#so.. we are clearly not friends anymore lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kithtaehyung · 2 months ago

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minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

There’s something to be said about the human gut.

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain.

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you?

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run?

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink.

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking.

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too.

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree.

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down.

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too?

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff.

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved.

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is.

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on?

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling.

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with.

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are.

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home.

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors.

Perfect.

“What.”

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.”

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?”

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket.

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends.

This is all too much.

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.”

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily?

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization.

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun.

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again.

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done.

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again.

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal.

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back.

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance?

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic.

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening.

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches.

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire.

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not.

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse.

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck.

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change.

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline.

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.”

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.”

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

Fuck. Yoongi’s right.

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.”

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls,

“Not interested.”

Oh. He’s…

Oh.

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial?

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie.

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.”

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core.

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom.

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not.

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room.

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on?

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here.

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot.

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light.

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish.

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use.

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld.

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead.

Uhh.

What.

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin.

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air.

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done.

Almost.

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing.

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state?

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.”

Again with that little slant.

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life.

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl.

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded.

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved?

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right…

Doesn’t matter.

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck.

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright.

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet.

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still.

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut.

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.”

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.”

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.”

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel.

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.”

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them.

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer.

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so.

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside.

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your—

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!”

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.”

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for?

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.”

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette.

And just like that, the conversation dies.

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible.

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead.

Your noodles.

You’re not hungry anymore.

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill.

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand.

A robed arm.

Your new utensils come back into view.

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there.

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes,

“Eat.”

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain?

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.”

“You are.”

“Not anymore.”

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.”

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.”

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.”

“I literally can’t—”

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.”

“What?”

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight.

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.”

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.”

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.”

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin.

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.”

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier.

Yoongi looks pissed as hell.

But he hasn’t moved.

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again.

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today.

Fuck, you wanna hurl.

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair.

“It’s better in the long run.”

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this.

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes.

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too.

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers.

“What were you looking for.”

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth.

“Did you find it.”

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?”

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?”

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought.

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.”

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.”

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion.

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl.

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat.

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure.

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out.

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home.

Yearning pierces right through your chest.

The elevator is right over there.

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No.

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too.

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase.

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep.

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety.

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room.

And your defense mechanism blares.

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why?

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too?

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay?

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.”

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?”

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.”

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.”

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes.

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.”

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms.

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest.

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs.

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.”

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.”

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine.

Well.

So much for leaving.

You may spend more time here than you thought.

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call.

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that.

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now.

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space.

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere.

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator.

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area.

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet.

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below.

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out.

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart.

That was so long ago.

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time.

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem.

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm.

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some.

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter.

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.”

“Do you even drink?”

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying.

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?”

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.”

“It’s usually silent, too.”

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.”

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.”

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”

He takes the offered can. “Mm.”

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present.

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs.

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se.

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day.

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.”

“Why not?”

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?”

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.”

Your look carries a slight pang.

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.”

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see.

But when it’s open, you freeze.

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New.

Wait.

These patterns.

These are il-don?

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless.

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.”

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?”

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.”

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?”

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.”

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter.

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.”

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?”

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?”

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?”

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.”

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.”

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself.

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear,

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe.

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…”

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.”

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now?

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.”

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away.

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose,

“I should’ve left you for dead.”

Wait.

Stop.

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever.

And it is frightening.

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.”

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist.

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.”

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually.

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you.

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power?

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk.

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can.

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it.

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.”

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged.

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes,

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.”

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning.

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it.

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same.

So you quell that monster pacing in your core.

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be.

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.”

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin.

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.”

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend,

“This world has already tried enough.”

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again.

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn.

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it.

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more.

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else.

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations.

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.”

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip.

And you freeze.

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate.

But fuck, you kinda want to.

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed.

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…”

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to.

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.”

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest,

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong?

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore.

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.”

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone.

Oh. You’re going home.

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short.

What was that? What was any of that?

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over.

…But do you want it to be?

Yes.

Of course you do.

Clouds let moonlight shine again.

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real.

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane.

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging.

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out.

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed?

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets.

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes.

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams.

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own.

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion.

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air.

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out.

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too?

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness.

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start.

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do.

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows.

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity.

For nothing.

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all.

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal.

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder.

Fuck everything.

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.”

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares.

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#PART TWO IS HEREEE #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

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ham1lton · 7 months ago

Text

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET)

pairings: jenson button x maneater!reader.

warnings: large age gap - around twenty years. a lot of judgement and criticism as there is scrutiny of your relationship.

summary: after a party at a mutual friend’s, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver.

author’s note: so this is NOT a part of the main maneater storyline. this is just a what if scenario. just something indulgent for the maneaters out there who go for dilfs! last time i checked the friendship group poll, it was practically 50/50 so until that’s decided, there is a big group of all them. also as per usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote <3

— a part of the maneater series ꕤ

liked by messybitch1, landonorris and 1,728,838 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after the release of lewis hamilton’s newest almave drink, formula one driver y/n l/n, better known as maneater, was seen outside of the event looking quite cozy with former formula one driver and forty-four year old jenson button. how are we feeling about this new power couple, ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: poor lewis. his drink release has been completely overshadowed by this news 😭

user3: age gap couples never last long lol. good luck but he’ll move on to the next twenty something as soon as she shows one sign of aging.

user34: SHUT UP HES SO FINE 😭 i’d do the same as you y/n girl.

-> user51: LIKE 😭😭😭 bffr. most of the ppl here would fold for their older celeb crush.

user7: idk who’s benefiting more from this relationship? but it’s definitely not love.

user9: Y/N!!!! I’LL SAVE YOU!!!

user2: not jenson going through his mid-life crisis post-divorce. girl u can do better.

user8: maneater… pls say this is a publicity stunt.

-> user73: no cause this genuinely might be her ticking off her childhood crush list. which is real but idk if it’s good for her?

user6: is she fucking all the aging drivers? or is jenson the only one stupid enough to say yes?

user25: i support it. i met my husband when i was 21 and he was 37 and we have been together almost twenty years this may. not all age gap relationships are inherently bad.

-> user4: you’re a victim 😕

user12: y’all are gross. any of us would jump at a chance to date our celeb crush. jenson is hot and y/n is a consenting adult. she’s not a child anymore. she didn’t even know him as a child. bffr.

————————————————————————

liked by bestie2, georgerussell63 and 3,828,782 others.

yourusername: what do you do when you haven’t seen your besties for ages? do a photoshoot in the middle of the street. how did you spend your weekend?

view all comments

bestie1: we look so good!!! it was soo good to catch up babe. we missed u!!!

-> bestie2: we’ve all been so busy it’s insane how we’ve not been able to see each other more. i was going insane without my girls!!!

user1: is she not even gonna address it?!

-> user6: big ass elephant in the room.

user4: we knew how you spent your weekend ms l/n.

landonorris: am i not your bestie? why wasn’t i included?

-> georgerussell63: or me?!

-> alex_albon: or me? 🤨

-> logansargeant: or me?? 😕

-> oscarpiastri: i get why i wasn’t included tbf.

user10: u think posting pretty girls will make us forget ur weekend escapades? … maybe. keep posting.

user2: can you guys not make everything about a man? who cares if she’s dating jenson? what does that have to do with her ability to do her job or advocate for causes?! i feel sorry for her because you guys clearly dislike her for stupid reasons and are twisting this into a way to jump her ‘ethically’ which doesn’t even make sense. the only problematic thing she’s done is date a man older than her. grow up, my god.

*liked by landonorris, bestie1, bestie2, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant and 45,728 others. *

————————————————————————

liked by charles_leclerc, bestie1 and 1,092,728 others.

yourusername: italy, i love you ♥︎

view all comments

user3: get you a man that flies u out whenever ur sad.

-> user7: why are we not assuming she flew HIM out?

-> bestie2: he definitely flew her out. lmao.

user89: feels like a disaster waiting to happen lol.

-> logansargeant: not every relationship is like your parents. get therapy instead of projecting onto strangers.

user6: still a whore. i can’t stand this bitch.

-> oscarpiastri: stay mad! she’s young, successful and has many people who love and support her while you’re cursed to just scroll through her posts and seethe in your head. this one sided beef is crazy 🤣🤣!

user9: they’re cute!! idk how i’m the only one who thinks this.

user67: she’s still ugly.

-> alex_albon: looked at your pictures mate and cheers, my nan just vomited.

user12: when he leaves her >>>>

-> georgerussell63: 6.220.183.12

-> user3: NOT THE IP ADDRESS HELP?2&/&

user8: jenson. call me when you need a real woman.

-> bestie1: where is the real woman you speak of? she’s definitely NOT you.

user21: honestly? i just can’t get on board with this ship.

-> landonorris: you can’t even afford a ticket 🤣 delete this.

user10: i’m not saying shit cause why the y/n defense squad dragging people in the comments 😭

liked by oscar.priv, alex.priv and 21 others.

maneater.priv: NEED HIM CARNALLY <3

view all comments

bestie1priv: thank god he doesn’t know about ur priv account. i think he’d combust.

-> maneater.priv: nah he giggles. he thinks its funny.

oscar.priv: everyone on a campaign to save you from jenson when they should be saving jenson from YOU!

bestie2priv: LOVE U BOTH <333 cutest couple!

lando.priv: dare you to post this on ur main 😏🤣😁😝

-> george.priv: 43.0.109.12

-> lando.priv: MAN COME ON 😭

don’t want to miss out on my next post? join my taglist! if you enjoyed this, check out my masterlist or buy me a coffee! no pressure ! <3

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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Text

into the arms of another part three | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part one part two masterlist tips

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 707,890 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: working up a storm and flirting up a frenzy

view all comments

user3: SHE'S BACK

user4: that month she was gone was dragging

user5: i almost forget she has a job lol there's always so much drama i forgot girly was getting the bag

danielricciardo: oh what a lovely picture of you two being gross at dinner i wonder who took it

yourusername: it's this lovely gentleman, i'll have to introduce you. he's quite loud, very charming and should consider going into theatre with his vocal projection

danielricciardo: you think i'm ready for the stage?

maxverstappen1: i think we all think you're ready for the stage

user6: wait so do you think daniel, heidi, y/n and max go on double dates? that's so cute

user7: sometimes i hurt myself by thinking it could've been a triple date if charles wasn't such as ass

maxverstappen1: when she's a triple threat 😍

yourusername: but i can't sing, dance or act?

maxverstappen1: but you are smart, beautiful and can put up with me :)

yourusername: you act like being with you is a chore maxy :( i'd spend all my waking moments with you if i could

landonorris: i'm sending these ^^ comments to my therapist, you guys make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: sorry dude

yourusername: lando !! let us play matchmaker ??

landonorris: i'll let you play matchmaker just don't let max have too much input

maxverstappen1: why not i clearly have good taste?

user8: anyone else wondering whether y/n and charles actually spoke after he was seen outside her building?

user9: i was thinking about that too ... i'm guessing they either didn't or it didn't go well by the fact that he's no where to be seen here

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,203,500 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: new weekend, new helmet. this one was designed by the love of my life who put her architecture degree to good use to make me this beautiful lid. love you y/n hope to bring you a trophy back in return 🧡

view all comments

user13: max being the resident grid sweetheart was not on my 2023 bingo card

yourusername: no worries max, it was an absolute honour to design a helmet for you.

maxverstappen1: it's an honour to wear something designed by you

yourusername: call me the adrian newey of helmet design

maxverstappen1: that's a big shout, that i'm inclined to believe

redbullracing: adrian gives his stamp of approval y/n !

user14: i swear in an older charles vlog y/n spoke about how she always wanted to design a helmet for him :( i'm glad she finally got to do it

user15: no shade but at least this helmet might actually win the race lol

danielricciardo: cute lid, is y/n open for commission?

maxverstappen1: nope she's mine and mine only (unless you're paying)

yourusername: what he said

user16: i just know charles is screaming, crying and throwing up rn

user17: probably not, people stop being friends all the time, he's got more than one friend and is a millionaire, he's living his best life

user16: his track record says otherwise, he's extremely petty, he probably can't handle that max and y/n don't care about him anymore

user18: tbf from what we saw charles was looking to reconcile, it's more y/n who has been unreasonable

user19: i think she's well within her rights to refuse forgiveness and from reports charles never apologised, this has been a pattern of behaviour for years now. she deserved better, she's now got better

liked by maxverstappen1

user20: i love that max likes all the shady comments about the situation cause i know y/n would never

charles_leclerc

liked by arthurleclerc, carlossainz55 and 908,344 others

charles_leclerc: always make time for your real friends.

view all comments

user21: if there's one thing men will have, it's the audacity

user22: well this is an interesting response

user23: are we meant to clap?

arthurleclerc: what happened to the plan?

charles_leclerc: than plan failed in the minute she closed the door in my face

arthurleclerc: call me, but also stop making excuses

user24: yes it is logical to do this offline arthur, but consider this, i want to read the drama

user25: but at this point how is it drama? it's just charles being stubborn. y/n gave him a full explanation and by the look of it he didn't do a very good job with it

user26: the thing is i honestly believe that however bad the apology would be y/n would still forgive him. they've been friends for so long i think she honestly wants it to work out but shit like this does not help his case

carlossainz55: mate i am so confused

charles_leclerc: what's so confusing? she can say that this has led to her finding "the real thing" but i can't?

carlossainz55: but if you wanted to reconcile, you look like an asshole

charles_leclerc: fine, make me the bad guy like everyone else

user27: charles is really in his whiny boy era lord

user28: all i know is that y/n and max are probably at home having the laugh of their lives

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,095 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln was in the red bull garage this weekend with verstappen's family. max won this race wearing the helmet she designed for him.

view all comments

user31: they are the cutest couple on the grid, perhaps of all time

user32: they're defo on the way to that, if they get married could defo grab best couple of all time

user33: the way she still stopped at ferrari to talk to arthur and wish him and charles luck ... clearly there's a bigger person here

user34: y/n is already so close to the verstappens, her and sophie and victoria were together all weekend.

user35: my friend had a paddock pass and overheard sophie asking y/n when she'll be giving her more grandkids

user36: OMG WHAT? what did y/n say?

user35: that she'd have to be mrs. verstappen first

user37: do not play with me right now if we get the charles and y/n friend breakup and y/n and max engagement all in one season my brain may explode

user38: if max weren't winning every race anyway i'd defo say that this is the lucky helmet

user39: i mean grand slams aren't that common, so maybe it is

user40: max win and charles disasterclass, the best weekend possible for y/n

user41: i don't think she actually wants charles to do badly though, she wouldn't have wished him luck..

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,405,649 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i've won a lot of races this year but my biggest win of all was your heart. here's to forever together ❤️

view all comments

user42: i think i just saw charles drop to his knees in monaco

user43: i mean they can still be friends? there was never any romantic feelings he's just being weird about being in the wrong and it being max

danielricciardo: i'm so so happy for you guys, you deserve this so much. all the happiness to you, i shall assume my position as best man effective immediately

maxverstappen1: bit forward to assume that you're best man mate

danielricciardo: wait, i'm not best man ?

maxverstappen1: i joke, you are, of course, the best man and i can't think of a better man for the job

yourusername: just don't go too crazy with the stag night, i've heard about your nights out back in the day (seen the videos too)

danielricciardo: i don't know what you're talking about, we'll have a boys night in, a round of uno and he'll be ready at the altar right on time

user44: why am i actually so happy for people i don't even know

yourusername: i can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my life, red bull drive babysitter and cat mama

maxverstappen1: i think jimmy and sassy might just be as excited as me (maybe)

yourusername: i know i can tell by all the holes in my shoes

maxverstappen1: we all have our ways of showing love, some bites holes in shoes, some like to follow you everywhere

landonorris: the way max could be either one

maxverstappen1: ummm i'm trying to be romantic stop accusing me of biting my fiancee's shoes

yourusername: don't worry maxy, i'd still marry you even if you bite my shoes

user45: this is an amazing thing and not to bring the mood down, but do we think y/n will invite charles to the wedding?

user46: max could as well, they are friends, even if charles is trying to use their rivalry as a 'reason' to be angry at this relationship

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,206,782 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i am lost for words. i never knew i could love someone as much as i love you, and it is my biggest honour to spend the rest of my life with you.

view all comments

user47: she has really won at life i'm so happy for her

user48: who knew being ditched in corsica would be so good for a girl

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you more than you could ever know, couldn't think of a better mrs. verstappen-y/ln

yourusername: i can't wait to have matching last names

user49: wait is max also going to take y/n's name?

maxverstappen1: yep and couldn't be prouder to have her name

yourusername: awww maxy i love you

user50: so... did charles get an invite?

charles_leclerc: no. so much for moving forward.

yourusername: i won't let you ruin this announcement for me. let the postal service do their job. please get your shit together before you rsvp or fuck off, i have no problem burning that invite.

user51: oof.

landonorris: congrats guys, do me and daniel get a prize for listening to the years of pining that led to this

yourusername: you can get a gold star?

landonorris: make it solid gold and done.

yourusername: girl.

maxverstappen1: if red bull ask whether we drank on this getaway say no

yourusername: we defo didn't spray champagne like we were on a podium and then eat our weight in pasta

maxverstappen1: i had to celebrate my girl :)

note: hiiiii, i know this was highly, highly requested and i hope this has met expectations. i've had real bad writers block and some shit going on in my personal life, so i'm not the happiest with this but could see another part if i get enough ideas lol. thanks for reading <3

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen

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stark-ironman · 25 days ago

Text

What happens in Vegas...

18+ No Minors

A/N: maybe make this a mini-series? Let me know because I wrote this in 4 hours lol.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex and sex tape, accidentl marriage

You're still not entirely sure how you got talked into coming to Vegas with Hugh, Ryan and Blake after the filming of Deadpool and Wolverine but you're not really complaining. Especially when the four of you can turn any type of get together into a party.

Right now is no different, except for the fact Ryan and Blake went to a fancy restaurant for their date night, leaving you and Hugh at the hotel with a stocked bar. Between the two of you, the stocked bar is almost empty and you both are well past the point of being drunk.

What started out as a friendly hangout quickly turned into flirty comments here and there, subtle touches when the other tries to walk past and now a game of truth or dare. It started out just telling each other secrets and doing little harmless dares but it quickly took a turn when you dared Hugh to kiss you. He didn't hesitate to press his lips against yours and things quickly got heated but you pulled away before it could.

You're just friends. You have been for the past 6 years and tonight is no different, you try telling yourself. The two of you have been heavily drinking and the alcohol is making you both not think clearly.

That's where you should've stopped drinking at but instead, you two decided to head to the hotel bar and grab a few more drinks before walking the strip. Hugh holds your hand the whole time to make sure you both don't get separated, both of you taking videos and sending them to Ryan and Blake while trying to walk until a wedding chapel comes into your sight.

"Wouldn't it be hilarious if we go in there to get married and send that to them to prank them?" You ask, holding onto Hugh's arm as you both start giggling walking inside.

The wedding ceremony is quick, they even handed you a copy of the marriage license and Hugh is quick to send the videos to Ryan before taking you to a nearby shop to buy the both of you rings to continue with the joke. Or so he thinks. Neither one of you know you actually went to a real chapel and are officially legally married or that Ryan and Blake are searching the strip for the two of you so they can get you back to your separate rooms before anymore surprises can happen tonight.

The problem though, Vegas is so busy so it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Especially when the two of you are back in the hotel room, laying on the bed giggling after you both decided to consummate the marriage and video taping it in the process.

At some point, the two of you do get dressed just incase someone walks in and you wind up falling asleep while talking to Hugh, so he tucks you in before falling asleep himself.

-----

The next morning, you wake up with a blinding headache and the sun shining brightly in the room. With a groan, you sit up and cover your face with your hand but when your eyes focus, you see a ring on your finger. A confused look flashes quickly across your face as you look around at all the empty liquor bottles and see Hugh laying on his stomach on the foot of the bed knocked out.

You grab your phone and notice it's dead, the same with Hugh's so you quickly put them on the charger and head to the bathroom. Once finished, you wash your hands and look in the mirror at your appearance, noticing you look like pure hell so you decide to take a shower to clean up a bit.

When you get out, you wrap a towel around your body and quickly tip toe back to the bedroom to grab some clothes but instead you find Hugh attempting to sit up. "Oh shit, my bad. I'm not looking I promise." Hugh sis quickly covering his face to allow you to get dressed.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" You ask as you finish getting dressed. "The last thing I remember is pulling out that bottle of tequila and I think we played truth or dare. I'm not sure though." He says removing his hands and standing up, walking to the bathroom as you go sit back on the bed but a knock on the door stops you.

You hear the shower turn on so you go open it, seeing Ryan and Blake standing there with unreadable expressions. They walk in and take a look around, noticing the party you two had last night as you sit on the bed and leaning your head against the headboard.

"I take it you don't remember anything from last night?" Ryan slowly asks. You shake your head and Hugh walks out in a towel, looking confused when Ryan and Blake look at him in shock. "So, the two of you slept together?" Blake asks. "What? No. When we woke up I was here and Hugh was face down at the foot of the bed. Fully clothed." You tell them.

Hugh grabs some clothes and goes to get dressed, coming back out and sitting beside you as Ryan and Blake stand there in silence. "What's going on with you two?" Hugh asks. "Why not start with this first video and swipe until the last one?" Ryan hands him his phone and you both watch each video, a shocked expression on both of your faces.

"We went to a fake chapel, right?" You ask looking at Hugh but his hands are covering his face. "Judging by this marriage license, you two are legally married by the state of Nevada." Ryan tells you with an amused look on his face and you can't help but to groan a bit.

"I think we will let you both have a moment to yourselves and meet you two for lunch, okay? Don't go consummating this marriage if you two don't want to be together." He says as they walk out, leaving Hugh and you there to figure things out.

"Consummate the marr.. shit." Hugh mumbles as he reaches for his phone, turning it on. "Don't get mad but I think we did have sex.. and we recorded it." He says as you shoot up out of the bed. "What do you mean we recorded it? Who's idea was that?" You ask, quickly remembering that it was you who suggested it.

Hugh pulls up the video and sure enough, the video was right there in his gallery. "We went at it for a whole hour?" You ask once you see the time stamp on the video. "I think I went down on you for quite a bit before you done the same to me." Hugh says trying to remember the night.

"We will probably have to watch all of these videos if we want to remember anything but we will do that at a different time, right now we need to decide what to do about this marriage thing." Hugh looks at you with a look and takes a deep breath.

"If I'm being honest, I've been attracted to you for a while now but I didn't want this to be how we got together. I want to be with you but I want to do it the correct way." He slowly says trying to find the right words. "So, you want to get an annulment?" You ask. "Is that what you want?"

You think about it, grabbing his hand and squeezing it softly. "There's always been an attraction between us. Would it be so bad if we stayed married and figured out life together?" "It wouldn't be bad at all but I would like for us to take the time to learn about each other in that way instead of jumping in this marriage not knowing anything." He says as he pulls you close.

"So, then we date first. We figure it out and when we feel ready, we have a real proposal with a wedding ceremony. If it doesn't work out then we go our separate ways and remain friends. Sound good?"

He nods, kissing your head softly. "Sounds good. We will take things slow." "Let's go meet Ryan and Blake for lunch and just act the way we normally do." You say standing up and letting him lead you out the room.

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman smut #logan howlett #hugh jackman imagine

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sscieloz · 2 months ago

Text

Live my life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and they still don’t have a lot to offer, and there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them blindly.

Warnings: smut. lowk confusing… but it’s the aesthetic

Word count: 9.9k

Notes: I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE DEAD 😤😤 I was obsessed w the MV as soon as it was out so I wrote this work!! it ended up being too long (lol) so i decided to split it in 2. I SHALL NAWT VANISH ANYMORE PINKY PROMISE.

pt.1 | pt.2

—

“Do you think it’ll fit?” Ningning’s hesitation is easily explained by the amount of suitcases hanging from the small hood of the car. The four girls agreed to bring each a single backpack of clothes for themselves, so the instruments and sound equipment could also be transported.

Clearly, it was still too much.

“It has to.” Winter answers, her tiny frame reaching up as she tries to grab one of the big suitcases herself. With Ningning’s help, she manages to do it, and they both stare at the car, wondering about an adjustment that would work.

Just as both girls imagined how to rearrange the space, Giselle and Karina stepped down the house's stairs, frowning.

Karina, is, as always, not amused by the struggle placed in front of her, but Giselle scoffs, judging her bandmates for not having things ready yet. They were supposed to pack their stuff in the car while she and Karina prepared their snacks and made sure all the windows and doors were closed, so they’d find no surprises once they got back home from their trip. Now, they’d leave later than expected, which would result in them facing the road at night— which was exactly what they were avoiding.

This day was starting to piss her off.

“What are you doing?” Giselle crossed her arms against her chest, trying her best to not sound as irritated as she was. They all knew, though. The girls know each other too well.

“Playing Tetris.” Minjeong stared back at her, with a tone that was just as presumptuous. “What does it look like we’re doing, Gigi? The space is obviously too fucking small for all of our stuff.”

Karina takes a step further before Giselle is able to open her mouth and give her friend a petty response. Her clumsy hands rearranged the suitcases so fast the three girls barely registered her actions, closing the hood of the car in a quick motion so everything wouldn’t fall off.

“Mhm, you won’t be able to see much of what’s behind the car, Gigi, but I don’t think it can get any better than that.”

The girls simply stare, impressed by Karina’s skills.

“So… problem solved?” Ningning asks, and they all nod.

Without a word, the four girls enter the small car, squeezing themselves as they prepare for their small trip. It wasn’t uncommon for the band to spend hours stuck in Giselle’s stepfather’s old 2000 Civic, but the lack of space was always annoying, making them all feel packed in like sardines. However, the vehicle was the only option they had to make their way to nearby cities to perform, so they avoided making any complaints.

The band was just about an hour into their 4-hour drive when Giselle pulled over, cursing under her breath.

“Fuck.” She mutters, biting her nails as she looks at the line of cars being stopped by the police, just a few miles ahead. Her face was even paler than usual, which set the girls on alert mode immediately— out of the four of them, Giselle was the least likely to panic at any unusual situation.

As soon as her body tensed, the Uchinaga felt long, lithe hands on her neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to soothe her, filling her with reassurance. Karina’s, naturally. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, why did we stop?” Ningning adds to Karina’s question, just as curious.

Minjeong’s brows furrow and she adjusts her posture, trying to stare at the horizon in the same position Giselle was, from the passenger’s seat instead. As always, she’s quick to understand the situation. “They’re stopping the cars ahead, but it’s just their normal procedure. They’ll stop us, of course, since we’re young girls traveling by ourselves with a bunch of luggage, but we’ve got nothing to hide, so… keep going, unnie. It’s fine.”

Seconds went by before Giselle grunted, a tense atmosphere hanging in the air while she fidgeted her fingers. Only then, her answer came, barely in a murmur. “I don’t have a license.” She could only hope they hadn’t heard her.

Judging from the way her bandmates’ mouths opened in shock they all started to speak together, though, they did.

Such a selective hearing, huh. She always had to yell at them at least three times for someone to get up from the living room and do the dishes, whenever they were home.

“What the fuck, unnie?”

“Do you really drive us illegally? Girl, we go everywhere by car!”

“I can’t believe you’re so damn irresponsible, I fucking swe—“

Karina stops their banter by out-screaming the two younger girls, a few minutes after Giselle had shrieked down on her seat so much she could merge with it anytime. “Wait! Wait.” Three pairs of eyes stare at her, inquiring. The quietness was odd, but it didn’t last much anyway. “I thought you had your permit taken last month?”

It’s Giselle’s turn to roll her eyes, then. “I literally told you that I failed. Do you pay attention to anything I say?”

Despite the situation they found themselves in, Minjeong and Ningning couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t news that Karina’s got her head up in the clouds, but her innocence was always funny to the girls. Despite being the oldest, she’s just a big puppy, after all.

And she looks outraged, ears red from the thought of being fooled by Aeri.

“What? we even celebrated!” Her face comes to the realization, as Minjeong tries to hide her laughter with a fake coughing fit. Winter’s blonde hair blows effortlessly when she turns her head to the window, in an obvious attempt to escape Giselle’s piercing stare. “Oh! Was that why you were being such a jerk the entire night, at the club?”

Giselle ruffles her hair in frustration but nods anyway. “Yes, that was the reason. Thanks for reminding us of that wonderful day, Jiminnie.”

Ningning taps on Karina’s shoulder, in hopes of offering some comfort to the desolated girl. She whistles, then looks from Aeri to Minjeong as if hoping they’d pull a permit out of nowhere and start driving again. Once it’s clear none of them would provide any solution, she does so herself, lifting her hips to grab her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll call Y/n.” Is all she says, clicking on the red number with 13 missed calls on the screen. “She’ll do something about it.”

Karina’s even more outraged, then, staring at Ningning in disbelief. She tries to reach out for her friend’s phone, but the maknae pulls her hand away with a huff. “Why do you even have her number, anyway?”

Sure, you’d be at their presentation, even if it were at a nearby town, hours away from where they lived. Somehow, you always show up. The girls couldn’t even remember when it happened; all they know is that they played at Ningning’s cousin’s club once, and from then on there you were, accompanying them in every step. You took pictures, edited videos to upload on their YouTube channel, and even helped them get some gigs every once in a while. It’s difficult for the girls to understand the reason you spend so much time and effort with them— a broke, nugu band who’s been doing this for a little over a year, yet there you were. Their first and most faithful fan, ready to drop everything to help them with any situation, at any given time.

Just like now.

Nonetheless, they had agreed to keep you at an arm's distance, only so the lines wouldn’t get too blurry. With time, they got to know you better, and it was noticeable you were as spoiled, obsessive, and explosive as you were sweet and passionate about the things you liked.

Truth be told, you scared them a little.

“I thought we had agreed on not talking to the psycho anymore,” Minjeong commented, resting her head on the window.

Ningning pauses at that, muting herself on the phone for a moment before answering, straightforwardly. “Well, do you want to get there or not?”

Her honesty is harsh enough that Minjeong lifts her palms in surrender, while Karina and Giselle share a knowing look. Ning’s right, naturally —what matters is that they get to the club on time.

“Fine,” The blonde sighs, turning to point at Karina. “But you’ll have to handle that nightmare of a weirdo. Don’t let her freak out or anything, like she did last time.”

“Why do I always have to do it?” Karina pouts, rolling her eyes. “Come on! What the fuck.”

Giselle giggles, grateful that Karina can’t reach out to punch her as she nods. “I agree… it’s a leader’s duty.”

With her brows furrowed and her rosy lips, the oldest member of the band looks much like a doll, adorable in all of her mannerisms. Even when she scoffs, it doesn’t come out nearly as rude and intimidating as she intends it to be. She still looks like a painting, so pretty Ningning pokes her playfully, brushing the irritation out of Karina with her ticklish fingers. Once she’s left ticklish in her seat, Ningning drops her phone, done with her call.

“Y/n said she’ll be here soon.” She announces, and the girls hum faintly in response. It’s enough for her to giggle, reaching out for her bag in hopes of finding a snack. “Don’t be too excited, damn...”

“I just hope she doesn’t take long,” Giselle mutters, ignoring the glares she gets by being to blame for their current situation.

“Well, if someone had just passed their driving test, we wouldn’t—”

The Uchinaga turns to Winter so fast her neck makes a weird noise. “Shut the fuck up, Minjeong.” Her tone is full of mockery, which is dangerous. Giselle gets irritated easily, but it’s hard to get her mad. Whenever she does, though… None of the girls like that. “I don’t see you driving around either.”

Minjeong, who’d rather die than recognize she doesn’t excel at something, puts a hand on her chest with the comment. Her face is quickly filled with red and, in a minute, she’s defending herself as if she’s just received a 5-year sentence.

As much as their banter is entertaining, Ningning still clings onto Karina on the backseat, resting her head on her unnie’s shoulders.

“I do hope Y/n arrives soon.” She tells her friend, closing her eyes despite the noisy background.

Karina smiles, ruffling the maknae’s hair with tenderness as she relaxes beside the oldest. “Don’t worry, Ning. She will.”

If there’s something she’s sure of, is that you don’t play when it comes to their band. Be it for good or for worse.

—

“Hello, cuties.” You say, tapping your knuckles on the driver’s window to gather attention. It works: the girls all jump in their seats, cursing under their breaths as they try to gather themselves from the scare. “Your knight in shining armor has come! Hurry, hurry! You’re running late.”

It had been less than an hour since Ningning’s call, so there’s no way you could’ve reached them so quickly. None of them say those words out loud, of course— some questions are better left unanswered.

“Here comes the devil.” Minjeong mumbles. The smile she gives you is drenched in feigned politeness, yet yours is sincere, bluntly ignoring her grumpiness with a wave of your hand.

“Hi, Y/n.” Karina greets you as the four girls get out of the car. You hug each one of them energetically, clearly pleased to be urged to help.

It doesn’t even bother you that Giselle, Winter, and Ningning only mumble, not paying you much attention. If only, your happiness would take long to wear off.

Still swooning, you gesture to the van that’s parked beside their car where a handsome, baby-faced boy waves at the girls with ease.

“My brother won this van at a bet a few days ago, and fortunately, he lent it to us. It’s more fitting for a band anyway.” You gesture at their car, still explaining. “Gyu can take your stepdad’s car back to your house, Gigi. Don’t worry.”

They already know Beomgyu from the previous times he’s dropped you off at their rehearsals and shows, so it’s nothing new. Although Giselle doesn’t seem convinced about your idea, she reluctantly gives him the car keys anyway. There’s no other option; she can’t just leave the car on the road, even though giving it to a stranger makes her uneasy.

“Thank you, Beomgyu-ssi.” The girls bow at him, thankful for the extra space, to which he simply nods.

The girls are quick to transport the suitcases to the van, stretching their legs out as they sigh with contentment. It’s like they can finally breathe, now that they’re not cramped in a tiny space. Even Minjeong is smiling, her little banter with Giselle being long forgotten by now.

Giselle is in the passenger’s seat, this time, and she’s surprised to see how easy it is to talk to a happy Y/n. You laugh and gossip over other bands the girls come across sometimes, and you tell them the entire story of how Beomgyu actually got the van. Time flies by while you’re on the wheel, and soon enough the four girls find themselves at the back door of the club, fixing their instruments for the time they go on stage.

—

“Do you get all those insane takes with this old-ass camera?” Ning asks curiously, holding the straightener against her hair as she watches you record Winter, who’s busy tuning her bass and pretending you don’t exist.

“It’s vintage, unnie.” You correct her, zooming in on the blonde girl’s delicate hands and her precise movements against the cords. “It has amazing quality, still.” Because Ningning is still staring, clearly waiting for a more direct answer, you add, “Yes. Pretty Much. Hey Minjeongie, look at the camera so I can get a better shot of you.”

All Winter gives you is an irritated look as she scrunches her nose and shakes her head. The girls enjoy arriving early at their events so they’re able to gather a few minutes of quietude, strictly to relax and focus on not letting the nerves overcome their abilities to shine on stage. You know that— it’s something you’ve seen them do countless times before. You find it adorable how they’d just close their eyes and try to control their breaths, fingers tapping their thighs to ease the anxiety that always comes with the wait of going on stage. No matter how many times they perform, the thrill will always be the same.

Although you don’t mind interrupting Winter’s time of focusing at all. Seeing you won’t give in, Winter scoffs, dropping the bass onto her lap. “Be polite, Y/n. Say please.”

Her intentions are as obvious as daylight. She’s mocking you, defiant like the insufferable being she is. Out of the four girls, Minjeong is the most stubborn, and you’re much alike. She was the one you got into most arguments with, none of you backing down from the opportunity of being right.

Said banter is the reason you turn and adjust the camera focus to Ningning, instead of giving in to the blonde girl. Yizhuo looks pretty as always, smiling at you as you kneel to get a take of her from a better angle.

You’re immediately interrupted by the same girl who was irritated by your presence just seconds ago. In a blink, Winter’s hands go to your chin, forcing you to face her with an assertive grip. “No. Film me.” Her porcelain skin shines against her dark eyes, who pop out even more, making her intimidating aura stand out in the small room as she adds with an icy, commanding tone, “And have manners.”

God, you’d gladly take her down just to get rid of that cocky tone.

“Stare at the fucking camera so you can have some decent solo shots, Winter unnie.” Your reply comes immediately, tone dripping with venom, “Please.”

Winter’s face is so red you’re afraid she’s going to combust at any second. She never spares hurtful words during arguments, and you’re ready for her to give it all. Disaster is set to happen until Giselle pops her head backstage, looking for you. Her eyes disappear and her cheeks flare up as soon as she meets your face, breaking the tension with a smile once her presence unintentionally ends the small battle you were having with Winter.

“Y/n!” She calls, handing out her hand to help you stand up. “Could you come help us with the drums, please? The guys from the bar are trying, but they’re so damn useless… We need you.”

You look away and Winter’s grip on you fades, although her trimmed nails still scratch your jaw as she lets her hand fall to her sides and returns to the couch, tuning her bass as if she had never been interrupted.

“Sure, Gigi. Let’s go.” It’s impossible to not smile back, allowing yourself to be guided through the narrow stairs of the place until you arrive at the stage. You don’t bother saying goodbye to either Ningning or Winter, knowing you’re going back to them as soon as you’re done.

The two younger girls are left by themselves, in silence for the first time since you arrived to pick them up, hours ago. It’s unsettling yet peaceful; not uncomfortable by any means. They’ve known each other for too long by now, so being with each other is more than natural— it’s one’s absence that is unsettling.

After giving her hair a few finishing touches, Ningning turns to her bandmate, pulling the chair beside her as she gestures for Minjeong to sit. Its leather cover is torn and the comfort is long gone, but they don’t mind. They’ve performed in far more awful places anyway.

“Okay, I’m done! Be still while I do your makeup, now, unnie.” Minjeong does as told, closing her eyes while the maknae starts moisturizing her skin.

The silence has Winter’s mind replaying the previous banter nonstop. She tries to stay silent, but the memory of your petty smirk is enough to leave her fuming, pumping with rage.

“Can you believe her, Ning? That fucking bitch, ugh. She’s so insufferable.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ningning smiles, thankful Minjeong has her eyes closed. She lets out a small giggle, still focused on brushing the concealer through her friend’s face. “God forbid someone puts you in your place, right unnie?”

She nearly doesn’t escape the highlighter Minjeong throws in her direction, now laughing freely as she continues with her task.

—

Aespa is a band of many talents.

The girls all met during sophomore year of high school, all trapped in detention for the day (as much as Minjeong would rather die than admit she’s ever gotten detention in her life). Even though they differ in personalities, in a clear contrast of cultures, manners, and experiences — their differences somehow added to each other until there wasn’t something missing anymore. The feeling of longing and loneliness that had accompanied them for so many years had finally ceased. After that, the girls found themselves at peace: the world was finally silent, as long as they were together. No matter how chaotic it was, Karina, Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning knew they’d like nothing else but to be together.

Luckily, they all shared two main passions: the love for music and the desire for attention, so being in a band together was something that happened rather naturally. The members all agreed, then, that Karina should be the leader. She was soft-spoken, calm, and had the experience in the industry the others lacked, from being a child model. It was the right decision: the oldest would do anything to protect her girls, and knew just the right people to ask for opportunities. They weren’t famous, nor did they make enough money to live off exclusively from the music, but it was enough, for now.

They had trouble understanding you, though. It was hard to grasp why on earth would they have someone so faithful, so committed to following their every move when they weren’t even famous? They didn’t have money, influence, or anything to offer you whatsoever. Yet you were always there, giving them your endless support without asking for anything in exchange. You could be a handful sometimes, sure, but still… your commitment was something that left the girls constantly wondering.

Because you’re special. The world will see this too, someday. is what you’d always answer, followed by a giggle and a wave of your hand, muttering about how it all wasn’t that big of a deal.

But as Giselle watches you help them relocate their instruments and set the tripods and cameras straight, she wonders if that’s truly it.

“Hey, Gigi.” You smile at her, looking down at the ground once you realize you’re the object of her piercing, focused gaze. “Are you and the other girls ready to go? Everything’s in order here.”

Now isn’t the time for that, though, Aeri reminds herself. As of now, the only thing she should focus on is her upcoming stage. Music is one of the many things she was strict with: she pushed herself to nothing but perfection, no matter where she was performing.

The other girls are quick to follow your call, grabbing their instruments and getting into their starter positions as they’ve done countless times before. They all adjust their mics to the perfect height until Karina is the only one left in the center, tapping hers to make sure she sounds loud and clear. Ningning’s hands fiddle with her drumsticks nervously, paddling along with her whole body— surely from the energy drinks she’s had minutes before, while Minjeong and Giselle stay each on one side of the stage, waiting for their leader’s cue.

Offering free tickets for those who arrived before 11 PM was a great strategy that many clubs implemented to fill up their spaces. And even though you’re well aware the girls are known enough to gather such a crowd without that stunt, you’re glad to have a full house staring at the small stage with expectation.

Karina waits until you’re done with your camera’s finishing touches up to speak, her voice echoing through the noise so easily that your hands stop adjusting the device’s focus to pay attention to her. With a smile so big her eyes grow small, her face is like a beacon, gathering all the focus to herself without the need for a spotlight.

“Goodnight! I’m Karina, and those are my bandmates: Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning.” She points to each of her friends, who bow and wave excitedly, still waiting for her cue. “And we’re AESPA! We hope you like our music, we’ve worked hard on our songs! Please enjoy.”

With that, Ningning taps on her drumsticks, as they’ve done countless times before. Minjeong’s bass and Giselle’s guitar sync with Karina’s voice as soon as they start playing, the melody echoing through the place like physical particles. Music is more than just a part of their lives: it’s who they are, how they express themselves, what they breathe, and it’s easy to forget they’re at a shitty pub and not at a fancy festival. As long as their voices and instruments are harmonizing together, the girls get lost in their passion and nothing else matters.

Even though they’re a new group— barely a year into the industry, original songs are not something that lack from their setlist. The public is screaming, the girls are jumping as they sing and dance along the rhythm and you try your best to capture their best angles, but the distraction in the form of a sin that is Karina prevents you from doing a good job. Her dark eyes glow in the dark, giving her an angelic aura as her strong voice reverberates through the place with ease, despite her shitty mic. It’s an impressive crowd they’re performing for, but she’s only staring at you. Preventing you to breathe or even move, afraid she’d lose her interest and look elsewhere.

No, you’d have none of that. Like all the girls, Karina was yours: you’d share her utter attention with no one.

So you stay at the front line, with your hands holding onto the camera as your head is held up in a frozen frame, looking at her.

You’d always look at her.

—

The afterparties are always one of the girls’ favorite events. The adrenaline rush is still present, giving them tons of energy to drink and party with strangers. They are constantly showered with compliments, being pampered, and indulged with all the attention they crave. It’s part of the reasons why they deal with music, obviously: Minjeong, Giselle, Ningning, and Karina. Because the desire to be seen and recognized for their music is a feeling they’ve been looking for ever since they can remember.

And that’s exactly what they were indulging in before hearing a loud crack from outside of the backstage room. The noise, followed by a bunch of ugly screams, startles the four girls, who exchange a quick, worried glance before storming down straight into the sideway alley.

“Damn.” Ningning whistles, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the smile coming from her lips. At her side, Minjeong and Karina are equally shocked and frozen at the scene unraveling in front of them.

People usually use the dark, space to smoke and get a break from the noisy, heated space of the club. Instead, the four girls find a huddle of girls so entwined with one another it’s hard to tell how many there are. Four, maybe five? Of them are vividly screaming, kicking, tugging, and pulling hairs. Despite the mess, the girls realize there’s one that keeps beating the shit out of them, which is impressive due to being gravely outnumbered.

As the commotion stops for seconds once the strangers become aware of the newer company, it’s easier to tell a specific head of honey hair apart from the others.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Minjeong’s murmur doesn’t come off nearly as disappointed as she intends to. If anything, she’s also holding back her laughter while you prove that one does not need that much muscles to win off a fight.

“Go Y/n!” Karina claps, cheering. None of the three girls make any move towards the scene, so Giselle turns her head towards them in disbelief.

The Japanese girl shrugs, quickly making her way onto the ground to break off the fight. She’s always been strong, and her time spent at the gym pays off as she grabs you by the waist and throws you over her shoulder, heading back to the backstage room as if you weigh nothing. Any attempts of resisting are useless, yet you don’t make Giselle’s job any easier— your kicking and screaming are now directed at her, hands curling into fists while you use your entire strength to hit her muscled back.

“Put me DOWN! I’m not done with those whores.” Your feverish voice is ignored by the four girls, who are used to your tantrums by now.

They know you’re naturally provocative, and never one to back down from a fight, even if you were in the wrong. And, somehow, you were good at it too: even if you left bruised and scratched, your opponents would somehow always turn out worse.

“Sorry ladies, we have some issues to deal with. If you excuse us.” As the group goes back inside, Ningning offers the poor beaten-up girls a calculated smile before closing the door on their faces. She doesn’t bother to check in on them— they’re strangers, after all.

You’re thrown onto the worn-out sofa with little care, suddenly staring at four serious faces. The funny atmosphere of the fight is long gone, so you cross your arms under your chest and grunt, face held high to put up with their judgmental looks.

This is their job, and they can’t have you causing trouble over anything. You’re associated with them by now, whether they like it or not. It’d be an awful occurrence.

“So, troublemaker, tell us.” Giselle is the first to speak, brushing the bangs out of her face. Even after carrying you for solid minutes, she still looks flawless, much different from your disheveled self. “What had you beating their asses out there?”

There’s a pout on your lips, and the defiant air in the room stirs up their nerves. It’s an annoying interruption of the fun they were having just now, and the alcohol makes it hard for them to stay patient.

Minjeong takes half a step forward, her hands messing up your hair even more. “Speak, Y/n. We have better things to do.”

She doesn’t coddle you, tone cold as it always was when directed towards you, but you don’t mind. If anything, you take pride in making her life a bit more difficult every time. You know they won’t give you their attention for much longer, though, which is why sigh deeply.

“I was defending your honor, you idiots!” You gesticulate towards the door, huffing. “Those whores were out there, talking about you, speaking the most vile things… I had to do something. You should be thanking me, and not look so pissed.” You roll your eyes, muttering the rest to yourself as you sink on the dirty couch. “You never acknowledge anything I do anyway.”

It had felt too hot inside, so you passed the backstage area to gather some fresh air at the alley when you encountered the group of girls. They were in love with the band, obviously, and were very vocal about the things they’d let the girls do to them: how their leather clothes were so tight and how hot they were… Hearing such things being said about your girls made your blood boil. They were yours, and no one else had the right to desire them like that. So you were quick to take action and make sure everyone knew who Giselle, Winter, Karina, and Ningning belonged to. As a matter of fact, It was a successful attempt: after the lesson you taught them, those girls would think twice before saying anything again.

Your gaslighting does little to the band; it’s easy to look further into your façade now that they know you. They don’t pity you in the slightest, well aware you’re one to be cautious around.

Karina smiles at your act. She can’t help it if the pout on your lips makes you so adorable, and your crossed arms are the reason your send nudes crop top rides up so your boobs are even more evident. “Which things, Y/n? What were they saying, exactly?”

“What they said doesn’t matter.” You huff, dismissing Karina’s question with a wave of your hand. “The important thing is that they’ve been dealt with, and your honor is intact. You’re welcome.”

The electronic music is loud, and it’s easy to feel the rhythm reverberating through the furniture, sending electric waves to your bones that rile you up even more. You’re energized, ready to go back to the crowd, drink, smoke, and stir up some trouble again.

Aeri must’ve been thinking the same thing since she merely shakes her head and leaves without a word. Ning is the next one to follow, proceeded by Minjeong, who rolls her eyes and points her finger right at your face.

“You’re such a menace, Y/n. Acting like an animal… you can’t behave at all.” You’re used to the disdain in her voice, so the only thing you do is mirror her snobbish stare as you watch her leave.

Unlike her bandmate, Karina’s eyes are kind— even though you’ve just messed up hard. You’re the only ones left in the room, you realize, as she holds out her hand to you. With her presence, the music ceases, and the only thing you can focus on is the sound of her heartbeat, and how her little chin mole goes up to match her smile, which is equally sweet.

Sweet, patient, and definitely too good for you: that’s Karina, a soul that should stay untouched, not yet ruined by the world and by other people.

Too bad that you’ve never been one to do the right thing.

You navigate towards her in a magnetic motion, taking her help so fast your bodies nearly crash once you get up from the couch. Instead of complaining or making fun of you for being so abrupt, Karina takes her free hand to your face, cupping your cheek before carefully wiping the dirt from your skin.

“Troublemaker.” She repeats Giselle’s words from earlier, although they sound almost reverent when said in her raspy voice, tired from the crazy routine they live with. “She’s a bit right, don’t you think?” The smirk on her lips is playful, and she toys with you. “You keep us on our toes, for sure. I guess someone has to.”

She doesn’t mind. If anything, Karina misses your presence when you’re gone— which is thankfully, a rare occasion. Sure, you’re stubborn, spoiled, and very annoying, but the band somehow needs you to keep their engines running. She knows the other girls feel the same way about you too, even if they’re good at not making it known.

Being with Karina feels right. She’s Aespa’s peace, their leader, and their oldest member. And, just like everybody that has ever met her, you long to be around the older girl.

“Let’s go back to the party, Jimin unnie.” You tell her, crossing your arms behind her neck. If there’s anything she’d want you to do, you would. Gladly. “I want to dance.”

She smiles back at you, looking at the half-open door before nodding. “As you wish, Y/n.”

—

Aespa’s hotel room for the night is precarious, to say the least. The wallpaper is peeling from the walls, the furniture is dusty— and the small dining table seems to barely handle your laptop and media equipment. The bed makes too many weird noises at the slightest movement, and the smell of mold is a bit unsettling for those with a decent sense of smell.

It’s Minjeong’s job to deal with their spending and to book their stays, whenever the band wanders off their hometown. Her father works as a treasurer at a well-established company and has taught her how to handle her own money from a young age. Sometimes, though, she tends to spend too little, given the fact that they still did not earn much with their performances, and the five girls would end up in situations like the current one. Not that they truly minded: they had two rooms to sleep in and breakfast by the morning, which was more than enough. They would handle the rest.

Karina, Giselle, Ningning, and Minjeong are all rockstars, it’s natural for them to thrive under attention. They live for it, and you love to record their pretty faces. Out of all the experiences of being with the girls, getting to take pictures and videos of their performances and looks— be it before, during, or after their shows. Editing might also be a pain and sometimes feel like a chore, but it was also something you enjoyed doing.

Besides, the praises and the proud, enamored look Giselle, Ningning, Karina, and Minjeong gave you whenever you updated something new to their channel and social media was something you looked forward to, naturally. In fact, you’re so focused on your task that you barely notice a sudden wave of hot breath on your shoulder.

“How far are you, yet?” Karina’s wet hair clings to your neck as you breathe in her post-bath scent, so refreshing. You’re unable to see her sulk behind you, but her whiny tone is enough for you to figure her feelings out before she adds, “Also, why am I the one with the least videos, Y/n?”

You don’t even stop your work to look at the vocalist, who stares at your laptop’s screen with expectation: the answer is obvious to anyone who has ever had the privilege of getting to know Aespa's leader."

“Because I’m always too busy looking at you to focus on anything else.” The words leave your mouth immediately, exposing facts. “But I’ll improve for next time if that’s what you wish.”

Doing anything after Karina opens her mouth is impossible. Her angelic voice and sharp moves draw all the attention to her immediately; one would be completely insane to not be mesmerized by her. By all of her.

“It is.” She nods, still so close you’re able to feel her body pressed against you through the chair’s cracks. Like a kitten, Karina purrs, finally breaking the tension between you by pressing small, wet kisses to your neck. “Y/n…”

You’re doomed. You’ve known that ever since she left the bathroom, with wet hair and red, swollen lips that did little to hide what she was up to while the shower was running.

Karina’s long, purple-painted nails scratch your neck, forcing you to pay attention to her— as if you’d do anything else. You’re quick to comply, closing your laptop as you stand up and walk away from the oldest member, onto your backpack. Her confused brows are adorable, but the realization comes soon once she reckons the camera on your hands. By then, there’s a dirty smirk on both of your lips; you know she loves this as much as you do.

“Are you up for another show, doll?”

Karina nods, suddenly shy from all the dirty thoughts going through her head. Her skin throbs, and there’s a familiar sensation building up in her core from the anticipation.

After waiting for the camera to be well adjusted and centered in front of the bed, with the familiar red dot announcing the recording, she turns around, removing her robe with practiced ease. The silk fabric of her robe cascades from her back, exposing her milky skin in its most perfect form. She’s indeed like a doll; body still untouched, announcing it’s been a while since she’s had any fun, and her Venus dimples flare up with every step she takes towards the bed. Her curves are perfectly enhanced by her sensual walk— she knows so, grabbing her hair out of the way so you’re able to get a clear shot of her body.

You’re so lucky to even have the privilege of looking at her. Karina seems to think the same thing; her knowing smile turns malicious just as she sits on the bed, spreading her legs out for your delight. Playing around with her is almost a routine, by now: Karina needs something, someone to be her stress-relief, and you’re more than eager to help.

However, seeing her bare and so eager to welcome your touch was something you’d crave forever. No matter how many times it happened: you’d always be hungry for the slightest glimpse of her pretty pussy.

And it was no secret that Karina loved to show off, so you drink on her like you haven’t had a single drop of liquor in ages.

It had indeed been too long.

“How do I look, baby?” Her voice is soft, calm as she looks deep inside your eyes and taps on her pussy with two of her fingers. A small strand of wetness lingers between her fingers and her slit, and she takes her fingers forward to make a show for seconds longer. It’s only when the strand dissipates that Karina brings her fingers into her mouth, taking them in ever so naturally. You don’t even register the whine that comes from your lips once she releases them with a ‘bop’, right after licking them clean.

“Absolutely stunning.” Your answer comes in a heartbeat, which pleases her deeply. In a blink, you’re in front of her on the bed, although still careful to not cover up her frame for the camera. Not that you have to worry about that; Karina is well aware of her best angles. “As always.” You lick your lips, eager to have your mouth on her, licking every part of her body until she’s more than satisfied, coated with your saliva.

But you know better than to touch her without permission, so you simply wait, aware she needs more indulgence than merely a few words. You run your hands up and down her legs, ever so obedient, hoping she’ll allow you to touch her.

Instead, her fingers go up to her chest, groping her big, voluptuous breasts. She’s so evil— Karina knows how obsessed you are with her boobs, “You caused so much trouble today, Y/n… I shouldn’t let you touch me at all.”

Her feigned innocence only adds to your desire, dampening your pussy even more. Even though you’re burning up, you can’t help but be in awe by how much of a goddess she looks, and it takes everything in you to not just grab her by the ankles and suck on her clit until she was screaming and leaking white from her pussy. Still staring at you, Karina twists her nipples and moans, biting her lip as she breathes in deeply.

You’re already throbbing yourself, and she’s done nothing. That’s the amount of power she has over you.

“I’ve been bad.” You nod almost eagerly, ready to do whatever she commands you to if it means you’ll get to pleasure her. “Can I still have you, though? Promise to make you feel super good.”

At first look, Karina might be the most inviting one out of all of the girls, but you know better than to fall into her trap: just like her bandmates, the leader thrives on playing games, manipulating people, and fooling around. Thankfully to both you and her, you’re happy to indulge in all of her wishes. So you add, battling your lashes at her as you take off your clothes yourself, not bothering for a command on this matter. “I’ll do my best for unnie…”

Karina’s eyes darken at the sight of your naked body; it’s so empowering to know she’s just as affected by you, and she runs her fingers through your hair with practiced ease. Taking her silence as an encouragement, you lie down until your face is lined up with her soaked cunt, blowing warm, rapid breaths onto her sex.

She smiles, then, caressing your cheek before giving it a light tap. “Go get the strap, baby.” Your smile fades immediately, and you contemplate ignoring her words until she’s changed your mind before your cheek is met with more of Karina’s fingers, her touch stronger this time. “Now.”

You huff, muttering incoherences because she’s such a bitch, ruining all of your plans, but still do as told, grabbing the strap without much further fussing. With the toy in hands, you return to the edge of the bed, staring at her with a puzzled look on your face.

“Are you going to use it?” You ask, curious. Taking Karina’s cock was something you always looked forward to, and the sight of her pounding onto you was enough for your walls to clench, eager to welcome her.

Karina launches forward before you even finish your question, grabbing your thighs with practiced ease as her fingers brush your pussy. The surprise touch makes you let out a loud moan, which stirs up a laugh on the older girl.

“If only you’d behaved today… I had so many things planned for us to do.” Karina’s voice sounds almost regretful, making you kneel once again, “No, baby. Tonight’s only about me. Now suck.”

There’s little time for you to think her thoughts through. Your mind goes blank, and you open your mouth to give her a show this time, reversing the roles. Always eager to please, you gag on her cock. Saliva drips onto the sheets as she shoves it down your throat, but you don’t seem to care, emptying your mind to give her will over you to use you like a toy. She’s not sweet or slow by any means— Karina’s innocent smile, welcoming posture, and puppy-like personality make a good disguise for hiding how dirty she is. Part of her tells herself it’s wrong, and that’s why she tries to reject how much her body craves rougher actions, but the truth is that the hiding and the expectation also turn her on.

Those thoughts hover in your mind as you bob on her strap, looking at the leader through your lashes while you gather all your focus on giving your best for her. You try to look your best, and give your best for Aespa’s leader: she deserves nothing less, after all. It seems to be enough for Karina, who sighs at the sight of you staring from behind your lashes with your hair all over the place ever since her tangling hands went to your scalp, encouraging you to keep going for so long you’ve lost track of time.

“Beautiful. You look so beautiful like this, baby.” She murmurs with a low, sultry tone as she takes the strap from your mouth and seals your lips in a slow kiss. You’re starved for her; your boobs press together when you deepen the kiss, desperate for more. At this point you’re already soaked, leaving a deep, wet spot on the sheets— and your skin burns. “Don’t be rude. Say thank you.”

Such a tease, she is. You roll your eyes at her trying to rile you up, and she laughs. “Don’t even.” You mutter, rolling your eyes at her.

Karina’s hands go to your thighs, caressing your skin as she motions for you to get up once again. “You’re so stubborn.” She chants, adjusting the strap on you. Per her request, you lay back on the bed as soon as you’re done, somehow managing to sink under the shallow pillows.

There’s such a mean smirk dancing around her lips. Your cunt aches and it’s borderline painful; sweat covers your body and you’re nearly sure you’ll go insane if you don’t give her all the pleasure she’s worthy of very soon. All you want is to eat her out until she’s breathless, porcelain skin all marked begging for you to stop. Then, you’d lick her clean, making her cum so many times there’d be plenty of milk dripping from her hole for you to drink on. All yours. She’s all yours to tend to.

“Why don’t you just let me do it already…” You whine, drawing your head back when she grabs one of your nipples and twists— the friction feels so good it sends a hit of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Instead of indulging your needs, Karina laughs, and there’s a hidden mockery in her tone that only adds to your frustration. She comes close until her hips rest on your thighs, with the strap being the only thing that keeps a distance between you. Before you’re able to test her patience even more, she positions the dick on her entrance, slightly rocking back and forth so it hits deliciously against her clit.

“You can look.” She says, grabbing your shoulders to steady herself. “But you can’t touch. Understood, baby?”

Karina’s eyes, big and expressive, stare at you with feigned innocence as one of her hands caresses your jaw, lifting your face so you’d stare at her. Having her making such luscious sounds so close to you is like a death penalty. Karina’s mouth hangs slightly open, and you gulp whenever she aligns the fake dick with her entrance, giving you a serious look that makes it clear that she expects an answer to her command.

A huge bitch, she is. A hot, sexy, and huge bitch. It’s nearly impossible to stay still, but you can see the challenge in her eyes as soon as she cocks her head at you. Although her little act of defiance is silent, her intentions are as clear as day: she wants you to humiliate yourself: to beg for forgiveness so you’ll maybe get granted the privilege of touching her.

So you smile back, placing your hands on your hips and doing nothing else, even if you’re itching to run your tongue all over her body. “As you wish, unnie.”

Karina is so wet, of course she is— it’s not hard to leave her drenched. The dick slides in easily, and she takes her time with taking down its inches. Your grip on her hips turns slightly stronger at the sight of her looking so angelical, as her big, soft boobs are all in display to your face. That earns you a censoring look, and you move your hands with another eye-roll. There's nothing more you want but to touch her.

After a few breaths, Karina finds a steady pace, bouncing on your lap. The gushing sounds of her pussy that echo through the room are nearly pornographic, and you find yourself letting out desperate whimpers, too.

“So good.” She murmurs, lost in pleasure. Her grip on your shoulders tightens, and you feel her muscles tensing up.

You can’t help it— watching her pleasure herself is almost too much. Without much thinking, your fingers make their way to her clit, circling her hardened as you study her, testing out the waters. She lets out a gasp at the sensation, closing her eyes to enjoy the way her lower abdomen kept building up the tension. The tingling sensation increases with the rhythm of your strokes, along with her moves, and it doesn’t take much further for Karina to cum.

Just as always, Karina’s strong voice fills the room as she takes her head back, clenching her pussy once the waves of pleasure hit her with strong motions. Her entire body trembles, and she relies on you to keep her steady.

“You look the prettiest when you cum.” You tell her, after a few moments of silence.

The laugh she lets out is weak, more like a giggle as Karina sighs deeply, carelessly throwing herself on your side of the bed. She turns to you, then, so close your noses are nearly touching, disregarding your words as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “And you can’t ever behave, can you?”

You mirror her smirk, pecking her lips before shaking your head. “You like it that way, though.”

The two of you stay in a comfortable silence, one you don’t mind at all. The girls have had some busy, tiring weeks, and you know Karina needs rest. She’s tired—they all are, so the tension relief was well welcomed by the oldest girl. Despite being all sweaty and breathless, Karina is much less anxious now that you’ve helped her relax. She runs her fingers through your body, taking her time until she reaches your pussy. It delights her to feel how soaked you are: she’s aware of the amount of power she holds over you, and the fact that you’re gulping, still throbbing yourself, is something so empowering to her.

It makes her insides tingle all over again, asking for more.

“Jimin…” You whine again, opening your legs to give the girl better access to your entrance. You need her to touch you or else you’ll explode.

Two of her fingers enter your cunt before you can cry any further, hitting a fast pace without warning. The action is well welcomed, and you hold her wrist, motioning to go further. But Karina loves to make you frustrated; it’s almost as if she thrives on it: just like they made their way inside, her fingers are gone, and her mean smirk is back.

“You haven’t behaved at all today.” She repeats herself, laughing as she kisses your pout away. You bite her lip in response, which makes her pull your face away, although she’s still giggling. “You’ll get nothing tonight, baby. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at her, “You’re such a fucking liar! You’re not sorry at all!”

Karina turns her back to you, making a show of ignoring you as she grabs the covers just as a big yawn hits her. “Goodnight to you too, pretty. Sleep tight,” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a sneaky remark when she adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the camera. We don’t want you running out of battery or anything, do we?”

“You’re such a bitch.” Although you still get up and do as told, knowing she’s partially right.

Karina waits patiently for you to return to bed, with her small eyes and big smile. The sensuality and roughness from earlier have been replaced by her usual bubbly self, which you adore just as much. It has always been amusing to you how easily it is for her to just switch back and forth from the luscious, gorgeous woman she is to her puppy personality, and you adore her either way.

You hop into her arms, humming when she fills your neck with small, wet kisses.

“You have to behave, silly.” Is what she tells you, biting your skin gently. You’re one to bruise easily, you both know it as much. However, you say nothing, allowing her to do as she pleases. “Otherwise you won’t get a reward.”

“We’ll see about that.” You murmur, happy to get lost in her cuddles. “I sure need something after that torture session.”

Your words cause you to be pushed back, although you know Karina’s only joking.“Oh my God! Go to sleep, Y/n. Goodnight.”

“Ugh.” Is all you answer, closing your arms around her waist.

“Y/n.”

“Right, right.” You sigh, “Goodnight, cutie. Can I get a kiss?”

The hand that goes through your face is enough of an answer.

“Sleep. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” She commands.

And because it’s Karina, you obey. You’d always hail the band’s leader.

Your personal camgirl.

—

Breakfast has always been something you’d skip if you could. It’s a pain to wake up so early, and you need at least an hour to be somewhat presentable and another two until you can properly talk to anyone. However, the soon you leave this shitty hotel the better, so you resume sitting beside Giselle and Ningning while they talk excitedly. You chew on your bread with scrambled eggs with perhaps too much patience, still marveling at how composed they look despite running on 5 hours of sleep.

“So, we’ve got good news. Amazing news, actually. Like, the greatest news ever.” Ningning’s nearly jumping in her seat, her eyes darting from you, then Giselle, Minjeong, and finally to Karina multiple times in seconds. Yizhuo plays with her hands, nudging Karina while nearly dying of anxiety. “Unnie, would you please tell them? Go, go.”

The excitement in her tone captures enough of your attention; you, Giselle, and Minejong collectively sit up straighter, exchanging a confused look. The fact that they know as little as you do is comforting, and stirs up a nice, warm feeling of being included within your heart. The girls could be harsh and a little mean sometimes, naturally, but there are times when they’re also very sweet.

Karina laughs, pinching Ning’s cheeks. Even though Ningning pretends she despises it, you love to baby her and spoil her rotten.

“You can do it, Ning.” She encourages her baby girl to speak up, loving the smile that brightens up the maknae’s lips after the command. “Go ahead, tell them what we’re doing next.”

With her leader’s blessing, Ningning lets out a happy squeal and launches herself upwards. The upper half of her body hangs on the breakfast table as she looks around before whispering as if the topic is top-secret.

“So, this guy approached me after our show.” She stops abruptly at your reactions, waving her hands, “Hey, don’t make such faces! He wasn’t a weirdo or anything, I promise. Anyway, he came up and said he worked for AKT Music Ent. and that he liked our music and thought we had potential.” Ningning pauses, looking up to her leader for reassurance. Once Karina nods, giving her a knowing smile, she adds, “And then I told him to talk to Karina, of course, because she’s our leader and all… but basically, he invited us to compete at The Box, next month. Can you believe it?”

“You’re fucking with us.” Minjeong answers, in awe. She looks at Karina, with her mouth still slightly open in shock. “Please tell me you’re serious. That this isn’t a joke or anything.”

Karina has a proud look on her face as she nods. “It’s a thing. We’re doing it.”

“HELL YES!” Giselle screams, laughing loudly. She reaches out her arms and squeezes you and Ningning in a tight hug, her embrace so strong it’s borderline suffocating. Not that you mind— if anything, it fills you with warmth to be with them in their first big accomplishment. “WE’RE PLAYING IN THE BOX! OH MY FUCKING GOD. WE ARE AMAZING!”

Minjeong and Karina laugh at her reaction, just as happy from the news. Taking part in the event is an amazing opportunity for them: the mere thought of performing at the stage is enough to give them goosebumps, both of fear and excitement.

The Box is a week-long competition where the top 3 winners get a 2-year long contract, each signed with one of the Big 3 music companies of the country: SM, JYP or YG. It’s an elite program where successful bands have gained popularity and recognition, like SNSD. It’s set at a big, open area at the countryside and held much like a festival: the event has become more and more capitalized with every passing year. The companies make sure to hold a big show out of the entire thing, broadcasting the events that happen simultaneously 24/7— numerous interviews, commercials are shot by the participants to support the sponsors of the competition, which helps them to make their debut on national television. There are various foods, restaurants and parties being held at all times. It’s also a great opportunity for fans of nugu bands to personally interact with them, and actually super nice to meet other bands and artists. Besides the main goal, being at the event alone is a huge honor and opportunity for the band to grow as artists. They certainly won’t take for granted.

Minjeong claps excitedly. “We need to celebrate!”

“Absolutely.” Giselle agrees, looking in disgust at the men who kept sitting at the nearby tables even though it was still fairly early, and the Diner was still empty. “At home, though. Let’s get out of here, please.”

The five of you exchange a knowing look, collectively getting up at the same time as you grab your belongings and hurry to leave the shitty hotel. Your hearts are filled with pride, and you couldn’t be happier for them.

“You deserve this.” Is what you tell them, breaking the steady silence that reigned in the car. The girls look at you, all returning from dreamland.

Even though their only response is a faint hum, the satisfaction on their faces tells you they needed to hear that. “This is only a result of your hard work. All the hours of practice, the shitty-ass places you played at before, the No’s you’ve gotten… It’s going to work out, trust me.”

Karina’s arms go to your neck, in a gentle caress as she adds, looking at her bandmates. Her best friends. “Y/n is right. We got this.”

There’s nothing they can’t do, as long as they’re together.

563 notes · View notes

nadvs · 8 months ago

Text

watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

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earthchica · 2 months ago

Text

sweetest things | 2

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: take a chance with Terry and see how things go.

warning: explicit smut (18+), fluff, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, foreplay, oral (f & m), light choking, light spanking, dirty talking, friends to lovers, pet names { baby, baby girl, angel & more }

note: Sweet and nasty, Terry is everything lol. here's part two! please enjoy!

It's been at least a week, and you've been avoiding Terry since his confession and the kiss you two shared.

Oh, the kiss.

That's all you could think about: the way he held you close, how soft and sweet his lips were, and how his tongue danced along with yours.

You've never felt this way about anyone else in your life; you thought you did with your late fiancé, but this was different.

Terry was everything you hoped to find again, and honestly, you wanted him to be more than your friend, but you were afraid.

Meanwhile, Terry wasn't upset that you left; he was more concerned, he didn't know what went wrong.

He tried talking to you, but clearly, you needed time to think, so he didn't push.

"However, the more he gave you space, the more he missed having you around.

You felt terrible leaving him hanging like that, but your fears were clouding your judgment.

You had gotten used to being alone, but now that you had found someone like Terry.

You knew you were missing the one thing you had been yearning for: and that's love.

"Why are you over here, huh?" your mom asked, and you straightened up and gazed at her.

"What, you don't like my company anymore?" You inquired, settling onto the couch beside her.

"You know I didn't say that, girl. I'm just saying I don't want you to end up like me...alone" She says sofly.

"You're not alone, Mama. You got me." You softly uttered those words, gently taking hold of her hand, causing a warm smile to bloom on her face.

"I know, sugar, but I don't want you to miss out on love like I did after your father died. I want you to move forward in life and take a chance with that sweet man, Terry, you always talk about," she said, placing her hand under your chin barely.

"I'm just scared, Mama," You said, looking down with an emotional expression.

"I understand, sugar, but it's okay to take a chance and see how things go. Don't you think Scott would've wanted you to move on and be happy?"

You paused, letting her words sink in. It was a moment of decision and she was right.

The burden of loneliness and the remorse of moving on had exhausted you, and you were done with it.

Scott would not want this pain and sadness for you; he would have wanted you to experience love and happiness again.

You looked warmly at your mother, knowing she was always right and gave the best advice.

"You're right, mama," You said lightly.

Your mom affectionately says, "I know I am. Now, go get your man, child."

You couldn't help but giggle, leaning in to gently kiss your mom's cheek before you grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

You pulled up in front of Terry's house, feeling excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, you approach the door, and with a thumping heart, you knock.

The door swings open, and you immediately meet his eyes as his voice softly utters your name.

"Hey, Terry, uh, can we talk?" you asked with a hopeful smile. He nodded and moved out of the way to let you in.

You both walked into the living room and sat on the couch silently until Terry broke the silence.

"Shit...I'll get it if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to tell you how you-" He began rambling, and you tried to get a word in.

"Terry...Terry...Terry" You repeatedly said his name to get his attention, but he kept rambling on.

"Terry...I love you," you blurted out, catching him off guard. He glanced over at you with a genuine surprise on his face.

"What did you say?" He asked with a frown, trying to make sure he heard you correctly.

You moved closer to him on the couch, taking hold of his hand into yours.

"I love you, Terry, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you right then and there last week. I was scared and a little overwhelmed with feelings, but I realized I had nothing to fear." You said, getting a little teary while holding his hand.

"You've shown me who you are, Terry; you're everything I've ever longed for. I thought I could never love again after Scott, but you've proved me wrong. I love being around you and how you make me feel. I want to have another chance at love again, and I want that to be with you." You finished with a kiss on his hand.

Terry smiled, feeling bliss burst through his body after hearing your beautiful confession.

"Damn, baby girl, I'm so fucking happy to hear that. I-I love you," He said, which made you giggle and lean in, crashing your lips against his.

Terry wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

You moaned as he started kissing your neck, and you began lifting his shirt, feeling his abs.

He pulled back before things could escalate further, resting his forehead against yours.

"There's no rush into this; we can take it slow, baby," He whispered, brushing your hair out of your face.

"Do you want me, Terry?" You asked, gently rubbing your forehead against his, feeling his breath on your cheek.

"Fuck...I do. I want you, and I want to show you how you make me feel! I just want to make sure you're ready," He says sincerely, his tone of voice turning you on.

"I am...I want you, Terry. I want you so badly; please show me, and don't hold back!" you purred into his ear.

He kissed you, lifted you from the couch, and carried you to his bedroom.

Terry positioned you on the edge of the bed, tenderly kissing you once more.

You brought him down to the bed with you, swiftly taking his shirt off as his hands reached to start unzipping your dress.

He pulls your dress over your head and starts kissing your neck and grasping your plump breasts in his hands.

You moaned at his touch, holding his arm as he unhooked your peach-colored bra before moving down to your matching panties.

"Mmm, baby, you're already wet for me? You've been waiting for this to happen, huh?" Terry's voice rumbled with a deep, lustful tone, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Does this feel good, baby?" Terry asked, started circling motion through your panties with his fingers, making you moan with pleasure.

"Yes...Terry," you whispered his name softly. He hovered and began leaving kisses down your stomach to your inner thigh.

He was teasing you, and you didn't like that at all. You needed him; you wanted him.

"Terry, please," You begged desperately.

"Please, what, baby girl? You use your words. Tell me what you want?" He said it so dominantly, which you loved in a man in the bedroom.

You sit up slightly, letting out a whimper while looking into his eyes that were filled with lust and love.

"I need you, Daddy. I need to feel your mouth; I need your everything," You begged, eyes wide and filled with an irresistible lust and love.

"That's it, baby, that's what I want to hear," He said in a hushed tone, ripping your panties, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Terry chuckles, removing the rest of your panties before spreading your legs a little wider for him to plunge his tongue between my wet folds.

A moan escaped your lips as your head fell back to the bed, hands finding Terry's head.

The grip of his strong hands on your thighs as he devours your pussy has your head spinning.

His lips capture your clit, and suck it into his mouth, alternating between flicks with the tip of his tongue and light nibbles with his teeth.

"Ahhh....yes, Terry...yes!" you moaned, gripping his arm, your fingers digging into his flesh as steading yourself on the bed.

Terry muffled in your pussy, sending wild rumble through your body; he slid in one finger, then two, crooking them to massage your sweet spot.

"Fuck..you taste so good, baby girl. And doing so well for me," He said, gazing up at you from your pussy, overflowing with praise.

His eyes shimmered with pride and love, and you returned the same look, eagerly wanting, needing more from him.

"Keep fucking lookin at me like that, beautiful girl. and you'll get what you want," He says in his deep voice.

You kept your eyes on him as his tongue flicked hungrily over your clit, the way his mouth just worked so hard to make you squirt.

Terry was truly fingering and eating' this kitty kat as if it was the last official meal of his life.

"Shit, daddy. Oh my god, I can't...I can't...I can't take it anymore." You moaned and struggled to break free, but his grip kept you in place.

You feel him pull his fingers out and focus all of his attention on licking your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Shhh... you got this, baby. You've been doing so good for Daddy!" Terry says, going back in.

You cried in pleasure, feeling your body tense; you knew you were close to the edge.

You grasped the crisp sheets of the bed as you felt the rush of exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm gonna fucking cum" You cried, exploding on his lips with a gust sound.

"Mmm, that's it, baby, you taste so sweet," Terry said with a smirk while your juices were all over his face.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down from your high. Terry wiped his mouth before slowly moving up to hover over you.

Terry began planting soft, lingering kisses up your body until he finally reached your lips, almost stealing your breath away.

You smirked into the kisses at him and flipped him on his back down to the bed.

You unbelt his jeans and, taking them down with his underwear, gasped at the sight of his thickness.

"You're so big...and juicy, Daddy," You said softly, started stroking him a little bit before taking his throbbing dick deep in your throat.

"Fuck!" Terry grunts, holding your hair back with both hands. You start bobbing up and down his shaft heavily, your hand stroking him.

"So fucking good, baby, Taking me in so well, fucking gobble on that dick," He says, gently placing his hand on the back of your head, cradling it with care.

You loved how dirty he was talking to you. It was turning you on more—a sweet, caring man who knew how to talk dirty. *love it*

Terry sits up on an elbow to start fucking your face, making an even pace to thrust into your mouth.

You moaned, enjoying every minute of it simply because his dick tasted so heavenly in your mouth.

You popped him out of the mouth with a gasp of saliva before biting your lip to stroke him between your plump breasts.

"How does this feel Daddy?" you asked, sensing he was about to bust with the expression on his face.

"Fuck, baby. So good, so fuck....I'm about to" He stopped mid-sentence, feeling his cum shoot out of the tip of the dick.

Went all over his stomach, your breasts...a little bit of your face. You smiled happily, cleaning it up with your tongue.

You lay next to him, kissing his neck while observing him slowly calming down from his high.

Terry looks over at you with a grin before he reaches your lips; he gently moves on top, igniting a fiery and passionate kiss that leaves your heart racing.

His dick rubs against your wet folds, not daring to enter but just rubbing and teasing.

Terry slowly enters your wet pussy, which makes both of you moan at the same time.

He then wraps your legs around his waist, burying his face into your neck before starts thrusting slowly while kissing your neck.

You placed your hands on his back as he went faster than before.

"Yes...Yes...just like that. It feels so good, Terry," You whispered in his ear.

He moves away a little bit to grip your waist as your hands move to grip his strong, toned arms.

Both of you stared at each other while moaning and groaning at the great pleasure you two were receiving from one another.

You were loving the way every inch of his dick was pounding inside your soaked, wet pussy.

You began rubbing your clit to feel yourself rising again. "Oh, Terry, it feels so good. Don't stop, don't stop."

"I won't ever stop, baby...fuck...that pussy clenching that dick," Terry groaned, pushing you to lay sideways.

He grips your ass cheek, pounding into you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Your breasts bounced with every rhythm of thrust he gave you. He wrapped his hand around your neck while putting a finger in your mouth.

Your body again began to shake as you felt your second orgasm begin to build and rise quickly.

You both kissed entirely in sync, feeling your walls tightening around him, and the next thing you knew.

Both of you came together.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Terry repeatedly cursed, slipping out, resting his dick against your ass cheek while stroking the cum out of the tip.

You and Terry gradually eased back from the intense rush before tenderly assisting each other in tidying up.

His chest rose and fell gently beneath your head as his left arm lazily draped over your waist.

"That was amazing!" you said while gazing at Terry, who responded with a tired, soft smile.

"For sure, baby girl," he whispers with a chuckle, tenderly pressing his lips against your forehead.

After that evening, your routine with Terry remained the same, except you two were now a couple.

And after dating for months and establishing boundaries, everything was going amazingly good.

Eventually, Terry met your mom, and she adored him; they got along so well.

Months passed by swiftly in years, and you both faced ups and downs, but you overcame them, and your relationship strengthened.

Your love has deepened, and you find yourselves falling more deeply in love with him each day.

You remembered the day your mother advised you to take a chance with Terry, and you were so glad you did.

"What's going on, that pretty little head of yours?" Terry inquired, gently drawing you away from your thoughts.

You both just left a charming seaside restaurant after celebrating your third anniversary.

The sound of waves crashing in the distance filled the air, drawing you two for a nice walk on the beach.

"I'm just thinking," You said with a soft chuckle, wrapping your arm tightly around his, holding on closely.

"About?" he asked with a playful grin, gently nudged your arm, eliciting a joyous giggle from you.

"How amazingly you and I worked out. How lucky I am that I got to meet and fall in love with you," you said, stopping you two on the beach.

Terry looks at you with such love and warmth before kissing your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He pulled away, cupping your face with his hand before speaking so sweetly and softly.

"You know, baby girl, I feel the same. I always wondered how lucky I am to meet and fall deeply in love with such an angel. You know you always ensured I felt your unconditional love and sense of security. You embraced every part of me, the good and bad, and never judged me. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, baby," he says, getting down on one knee.

You gasped in disbelief at the scene before you. The love of your life was asking you to marry him.

You had a hunch this moment would arrive, yet you were a little overwhelmed by it.

"Baby, I wanna get married, I wanna have a family, and I wanna see our kids grow up while we grow old together." He shared with a tearful chuckle, and you laughed alongside him.

In a trembling, anxious voice, Terry asked, "So..will you marry me?"

Overwhelmed with emotion.

You replied, "Terry, yes! I love you so much. Yes, I will marry you."

"Really?" he asked happily, and you nodded excitedly; he stood up and gently placed the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much, baby, "Terry said, lifting and spinning you around in pure joy.

You found immense happiness and overcame guilt by following your heart all those years ago.

However, this was only the start of your happier ever after with Terry.

#rebel ridge #aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x black reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fluff

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pretty-circa006 · 6 months ago

Note

I guess your bio clearly states you write for Negan, but it doesn't explicitly state you write only for Negan. So I'm thinking I should just ask. Are you open to writing a dadsbsf!Rick and dadsbsf!Negan x reader fic, they have a rivalry and are always trying to one up eachother to get in the readers good graces, but little do they know you already want them (both) and you get them (both). Ik this isn't something you normally write and it's totally fine with multiple partners. But you're clearly a great writer and I just had to ask. It's totally fine you don't take this request or even ignore it. But if you were to write could do something with an age gap and a minx reader and mean Rick and Negan but only during steamy, but otherwise they sprinkle their lives on you.(Maybe this could be series or something it doesn't have to be oneshot and you could your time exploring the idea, idk why I'm so passionate about this lol)

Thanks, for hearing me out, believe me ik this a tall order. Again it's totally fine if you ignore this!!!

P.s idk why I added the photos I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭(them trying to mark their territory trying to make the other back off of you???)

dadsbsf! Negan x F! Reader x dadsbsf! Rick

summary Negan and Rick are over at your house, joining your dad for a game of poker. tags gambling, mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is college aged and Rick and Negan are kinda old...like late 40s early 50s?)

wc 2.3k

note i really liked this request and i hope i interpreted it correctly, if not, i sincerely apologize! just fyi, i plan on making this multiple parts, which is why there's no smut....YET! :P

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

She loves summer. It's more so what comes with it, rather than the season itself. Being back home from college and finally having her own space in her own room and her own bathroom with her own shower. Most of all, she loves the late nights in her backyard, swimming in the pool beneath the bright stars, cicadas buzzing and crickets chirping in the background.

Tonight's one of those nights. The dark, starry, cloudless sky accompanies her she floats on her back around the pool, enjoying the peace of the summer night. All she's missing is a nice midnight snack. The warm, humid nighttime air feels good against her wet skin as she climbs out the pool. She forgot to bring a towel with her when she came out earlier, but that doesn't matter since she's getting right back in anyway. Barefoot, she saunters across the soft grass to the sliding glass door that leads into her house.

"Honey, where's your towel? You're dripping all over the floor," her dad complains as soon as she steps inside. Feeling the freezing air conditioning on her wet body also has her wishing she brought a towel.

"Sorry, I forgot, but I..." She trails off, finally noticing that her dad isn't alone and that he's at the dining room table with his best friends, Rick and Negan, in the middle of a game of poker.

"Hi, Rick...Negan," she awkwardly greets, folding her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling naked in front of the two.

"I'll be right back, gonna go grab her a towel," her dad explains, excusing himself from the table.

"Late night swim?" Negan teases while shamelessly eyeing the freezing girl's half-naked body. Her face grows hot as she feels his hazel eyes undressing what little clothing she has on.

"Why don' you join us for a game?" Rick suggests with a pat to the seat beside him.

"But I dunno how to play." Despite this, she takes the seat anyway. Rick pulls the chair closer to him until he can't anymore.

"I'ma teach ya how." This earns a scoff from Negan.

"Doll, you don't want this fuckin' prick teachin' ya how to play poker."

"This comin' from the idiot who lost five hundred dollars last time we played," Rick fires back. Negan rolls his eyes and flips him the bird.

She bursts into a fit of giggles at their rivalry. "I think I'll stick with Rick. I don't have much money to lose."

Her dad finally comes back into the room, towel in hand. He tosses it at her and it lands over her head like a ghost costume.

"Hey!" she huffs as she fixes the towel properly around her shoulders. Her father just huffs a laugh at her plight.

"Rick's gonna teach me how to play poker," she tells her dad excitedly. He grimaces which earns a snicker from Negan.

"If ya want any chance at winnin', you'll have your ol' man to teach ya, but hey," he raises his hands in mock surrender before taking his seat.

“I’m stickin' with Rick.” Rick gives her a soft smile and places his large hand on her thigh. Shivers run down her spine, and she’s sure it’s not from the air conditioning.

“You can jus’ watch this game and we’ll deal you into the next.” She nods in agreement and leans over Rick’s shoulder to look at his cards -a three of clubs and a three of spades-, ignoring the water droplets dripping from her hair onto his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. She has no idea what’s going on since she joined in mid-game, but by the looks of everyone’s faces…she still can’t tell what’s going. Her father’s face is blank and Negan’s has an air of mischief to it, but then again, it almost always does. Rick looks calm as his eyes move from his cards to the three that lie in the table’s center.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” She whispers in his ear. He leans down to her level and explains to her that the three cards in the middle are the flop and that things are looking good for him. She nods and leans closer to get a better look. The three men all slide more chips into pile. Negan reveals another card next to the three, which Rick informs her is called the turn. They bet again and Negan reveals one last card - the river, Rick tells her- before they all reveal their hands.

“Two pair,” her dad dejectedly reveals.

“Three of a kind,” comes Negan’s reveal.

“Full house,” Rick calls out smugly as he takes the pile of chips

“See, I knew Rick was gonna win!” She cheers, causing the two other men to groan in annoyance. Rick squeezes her thigh, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Negan who’s glaring daggers at the blue eyed man.

“You playin’ this round, hon?” Her dad asks, shuffling the cards. She happily agrees and deals her in.

“Ya sure ya wanna stick with Rick? He was just fuckin’ lucky last round,” Negan bargains.

“Lucky and four hundred dollars richer! I’m stickin’ by him.” Rick flashes Negan the smuggest look ever before wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Got my good luck charm right here.”

“See if you get so lucky this time ‘round,” her dad challenges as he deals out two cards to each player. She looks at her cards, still not fully sure on how to play. She slides in a chip alongside everyone else, which Rick explains is the ante. Her dad reveals the flop and she looks from it to her own cards, not knowing what plays she has, if any. She glances over at Rick who’s immersed in his own cards.

“Rick, what do I do?” She whispers.

“C’mere, I’ll help ya out,” he offers with a pat to his lap. She climbs onto his lap from her own chair, leaving her towel behind. Her dad doesn’t bat an eye. Rick is one of his best friends, basically a brother to him, and in turn like family. At least that’s the way he sees it, like a simple loving action between good family friends.

But Rick can hardly focus on either of their cards. Having her on his lap is distracting. Her plush ass sits directly on top of his crotch and he can feel himself getting hard as she shifts around to get comfortable. If she can feel it too, she doesn’t move away or say anything. He rests his chin on her shoulder as he looks at her cards -an eight of diamonds and an eight of hearts- his beard prickling against her soft skin.

“See that eight of spades on the table, you’re close to havin’ a four of a kind,” he whispers.

“Is that good?”

“Very.” Nobody’s looking, so he presses a quick kiss to her shoulder. She stifles a giggle at the ticklish sensation of his beard against her skin. They all bet again and the next card is revealed. She shifts around excitedly once she sees another eight on the table.

“Keep still, sweetheart,” Rick warns, growing harder in his pants. She doesn’t say anything, but Rick can see her shoulders shake with more stifled laughter. Everyone places another bet before the river is revealed and they all show their hands.

“Full house,” Negan says as he reveals his cards.

“Flush,” her dad reveals.

“Two pair,” Rick shows his hand.

“Four of a kind,” she apprehensively says, showing her own hand.

“Maybe she is some kinda goddamn good luck charm,” Negan grunts.

“Did I win?” She asks, noticing the proud but somehow simultaneously disappointed faces around the table.

“You did, sweetheart, good job!” Rick says, hugging her from his position behind her. She gets up and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to his lips before skipping into the kitchen.

“That was fun, but I’ma head back to the pool now.” Negan watches her struggle to reach a snack in one of the cabinets. She jumps a few times, her ass jiggling a bit each time she lands. He stands up and joins her in the kitchen, watching her pathetically try a few more times before standing behind her and effortlessly grabbing the bag of chips. He even opens it before handing them to her.

“T-thanks,” she says turning to face him and taking the bag. Her whole body feels like it’s on fire as she stares up at him. He’s standing so close to her, basically pinning her against the counter. His tongue glides across his bottom lip as he hungrily eyes her up and down, eyes lingering on her tits that her bikini top could hardly contain.

“You’re welcome.” She doesn’t know what to say or even if she should say anything. Her eyes wander down to his strong arms that are folded across his chest, his tattoos on full display. She bites her lip when her eyes graze over the slight bulge in his pants. She can’t tell if he’s hard or just big, but either way she desperately needs to take a dip in the pool to cool the heat building up inside of her.

“I’m gonna go back out now, bye!” She slips away from him and hurries out to the backyard before jumping into the pool.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

She had about thirty minutes alone until she hears the sliding glass door open. Out comes Rick in nothing but his swimming trunks and a beer in hand. He doesn't seem to see her as he makes his way to the hot tub. He gets in, letting out a sigh of relief as he feels the hot water relaxing his muscles. He rests his arms around the ledge and tilts his head back, relaxing and the sight is delicious. She climbs out the pool and carefully steps into the hot water beside Rick.

"Hey darlin'," Rick greets once she's sitting beside him.

"What're you still doin' here? Isn't it past midnight?" she asks.

"Me 'n Negan wanted the hot tub for a bit, but your old man's done for the night."

"Oh. Okay." She's looking at Rick in a way he can't decipher. Her eyes hungrily trail across his body as she scoots closer and suddenly, she's in Rick's lap like before.

"I can still sit here, right?"

"Of course," he reassures, his hands resting on her thighs, fidgeting with the waistband of her bikini bottoms. He rests his chin on her shoulder, just relaxing and enjoying the feeling of her against him.

The sliding glass door opens again, a jarring interruption to their peace. She flinches, scared one of her parents were about to come out and see her and Rick in a compromising position, but Rick, seeing that it's only Negan, holds her tighter. He joins them in the hot tub with a beer in hand and cigar between his lips. In nothing but his swim trunks, his hairy chest and tattoos are on full display, taking all of her attention away from Rick. If looks could kill, Negan would have murdered Rick with his hazel colored death glare. The tension in the hot tub is so thick, it's almost suffocating. Negan being there somehow makes her feel guilty for being so close to Rick, but leaving his lap isn't something she wants to do either.

"Hey, Negan," she says in a weak attempt to relieve the tension and kill the awkward silence.

"Hey doll," he takes a drag from the cigar before blowing out the smoke, "congrats on winnin' your very first poker game."

"Thanks...couldn'ta done it without Rick, really." She subconsciously leans further into Rick and he presses a few scratchy kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Negan rolls his eyes at both her and Rick.

"C'mere," he commands with a come hither motion. She swallows nervously, looking from man to man. Rick can feel that she wants to get up so he unravels his arms from her waist so she can, which she does, albeit apprehensively. Even though he didn't tell her to, she sits on Negan's lap, her cunt right atop his growing boner, the only barriers between them being his swim trunks and her bikini bottoms. His beard tickles the side of her face as he leans down to whisper in her ear.

Rick watches the two with an intense gaze, almost as if he was daring Negan to try something with his girl. Negan's arms are around her now as he whispers something in her ear. Rick is sure he's just talking shit but jealousy still twinges in his chest.

"Anything that asshole thinks he can teach ya, I can do it better," Negan whispers. Rick sees her giggling and she turns her head to whisper something back to him.

"Yeah? Then why'd ya lose both games earlier?" she teases. He lets out a laugh which catches Rick's attention. His blue eyes glare daggers at Negan who only spares him a smug glance.

"Didn't wanna embarrass poor Rick over here by beating his ass in front of ya," he says loud enough for Rick to hear. His voice returns to a whisper. "As for the other game...you just got pretty damn lucky."

"Mmhmm sure," she replies sarcastically with an eye roll. She stands up and wades her way to the hot tub's stairs.

"G'nite y'all," she wishes them as she exits the tub.

"Goin' to bed already? Night's just started?" Negan complains, already missing having her on his lap.

"It's almost three in the mornin'," Rick comments looking at his watch. "Night, sweetheart!"

"See you both at the barbecue tomorrow!" She blows them both a kiss before skipping off toward the house. She can feel their gazes boring into her, particularly her ass as she does so.

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judesprincess · 3 months ago

Text

fuffly alphabet – Jude Bellingham

note: hii babes, how are you? here im again hehe. an anon asked me for a fuffly alphabet so here it is... just remembering that English is not my first language, so please ignore the grammar and spelling mistakes... also, please let me know if you like it or not! kisses 💋

just a reminder that this is just imaginary and i don't know jude bellingham so i don't know what he's really like

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

you see, jude is without a doubt an affectionate man, but for me (I might be crazy), he might have a little trouble showing it (at the beginning of the relationship); I feel like it's harder for him to show affection romantically than when it comes to family/friends

but of course, have no doubt that as your relationship progresses, that man will have no qualms about showing how affectionate he can be at all times

b = best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

it would definitely be something jude would appreciate a lot. Being an extremely famous soccer player has its advantages, but at the same time it brings with it a lot of self-interested people who don't really care about him and just want fame. So when he realizes that you're not one of those people and that you really want to get to know Jude the person and not "Jude Bellingham," it will certainly be something fantastic for him and he will be very happy because he also wants to get to know you and he wants you to get to know him as he really is. Obviously, at first he wouldn't open up right away. When I think of Jude, I imagine a very smart and even suspicious man, someone who is not easy to impress or figure out, so I imagine it would be something gradual. He would let you in little by little and that would make everything more real and interesting.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

he certainly loves giving and receiving affection, especially when he is intimate with the person; he's clearly someone who grew up in a structured family and who always provided him with affection and love, so I think he has no problem showing it to someone he cares about/loves

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

jude is a young man who clearly likes to hang out and have fun, but I feel like he would definitely become more domestic with you (which is what I would want if I were with him, since I hate going out) and would definitely love to spend a lot of quality time with you, whether it's watching a movie or talking or even enjoying some good food

as for housework, to be honest, I don't think he's very good at it lol and he definitely doesn't know how to cook, as he himself has said (we would go hungry because I'm not a good cook either); I think you could have a little work with him in that aspect, but with time he would get the hang of it, as you teach him (and push him a little too lol)

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would definitely do it in a direct and honest way, as painful as it may be; I can't imagine him procrastinating or trying to smooth things over. if you broke up because it wasn't working out anymore or because you didn't have feelings, he would handle it better, but if it was because of lack of time or any other reason that forced you to break up, I don't think he would know how to handle it very well (even if he had been the one to break up)

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quickly would they want to get married?)

i don't think jude is against marriage, but i think he certainly doesn't think about it right now. he's clearly 100% focused on his growing career and enjoying his youth so even if he was completely in love i don't imagine he would think about a commitment to the level of marriage; at most, a serious relationship

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he is visibly a very gentleman, although I think he has his moments – like everyone else – of being in a bad mood or rude

when we talk about the emotional aspect, I think he is a bit of a "stuck" man; I don't imagine him being someone who is easy to show emotionally

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

come on, it's no secret that this man loves hugs and if I'm sure of anything in this life it's that his hugs are wonderful. just watch the way he hugs people, strong and tight and so sincere. I feel that his hugs convey a great sense of security and protection and I imagine that is exactly what he wants you to feel when he hugs you; simply so comforting.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

as sweet and caring as jude can be, I think he understands the weight and meaning of an "I love you" very well and he's definitely not saying it without really feeling it; I imagine it will take him a while to say it, since he wants to be sure that he really means it, but when he does say it, it will be extremely sincere and loud and clear

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

jude gives me very possessive vibes, as if he were saying "what's mine is mine and no one else's" and I feel like that would definitely fit you; he knows that you're not an object but a person with feelings and desires, but you're simply stronger than him. he would definitely hate to see you giving more attention to someone else — especially if it's a man — than him. at the end of the day, he wants you all and completely for himself

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

jude's kisses are definitely intense, that man exudes confidence and intensity; his kisses can't be any different. he will simply kiss you hungrily, but not in a hasty way, it will be intense and passionate as he grips your waist and presses you against some surface.

as for the places he likes to kiss you, I think he just wants to enjoy every part of you so he just explores everything he sees in front of him, leaving hot kisses on your neck, your bust and even your shoulders

when we talk about where he likes to be kissed, I quickly think of his neck, that man must get weak having you leaving tender kisses and little love bites on him while grabbing his muscles.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

although he insists that he doesn't want kids, the way he is extremely affectionate and good with kids tells a different story. the way kids love him and get along with him is something that makes your uterus itch, and it also makes your imagination run wild imagining that man being the father of your babies; jude exudes daddy material

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

well, mornings with jude are hectic, unfortunately since he has training so he wakes up early and barely has time for anything other than getting changed and eating something. now when he has time off or is on vacation you will definitely spend more time in bed talking and having soft, lazy sex

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

well, the schedule definitely varies a lot depending on his routine. On a non-game day, you'll go out to dinner together, sometimes at a nice restaurant (he once said he loves going out to restaurants) or, if he wants more privacy with you, he'll just ask his chef to prepare something. He loves talking to you and is definitely telling you every detail of his day and wants to hear every detail of yours too. Maybe you'll watch a movie together until a kiss here and there makes you take things to the bedroom. He definitely loves sleeping with you close to him.

on a game day, you'll watch him — if you don't have anything from school/work to do. I think his late-night schedule will depend a lot on the outcome (and his performance) of the game. If you win, he'll want to celebrate with you, but if you lose, he'll definitely be completely irritated and grumpy and you know you need to give him space to think a little.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like I said, Jude doesn't seem like the kind of man who is easy to open up to emotionally in a romantic way so I think he only started opening up more and more after he gained a lot of trust; you would probably be the first to do it and he would notice how much you trust him and start doing the same — little by little.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

let's be honest, as loving and kind as he is, Jude clearly has a strong temper and gets angry easily; although, I think he controls himself quite well. from what we see and hear of him, we notice that he has a dominant personality (he tends to lead and control situations) and people like that usually hate to lose control of something and see that things don't go as they planned and when that happens they just explode first before solving what went wrong. in short, I think he's the kind of person who will explode when something goes wrong and get absolutely pissed off — and will definitely want to be alone — and then calm down and immediately act to solve the problem (I feel like he doesn't like to leave anything hanging, always wanting to solve everything)

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

jude is a very observant man and has a good memory from what we can see (the way he remembers fans/people he saw a while ago). for me, he would definitely pay attention to every detail and remember them all, especially since it's about you

r = remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

since he has an extremely busy life, I think his favorite moments with you will be those that are just the two of you and that are extremely comfortable and intimate where you talk sincerely and lightly, with him being able to be himself without any fear

maybe your first time could also be a memory that he will keep very fondly; he feels that it was different from anything he had experienced up until then, since it wasn't not only superficial pleasure

s = security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

it is extremely obvious how protective Jude is of those he loves and cares about; he is definitely sparing no effort when it comes to seeing you protected and safe. I think he is the kind of guy who will always be keeping an eye on your social media to see what people are saying about you and will always be there to show you that the negative things they say about you are lies; I also imagine that he will definitely not like the idea of you walking around alone. besides, he will always want to see you happy and comfortable

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

you see, that is an English man, he definitely likes to show how important you are to him and he is definitely sparing no effort to do so; I don't even need to say that he's clearly not letting you pay for anything, even if you insist, and he's definitely not being frugal when it comes to buying you gifts, but hey, he doesn't just want to show off expensive gifts, he wants you to really like them and have an important meaning for you (and he definitely wants to be reminded every time you look at the gift he gave you)

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

i feel like he's messy (in terms of leaving things lying around the house) and lazy when it comes to helping with the housework; I also imagine him being stubborn and doing things his own way

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

there's not much to say when it's all there in front of our eyes; that man is extremely careful with his appearance. He knows he’s a handsome man and does everything he can to keep his appearance perfect. Furthermore, you can see that he’s extremely hygienic. You look at him and you realize how clean he looks and how nice he smells (many people who meet him talk about how delicious is his scent).

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

jude doesn’t seem like the kind of person who has an emotional dependence on someone; sure, he’s intense when he loves someone (especially his family), but not to the point where he can’t live without them. If you guys broke up or something like that, the emptiness would be there — obviously —, but it’s not like he’d stop living because of it. I also think he’d be proud to the point of hiding as much as possible how much he misses you, not wanting to show weakness.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

obviously, self-interested people who are only with him because want something in return; superficial people (who don't see him as he really is or who are extremely superficial); people who are rude or who try to humiliate/put others down (that man is very kind and polite and he will definitely want someone identical in that aspect); I also feel that he doesn't like people who do everything to expose their lives (on social media or etc.). Jude is a very reserved man who loves his privacy and that of his family and would definitely hate a partner who insists on posting and showing everything

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

as he himself said in an interview, one of his favorite hobbies is taking naps so he definitely sleeps a lot, especially in the afternoon. I think he must be extremely tired when he gets home from training and doesn't want anything more than a cuddle and a good nap.

if you guys want to ask me for drabbles or one-shots, feel free (it can be fluffly, smut, agnst)

i hope you enjoyed it, babes 💋

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fuffly alphabet #fluffly

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