlos leaned closer, his eyes widening as he took in the photo on your screen. You could practically see the sparkle of admiration in his gaze.

“This is great, princessa!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine awe. “You really capture my essence. I wish I could take photos like this.”

You grinned mischievously, giving him a playful nudge. “Well, if your ‘essence’ is how badly you want to fuck me, then yeah, I’d say I nailed it.”

Carlos laughed heartily at your remark and zoomed in on his face, examining the playful wink he’d given the camera. “I was actually thinking about what I’d do to you later,” he confessed, his grin widening. “Come to think of it, I’m always thinking about what I’m going to do to you later.”

You couldn't help but giggle, giving him a playful shove. “Well, lucky for you, Mr. Pole Position, you've got my full attention now. So, what’s the plan?”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer with a teasing glint in his eyes. “The plan, mi amor, involves a lot less editing and a lot more kissing.”

Carlos's arm around your waist felt warm and secure, pulling you in closer. His eyes twinkled with mischief and anticipation, and you could feel the electricity in the air between you.

“You think you can just waltz in here and distract me from my work with a few sweet words?” you teased, your voice playful.

“Absolutely,” he said, his tone confident. “And I’m pretty sure I’m succeeding.”

With that, he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more intensity. His lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and passion, making your heart race. You melted into the kiss, forgetting all about the photos and the long day you’d had. His hands found the edge of your robe, slipping inside to feel the lace beneath.

“Oh, mi amor,” Carlos groaned, his eyes devouring the sight of the red lace that hugged your curves, “Who takes photos of you when you look this good?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a teasing smile. “No one ever takes photos of me. It’s the curse of being the photographer.”

Carlos's expression turned mischievous as he pulled you closer. “Well, that’s a tragedy we need to fix immediately.”

Before you could react, he snatched up your camera and started snapping playful photos of you in your lacy ensemble. “Strike a pose, princessa!” he commanded with a wink.

You laughed, throwing in exaggerated poses and goofy faces, fully embracing the moment. “You know, you’re not half bad at this!” you teased, twirling around.

Carlos grinned, lowering the camera to look at you with a gleam in his eye. “Let’s just say I’m inspired by my subject.”

He set the camera aside on the night stand and pulled you into his arms, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Now, let’s see if I can inspire you.”

As Carlos's arms wrapped around you, his lips found yours in a deep, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine. The intensity of his embrace and the warmth of his body against yours made everything else fade away.

He gently guided you toward the bed, his hands tracing the curves that the red lace accentuated so perfectly. His touch was both tender and electrifying, sending waves of anticipation through you.

“You know,” he murmured between kisses, “I think that might’ve been my favorite photoshoot yet.”

You giggled, your hands exploring the firm muscles of his back. “You always know how to make things interesting.”

With a playful growl, Carlos gently pushed you onto the bed, following you down and hovering over you with a look of pure adoration. “I aim to please, mi amor.”

As Carlos began to kiss down your neck, he moved his hand between your legs touching your most intimate spot over your red lace underwear. Your head falls back as a loud moan escapes you. 

As Carlos began to kiss down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire, his hand slid between your legs, his touch teasing and tantalizing over the red lace. A shiver of pleasure ran through you as he found your most intimate spot, his fingers moving with expert precision.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a loud moan escaping your lips as waves of sensation crashed over you. “Carlos,” you gasped, your voice a mix of surprise and delight.

He grinned against your skin, his breath hot and enticing. “I love hearing you like this, mi amor,” he murmured, his fingers continuing their mesmerizing dance.

You squirmed beneath him, the lace adding a delicious friction that heightened every touch. “You’re driving me crazy,” you managed to say between moans, your body arching into his.

“That’s the idea,” he chuckled, his voice low and husky with desire. His kisses trailed lower, matching the rhythm of his hand, each touch sending you closer to the edge.

The intensity of his touch and the passion in his eyes made everything else disappear, leaving just the two of you lost in a moment of pure, unfiltered bliss.

As he kissed lower, his lips ghosting over your hip bone, an idea struck him that made him moan quietly into your skin. 

“Grab your camera,” he said breathily, his mouth leaving hot marks on your hips and lower stomach.

At first, you thought you misheard him, so you didn’t move, not until his fingers paused their tantalizing motions, making you groan in protest. He repeated, “Grab your camera.”

“My camera?” you asked, eyes wide as your chest rose and fell with anticipation.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice a mix of urgency and desire. “I want you to capture my essence again.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking he was joking. “Your essence still being how badly you want to fuck me?”

He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye as he bit down gently on your skin, drawing a moan from you. “Nothing will capture my essence better than a picture of me eating your pussy.”

His boldness sent a thrill through you, and with a mix of excitement and curiosity, you reached for your camera. As you positioned yourself to snap the photo, Carlos resumed his ministrations, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony. The click of the camera captured not just his essence, but the raw, passionate connection between you two. It was an intimate moment frozen in time, a testament to the electric chemistry that sparked between you.

With your camera in hand, you adjusted the focus, your breath hitching as Carlos continued his sensual exploration, pulling your panties off giving him easy access. The sight of him between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of hunger and adoration, was almost too much to bear.

He paused just long enough to give you a wicked grin. "Ready, princessa?"

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you aimed the lens. Carlos's lips found your most intimate spot, and the sensation was so intense that you nearly dropped the camera. But you steadied yourself, snapping photo after photo as he worked his magic.

The combination of his skilled mouth and the act of capturing this intimate moment was an intoxicating mix. Each click of the shutter seemed to amplify your pleasure, your moans and gasps echoing in the room. Carlos's hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he continued to drive you wild.

"You're doing amazing," he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through you.

You couldn't respond, too lost in the sensation and the sight of him through the camera lens. The photos were raw and unfiltered, capturing the pure, unbridled passion of the moment.

As you neared the edge, you dropped the camera onto the bed, your hands flying to Carlos's hair, tugging him closer. "Carlos, please," you begged, your voice breathless and needy.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "I’ve got you, mi amor," he whispered before diving back in with renewed intensity.

The combination of his skilled tongue and the memories of the photos you'd taken sent you over the edge, your body trembling with release. Carlos didn't stop, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were utterly spent.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his eyes filled with satisfaction. You couldn't resist snapping a photo of his face, covered in your wetness and sporting that sweet, smug smirk. God, he was perfect.

“Will you fuck me? I want a photo of you inside me,” you begged, your voice as casual as if you were asking for the time.

Carlos nearly lost it right there. Sure, the camera idea was his, but he hadn’t been sure if you’d go along with it. Now, he was certain that this camera play was about to become a regular event. The thought of having these intimate photos to look back on whenever he missed you was thrilling.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

He quickly positioned himself above you, the anticipation in his eyes mirroring your own. As he entered you, the connection between you both was electric, a perfect blend of passion and intimacy. You managed to grab the camera, snapping a few photos of him lost in the moment, his face contorted with pleasure.

The sight of him inside you, captured forever, was intoxicating. You set the camera aside, your focus entirely on the sensations building between you. Carlos moved with a rhythm that drove you wild, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. You met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost overwhelming. “I want to see your face when you come.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name, your body trembling with release. Carlos followed soon after, his own climax shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you.

Breathless and spent, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there, tangled together, the camera forgotten for the moment.

“That was incredible,” you whispered, your head resting on his chest.

Carlos smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re incredible, mi amor. And these photos... they’re our little secret, our private memories.”

You nodded, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I can’t wait to make more.”

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The next morning, Carlos was up before the crack of dawn, slipping out of the hotel room with the stealth of a ninja. While he was never one to shy away from public displays of affection, he knew you preferred a little discretion, so he made his exit early.

Before he left, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, made sure your alarm was set, and left a sweet note telling you to have an amazing day and that he would see you on the track.

When your alarm buzzed, you stretched luxuriously, savoring the lingering ache between your legs—a delicious reminder of the night before. As you sipped your coffee and slipped into your Ferrari red blouse, you began to feel the press of time against you. Just then, you heard a knock at the door.

Assuming it was Carlos, you flung open the door without a second thought, blissfully unaware that you were still in your underwear. Your surprise turned into confusion as you were met with your brother Charles’s puzzled face.

“Charles? What are you doing here?” you asked, slightly mortified.

“More importantly,” Charles raised an eyebrow, “Do you always answer the door in your underwear?”

“I’m getting dressed,” you replied, hurriedly searching for the black dress pants you had planned to wear. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you took that picture of me, Alex, and Leo yesterday. I want to post it on Instagram after getting it edited.”

You nodded, recalling yesterday’s events. “Yeah, it’s somewhere on my camera. Just grab it and show me which one you want.”

As you rummaged through your stuff, it completely slipped your mind that along with Charles’s family photo were some very intimate snapshots of you and Carlos from the night before. You headed to the bathroom to do a last-minute touch-up on your hair and makeup.

“What the fuck?!” Charles’s voice rang out, filled with shock.

Thinking he must have accidentally dropped your camera, you sprinted back into the room, heart pounding with fear. “What?! What happened?!”

Charles, looking like he’d seen a ghost, turned the camera toward you. “Why did you take photos of yourself in lingerie?”

Your heart sank, and you stammered, “I can explain.”

Charles waved a hand dismissively. “You know what, it’s none of my business. I’ll just find the photo of me and Alex and get out of here—”

Realizing he was about to see everything from last night, you panicked. “Wait! Stop!”

But it was too late. Charles’s eyes widened in horror as he saw Carlos’s face between your legs on the small screen. “Is that Carlos?!”

And just like that, your secret was out. Charles knew about you and Carlos, and you had a feeling that the rest of the Ferrari garage wouldn’t be far behind. While you’d tried to keep your relationship under wraps, it was clear that hiding it was becoming a losing battle.

Carlos had a way of making you fall for him faster than you could keep up, and it showed in every photo you snapped of him—and in every snap he took of you. The connection between you two was undeniable, a radiant energy that even the best camera couldn’t fully capture.

You were head over heels, and it was more than obvious. From the way his eyes lit up when he saw you to the way you practically glowed whenever he was around, the love between you was as clear as day.

So, while the secret might be out, you decided to embrace it. The thrill of your relationship was too exhilarating to hide away. With a cheeky grin, you prepared for the day, ready to face whatever came next—knowing that with Carlos by your side, every moment was bound to be an adventure.

"Yeah, that's him." You replied, proudly.

[koqabear]

「 Camera Shy 」

♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE

“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”

camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot 

Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)

Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo.. 

smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)

Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous. 

Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.

He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.

Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers. 

Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.

Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice. 

He got that last compliment a lot.

“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically. 

You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.

Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment. 

“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.” 

That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them. 

He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more. 

This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time. 

“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”

As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild. 

He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.

Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<

The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip. 

“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”

The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.

“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?

“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock. 

His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild. 

In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.

In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?

»»»

The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.

Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny. 

You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure. 

You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy. 

Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times. 

You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”

And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.

Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy. 

“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”

His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open. 

“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”

The video ends shortly after.

God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet. 

A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..

Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?

Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.

You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)

Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership. 

Who is paying for all this?!

You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through. 

Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered. 

Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.

You’re still horny. 

»»»

You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.

Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams. 

You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day. 

The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.

You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?

Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him. 

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.

This feels familiar. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally. 

“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide. 

“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity. 

Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform. 

You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes. 

You’re wearing your glasses, too.

Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing. 

“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.

“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say? 

“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…? 

Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home. 

“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway. 

“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more. 

Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction. 

You get why he’s so popular. 

»»»

Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you. 

You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest. 

guiltypleasures

had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….

Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason. 

The stream starts in five minutes. 

While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them. 

He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way. 

“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end. 

Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :( 

His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud. 

“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”

There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.

Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is. 

You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual. 

“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”

The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room. 

Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger. 

That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person. 

“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.

“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation. 

He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly. 

“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her. 

“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?” 

His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.

I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—

Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.

The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys. 

The problem lies in the last request. 

He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you. 

But then again, it’s three hundred dollars. 

“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing. 

Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free. 

“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name. 

The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today. 

He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you. 

You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it. 

He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy. 

He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.

And those glasses. 

He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be. 

It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon. 

As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up. 

On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy. 

“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation. 

“_— Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction. 

And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off. 

But you weren’t imagining things. 

Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.

“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.

He’s barely getting started.

In turn, so are you. 

»»»

Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. 

After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often. 

It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better. 

He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness. 

“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”

Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no. 

“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together. 

Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.

“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.

“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.

“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.” 

You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts. 

Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever. 

»»»

You have yet to see Beomgyu. 

The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside. 

You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it. 

It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn. 

“Drinking already?”

Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music. 

Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you. 

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.

Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction. 

“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.

“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!” 

And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.

“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.

What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row. 

“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin. 

“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area. 

“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?” 

Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing. 

“Oh, I love this song!” 

You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze. 

“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”

Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face. 

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close. 

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns. 

“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”

“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue. 

(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully. 

Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.

“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.

“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can. 

And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately. 

The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head. 

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar. 

“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse. 

“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior. 

“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”

“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.

“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.

“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod. 

“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words. 

“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool. 

Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words. 

“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?

You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes. 

Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well. 

You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly. 

Holy shit. 

Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.

It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.

“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”

You’re gonna pass out.

“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”

“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”

You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself. 

Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch. 

You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much. 

“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”

“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.” 

“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party. 

“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”

God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.

It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile. 

After a second, you take it. 

You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely. 

“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile. 

Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself. 

“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.

“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”

Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence. 

“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”

Your lips press together. 

“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”

“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again. 

Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing? 

“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”

“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”

Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.

“Okay?”

“Like. Online.”

That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear. 

“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”

“Your streams.” 

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams. 

In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!

All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid. 

“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.

“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.” 

Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes. 

“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure. 

“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways. 

“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?

“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.

Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.

“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”

»»»

God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.

“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby. 

You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home. 

Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own. 

“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip. 

“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”

Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.

Then, he’s looking past it.

“Come here, baby.”

You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget. 

“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”

You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.

“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders. 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”

Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you. 

“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.

You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.

Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her— 

The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.

“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.

“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”

You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light. 

“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”

He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin. 

He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests. 

“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.

“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.

“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience. 

“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.

“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance. 

“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.

“I thought of you. Every time.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his. 

“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.

“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”

Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought. 

Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop. 

“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.

It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base. 

“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat. 

“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release. 

“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.

“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes. 

“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”

He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly. 

“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”

He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh. 

“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”

Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.

“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.

After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you. 

You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.

“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?” 

It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously. 

And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.

Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles. 

You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying. 

“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.

“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”

A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.

“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on. 

“Aren’t they the sweetest?”

You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back. 

His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.

It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.

He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move. 

“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there. 

“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.

“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!” 

The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder. 

Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill. 

Won’t she say thank you?

The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen. 

Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting. 

“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.

What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.

“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.

“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.

“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again. 

“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.” 

That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early. 

“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this. 

“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room. 

“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”

Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response. 

“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”

Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.

“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.

“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.

“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation. 

“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!”  you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.

He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling. 

Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.

You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.

“You got a new tip.”

The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.

Could you try to make her squirt ?

“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you. 

Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this. 

[ventismacchiato]

🎮 behind the lens!

a social media streamer au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis - you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

genre - enemies/rivals to lovers, streamer and youtuber au, college setting, crack, slight angst

status completed ✔️

warnings time stamps don’t matter, characters including y/n are portrayed as young adults, mentions of alcohol, nsfw

sideships xiao x aether, kazuha x heizou

↳ playlist

STREAM IS STARTING...

featuring…

↳ stardust and friends | balladeer and friends

ACT ONE: raiding your heart!

01. kicking my feet and giggling

02. beat my ass

03. get out of my notifications

04. id donate for nudes

05. pls be ugly

06. now wait a damn minute

07. throwing up and crying

08. do you get deja vu

09. would you love me if i was bald

10. passenger princess

11. would you bark for me

12. breaking my silence

13. caught in 4k

ACT TWO: you're live!

14. he’s cheating on us?!

15. damage control

16. chat going crazy

17. breaking character

18. #JUNGKOOK

19. drowned cat core

bonus — heizou’s theory

20. twitch con

21. city of love

22. he who must not be named

23. and there’s only one bed

24. how to get akumatized 101

25. a glimpse of us

26. the ship has sunk

27. best of both worlds

28. something in the water

ACT THREE: cut the camera!

29. gatekeeping the sexy

30. show yourself

31. hold on i’m processing

32. sad quotes bot

33. please leave a message after the tone

34. were you silent or silenced

35. they don’t know about us

36. plot twist we’re dating

37. co-op irl! that’s called hanging out

38. stop asking for esex

39. out of character

40. paper rings

bonus — fuck me like i’m famous 🔞

41. truth or drink

42. epilogue; curtain call

ACT FOUR: fuck capitalism!

43. extra headcanons

44. stardust merch

45. balladeer merch

46. scarastar collab merch

STREAM HAS ENDED...

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi If you still do recuest's for twst

Can I recuest's the dorm leaders x GN!reader that is like the mad hatter?

Madhatter Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re wild and wacky with a love for tea and making hats. You’re never in one place long mentally and physically. Your suitors are often left to question everything when you seem to tip and top off the thin line of sanity:

Malleus Draconia

“Hi Hi Horns have you burped towards the roses today?”

“Roses? Do you mean the ones in Heartslaybul? And would that be polite? To burp on them?”

He’s the perfect accessory to your insanity

He’s plenty gullible to listen to you

even when your requests border that morale of good and evil 

He’s usually picking you

His eccentric little lover

There’s never a dull moment with you by his side

He starts having a problem though when there are others sitting in on your tea parties

His rainstorms don’t necessarily mean the absolute end when it comes to you

But they usually do for your unsuspecting participants

You’re so wonderful for him

He can’t let anyone enjoy his human as much as he does

“My child of man, may we do my head fitting? I’d love to feel you soft pads against my scalp.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What are you doing (Y/n)-chan?”

“I am stretching for the annual beetle festival.”

“Beetle festival? Can I join?”

“You may but you have to eat a lady-bug first.”

“Okay!”

You guys are like kids in a candy shop 

For Kalim, he never thinks to question your sanity

You're just an exciting person

He soon finds himself supplying whatever you need to fulfill your shenanigans

And something nasty creeps up when someone (Jamil) tells you to stop

“I can make it so we can finish our tea party….by ourselves this time.”

Idia Shroud

“Come on Fireplace! Drink this tea!”

“B-but you b-brewed that in your hat…!”

“Yes that’s how you’ll know it’s sanitary!”

“Y-you’re weird.”

“Why thank you!”

He just thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever met

At first, he thinks its really just fascination 

With the way, you randomly dance in the direction of the cameras that were supposed to be secret

That you were different just like him

And he thought just being allies was good enough

But now he’s plotting the demise of the normie that decides to dance along with you

“There aren’t many who can handle people like us! That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“Let the unbirthday party begin!”

“(Y/n), hands should be out. Elbows off the table.”

“Whoopie did you see this dessert!”

“I did now sit in your seat.”

He has a weird ability to govern you 

No one understands it 

He barely understands it 

But you two mostly get along 

He often knows how to speak your language 

Something that many seem to struggle with

But he’s the go-to person to reign you in

That’s just the way he likes it+

“Come (Y/n) you’re a good hatter. I need one for our teaparty this evening. Make it.” 

Vil Schoenheit

“You’re sense of style is certainly unique.”

“Thanks the cobwebs were my latest addition!”

“What!? Cobwebs that can’t be healthy!”

“Oooh a hat made of cake!”

He thinks you're cute but he worries your lack of sanity leads you to make bad decisions

Like having hats with holes for nonexistent limbs

As well as your affinity for drinking tea for a meal 

And probably worst of all being friends with potatoes who can’t handle you 

Which is why Vil’s here

“Didn’t you read the schedule? We’re having tea, tonight so leave those potatoes behind.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Its time for the puppy hat party!”

“...Will you stop, I’m trying to sleep!”

“But it’s time for the party!!!!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He thinks you're so cute 

But he loves it most when you card your hands through his hair while fitting his head for a hat

But part of your insanity has you being quite energetic

Which clashes with his love for sleep 

So he might meddle a little with the tea you seem addicted to it

So he might slip something in 

To make sure he gets his snuggly hatter in his bed

“Come on Herbivore you seem exhausted. If you’re not that tired you can fit me for a hat.”

[lilsoftext]

•~* BACKSEAT BAN *~•

-chris sturniolo x female reader

- summary: new rule on videos and streams for chris “front seat only” for being to clingy

——————————————————————————

“Alright, guys, buckle up!” Matt called, starting the recording. “Let’s see what weird stuff the fans want to know this time.”

Sof and Chris were already in the back seat, and predictably, Chris had his arm around Sof’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

Nick glanced back from the front passenger seat, immediately sensing trouble. “Nope! Nope! You two—cut it out,” he said, his voice sharp but amused. “Chris, front seat. Now."

Chris rolled his eyes, but a playful grin spread across his face. “Come on, man. We’re just sitting.”

Matt glanced over at Nick, who shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, no. We’ve been down this road before. You can’t be trusted in the backseat.”

“Remember the last stream?” Matt chimed in, laughing. “We got so many comments. ‘Hey, are they gonna breathe in between making out?’”

Sof giggled, pushing Chris away playfully. “It wasn’t *that* bad.”

“Oh, it was that bad,” Nick retorted, scrolling through his phone. “Anyway, new rule: Chris, front seat always. Non-negotiable.”

With a defeated groan, Chris reluctantly slid out of the back seat and into the front next to Matt, who was still holding the camera. “Fine, fine, I’m up here. Happy now?”

“Very,” Nick said, twisting in his seat to give Chris a satisfied grin. “Let’s get this Q&A started, shall we?”

As Matt started driving, Nick read the first question. “Okay, here’s one. ‘Who’s most likely to get caught doing something embarrassing in public?’”

Everyone burst into laughter, immediately turning to look at Chris.

“Come on, man!” Chris protested, throwing his hands in the air. “Why’s it always gotta be me?”

Sof smirked. “Because it *is* always you.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Remember last week at the coffee shop?”

Matt burst out laughing, almost swerving the car. “Oh my God, I forgot about that! You were all over Sof, and that poor barista didn’t know where to look.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “I was just… showing affection.”

“Dude, you were *devouring* her face,” Nick said, stifling a laugh.

“Alright, alright, next question!” Chris hurriedly interrupted, eager to change the subject.

Nick looked down at his phone again. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘What’s everyone’s pet peeve about each other?’”

“Oh, easy,” Sof said, leaning forward to rest her chin on the front seat. “Chris’s inability to chill for like, two seconds.”

“Hey!” Chris shot back, turning to face her. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true, though,” Nick chimed in, turning to Matt. “You know it’s true.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, dude, we literally had to start sitting between you two on streams.”

Nick added, “And the backseat thing? That's not even a joke anymore. You’re banned from the back.”

Chris threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, fine. You guys win. I’ll behave.” He turned to Sof and whispered dramatically, “For now.”

Matt caught it on camera and shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, for now.” He glanced at Nick. “Keep an eye on him. He’s always plotting.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

The car filled with laughter as they continued their Q&A, teasing Chris at every opportunity. But despite all the jokes, the group’s dynamic was undeniably fun and full of energy.

Chris leaned back in his seat, smirking at Sof through the rearview mirror. “Just wait until this ride’s over.”

“Chris, I swear—” Nick began, but his laughter cut him off.

“New rule,” Matt said with a grin, keeping his eyes on the road. “No making out on video, ever again. Period.”

Everyone agreed, but Chris winked at Sof anyway.

——————————————————————————

i hope you enjoyed it. if you have any requests, leave down below (actually i don’t know what to write about, i iost my ideas)

lilsoftext<3

[tatumrileyslover]

You Do It For Her

Capital Don’t Cry (Part Two)

Summary: Sejanus is tasked with mentoring the District Two female tribute, but plot twist :0 they're childhood besties, but it’s part two (the games era)

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x Fem!District Two!Reader Platonic!Lucy Gray Baird x Reader

Requested: very

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: it’s the games so murder and shit, Jessup rabies era :/, Angst baby, reader and Lucy gray are besties, I’m such a Lucy Gray girly so she’s super prevalent in this fic, murder, not a whole lot of Sejanus in this, mostly in readers pov with two small pov changes

a/n: I’m so glad so many of you loved the first part, I’m so happy you’ve all been enjoying it, honestly it makes me so happy (also thanks so much for almost 1k on part one), I’ve had to break it into three parts so I’m sorry for making you all wait longer. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (I also somehow wrote the second half of the entire fic listening to the Wonka soundtrack and it helped but was very worrying)

Part 1 / Part 3

The harsh plastic seat seemed to dig into Sejanus, leaving an uncomfortable impression against his restless form. His blazer, adorned with the emblem of the Capitol, clung to him, its material feeling constricting, almost suffocating. Sleep had eluded him since that haunting moment when he last saw (Y/n), and thoughts of her, intertwined with concerns for Marcus, haunted his every waking hour.

In the buzzing atmosphere of the mentor's area, Lucky Flickerman's enthusiastic attempts to coax smiles out of the mentors for the flashing cameras felt more like an intrusion. The relentless flashes of light assaulted Sejanus's sensitive eyes, forcing him to squint against the intrusive brightness. The whole spectacle seemed detached from the somber reality he was living.

As Coriolanus approached and took the seat beside him, a familiar face in the sea of unfamiliarity, Sejanus couldn't help but find a fragment of solace. The camaraderie, however, did little to dispel the heavy cloud of uncertainty and anxiety that hung over him. Each mentor's forced smile, every attempt to portray an air of confidence, serving to convince everyone that they were certain that their tribute was going to win.

And so, as the photographers continued to capture the glossy facade of Capitol mentorship, Sejanus remained caught between the stark plastic of his seat and the weight of his unresolved fears.

Dean Highbottom, with his sly smirk etched on his sunken face, intercepted Coriolanus, halting him in his tracks. Sejanus strained to catch the words exchanged between them, but the cacophony of the producers' urgent shouts about the imminent commencement of the Games drowned out their conversation. Despite the muffled noise, Sejanus couldn't shake the feeling that his name had been part of that brief exchange. His attention snapped back to the screen in front of him, anxiety intensifying as the countdown to the grim spectacle began.

A feed slowly began to channel through, projected onto the screen was the tributes standing in a circle around the rumble of the arena. Weapons glistened in the centre of the cornucopia, the cameras slowly panned across the tributes as they anxiously awaited the countdown to reach its end. The screen was showing a section of the tributes. Lucy Gray stood looking around with intensity, her eyes drifting around the arena. Sejanus could see her desperately shouting at someone by her side. Her voice was extremely muffled. The camera slowly drifted over to her left, (Y/n) was collapsed on the floor, tears flooding her eyes. Her hands were clasped over her mouth, attempting to stifle her screams, while her glazed eyes were fixed on an unseen point beyond the frame. Lucy Gray desperately tried to shake her out of the trance.

As the countdown reached its final digits, the screen transitioned to its final overview of all the tributes. In the distance, something caught Sejanus's eye, sandwiched between two giant flags of the Capitol. A massive pole protruded near the arena walls, and from it hung a vaguely human form. The sun that beamed into the arena shone what looked like a spotlight through the collapsed roof. Sejanus sprung from his seat, squinting his eyes, focusing on the figure that had distracted him completely from the carnage. The alarm blared as Lucy Gray grabbed (Y/n), rushing towards a tunnel where Jessup awaited them. As the camera angle changed, it showed more of the figure. Sejanus felt his heart drop, rage rushing through his body he threw the chair at the viewing screen. He could contain his anger as he shouted infuriated by the needless display of violence.

"You're monsters! All of you!" Sejanus's voice echoed in the room as he glanced around, faces mostly unfazed. Arachne sat with a sly grin, observing his crumbling exterior. The cameras captured the entire scene, revealing the crucified figure, badly beaten and strung up with no way to defend himself—Marcus.

The deafening ring in her ears competed with the grotesque scene before her as the final cannon fired. (Y/n) forced herself to avert her gaze from Marcus's battered body, only to be met with a horrifying display of brutality. The faces of those she had been forced to live with for a week were now contorted into expressions of ruthless aggression, chasing down anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path. The once-subdued tributes had become brutal beasts, a disturbing metamorphosis fueled by the Capitol's insatiable appetite for bloodsport.

Reeling from the shock, (Y/n) felt a pair of arms encircle her waist, lifting her back onto her feet. Lucy Gray's words were muffled by the persistent ringing in her ears. Shaking off the disorientation, she grasped Lucy Gray's hand, allowing her to guide them toward Jessup, who slumped near the entrance of the tunnels. With urgency, (Y/n) pulled Lucy Gray along, leading her to Jessup's hunched figure. In that moment, she was almost glad the bombs had went off, otherwise she had no idea how to escape the vicious few in the centre of the arena.

Jessup remained almost motionless, his weakened state evident as a consuming fever drained his energy. Glancing back, (Y/n) observed Coral and her group closing in on them, displaying signs of weariness. They most likely seemed like easy targets. Lucy Gray urgently attempted to capture Jessup's attention, guiding him gently toward the safety of the tunnel. Just moments ago, (Y/n) had been paralyzed by shock, saved only by Lucy Gray's presence. As the group closed in on them, panic set in. (Y/n) turned to Lucy Gray, who hadn't made any significant progress in moving Jessup to safety. Throwing his arm over her shoulder, (Y/n) yelled,

"Quickly, help me carry him!" Lucy Gray nodded, mirroring (Y/n)'s actions. Aware of Coral's approaching threat, "They're gaining on us."

The entire sprint through the tunnel was extremely tiring, the adrenaline of being hunted began to fade as the footsteps behind them quietly faded, along with carrying the weight of someone almost twice their size. Jessup was passing in and out of consciousness, and lifting the dead weight of him really slowed the three down. Finding a small passageway inside the tunnel they reached a small space with some water running through it.

"We should rest up here for a while, just while Jessup here come back to," (Y/n) nodded at Lucy Grays statement, helping the half conscious Jessup to the floor, resting his head on her shoulder. (Y/n) tried to scoop some of the water into the palm of her hands and took a sip, it definitely wasn't the cleanest but it would do. Repeating her action she moved over the Lucy Gray,

"Here have some," she softly sipped some out of her hands before urging Jessup to have some. He just pushed her hand away, muttering something. (Y/n) held her now wet hand to his burning forehead. She knew that she couldn't leave him here, but she couldn't see him getting any better. Jessup had been off since they arrived at the zoo, whatever he had come down with, she was afraid it would take him. She knew that Lucy Gray wouldn't dare leave his side, they were in it together, they all were.

She wasn't sure how many hour had passed by since they arrived in their safe place in the tunnel. Jessup had fallen asleep a while back. Both girls agreed someone should stay awake in case of an ambush, (Y/n) agreed to stay up for a while, so Lucy Gray could rest. Everything was silent, occasionally broken up by the soft noise of the trickling water. Jessup was just getting worse, he had broken out in sweat and would thrash around in his sleep. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his form, her heart ached just looking at him. She just hoped he would pass painlessly. A soft yawn broke her gaze, Lucy Gray rubbed her eyes, a soft smile coming across her face.

"Was I out long?" A soft yawn broke (Y/n) out of her intense gaze, Lucy Gray rubbed her eyes, a soft smile coming across her face, "you weren't too lonely with me?"

"Not really, the sound of the water is kind of comforting ya' know," both girls giggled together, "I'm just kidding, Lucy Gray, I don't know what I'd do without you,"

Lucy Gray smiled softly, taking (Y/n)'s hand into her own, squeezing it softly. The room fell silent for a moment, the comfort that Lucy Gray's presence provided helped calm her anxiety by a tenfold.

"Listen Lucy Gray, I just want to say thank you for what you did back there, you didn't need to risk your own life to save me but you did and I'm really grateful for that." Turning to see Lucy Gray already looking at her, she squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"We're allies now, you gave me that healing balm to help Jessup and besides I trust 'ya, that's what friends are for, right?"

The arena was heavily guarded by peacekeepers, probably Dr. Gauls doing. Ominous red lights lit up the facade, casting a shadow onto the high walls. It was different seeing the building at night, it almost made Sejanus rethink his plan entirely.

He sighed, his hand nestled in his pocket, fingers delicately brushing over the breadcrumbs nestled within. His decision was clear; he had to find a way inside. The rear of the Arena was shrouded in quietness, and under the cloak of night, he stealthily slipped through.

The entire arena was cloaked in darkness, setting his nerves on edge. Each occasional creak or shuffle made him freeze in place, fully aware of the danger that surrounded him. Despite the risks, he knew what he had to do. Perhaps he'd even catch a glimpse of her. As he emerged from one of the numerous corridors leading to the center of the ring, the sheer scale of the wreckage unfolded before him. The broadcast to the Capital paled in comparison to the vastness of the scene, making him feel like an ant in the middle of the arena. Lamina perched atop the structure where Marcus had previously hung, fast asleep. Surveying the arena, all other tributes remained hidden from sight, and Sejanus realized that Lamina might be the one to end his life as he lay beside Marcus.

With caution, he advanced toward Marcus's lifeless form, maintaining a vigilant watch on Lamina and the dark surroundings. Marcus lay sprawled unnaturally on the cold concrete, one arm trapped beneath him, and his left leg bearing the evidence of a mangled impact. Sejanus knelt beside the fallen tribute, his eyes filled with tears he hadn't noticed, gently repositioning Marcus into a more peaceful pose with crossed arms over his chest. A solemn touch closed the lifeless eyes. From his pocket, Sejanus retrieved a small velvet bag, its contents a collection of breadcrumbs—a District Two tradition, giving the departed with the luxury of bread for the arduous journey that lay ahead of them.

He knew it was selfish to want to see (Y/n) one last time, if he called out for her and she came, he was just going to endanger her life. He didn't want that, Sejanus just wished he could kiss her one last time. He lost track of time just staring at Marcus's body. The arena was so peaceful at night, just the faint whistles of wind, lulled Sejanus into a false sense of security. The quiet crunch of gravel behind him made him go stiff, a tribute had spotted him. There was a claustrophobic silence, Sejanus teared up , thinking of his life back in Two, his Ma and (Y/n). His sallow breaths picked up once he heard the footsteps drew closer, screwing his eyes shut tightly.

"Sejanus!"

Quickly turning around to the sound of the harsh voice, deep down he wished it was her but he knew better with its deep inflection. It was Coriolanus.

"Coryo, you can't be here, you'll get killed," Coryo let out a loud scoff at his words, rolling his eyes at him. He moved forward to stand next to Sejanus,

"We'll both be killed with whatever stunt you're pulling, Dr. Gaul sent me in here to get you and if you're not back out with me, she'll kill your family and mine"

Sejanus looked up at Coriolanus from his crouched position, the red lights that were outside shone through the small gaps in the wall. It gave Coriolanus a menacing stature, compelling him to go forward. Coriolanus sighed softly, pulling Sejanus to his feet.

"If your tribute finds you out here dead, based on her reaction before, I highly doubt she'll last." Sejanus looked away, he could feel the guilt eating away at him. He was going to leave (Y/n) fending for herself, if she needed food or water he wouldn't be there to give it. It was selfish of him to leave, he would be condemning her to death. Coriolanus caught his attention again.

"At least do it for her,"

Jessup's condition worsened by the second, fading in and out of consciousness with alarming speed. Lucy Gray's worried eyes scanned his trembling form, and he seemed plagued by nightmares, soaked in the sweat that clung to Lucy Gray's undershirt. Refusing their attempts to offer water, he shook uncontrollably. Lucy Gray, lips pursed with concern, wiped the dripping sweat from his forehead. (Y/n) sighed heavily, her mind drifting to the time her mother fell ill. She vividly remembered sitting by her mother's bedside, unable to leave her, and the painful decision when her aunt couldn't afford to care for both of them. Ma Plinth, the Plinth family matriarch, had taken her in like a second daughter. Every week, with a basket full of goodies, Ma Plinth would walk (Y/n) across town to her aunt's house, nestled amidst the mountains. Lucy Gray's gaze shifted to (Y/n), and in that moment, they shared unspoken understanding.

"When my ma was very sick, Sejanus's family took me in, his ma used to come with me to visit her." (Y/n) moved softly down on the ground, kneeling next to Lucy Gray and Jessup. She really cared for Jessup and in his state, dehydration was the last thing they needed. "She was in a comatose state, we desperately needed to get her some liquid, so Ma Plinth, the doll, showed me this little trick."

The bottom of her dress, a fragment of a life she once knew, lay in tatters—blackened by dust and despair. She stared down at the remnants, clutching the fabric tightly in her hand as if holding onto the last echoes of her mother's presence. The room, cold and unforgiving, bore witness to her silent turmoil. The decision she was about to make would likely lead to her demise, but in the grand scheme of things, it felt inconsequential. Her mother, wherever she was, would have access to a television to witness her rebellious act. As she mustered the courage, a resounding ripping noise filled the concrete room, prompting a gasp from Lucy Gray, who instinctively grasped her hand to intervene.

"Oh darling, you don't need to do that-" (Y/n) cut her off lifting her hand off.

"But I do, Lucy Gray, I hate to say it but I fear Jessup won't last much longer if we don't do anything, and it's not like she can do anything about it now." She grinned as she finished ripping the final piece of the dress. Submerging it in the small stream of water that was beside them, to clean off the dirt. Squeezing out the excess water, and softly placing it over his mouth, trying to hydrate him in anyway possible. His eyes fluttered slightly, his eyes filled with panic, snatching the wet rag off his mouth and throwing it across the room.

Lucy Gray concerned, moved beside (Y/n). What was wrong with him? He desperately wiped at his lips, trying to dry them of the water before pointing an accusatory finger at both of the girls.

"Are both of you trying t' poison me?"

"Of course not Jessup, we- you're just dehydrated, we're trying t' help you!" Lucy Gray spluttered out a response as Jessup neared the two threateningly. His hands met her chest as he pushed her to the ground. Her hands flew back to try to cushion her fall.

"I know the two of you have something planned." He turned his sights to (Y/n), who had reached down to help Lucy Gray to her feet.

"We got to go Lucy Gray," she whispered quietly as she examined Jessup again. In the corner of his lips a foamy substance began to show. Rabies. Those stupid fucking rats. (Y/n) grasped Lucy Grays hand tightly pulling her quickly out to the tunnel.

"Run!"

The tunnel felt never-ending, her lungs burning with each gasp of breath, and her feet aching as they harshly pushed against the concrete. Hand tightly holding onto Lucy Gray, she wasn't going to let her go, not after everything she had done for her. Pushing harder off the rubble as a small glimmer of light began to shine through. Jessup wasn't far behind them; his thundering footsteps echoed in her ear, he was gaining on them. Stepping out into the arena, the light burned her retinas; they hadn't seen the sun in god knows how long. Quickly scanning the arena, she spotted one of the Capitol flags laying on the ground, blood pooled out from underneath it. Panicked, she quickly dragged Lucy Gray across the arena.

Some of the stands had crumbled, leaving piles of rubble stacked upon them. If she could somehow lift Lucy Gray onto them, she could make her way over to the private boxes; she could climb up to safety. If (Y/n) could help her up before Jessup got to them, she could scale her way up. They would be safe in the box. (Y/n) had no doubt that Jessup was strong, but she doubted he could rock climb up to them. District Twelve was known for their coal mining, and she doubted he could climb up a wall. Not that District Two was either, but the countless hours she spent with Sejanus out in the mountains helped a lot.

As she lifted Lucy Gray up to grasp the railing of the stands, she glanced back at Jessup as he stalked behind her, he didn't look like himself. His complexion had turned grey, the sweat on his skin glowed as the sunlight beamed in through the arena, foam dripping down his chin. She forced herself to look away as Lucy Gray pulled herself into the stands, reaching her hands over the railing to pull (Y/n) up.

She dragged Lucy Gray to the back of the stands near the box, it sat high up on the wall but the large mound of rubble that lay beside it seemed scaleable, at least for (Y/n). Lucy Gray backed up against the wall, desperately searching around the stands for a way to escape Jessup, as he made his way up to them.

"There's nowhere to go, (Y/n)!" She clutched desperately at her hands, the skin of her hands were rough, she flinched slightly from the friction against the cuts on her palms.

"Listen, I'm going to give you a boost up this piece of concrete and just climb into that box above us, ok?" (Y/n) cupped her cheeks, her eyes filled with tears as she nodded softly, glancing back at Jessup who now stood menacingly at the bottom of the stands. Her eyes glanced back into (Y/n), as her tears fell down her face.

"What about you?" Lucy Gray's hand moved to cover the hand on her cheek, "it's too high for me to help you up!"

"I'll find a way up to you, darling," (Y/n) softly wiped her tears away, Lucy Gray pulled her into her embrace, just in case.

"Please come back to me."

"I will. Now quickly, he's on his way!" Lucy Gray lifted her foot into (Y/n)'s intertwined hands, placing her hands on her shoulder for balance, she nodded as (Y/n) boosted her up. She grasped the edge, pulling herself up onto its jagged surface. (Y/n) watched as she made her way into the box to her left. Jessup had reached the top of the stands, he stood opposite her. He looked like the capitals perfect victim, forced to play this demented game, transformed by the games into a paranoid, disease-ridden killer.

Turning around quickly to work on climbing up the concrete, fingertips grasping onto small ridges that were created by the collapse. Jessup realised what she was doing, she could hear him running towards her. She made quick work climbing up the block, her fingers were screaming in pain as she gripped the ridges trying to pull up her body weight. One hand reached the up towards the top edge of the concrete, her fingertips grazed the edge. The second (Y/n) got a proper grip on the ledge, she felt a hand grip around her ankle. She tried to shake her ankle from his grasp but he was too strong, he was unwilling to let her go.

One harsh tug sent her tumbling to the ground, hitting her head on a seat as she went down. He picked her up and threw her towards the edge of the stands. She struggled to raise her head, the blow she got to her head made her feel weak, maybe, just maybe this was her time. She’d done good deed by helping Lucy Gray escape him. She just hoped Sejanus wasn’t watching, she didn’t want him to see her go this way. Her eyes fluttered open. Jessup walked menacingly towards her, tears welled up in her eyes, this wasn’t him. Slowly she stood up, her balance was uneven, the ache in her head clouding her vision, but her eyes remained unwavering on Jessup. A soft thud averted her eyes, Lucy Gray had dropped down to try help her.

“No,” (Y/n) whispered softly, she shook her head to try to get her to stop whatever she had planned. Her eyes returned to Jessup who seemed to be looking at something in the distance. There was a faint whirring sound behind her, she turned her head slowly as to not alarm Jessup, her eyes didn’t leave him until he left her peripheral. By that time the whirring grew closer, (Y/n) got a quick glance of what looked to be a drone carrying something. It flew straight past her shoulder and crashed into the wall behind them. Water exploded across the stands. All three of them stood frozen, staring at the dark stain the water created on the concrete.

Lucy Grays head turned back to face the two, but her eyes were looking passed them, her eyes grew wide. More whirring noise came from behind them, it was louder than the first. Maybe it was Sejanus trying to help her out? She began to turn her head towards the sound, when she heard Lucy Gray cry out.

“DUCK!”

(Y/n) fell to the ground, they were a lot closer than she thought. Jessup was still facing the wall in shock. The drone crashed into the stand beside him, sending the water all over him. He started shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide with terror as the water drenched him. The realization hit him that the very thing he feared the most was now inescapable, and he screamed, his voice a mix of fear and desperation echoing through the arena. (Y/n), paralysed by the unfolding scene, could only watch helplessly as Jessup's irrational fear became a harsh reality.

Most of the drones veered toward the wall, near where Lucy Gray had crouched behind some seats. A few strays hit Jessup as he attempted to flee, reaching the edge of the stands to clamber down. But the drones were quicker.

As (Y/n) lay on the floor with her eyes tightly scrunched, she heard a loud crash and a thud. Opening her eyes quickly, she saw Lucy Gray standing from behind the seats, a hand covering her mouth with tears falling. (Y/n) shakily got to her feet before slowly turning and glancing over the edge. She gasped – he had fallen from quite a height, but that wasn't what killed him. A blade from the drone had impaled his stomach, and blood pooled around him. She had to look away from him.

(Y/n) felt a soft pair of arms wrap around her waist; it was Lucy Gray. She buried her head into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, and (Y/n) could feel the tears wetting her skin. Turning around, she embraced Lucy Gray tightly, offering any semblance of comfort she could provide. Lucy Gray sobbed harder into her chest, and (Y/n) couldn't help but let a few tears fall as well. She might not have known Jessup as well as Lucy Gray, but he had protected them with his life, even if it was unintentional.

“Thank you,” Lucy Gray whispered softly, they had made their way back to the box, it was safe for now. (Y/n) held her tightly to her, she was so still she had assumed she had fallen asleep. (Y/n) turned to her softly stroking her hair, confusion filed her face. “For what?”

“For keeping your promise.” Lucy Gray intertwined their fingers giving her a small smile.

“I’d do anything for you Lucy Gray, I mean it.” She squeeze her hand tighter at her words. “Now, you go get some rest, you deserve it.”

Lucy Gray rested her head on her shoulder, slowly falling into slumber in the safety of (Y/n)’s arms.

(Y/n) cared deeply for Lucy Gray, as if she were her sister. She proved that tenfold when she sacrificed herself to help Lucy Gray up to the box. She didn’t deserve to be here, but then again, none of them did. She knew if it was Sejanus in her place, he would had done the same.

Her mind began to wonder back to the drones, some part of her wished that Sejanus was the one to send them, that he was watching and wanted to protect her. But she knew better than that. The drones didn’t start coming until Lucy Gray stepped away from safety, until she jumped down the concrete block, until she was standing behind Jessup. Coriolanus was a passionate mentor, she could tell the moment she laid eyes on him. He stunk of desperation. He wanted to win, so he saved both their lives to save hers. Selfishly she wished Sejanus was watching, that he was sending her gifts. But she knew that seeing Marcus in that state most likely made him quit so he wouldn’t have to see her die the same way. Her eyes welled up, all she wanted to do was embrace him, seek comfort in his arms that she hadn’t gotten since she was in District Two.

She wanted him to do it for her

Taglist: @nolanbiigfishboi @0liveleaf @valterras @daisydark @writing-fanics @cdragons @anonoussy @deems-16 @prettysbliss @hollyskywalker @dilucpegg3r @ennycutie @mymadokamagica @kenj1sl0v3r @melodveis @paramorelvrr @gayandfairycore @huang-the-geek @evanpetersmood @teen-antisocial @just-a-blue-nerd @bigsimperika @ietss

[gyusimp]

OMG I saw you write for Kenji Sato omg can I request one where instead of the reader being Kenji’s manager the roles are switched? :DD

Reader is a women’s baseball player (basically kenji but its the reader right?) and Kenji is her (private) manager that doesn’t have a social media presence so one day when they get seen together the media assume they’re dating but in reality they’re not(?) hehe I also feel like it would be way more interesting if you added your own twist to how to end it 🤭

𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝑩𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 [ᔆʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ʳᵒˡᵉˢ ᴬᵁ | ᴼⁿᵉ⁻ᔆʰᵒᵗ ] 3.7k words

In the end I ended up making Kenji your assistant instead of your manager lol I hope you don't mind. Btw, this AU was so fun to write! I had a lot of ideas with the original plot of the movie so the one-shot was getting so long that I had to think about making a second part for it. I hope you like it! ❤

You were in your dressing room, touching up your hair and makeup before the press conference that started in 30 minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a few questions after having won the last game thanks to you, scoring a homerun in the last minutes to give your team the victory.

“It’s time, you better go take a seat.” It was Kenji, your assistant who told you, peeking through the door before knocking, holding his cell phone in his hand.

“Ok, I’ll be right there.” You put your phone aside and stood up to go to the room where all the press was, the camera flashes shining on your face as you greeted everyone with a confident and flirtatious smile before taking a seat in front of a back panel full of logos and a table with several microphones pointed at you next to a small table tent with your name written on it and the logo of the team you are part of.

The night and the conference went by smoothly and normally, confidently answering each of the questions about your profession and a few jokes with the interviewers. A woman stood up from her seat to greet you, introducing herself with the name of the company she worked for. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure, go ahead.” You smiled as the girl adjusted her glasses before reading her notes and speaking. “Everyone here is talking about the success of your latest game but I would like to know something more personal about you.”

“Ok, what is your name?” To which the woman replied as Ami Wakita. You didn’t see anything wrong with her comment, people usually ask you questions about personal things like a hobby, beauty secrets or the like. “You’ve been seen very close to the same boy lately, but he’s not just any boy but your assistant Mr. Sato. Is there something more between you two than just a mere work relationship?”

Everyone was talking in the background, pointing out that this wasn’t the time for gossip and other comments until they noticed your expression and delayed response to the question. Your expression turned serious and slightly irritated, you took the bottle of cold water in front of you and drank from it to wash away that bitter feeling in your mouth.

“Ms. Wakita, no? I would love to answer your question but I’m afraid I have another event to attend to right now. It was a pleasure being able to talk to all of you.” You said with a fake smile for the general public as you finished, to stand up and say goodbye to everyone present.

The hustle and bustle of the people was heard less and less until it almost completely disappeared through the hallways until you reached your dressing room and met your assistant Kenji again, you took your things and both returned to your large house away from the rest of the city.

“Hey, everything okay? You seem a little upset since the conference ended” Kenji said, sitting on the couch next to you, handing you a canned drink.

“Yeah, just some people and their out of place questions, you know.” He nodded in response as he took a sip from his can. “I see… well, don’t pay attention to them. They’re always like that, right? Maybe they do it just to annoy you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You stretched out on the couch and then stood up. “I’m tired, I think I’ll go to sleep. Could you remind me of my schedule for tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Kenji took the iPad next to him on the couch to check your chores for tomorrow while leaving the can on the couch coaster. “You have training from 9:00 - 11:00 am then at 3:00 pm meeting with your trainer, another meeting from 4:00 - 5:30 pm to sign your endorsement contracts with Maybelline…”

“Wow! That means free makeup?” you commented excitedly.

“Maybe, that happened with the last campaign, right?”

“Yeah, I hope it happens again. I could use some waterproof foundation or something. That’s all?”

“No, you have one last interview at 6:00 pm at Ami Wakita’s house.”

“Her name sound familiar, where is she from?”

“She works for a sports channel, but her name also appears in the attendees of this afternoon’s press conference. I didn’t get to see you today, did you talk to her or something?” Ken asked seeing the look of disinterest on your face.

“Damn…something like that. Actually, she was the one with the awkward questions. Can’t we cancel?”

Kenji checked a few things and then shook his head. “I don’t think so, she had already requested to speak with you several weeks in advance.” Kenji’s words discouraged you but the commitment was already scheduled and you had no other option.

You went to sleep hoping that the next day it would be easier for you to think about going but as the day went by you realized that you longed for the hours to pass more slowly so you wouldn’t have to go. Kenji accompanied you to the last meeting with the sponsors and when it was over you told him he could go home after having done so much for you, which he wasn’t sure about at first but after your insistence he ended up accepting. You arranged to attend the interview with the woman at the press conference at her house, you wondered why it would be at her house and not a different place like a set or studio at her workplace.

Did she want to ask you more strange questions or continue to insist on the last topic? Thinking about that made you a little nervous, about the reasons why you could be related to Kenji in that way. Your assistant wasn't a public figure unlike you, just a normal boy a few years older than you who came to Tokyo a few years ago to help his father with some family matters and get a new job while he wasn't busy with it. He doesn't even use social media much but being the personal assistant of a celebrity, it's impossible for him to go completely unnoticed. Besides, it's been a few years since he works for you, years where he has shown himself to be a trustworthy, friendly, kind and very considerate person, it's incredible the way your whole life is in perfect condition and safety in the hands of that man, making both of you become very close friends over time and even making you develop other kinds of feelings for him.

Both of you became so close that you even offered him to move into your spacious house after seeing the constant arguments with his father. It’s normal for both of you to be seen together in public, whether it’s just doing his work by your side or having a drink together after a tiring day, but that didn’t mean anything else. The guy doesn’t even know you’re attracted to him and now the media wants to tell him and make up stories before you can even say anything? Never. It was time for the interview so you decided to arrive about 10 minutes early so you could leave faster.

“Good evening, thank you very much for coming.” Ami greeted you. “Please have a seat.” You sat at a small table in front of her in the living room of her house. Your first impression with her had been bad yesterday, you didn’t like at all her way of invading you in front of everyone asking questions unrelated to the topic so now you could say you were a little in boss bitch mode but not so happy. You limited yourself to a simple greeting and kept your sunglasses on. “Well, I have some questions,” she said, taking her cell phone. “Do you mind if I record?”

“Not at all, go ahead.” You said, expression neutral but very nervous deep down as the woman spoke.

It was more random topics at first to get comfortable, comments about your games and such until the topic of talking in confidence between two girls came up. “Well, I guess you didn’t answer my question the other night,” she smiled, searching for answers. “Is it possible that you could answer now?”

“Again with that…” Your head tilted slightly and you sighed tiredly. “Ms. Wakita, aren’t you supposed to work for a sports network?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Then why don’t you ask questions that fall into that category?”

“I thought you liked talking about yourself.”

“I like talking about myself, however, I only tend to do so in the right place with the right people,” you replied, leaning out of your seat to look at her over your sunglasses. Letting a brief silence settle in as her phone counted down the seconds of the recording. Her expression grew more serious, however, you continued talking. “Listen, I’m one of the best female baseball players alive in my age range right now. There are thousands of questions to ask an athlete of my level but despite that, you prefer to continue with the same subject as if we were in high school. I'm a professional and I think your questions should start being one too, don’t you think?”

You smiled sideways and adjusted your glasses on your head. You stood up and thanked her for the gesture of having invited you directly to her house while you began to walk out and go home in your car.

“I’m going home” you wrote a text message to Ken before starting the engine and driving. Not even 2 minutes had passed when you received a call from Kenji, you answered putting the call on speaker so you could talk while driving.

“Wow, that was fast. Everything in order?”

“Neither good nor bad, but please say no to anything that is related to talking to that woman again, understand?” You joked with Kenji to which he also laughed telling you that he would take it into account for future occasions. “Hey, do you have plans for tonight or are you already dressed in your pajamas?” He laughed again, making your smile curve further.

“I was thinking we could order something to eat since your plans changed,” Kenji suggested.

“How about I pick you up and we go get something to eat?”

“Are you sure? Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s Friday Ken. Get ready, I’ll pick you up in 20,” you told him before hanging up the call. Talking to Kenji made you feel a lot better, even downplaying the interview from a while ago.

You went to your house where Kenji was waiting for you at the entrance, got in your car and drove to a nice place to hang out with him. You loved hanging out with him, being able to talk and laugh by his side was so relaxing and always made you feel good. Now at dinner, it’s like all the tiredness you carried was slowly fading away as the two of you talked, that was the effect Ken always had on you. After your little date, you returned home to rest, tomorrow there weren’t many things to do so you could both sleep later.

Saturday’s rest had been worth it, today you had a game to play and you were already in the locker room, getting ready to go out onto the field where you would be greeted by a crowd excited about today’s game. “Hey girl, I didn’t know you two were dating!” It was the voice of one of your teammates. Her tone wasn’t mocking but rather surprised, like a friend happy to see you in a relationship.

You looked at her confused as she showed you a news story that was trending in searches. It was a picture of you and Kenji at that restaurant the other night, along with a headline speculating about a love affair between the female baseball star and his assistant. Your mouth was agape.

“No! We-we’re not-” You were about to clear things up when you were interrupted by your coach, indicating that it was your turn to go out and play. You were upset, confused, and nervous. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Right about to go out onto the field, with millions of eyes on you both in person and through the televisions while Kenji Sato was the only thing going through your head. You grabbed the bat almost automatically and positioned yourself on the base to get ready to hit.

What would Kenji say about all this? Had he seen it already? He likes to keep a low profile and now he’d be on everyone’s lips along with you. Would he be upset? Would he ask you for a break? Or much worse. Would he quit?

Strike 1

You didn’t see the ball go past you, wondering who could have gotten those pictures. Wasn’t it a more private place? They’re supposed to guarantee that privacy when the prices for that place cost a fortune.

Strike 2

They sold those pictures to the media? That was for sure. How did they do it so fast? Would you just have to ignore all of that or come out and deny it? What if hypothetically Kenji secretly liked all of this and denying everything disillusioned him? You looked ahead as you heard your coach’s voice and the sound of the crowd, just in time before the ball was thrown again.

You adjusted your feet, held the bat tightly while keeping your eyes on your target as you then swung with all your might, scoring a perfect homerun. You threw the bat in another direction and began running towards the other bases as fast as you could. The crowd was cheering you on, but you noticed how the screams of excitement were starting to sound different and all the screens turned the atmosphere in the stadium red, announcing a kaiju alert in the city. You stopped in the middle of the field not knowing what to do when everyone started running and getting up after a helicopter almost collided with the gigantic creature that appeared in the back of the stadium, making the ground rumble with the roar it let out from its throat.

You decided to run in the opposite direction and return to your team in the locker room, where the security guards would take them to a safer place. You quickly grabbed your things and grabbed your cell phone to watch the news while you walked with your briefcase on your shoulder. Fortunately, Ultraman was already at the site near the stadium, surely everything would be under control with his presence. Suddenly Kenji came to your mind, most likely he was on his way to pick you up after tonight's game. Without thinking twice, you dialed his phone number.

“Kenji, you have some calls” said Mina, the AI that her father had given him a few months ago after making some improvements to her. Your name was displayed in her database every time he received a call from your number. “Do you want me to answer?”

“No, I’m kind of busy right now Mina. I’ll talk to her later.” You were moved to another safer part of the stadium after seeing that Ultraman had managed to take Gigantron to another part far from the city with the KDF.

You tried to call Kenji again but you still didn’t get a response and when the alerts were deactivated after a while you didn’t hesitate twice to go look for him yourself. Almost 3 hours had passed and you weren’t going to wait any longer but just in case, you called Kenji again while you were walking outside the stadium.

“Yes?”

“Kenji! I’m so relieved to hear you, are you okay? Nothing happened to you? There was a kaiju very close to here and you weren’t answering my calls!”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, calm down. I was just leaving the house to go get you. Where are you?”

“Leaving the stadium, I’m going to where you are?”

“No, just stay where you are. I’ll be there, send me your location okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Ok, thanks. Be careful okay?” A lot of things had happened in these hours, too many things.

Kenji was sure that he would lose his job tonight, what other reaction if not firing him would you have when you saw that he locked a baby kaiju without your permission inside your house and now it was living in your basement? He was very nervous and needed to think of a surprising excuse for all this. The baby kaiju appeared next to her mother and he had to lock her in here? Or maybe… not. Nothing was justifiable, each excuse he thought sounded more stupid than the last. For now, he took it upon himself to pick you up and go home hoping that Mina had managed to calm her down in the meantime. As a last option he would call his father but only if it was really necessary.

Both of you entered your house, you didn’t stop talking and Ken’s nerves increased with every sound coming from inside the house, hoping that it wasn’t the baby who had woken up.

“Damn today was an exhausting day. I’ll be upstairs taking a bath” you told him, going up the stairs to your room. Ken knew that you took things seriously when you decided to relax.

You turned up the music in the bathroom and closed the door for hours to do your skincare, hair and whatever routine before taking a bath with warm water and filling the bathtub with things. You would be distracted for a while and that would give him time to go down to the basement and think of a solution before you noticed the giant pink lizard inside your house. Ken stood in the middle of the living room, shouting your name over and over again trying to get your attention as a test in case you heard something but he got no response, he could simply hear your voice singing in the distance along with your favorite playlist which gave him the confidence to go down.

“Ken, it’s good that you’re back” Mina said, just showing him that the baby had just woken up almost 20 minutes ago.

“And this!?” Inside the containment unit there was a whole mess of food thrown on the floor, food that you had bought that you would surely deduct from his salary for having wasted it in his games of being a kaiju’s mother. “Mina, I told you to try something little by little so that she would eat.”

“I did, but she rejected each thing in the end.”

The baby was desperate, she moved her little legs demanding something to eat until her attention was fixed on something else. Some fish around on the other side of the glass made her look at them anxiously, indicating what she want to eat. “Do you want fish? “Okay, I’ll get you some fish.”

It didn’t take any effort for Kenji other than turning into Ultraman to go out and get a good amount of fish to feed the baby. You were upstairs in the bathroom, you continued singing inside the bathroom after having taken a shower. You found yourself sitting in front of the mirror of your vanity, a towel wrapped around your body and another around your hair while you put some products on your face. You let your hair down, you let it down and combed it after moisturizing it, now you only needed the hairdryer but you couldn’t find it anywhere. You searched the shelves, the furniture and sliding doors but it wasn’t there, suddenly you remembered having used it with Kenji to dry his hair for the last time, after he was caught in the rain one night where he had to go out to take care of something after his watch made a strange sound. You took off the towel from your body, put on your underwear and a sleeveless nightgown before putting a thicker robe over your body and tying it around your waist and searched for Kenji all over the house without finding him either until you heard his voice coming from the basement. It turns out that you found the dryer while looking for him around the house but you still wanted to know what he was doing. It wasn't common for him to be alone downstairs, there wasn't much to do there.

"There you go, eat as much as you want" Kenji said, still as Ultraman. Opening the lid of the containment unit to empty several kilos of fish into it to feed the baby who began to eat happily. "Do you think that's enough?"

"We hope so" Mina replied.

Kenji sighed in relief and returned to his usual height in less than 1 second. His figure jumped slightly when he heard a noise of something falling. He turned around and there you were, having dropped the dryer on the floor causing it to break as you watched in amazement as the approximately 40 meter tall hero of Tokyo was in your basement, it was your assistant and friend Kenji Sato and also, he was feeding a kaiju.

Let me know what do u think and if you'd like a Part two! Also, if u want to be tagged in Part 02 too when i post it 😁

[whitemancumslut]

BEST OF FRIENDS….

summary actress!singer!reader is best friends with the one and only harry styles. many suspect romance between the two… but can you blame them? here are some of their birthday post for each other throughout the years💕 face claim, gracie abrams

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, liampayne, and 2,626,002 others

harrystyles Happy birthday i guess…

view all 4,000 comments

yourinstagram you love me tom

harrystyles Hate to admit it

harryfan101 you don’t hate to admit it

harryfan2 you love her you know it

harryfan3 tom????

harryfan4 it’s their nicknames😭😭 she’s jerry he’s tom and they both call each other ‘stinky’

ynfan1 y’all are in love admit it

ynfan2 HAHA “I GUESS” THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO CUTE

ynfan3 LITERALLY!!!

harryfan5 AWW

yourinstagram

liked by taylorswift, zendaya, and 3,339,000 others

yourinstagram happy birthday stinky!! i love u lots

view all 7,229 comments

harryfan1 STINKY!! AH THE NICKNAMES

ynfan1 AWWW HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY

ynfan2 YALL ARE SO CUTE

harryfan2 i aspire to have a friendship like theirs

harryfan3 same tbh

harrystyles Kisses to my Jerry❤️

harryfan3 KISSES??? HES TOO CUTE

harryfan4 i know she wishes they were real kisses..

yourinstagram you’re not wrong

ynfan3 WHAT .

harrystyles

liked by camilacabello, yourinstagram, and 3,993,727 others

harrystyles Congrats, you’re a big girl now! Happy birthday stinky!

view all 5,557 comments

yourinstagram Thanks big dog😊

yourinstagram my Tom so sweet

ynfan1 YOUR TOM😩😩 YOU GUYS ARE ADORABLE

ynfan2 DATE ALREADY HELLOOOO

ynfan3 LITERALLY LIKE

harryfan1 y’all they have a platonic relationship

harryfan2 almost siblings

ynfan4 WOAH…

ynfan5 siblings is pushing it

harryfan3 SIBLINGS?? THEY FLIRT WAY TOO MUCH TO BE SIBLINGS BYE

ynfan6 you’re in denial

harryfan4 OH MY GOSHHHH

harryfan5 i’m obsessed with you two

yourinstagram

liked by sabrinacarpenter, harrystyles, and 2,999,431 others

yourinstagram EVEN THOUGH YOU DONT LIKE COOPERATING OR PAYING ME ANY MIND WHEN I SAY POSE— KISSES AND KISSES TO YOU!!! TO MANY MORE TOM<3

view all 4,080 comments

harrystyles Thank you, Jerry x

harryfan1 Omg the nickname still stands yall!😭

harryfan2 I KNOW MY HEART!!!

ynfan1 TOM AND JERRY😭😭

ynfan2 HAPPY BIRTHDAY

harryfan3 no because he looks rlly good here

ynfan3 LITERALLY- THE HAIR😩😩

harryfan4 the way he’s just sitting there looking so fine😩😩

ynfan4 so effortlessly

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, louis91, and 3,007,909 others

harrystyles Throwback to one of your first rehearsals! you were small!!! Happy birthday, tiny.

harryfan1 TINY?? A NEW NICKNAME GOD

harryfan2 IM CRYING THIS IS TOO CUTE

yourinstagram Very wholesome of you

harryfan3 MY HEART

ynfan1 MY BABIES OH MY

ynfan2 😭TINY

ynfan3 ik they are so cute irl with these nicknames

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, niallhoran, and 5,000,907 others

yourinstagram Happy birthday sexy!!😊😊😊

view all 10,007 comments

harrystyles Oh you’re too sweet angel!

yourinstagram Sense the sarcasm.

harryfan1 HAHAHA

harryfan2 SEXY??? OH GOD HERE WE GO

ynfan1 NO WAY THE VIDEO HAHAHA

ynfan2 okay but you’re right he’s sexy

harryfan3 now… at this point they’re feeding into it

ynfan3 okay and we’re hungry. they’re giving us what we need

harryfan4 THE VIDEO😭😭

harryfan5 NOOO I CANT HEAR IT WHAT DOES IT SAY???

harryfan4 it’s just y/n saying “stinky look at the camera.” and he just turns and smiles with a thumbs up that’s it😭😭

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist, and 5,000,999 others

harrystyles Happy birthday pretty angel❤️

view all 12,828 comments

yourinstagram THANK YOUUU GORGEOUS BOY

harryfan1 y’all are in love

ynfan1 😭😭😭😭

ynfan2 I’m melting

ynfan3 PRETTY ANGEL. PRETTY ANGEL. I REPEAT PRETTY ANGEL.

harryfan2 GOSH SHE IMA CRY

harryfan3 NO WAYYY

harryfan4 she’s getting more attention/post then any of harry’s girlfriends ever

ynfan4 plot twist: she is the girlfriend

yourinstagram’s stories

harrystyles

liked by mitchrowland, yourinstagram, and 5,992,283 others

harrystyles Missing you a little extra right now. Happy birthday, pretty.

view all 7,838 comments

harryfan1 i’m so emotional right now.

harryfan2 i can’t do this

ynfan1 PRETTY?? MY HEART GOSH IM MISSING TOM AND JERRY AND STINKY!!!

harryfan3 ME TOO

ynfan2 LITERALLY IM MISSING THE NICKNAMES

harryfan4 HE POSTED Y/N OH MY GOD

harryfan5 what’s sad is that they hardly see each other anymore. she’s filming more and he’s touring. she posted on her story this year. NO EVEN A POST.

ynfan3 the second slide is recent though right??

harryfan5 yes. that’s when they saw each other at Sarah’s birthday party.

ynfan4 OMG THE TEXT😭

yourinstagram ma stinkyyyy❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

harryfan6 THERE IT IS OMGG

ynfan4 BABIES OH MY GOD

ynfan5 i’m crying i’ve missed them so much. i can only go so long without them

ynfan6 this relationship is too good to be true

harryfan7 RELATIONSHIP???

harryfan8 platonic .

ynfan7 yeah they’ve been hanging out a lot since tour came to an end… very little details hint they’re definitely more than what they’re claiming

harryfan9 they aren’t claiming ANYTHING.

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles and 6,008,917 others

yourinstagram stinky is old now:( happy birthday i love you. i love you. i love you. this is your year, H x

view all 3,930 comments

harrystyles i love you.

harryfan1 okay now there’s no way that y’all rekindling ain’t make y’all realize your feelings.

harryfan2 wattpad shit for real

ynfan1 no way… WE SEE THE SAME THING RIGHT???

ynfan2 YES OH MY GOSH.

harryfan3 THIS IS NOT THE SAME WAY ANYMORE

ynfan3 AWEEE

ynfan4 YALL ARE TOO CUTE

harryfan4 MY HEART IS BURSTING

ynfan5 “your year” yeah i’m sobbing

harrystyles

liked by lizzobeeting, yourinstagram, and 9,000,000 others

harrystyles My soul. My muse. My best friend. My everything. Happy birthday, my angel.

yourinstagram baby i love u

harrystyles oh how i love you

harryfan1 OH MY FREAKING GOD

harryfan2 NO WAY.

ynfan1 NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY

ynfan2 BABY??

harryfan3 WE WON

ynfan3 IM CRYING HARD

ynfan4 OH MY WORD

harryfan4 😭😭😭 END ME NOW

harryfan5 MY PARENTS

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, tomholland, and 9,029,003 others

yourinstagram everyone wake up, my love—my manchild is twenty eight today

view all 14,929 comments

harryfan1 Manchild😭 MY LOVE

harryfan2 MANCHILD AHHAAHAH

harrystyles ❤️❤️❤️

ynfan1 THE FACT THEY ARE THE IT COUPLE

ynfan2 NOT HIM STEALING YOUR STRUNCHIE????

harryfan3 THIS IS TOO WHOLESOME IMA EXPLODE

[superblysubpar]

masterlist | the music

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for the movie franchise Star Wars | mentions of the holiday Halloween being celebrated by others and reader enjoying it | Leigh is not my character creation, a shared character who @sweetsweetjellybean originally created & I put a little twist on for this story with her permission.

Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

9.4k words | A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude for those who've read this story & those that helped me get through writing it, especially my beta extraordinaire @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz for helping me break that pesky wall of self doubt and writer's block always. I have a big long A/N on the epilogue that's posting right after these two chapters with more sap. Thanks for being here, I love you immensely if you've made it this far from the beginning or you're just arriving 💛

In the movies, they like to make those big plot twists drag out for the protagonist to let it really sink in. Or maybe it's more for the viewers. Special effects, camera angles, flashbacks, and poignant music playing - all to make seconds feel much longer than they are. 

In your experience, these plot twists are usually predictable. Of course that guy’s the villain, it was the best friend all along, he’s Luke’s father, et cetera, et cetera. You’re utterly baffled every time by a character’s lack of intuition to see it coming. You’ve booed at writing and acting and told yourself that in real life, it’s so different. 

Sure, surprises happen. Reality does not care about predictability, the fragile state of the human heart, or what’s fair. You get that. People cheat, they make mistakes, they die, they lose - and there isn’t some fade-to-black-happy-ending guarantee when they do. There isn’t a countdown on the bottom of a screen letting you know there’s still time left to make it all back from whatever happened, no assurance that it’ll all work out. 

To call something real - something happening directly to you - a plot twist, seems horribly wrong though. Is there another word for it? Those moments that manage to catch you off guard, that come without warning or a build up. Moments that hit you repeatedly like a knife to a chest in a slasher flick. Or feel like the instant demise of oxygen leaving your lungs as a door opens to space. That sucker-punch from a red glove to the jaw when you think you’ve just won the big fight. 

What do you call that shit?

Robin’s voice is an echo, muffled and distorted as if you’re deep underwater. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, you are so much prettier than Steve mentioned.”

Who is with Steve?

Robin keeps going, putting her entire foot in her mouth, oblivious to the way Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. You only stop staring yourself, after what feels like hours, to finally take in their intertwined hands as Robin babbles. “Wait, I mean…no, see…alright, he told us you were pretty is what I’m trying to say, but like you’re even prettier…”

Who the hell is with Steve?

Her laugh cuts through the fog and your eyes finally focus on the woman attached to the sound. 

She’s pretty, just like Robin keeps saying over and over again.

Dark, shiny hair, piercing eyes that you can see - even from this distance - are a hazel to almost match his. A hypnotizing smile, curves and a confidence radiating off of her… everything you wish you were but aren’t.  

She laughs again, assuring Robin she gets it (in an infuriatingly humble way), introducing herself as Leigh Kensington.

Nancy perks up at the name when Robin gasps and shouts, “Oh my god! Nance!” Robin looks back, waving her over, “Just like Legally Blonde!” Her voice attempts to lower as she sighs to Leigh, “She loves Reese Witherspoon. It is Vivian Kensington right?” The question louder and directed at Nancy again. Robin doesn’t even take a breath to let her answer though, “Which is hilarious because Steve’s mom’s name is Vivian and you’re dating Steve and you work in legal, right? And-“

Emerald glass shatters around your feet as the bottle of beer falls from your hand, the sharp shards scatter quickly, too broken to ever be put back together. Your legs turn to lead and muscles are no longer in communication with your brain as it finally makes the connection to what you’re seeing and hearing and what that means for you. 

“Shit! Jesus, woman-“ Eddie jumps back from you as the glass skirts across the pavement further. 

Robin finally turns in your direction at the commotion, her brows knit together in worry. Face progressively getting more concerned as it tightens. Her hand lets a bean bag fall to the board with an echoing thump. “Hey, you look-“

Not waiting to hear the end of her sentence, you will your legs to work and spin, taking off in search of literally any place that isn’t there. Your feet pound against the pavement, thuds that vibrate through the rubber of your soles all the way up to your eardrums.

It’s seconds, less than a minute, and it’s as if the entire stadium - hell, your entire world - has spun upside down. Roars to your left, the rumbling of fan’s excitement from the nosebleeds down to the field mingle and harmonize with the rapid beating in your chest. As you keep running with no real destination other than away, your shoulders bump stranger’s, meeting their frowns and scoffs with whispered and rushed apologies. The familiar sting behind your eyes forms, eyelashes growing damp as you suck in a sharp breath. No more running, you need somewhere to hide. 

You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not. How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?

The familiar long line all women are accustomed to grabs your attention and you’re off again. Disgruntled and shouted annoyance from everyone in line echoes across the dull gray tile as you rush past them, yelling something about an emergency. You slam a turquoise door, sliding the silver latch with shaking fingers as your forehead rests on the cold material of the stall. You focus on breathing through your nose and out your mouth, this is fine. You’re fine. 

A buzz in your pocket once, twice, and then a third time, and you don’t have to pull your phone out to know they’re texts from him. Despite your better judgment, you look:

It buzzes a fourth time and you lock the phone, debating just chucking it into the toilet. 

The sleeve of your sweatshirt presses to your mouth as you clear your throat. No tears are falling for him, not today, not ever. 

You hate Steve Harrington. 

This was always the plan.

You hate Steve Harrington. 

It’s not like you were in love with the guy. 

Even as you think it, the panic turns to defense inside of yourself - scrounging around for rocks and bricks, reinforcing the wall around your heart you had started to let crumble for a boy you thought was worth it. 

“Girl, what the hell?”

A familiar pair of red converse with writing and doodles covering any space they can, mirror your feet at the base of the stall. You step back, fingers hovering over the latch, ready to tell her it’s fine. Robin isn’t an idiot though, and you’re certain that despite your denial, she’ll take one look at you and make you spill your guts. 

Her feet move closer, the familiar clink of rings meeting metal hits your ears, letting you know she’s pressing her palms to the door. Robin’s voice is softer and for one brief, horrible moment, you think she knows. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The guilt that’s hovered over you for months like a storm cloud, releases, engulfing you completely, the promise of sunlight no longer on the horizon. Funny how just hours ago, you were thinking about Robin finally knowing, about how she couldn’t be mad, not when you were both so happy. Your gut twists. You’ve lied to your friend for so long, and for what? 

“Just, um, cramps.” The lies keep on building, pushing at the dam you’ve created to keep it all from her. You’re just buying time now, the pressure is going to reach its breaking point soon and you’re worried your friendship with Robin will be washed away when it does. 

At the mention of cramps, the disgruntled voices of those in line turn to understanding - muted solidarity in the form of tampon and painkiller offerings. 

“Robin, why don’t you grab her some food or something? Maybe a ginger ale? I’ve got stuff in my bag and we’ll meet you all out there,” another familiar voice suggests. 

“But I can-“

“That would be really great, Robs,” you interrupt her protest, pushing out the words to sound as eager as you can. 

A pair of white tennis shoes sneak between Robin’s and the stall door - like Nancy is trying to put space between the two of you, shielding her girlfriend from any more of your lies. 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Robin starts hesitantly, “I saw this gourmet grilled cheese stand thing and-“

“No!” Fingers curling over your mouth at the severity of your interruption, you take a beat before quietly continuing, “Uh, um, actually, just some chips please?”

Your eyes close, willing the memory of your last grilled cheese away. Now is not the time to remember the man you shared it with.

How he looked at you.

How he asked you to open up, how it made you feel when he said he knew you.

How he kissed you.

You hate Steve Harrington.

The initial shock has stopped sizzling and is now a full burn, anger releasing over your frazzled nerves. What else has Steve claimed, what other things could be ruined when all you can do is relate them to him? But as quickly as the anger for him forms, you have to glance down and realize there are three fingers pointing back at yourself.

Why did you give him the opening?

“Roger that, kitten!”

You’re sure she gives a salute to your closed stall door, the red sneakers turning on their heels, her footsteps fading away. The pristine white of Nancy’s twist slightly towards the door. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Can I come in there?”

Clearing your throat once more, you try to brush her off, “Nancy, really, I’m fi-“

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it’s the way she says the word - that a girl you don’t know all that well can see through your lies, be so sure you’re not fine. Maybe it’s because you desperately wish that you could have opened the door for Robin, to leave the football game and go drown in margaritas and dissect every little thing that led to this moment and let her tell you it was all going to be okay and boys are stupid. Or maybe, it’s the fact that you’ll never get to do that, never allowed to tell Robin, that makes you slide the latch unlocked for Nancy Wheeler.

She slips in quickly, her brown curls that are clipped in a half up-do bounce as she tilts her head quizzically at you. Her arms cross over the embroidered team logo on her sweatshirt, her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She’s got this way about looking at you that, without saying anything, makes you want to tell her everything. An energy radiates off of Nancy, a quiet curiosity bubbling under the surface - or perhaps it’s frustration. You’re being studied, a puzzle she can’t crack. 

Her lips twist as she clearly debates her words before she finally settles on a simple, “You didn’t know?”

Nancy’s question makes your stomach drop, solidifying that she not only knows about you and Steve, but that Leigh is not a new or unknown development. Your mind swirls to their argument on the beach, Nancy finding you in the bathroom - how long has Steve been seeing Leigh? 

“No,” your response comes out in a half laugh, trying to cover up any feelings that attempt to sneak out and reveal too much. The toe of your sneaker scuffs at a knick in the tile as you avoid her eyes. 

She tucks a curl behind her ear and sighs. Her face pinches into that quizzical look again, huffing, “He’s an idiot.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. You don’t want to dwell on how she connected the dots about you and Steve or how you’ve all been lying to Robin, and you especially don’t want her pity. “Nancy, I really don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine. Can we just go?”

At the clamp of Nancy’s mouth shutting and the purse of her lips, you regret the icy tone almost immediately. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try again. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” trailing off because where do you even start? You’re mad, hurt, confused, blind-sided, the list could go on and on and you don’t care to reach the end at this moment. You force a smile, changing the subject all together, “Don’t you want to get out there and hear how incredibly little Robin truly knows about sports?”

Nancy’s lips twitch and her arms drop to her sides with a sigh. “Right, well, if you change your mind, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Sometimes, people say things to say things - like they feel as if they’re supposed to say a certain thing when a certain situation calls for it. One look at the kindness in Nancy’s eyes, the small smile on her lips, and you know that is not the case right now. She genuinely, truly means she’s there to listen if you need it. Despite lying to all of them, despite barely knowing her, and the realization has tears forming behind your eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier. 

“Thanks,” the word leaves you quietly. It feels small and inconsequential in return for a gesture you’re not even sure Nancy realizes the weight of. 

That is, until she turns from the door, her hand hovering over the latch as she faces you again. “I should mention though, that one of you is going to have to tell Robin. Sooner rather than later. And I make no promises it won’t be me, but she should hear it from one of you.”  Her tone is adamant with absolutely no room for arguing.  

Your guilt tugs you down harder now, only able to nod in response. 

Nancy’s head bobs once in return, silently agreeing to drop the subject unless you bring it up again, and she leads the way out of the bathroom. 

You hear Robin before you see them. She’s passionately arguing her case about a new musical group that Eddie is scoffing at. Leigh holds her hand up at Eddie’s argument and begins agreeing with Robin, who beams before sticking her tongue out at him. 

“Hey.”

The word freezes you and Nancy clears her throat as she makes her way towards the others. Steve pushes off from the brick wall as you turn to face him. 

You’ve seen many looks in his eyes before now. When they glint with mischief and charm as he flirts, how they soften as you tell a story. When they’ve turned darker as clothes are shed and they get to roam freely over your body, taking you in like an artwork. How they seem to melt like honey all over you when you’ve found them staring and they don’t care to appear ashamed he’s been caught. 

Now, they’re looking at you with far too much pain behind them that doesn’t seem fair. He shouldn’t get to look at you like that, he shouldn’t get to look sad. 

Steve extends his hand, a green can with beads of condensation running down the sides of it in his palm. You ignore how your fingers touch and they way his try to linger as you take the soda from him.

When you don’t say anything, he pulls the sleeves of his maroon sweater over his fingers, the toe of his boot scuffing the pavement as his brows meet in the middle. Several pieces of hair fall over his forehead that’s wrinkled with concern, letting you know he’s run his hands through it too many times to have already broken whatever products he’s put in it. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk for a sec?”

A sec. 

A quick conversation, one he just wants to get over with. To tell you what? Things you’ve already concluded from his surprise today? That he’s with someone. He wants to stay friends. He never felt the way you were starting to feel for him. This was always the plan. 

You’re not interested in anything Steve has to say any more. 

“Game’s about to start, Harrington, maybe later.” Your tone is clipped and short, smile forced. 

His brows pinch closer together as he tilts his head, the harsh line of his jaw flexing. “Really? Cause the way you ran off and that tone could have fooled me.” 

“I’m fine, I don’t know exactly what you’re hearing, but if you have something you’d like to say, by all means Steve, let’s hear it.” 

Steve closes his eyes and a long breath leaves his nose, “Please-“ his plea is cut off by her. 

“Hi, I’m Leigh. It’s so nice to meet you, Steven’s told me so much about you! I hope everything is okay? Everyone was so worried…”

She reaches forward, arms wrapping around you and your stiffening body. 

She’s fucking hugging you. 

“Uh, yeah, you…too. And yes, thanks, I’m fine. This will help.” Untangling yourself from her, you hold up the can and force another smile. “Thanks Steven.”

Leigh beams at him, grabbing his hand and you just can’t help yourself, turning to him again. “Actually, Steven was just letting me know he had something to tell me, what was so important, buddy?”

Eddie coughs as Steve narrows his eyes. Nancy claps her hands, interrupting the tension filled moment, “Alright, ready guys?”

Robin points towards the bleachers. “I’m ready for tip off! To our seats!”

Nancy gives you a look, some sort of attempt at bringing light to the moment in front of her, before she wraps her hand around Robin’s arm and starts to walk away. “It’s kick off, hun.”

Leigh laughs as Robin lets out a long ‘Oh’, Steve and her following. When Steve glances back over his shoulder at you, the full can of soda meets the trash as you turn towards Eddie. Stealing the fresh beer from his hands, the plastic cup tips to your lips, foam slowing you down as you chug. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy killer.” Eddie tugs on the cup, pulling it from your mouth. “From my understanding, football games are long and we need to pace ourselves. Stevie is not worth a two in the afternoon black out.”

Your mouth opens to protest and he waves his hand in front of your face, “Ah, ah, ah, you can squeeze my fingers or something whenever you feel like punching him instead.”

“Ed-“ you begin, adamant you need another drink (or twenty) to deal with the day you’re about to have. 

He begins to walk away, waving his hand dismissively, “No really, I’m a secret masochist, I’ll love it.”

Your eyes narrow, hating the way your lips fight a smile that wants to meet his mood. Despite everything, you’re grateful for him and Nancy. Unsure of how to even attempt to show them how much you appreciate them. Especially after Nancy’s reminder that someone was going to have to tell Robin eventually, and these two had been lying for the both of you, keeping your secret when they didn’t need to.  

Up ahead, you hear Leigh laugh, catching her head thrown back and his smile, the squeeze of her fingers on his bicep and you gulp. Your feet plant to the ground harder and you tug on Eddie’s wrist. As the group rounds the corner, heading to their seats, he turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

Eddie must see something in your expression because he mumbles, “Such a fucking idiot,” before he turns to the nearest vendor. “Yeah, hi, I need four very large beers. And I’m talking take your idea of large and triple it.”

This time the smile wins just a little. It’s quick to fall though, when Eddie taps his cup to one he hands you and proclaims, “If you can’t date ‘em, drink about ‘em. To the losers who break our hearts.”

“I-“ ready to tell him that’s not it at all, but his look makes your mouth close. 

You don’t say it out loud, you don’t dare to speak it into existence - Eddie is wrong. You’re not broken hearted, you’re just mad Steve didn’t tell you. You’re mad that clearly they all knew, so why not you? That’s all. 

Your cup taps Eddie’s again and you let the beer wash away the bitter taste in your mouth. 

Screw Steve Harrington. 

As the third cup of cheap beer hits your lips, you risk a glance down the line of your row again. Immediately regretting it like you have every other time. Leigh pushes the loose strand of hair on his forehead back and your eyes return to the field quickly.  You’re sure your skin is turning just as green as the artificial turf, the beer making it a little easier to admit to yourself that you are jealous of the intimate moment. Your gut twinges slightly at the remembrance of only a few short weeks ago when you purposely tried to make him feel what you are now. You have no right to be mad at him. 

The players blur as they move in an intricate dance only they know before anyone else. You’ve always liked sports, but today has been a good reminder as to why. Players and teams practice and memorize skills and plays that work - but there’s no guarantees. They need intuition to know when to use certain moves, to have a good defense and follow their gut and deviate from the plan when they think the other team is pulling a new play. 

It’s all predictable, but not at the same time. Risks and playing with the odds, yet revolving around something incredibly low stakes like a ball in a net or getting past a painted line on fake grass. It’s also realistic. Sure, there are once in a lifetime passes like the Minnesota Miracle or a ball sinking into the net from a distance unfathomable as the final buzzer sounds - but most of the time, it’s just about who’s the best that day. Who ran faster, who slipped through someone else’s mistake. You like that the players can pour themselves into it and it’s still not going to be a win every time, because it’s just not sometimes, and that’s okay. They lose and they get up and they do it all over again. They also know that if they win, it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing so without hard work and dedication. 

Poetic to your circumstances, really. Steve was just better at the game, and you knew the eventual outcome of your deal with each other. So really, is there anyone to be mad at here other than yourself?

Steve’s laugh echoes down the line and your jaw clenches, because maybe Steve was better at the game, but he certainly wasn’t playing fair. 

Yeah, you can still be mad at him. 

Your eye twitches as Robin and Leigh gush over horror movies they both love, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving you when they head off together for a bathroom break. 

His eyes actually burn your cheek from the way they stare down the row in your direction now that he doesn’t have her to focus on. Clear to you now that all you are - all you ever were - is an afterthought, something to pass the time. 

Refusing to look his way, you try not to feel bad about the sigh you hear all the way from five seats away. 

Oh, I’m sorry Steve, are you mildly upset that I don’t want to talk to you after you got me to open up just to blindside me?

You’re not surprised when a dark denim leg presses against your shoulder, his large brown boots landing on the open seat next to you as he climbs over. As he sits, you stand, quickly making your way down the row, occupying Robin’s empty seat on the other side of Nancy. 

Steve stands, hands on his hips as he frowns. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

Turning your attention back to the field, your knees bounce with restless energy, anticipating his next move. An intricate dance just like the players below you. 

Steve climbs back over, and you can’t help but relish a little in his groan and mumbled comment about being twelve under his breath as you shimmy between Eddie and Nancy, shoving Eddie into your old seat, ignoring his grunted protests. Unable to help yourself, you smirk into your beer, watching out of the corner of your eye as Steve’s jaw clenches. Making him irritated seems only fair under the circumstances. 

You’re ready for his next attempt, sure he’s going to make Nancy swap with him or come up behind you. So when he puts his foot on the chair, you move to the edge of your seat. Steve pounces, tumbling over the back of the row in front of you instead. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed pink as his hands land on the armrests of your spot. His arms cage you in as he leans over the back of the blue metal chairs, ignoring the grumbled complaints of those he bumped out of the way in his pursuit. 

His face fills your vision, freckles that dot the sharp slope of his nose, the light scruff he’s let grow more highlight’s the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cupid’s bow. For a second you forget you’re supposed to be mad when you finally meet his eyes. They steal all of your attention and you hate that you can’t look away. 

You hate him. 

“We’re gonna talk,” he huffs, catching his breath.

“You should hit the gym.” A sad attempt to change the subject, to hurt him a little. Your eyes flit down to his lips in a mistake. You can’t look at his eyes again so you settle on his cheek, trying your best to ignore the endearing pair of freckles. 

“I know you’re mad, and if you just let me explain, I-“

“You’ve had plenty of chances to explain before today Steve!”

The hush of the people around you makes your eyes close, taking a moment for a calming breath. Eddie coughs into his fist on your left and squints at the field, Nancy scratches the denim on her thigh and clears her throat on your right. 

Steve’s eyes narrow, his top lip pulls in, tongue licking over it before he lets out a cold laugh, “Jesus Christ, what was I supposed to do, tell you while we’re fucking? Or how about after you told me about your parents? I-“

The beer in your hand splashes across his face as he coughs and sputters. His fingers wipe over his eyes and you stand, pushing past the gawking crowd and down the stairs. 

Nancy and Eddie were right.

Steve Harrington is a fucking idiot. 

You’d rode the train past your stop twice, both your airpods in and a look about you that dared anyone to even glance at you the wrong way. At the sight of the sun sinking past the horizon, you bite down on your cheek, willing your gut to stop twisting as it attaches a thing you love to him. Steve Harrington was not going to ruin sunsets for you, you draw the line at fucking grilled cheese and football. 

The flick of your entryway lamp illuminates your place, the lyrics “You call me strawberry wine…” drift out of your airpod as you remove it from your ear. You’ve had enough of the universe’s poetic irony today. Tossing the case and your keys into their dish as you turn the lock on your door. 

The sunset is the least of your worries, what didn’t he touch here? Your door, the coffee mugs he proclaimed as his favorites, the counter, the fire escape. You reach for the bottle of wine on top of your fridge as you click on the Instagram notification. 

A caption reading ‘We just hope both teams had fun🏈 ’ below her photos. A selfie first, Robin’s bashful face filling the screen, getting her cheek kissed by Nancy. Another, this one with you - she must have caught it during bags - a shot of Eddie and you mid-laugh. The last one clearly taken after you left, the group in the stands, Steve’s sweater gone, replaced by a dry light blue t-shirt. You click your phone locked again and drink straight out of the bottle as you walk down the dark hallway. Old wood floors creak underneath your feet as you make your way to your room. 

Fuck, your room.

It’s a moment that perhaps you should be crying during, do normal people cry when boys like Steve Harrington blindside them? When a man you start to break down for was spooning you fully clothed at the start of the day and getting a beer tossed in his face by the end, shouldn’t some sort of despair come out in the form of dramatic tears? Nothing leaves your eyes though as you strip the sheets off of your bed. Steve’s not worth any. No guy is. 

Tugging harshly at the last corner of the fitted sheet with a frustrated grunt, you throw all of your bedding out into the hallway and slam the door. The flutter of paper on your desk as the door swings closed catches your eye, your chest tightens at the realization of what you left there. 

The glow from the setting sun outside washes over the photobooth strip as you walk towards it, lit up in a perfect square of tangerine. Your thumb brushes the last photo as you pick it up, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

It rips easier than maybe it should have, diminished to something small and as broken as you can make it before you toss it in the trash in your bathroom. Your eyes linger on the shower curtain and then your shampoo. The wine bottle presses to your lips again as you make a mental note, adding those to your list of things to replace tomorrow as well. 

Your phone pings again, the group chat you’ve just been recently added to: 

Your thumb presses the lock after turning it to silent, the dots from Robin appearing letting you know you don���t want to keep reading all of them talk. Your bare mattress stares at you as you drink more wine. They’re home. Together? In his apartment? In his bed?

It doesn’t matter, good for Steve, hope he’s happy. Good fucking riddance, right? 

Opening your bedroom door, you sigh at the pile of bedding, stepping over it and making your way to your couch. Your protective wall is still standing, your armor dusted off and polished once more. It’s time to pick up the pieces, replace what’s broken, and move on from what others like Eddie may want to tell you is heartbreak, but you would argue is just called life. 

And life is pain, and anyone who tells you differently is selling something, right?

Halloween season used to be one of your favorite times of the year. Parties and opportunities to dress up like someone you’re not. Evenings to be a character in a story far different than the one you were living, with lines already planned for you to say, an ending meticulously thought out. Now, however, the red fabric that clings to your body serves only as a reminder of how your life is the furthest thing from picture perfect. 

Originally, when you found the dress thrifting with Robin, it had felt a little like fate. A tiny and gentle nudge from the universe in the right direction - a sign. Now, you’re sure it was actually some twisted joke. Someone, somewhere out there, is laughing it up as they play with you like a plastic doll. Because even meeting Robin, a thing you were positive was divine intervention, is now wrapped around him. Some evil force at work as they had you meet her, then him, while they cackled and said ‘Ha! Watch this! This one’ll be good.’

Your costume now a cruel oxymoron - a girl who resents love dressed as someone who cherishes it. Pretending to be a girl who loved a boy endlessly, so devoted, she claimed to die the day he supposedly did. A girl who-

“You know,” a finger pokes your cheek, “For a princess, your sour look is not very princessey.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at you, hands on her hips, orange fabric of her skirt swishing around her thighs as she turns. Her sparkly red turtleneck and shine of her black mary jane’s glint in the strobe lights that are making sweeps over the room. 

You try to smile, if only for the fact that Nancy actually got her to wear the costume. Crossing your arms, your eyebrows raise as you respond, “Well, you must be a detective or something, Miss Dinkley.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but fights a smile, fiddling with the magnifying glass in her hands. When you don’t say anything more though, her big blue eyes soften as they glance up at you through fake glasses, and she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, is everything okay? I feel like…” she trails off, shaking her head, at a loss for words it seems - an unusual thing for her. 

The line for the bar shifts forward and you nod, that terrible feeling still sits heavy in your stomach like a bag of rocks - you’re weighed down, to be left at the bottom of your guilt to drown. “I’m fine, Robin,” it slips out when you repeat the words quieter, because maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aha!” She points a finger in your face, “You just said be fine, implying something is in fact not fine currently and-“

“Robin,” your laugh is unconvincing even to yourself. You rub your temples as you face the bar. “Quit being a meddling kid.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out with a little more bite than you intend and her mouth shuts quickly. It’s silent for only a few seconds though, before her shoulder bumps yours. Her question quiet, “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

Your head rests against her shoulder in a silent ‘I’m sorry’, hers against yours in an equally unspoken ‘You’re forgiven’ as you sigh. “Oh, just since you put on the costume.”

She hums and then lifts her head and faces you. “Last thing, and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

Facing her, you swallow harshly as she stares at you with eyes that feel like they can see everything. Even more so when she says, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re important to me. And if there’s something going on…” she trails off before smiling sadly and continuing, “You can tell me, okay? You can open up and I’ll probably talk too much and offer too much advice, but comes from a place of love and-“

You hug her tightly, Robin wraps her arms around you just as fiercely as her sentence breaks off. Your response sticks in your throat, an alarming hope of ‘what if I told her?’ rising in you that you need to squash down quickly. She can’t know, despite Nancy’s warning that she should. If she did find out, you’re not certain she’d be on your side anyways. It was all your idea to lie to her, it’s selfish of you to ask her to comfort you in this situation. 

Especially after you made her practically drag you to the party tonight. Eventually giving into her puppy dog pout (for a girl who easily falls for it, she has a pretty convincing one herself), your guilt all but consuming you at this point. You could put on a smile, a brave face - you could pretend to be someone you’re not, just tonight, and just for her. 

You haven’t seen Steve since the football game, ignoring any sort of notification related to him in your phone. But in the process of trying to remove anything Steve from your life, you’ve removed Robin from it as well - a packaged deal. Each ignored message, each call you watched ring and left unanswered, every dodged lunch, were just more punches to your gut, pieces of your heart ripped off and stepped on. You missed Robin so much, one night out, forced to make small talk with him, was a fair price to pay for the deceit and lies - if it meant you got to see her again. 

When you break away from the hug, it’s your turn for the bar finally. Both of your eyes widen at the sight of the specialty drink menu. ‘Bootini’s’ and things like a cocktail called ‘Vampire Kiss’ making both of you frown at the dollar signs next to each. You’re suddenly grateful for the tequila that’s still filling your stomach with warmth and Eddie’s insistence on taking the shots before leaving Nancy’s. 

“They do have like, a regular bar, right? Cause your girl is on a budget and…” your sentence trails off as Robin smiles at something, someone, over your shoulder. 

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.” 

His voice alone is enough to make your shoulders go up, to cause your stomach to twist, but when you spin to see him, you know it’s not the tequila making the room feel fuzzy and your stomach heave.  

He can’t be serious. 

He is not wearing that. He’s not.

“Come up with that all by yourself, did ya?” Robin pats Steve’s shoulder and before he can reply she’s holding up a hand in front of his face, letting out a low whistle. “Hoolly cooww.” She motions for Leigh to spin who blushes and laughs, but obliges as Robin keeps going, “Miss Morticia Addams, if you wanna ditch Dingus here…”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, an edge to his tone you may have found amusing if it wasn’t because of his best friend hitting on his girlfriend. “Seriously, Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him and Leigh laughs more, squeezing his shoulder. “I should be the one saying holy cow! Look at you two! Y/N, where did you find that dress?”

God, you hate that she’s nice. 

Her dress is phenomenal. The low cut, black fabric that hugs her curves and drapes over her flattering in a way it simply wouldn’t be on you. She’s got the perfect gauzy sleeves, the rings and red lips and nails, she’s even got a rose and scissors in her hand. 

You hate that you want to like this girl. 

Your smile is tense, “I, uh-“

The bartender clears her throat and you point, saved by the bell, turning your back on the group. A name of one of the drinks leaves your lips and you’re vaguely aware of Robin saying something about finding the others and to not order her something with whiskey in it because he remembers what happened last time.  

The deep breathing through your nose is a sad attempt for composure when you get a longer chance to take Steve in. Even with the dim bar lighting, the mirror behind the shelf of various liquors gives you a perfect view. You’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him. 

Steve’s dressed in all black, head to toe, the v-cut of the flowy top revealing quite a bit of his dark chest hair and you swallow, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. You always hated how Buttercup couldn’t tell it was Westley, in fact, you hate it in any movie when a character has a mask over their eyes and suddenly everyone is unable to tell who they’re dancing with, hell who’s kissing them. If anything, the black band of fabric across his face only makes the lips below and the eyes underneath it stand out more  - the curve of his top lip you can still feel under your tongue. The colors of his iris’ so distinctly Steve that you’d recognize anywhere - instead of a sea after a storm, a forest. He really went all out, even his scruff shaved to have a thin mustache, he’s wearing the black cap pushing down his normally styled and perfectly messy hair, and when you glance down, you’re not surprised to find matching pirate boots standing next to you. 

His hand reaches across your chest with a matte black card - that kind that isn’t glossy like a normal one and you quickly hand the bartender crumpled bills instead, earning a sigh from Steve. 

“You’re not seriously wearing that.” Weeks of no contact, and you hate that your voice doesn’t come out strong and confident when that’s all you can think to say. 

Risking a glance his way, you find his eyes are already on you, his jaw clenching before he asks, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Your inhale is sharp - how can he be this cruel? How can he act like that costume means nothing, or like the last few weeks weren’t awful? Weren’t they awful for him? To go from talking almost every day to nothing?

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?” Gesturing up and down his body as you ask. He truly can’t be this much of an asshole, he can’t-

Steve shrugs. “I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Turns out, he can be. 

Before you can even start to formulate something nasty to respond with, a person walking by shouts out, “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!” Clapping Steve’s shoulder as they waltz past like it’s the 90’s and people still say ‘dudes’ to strangers. 

Dude did just make your point for you at least, though. 

You hold your hands out to the retreating body in a show of ‘see?’ and then childishly flip Steve off. “The case rests, your honor.”

“It was last minute and I didn’t-”

His weak and pathetic attempts at excuses fall on deaf ears as you push your way through the crowd towards the beacon of red neon announcing an exit for this god forsaken bar. 

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you don’t think it is - screw Steve Harrington for ruining a fucking bar, for ruining the word dude, for ruining The Princess Bride, for ruining everything. 

Screw everything.

The sting of rejection and the quiet anger that’s been sitting at a simmer since the game rests over an open flame now. Your insides quickly grow to a rapid boil. Apathy and anger rage for the top spot as everything you’ve tried to keep under a lid steams, ready to overflow and burn. 

Ignoring the calls of your name, something still makes it past your seeing red rampage of an exit, connecting the voices, aware of Steve saying something to someone, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care who or what. The cool air hits your body as you push outside, stinging against the damp skin under your eyes. 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, his voice quiet, “Y/N-“

“Don’t touch me, Steve,” you warn, taking a step backwards after yanking your shoulder from under his fingers. Your hands balled into fists as you spin to look at him. 

He runs a hand through his now uncovered hair, face fully revealed without a mask too. He watches you closely, his voice gentle, as he raises his hands up, “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-“

“You don’t get to check on me anymore, or worry about if I’m okay, you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone scathing. 

Steve’s gaze bounces over your face, his jaw hardens as the vein in his forehead dances. Somehow his voice is soft despite the bite to it, “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I am your friend, and I -“

Your laugh causes him to break off. You gesture inside and then to his outfit. “Friends don’t treat each other this way, Steve.”

He drags his palms down his face, his own disbelieving laugh echoes against the brick of the bar. “Are you kidding me? I have been nothing but your friend! I am sorry about what I said at the game, but really, when was I supposed to tell you? And this costume…I…” He shakes his head, licking his lips as he takes a step closer to you. “Look. I should have told you about Leigh sooner, but if you would have given me five minutes to-“

“Five minutes. A sec.” Your hands move in quotation marks as you recall the conversation he wanted to have at the game too. Your face pinches into an irritated scowl as your hands drop in front of you, palms open. Exasperation laced around your words, “What the fuck is there to explain anymore, Harrington? You’re dating her and you didn’t tell me - the story is over.”

Steve stands just in front of you now, that gravitational pull at silent work again, even weeks apart unable to switch it off. Your bodies move with each other, your voices rise in sync, your chests fall with shared breaths. A different sidewalk, that same feeling of flight or fight, but you know that it’s too late this time. Even turning the heat off isn’t going to fix the damage that’s been done. 

Another laugh huffs out of him, “You’d like that, right? That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything.” He shakes his head and points to his chest, towering over you, “This is all such total bullshit. You’re mad at me for something that was your idea, because you didn’t get to decide when it was over.” He shrugs, waves of nonchalance carrying his words through the air to hit you hard like a slap across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

Any maturity you attempted to have towards the situation has evaporated. 

“Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

Your chests almost touch with each ragged breath as his hands run through his hair and he pulls. A frustrated groan at your words, while the volume at which his come out becomes louder, “I’ve got plenty of fucking mirrors, why don’t you take your own advice! You’re a hypocrite. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you didn’t ask me for this arrangement. Tell me that the words ‘no feelings’ and ‘just sex’ didn’t leave your mouth. Tell me what you have to be upset with me for then!”

Your chin quivers at his words, the truth of them daring the tears behind your eyes to fall. 

Steve gulps, his fingers dance on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes shine with his own held back tears, like he regrets how he said it but not that he did. His voice quiets as he pleads, “Tell me.”

He doesn’t get to look at you like that. He doesn’t get to say those things to you and then look at you like that.

What happened last time Steve Harrington asked you to open up and tell him something?

Tequila lingers on your tongue, aiding in the formation of words that are meant to sting - you want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. You bite down on your jaw, the anger and pain ready to fall down your cheeks as you remove yourself from him. 

Your hands press against his chest, “You’re bullshit. This is bullshit.” A small shove as you practically growl the next words, “I’m a hypocrite? How about the fucking bathroom at that party where you told me I couldn’t have it both ways, but then you’re dating someone while getting all jealous?” Another shove, this time his fingers brush your wrists, a halfhearted attempt to get you to stop. “Begging me to open up to you? For fucking what, Steve? This costume? You…” you close your eyes and let your hands drop, letting the words do all the work now, “You’re a liar. You’re an asshole.”

Steve’s head ducks down, his fingers brushing his nose before he rolls his shoulders back. When his mouth opens, you step backwards, shaking your head. 

“Lose my number, Steve.”

His eyes roam over your face, waiting, searching. He only nods once and takes his own step back. 

“As you wish.”

Your breath sucks in sharply, a sob you’ve been holding in since the moment he said the words ‘Sorry we’re late’ threatens to finally crack out of your chest. You wish you had another beer to toss in his face for using those words at this moment. 

It’s not said with the kind of reverence of the movie. There isn’t a narrator to let you know what he actually means by the phrase. But you know. It’s not an ‘I love you’, not like this. No, it’s merely a promise to do as you asked. 

All you can do is turn away from him, hold your chin up and roll your shoulders back as you walk down the sidewalk.

There is no hopeful glance back over your shoulder, no loud smacks against the pavement made by his feet chasing after you like in the movies. 

Like you said, your story is over. 

'One New Voicemail':

“Hey, just thought I’d try ya, I know you’ve been busy. Um, well, Steve and I are heading to the Rocky Horror show tonight and I know he’d love someone to aid in his teasing of how totally into it I get. Right Steve?” 

[muffled sounds of movement and whispers]

“Hm…yeah, I uh-” 

[a clear smack to his shoulder]

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you or we’ve done something just the three of us! Anyways, call me back, text me…beep me if you wanna reach me…ugh, sorry that was so lame, okay bye. Love you!”

If you were surviving before them, you could survive without them. It seemed simple enough. 

You’ve never stayed in one place for long, friendships like Robin, Eddie, and Nancy had been left before. Friendships that were never given a chance to really even start before you were gone. The promise of any relationships packed into boxes and off to the next city. Addresses and phone numbers and notes of ‘Keep in touch’ left to collect dust until forgotten about completely. 

So, it should have been easy to continue to ignore their messages. To ignore the holes in your chest, to ignore the want to call or text one of them when something happened as mundane as a stranger calling another stranger ‘toots’ in your mailroom. If Steve touched things in your life and now caused them to wilt in your memories and sights, the other three made things bloom. They breathed life into you again. 

You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington take something like that away from you. 

Which is why you found yourself curled into your father’s sweater for courage, walking down the sidewalk towards the cemetery with a promise to meet them there.

Orange and brown leaves crinkle underfoot before they blow across the pavement. The moon is full, the sky that deep indigo it seems to only get this time of year. Both a perfect backdrop for the bare trees that dance in the wind and the blocks lined with homes with glowing porch lights. Orange buckets overflowing with candy rush past in a blur, laughter and squeals of children echoing down the street past you. 

As you make it to the black iron fence, your eyes roam the blankets and patrons occupying them in the park next to the cemetery. Apple and brown sugar meet your nose and you take special note of the mini donut booth attached to the scent. Which is where you see Eddie, shoving two in his mouth and rolling his eyes at Nancy. He spots you and grins around the sugary dough, nudging the shoulder to his right and nodding in your direction. 

Robin spins and you see her shoulders visibly fall and a grin spread across her face. She says something to the other two who head in the direction of the blankets and she races through the crowd. Muffled oofs and sorry’s meet your ears as she dodges and spins around people balancing concessions.

You reach the front of the line, a sandwich board proudly displaying the original ‘The Evil Dead’ poster sits next to an older woman on a stool at the gate. She smiles at you, holding a flashlight towards the ground. “Ticket, dear?”

“Rose! Rose, she's my girl!” Robin shouts, breathless as she makes it to the gate. 

“Oh!” The elderly woman smiles wider, ushering you through, “Have fun ladies! Tell Edward I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robin salutes with two fingers and then grabs you in a hug. “Jesus Christ I missed you!” Her voice is loud and she shrinks in your arms as the lights of the booths go out and the crowd surrounding you turns and shushes. Her voice shifts to a whisper, “Whoops. Come on, we’re towards the back and we still have all the commercials to chat without too many nasty looks.”

Robin holds your arm in a death grip, a silent promise to not let you out of her sights and clutches so long as she can help it again it seems. When you reach the blanket, Nancy and Eddie’s conversation stops abruptly and their smiles seem painted on as they look up at you. 

It’s one of those moments, those silences that are too stilted and too abrupt, letting you know exactly what was being discussed just seconds before. You wave a little, ears burning since you have no doubt about who the subject of their interrupted conversation was. 

“Eddie,” Robin begins, huffing as she falls to their cushy spot with extra blankets, trays of drinks, and several bags of sweets littered around them, “Rose is fiending.”

“Oh shit!” Ducking and wincing when someone turns around and glares at him. He grabs one of the cups with a big R on top and squeezes your shoulder as he stands, “Be right back! Glad you came!”

Sitting as Robin pats his now empty spot next to her. “Can I get you anything? We have cocoa and cider, donuts, popcorn, candy corn, caramel corn, basically any kind of corn and-“

“Robin,” Nancy hums, almost singing, as she sips from a cup. She squeezes her fingers. “You have to actually take a breath to let her respond.” 

“I’ll never say no to a cider or donut,” you point to the items with a laugh. 

Robin grabs them and hands it to you. She whacks pillows and squishes around, rolling and frowning and readjusting. 

Eventually, she sighs, content, and grabs Nancy’s hand and then a donut from your bag and knocks it against one in your fingers before taking a bite. 

“Happy?” Nancy asks as Robin hums around the sugar she licks off of her lips. 

“You know it. Only thing that would make tonight better is…” she trails off with a grin.

You take her words as a warning to look around, wondering where he is and mentally preparing yourself. 

Nothing could have prepared you though. 

It happens quickly and yet not at the same time. 

Your head turns to see them walking hand in hand. A swing of fingers as they walk past twinkling lights, the breeze blowing her hair perfectly.  

Nancy says “Shit,” under her breath as she sits up. When you turn to look at her with a frown, she opens her mouth but no words come out. 

The movie starts.

Eddie slows down as he makes his way back towards the blanket, looking at Nancy then over his shoulder then back at you. 

Robin waves her arm too much and you turn to look again, trying to figure out what you’re not getting.

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he stops, tripping over his own shoe.

Leigh waves and something sparkles on her hand in the moonlight.

Robin beams and squeezes your wrist. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe they actually came! I figured with the whole engagement thing they wouldn’t. Now it’s all officially perfect. All my favorite people together on my favorite day.”

Plot twist: Steve Harrington is engaged. 

WCIL taglist:

@loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii