#the song having themes about wanting to be remembered

[andreasgypsysoul2020]

“I just wish that they could have done a Super Bowl half-time performance with some meaning behind it…”

Okay, Carol…

“The revolution is about to be televised - you picked the right time but the wrong guy.”

Kendrick Lamar just gave us a masterclass in storytelling - so let’s break down this performance like it's a video game, because that's exactly what Kendrick wanted. Remember how Super Mario had different levels that told a story? That's what we just watched, except instead of collecting coins, we're collecting layers of meaning.

Lamar's vision for the show was to portray his life as a video game, which was symbolic of reaching young people through a medium they understand. This theme was his way of illustrating his journey through the American dream, as noted by Shelley Rodgers, the art director for the show. This concept could be seen as a metaphor for navigating the complexities of fame and success in the music industry, akin to levels in a game.

Level 1: The Opening Scene

Samuel L. Jackson shows up as Uncle Sam - and if that's not the most perfect casting since Heath Ledger as the Joker, I don't know what is. This wasn't just for show - it's like when your parents try to tell you what to do with your life. Uncle Sam trying to control Kendrick's narrative is that same energy - it's about control, conformity, and breaking free. .

Level 2: The Car Boss Battle

Kendrick starts the show on top of a 1987 Buick Grand National GNX. If you're not a car person, this is like the Batman of cars - all black, all business, and with a serious story to tell. This isn't just any car - it's connected to his album "GNX" and represents his journey from Compton to the biggest stage in America.

Level 3: The Power-Up Costume

The dancers are doing this whole red, white, and blue thing, making the American flag come to life. But it's not about blind patriotism, it's about questioning what these colors really mean for different communities. The flag can also represent his stance on issues like racial justice, given his history with songs like "Alright" becoming an anthem for movements like Black Lives Matter.

Level 4: The Boss Fight

Now, this is where it gets spicy. Despite Drake trying to sue him, Kendrick performs "Not Like Us." That's like showing up to a fight with receipts in both hands. And then - plot twist - Serena Williams shows up doing the Crip Walk during this song. Remember when Drake was all about Serena? Yeah, that's some chess-not-checkers level of shade.

Level 5: The Special Items

Kendrick's rocking this jacket with "GLORIA" on it - a reference to his collab with SZA. And peep that "a" necklace he's wearing - it's probably referring to that line "Tryna strike a chord and it's probably A minor" from "Not Like Us." If you know, you know - and Drake definitely knows.

Final Boss: The Message

This whole performance wasn't just about the music - it was about identity, power, and who gets to tell whose story. Kendrick took the biggest stage in American sports and turned it into a Broadway show about being Black in America, about success, about rivalry, and about staying true to yourself even when Uncle Sam is trying to write your script.

This wasn't just a halftime show - this was Kendrick Lamar turning the Super Bowl into his own personal TED Talk, his own museum exhibition, his own protest rally, and his own victory lap all at once. Lamar being the first solo rapper to headline the Super Bowl halftime show in 2025 signifies the elevation of rap and hip-hop culture to mainstream acceptance at one of the highest levels of American entertainment. This act itself is symbolic of the progression and recognition of the genre.

Now watch it again…(Rachel Hurley)

[luckyorchid]

Not sure if anyone’s done this yet but like considering the fact that we’ve seen Aventurine’s multitude of outfits- yes, he’s GORGEOUS, but what about the things connected to them?

There’s two things that kinda interest me which is the aven shooter pfp and the one in the concert trailer

like i think it’s be nice to incorporate some of the hobbies or activities that are hinted from these pictures. I found this post back then, I can’t find it anymore (which is making me go insane I SWEAR I wasn’t hallucinating)

but it was like something where Aventurine was put into an interview and they asked for his hobbies and other stuff like skin care routine or his mark

If I remember it correctly, the thing I noted was that he liked to go to hotels and or have shooting practice to relax or wind down, but my first thought was. “Man, it must be lonely.”

He probably learned how to use a gun from Jade (From one of his stories, he and Jade killed a few men, I think to prove he can indeed be ‘Aventurine’?) But I feel like occasionally he just imagines shooting someone’s face to bits 😭

But again, he never says that he does these hobbies with other people, so it’s just him. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your own time of course, but how long has he just been— alone? enjoying the “luxury” by himself? How many years has he been a part of the IPC exactly and just letting his life pass through his eyes with each grand gamble. It’s almost like he’s detached, but he’s still alive, isn’t he?

And then he gets his cat cakes (I’m assuming, very recently?) (I’m sure most people think that it came from Ratio lmao)

So maybe at that point he does go home more often because there’s actually something there waiting for him, wanting to make sure he’s okay. And then maybe at some point he picked up the guitar?

Based off of the concert trailer, I can totally see him owning like that acoustic guitar that can turn electric, and learning some songs and just…relax. It’s a little healthier, he supposes, rather than drinking and gambling in those hotel-casinos.

Yes king get healthy coping mechanisms!!! I need more guitar playing Aventurine like imagine if he can play the sponge bob theme guys…

[premiumbitch]

THINGS TO MANIFEST - SERENA VAN DER WOODSEN THEMED PACK ! ⋆₊˚⊹♡

hi luvs! I decided I'd make this serena van der woodsen themed pack for the lovely person who requested it (@cinnamoncilla) and for people who want to manifest themselves to be a completely different person, someone they will feel confident to be! also for the amazing shifters who can script this about themselves! enjoy :)

⋆⛧┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈⛧⋆

BEAUTY ♡ //

You are effortlessly stunning—the kind of beautiful people remember even years later.

Your golden, sun-kissed glow makes it look like you just stepped off a private jet from the Hamptons.

Your hair is the perfect mix of undone and polished—like you just ran your fingers through it and it fell into place.

You look just as breathtaking in a designer gown as you do in an oversized sweater and messy waves.

Your lips curve into a mischievous, knowing smile—the kind that makes people want to follow you anywhere.

Your eyes are filled with secrets, promises, and just the right amount of trouble.

You don’t need heavy makeup—your natural beauty does all the work.

Your aura alone makes you beautiful; there is something in the way you carry yourself that is hypnotic.

You always smell expensive—like vanilla, jasmine, and a hint of luxury.

You are luminous, radiant, untouchable—a golden dream that people can’t quite wake up from.

AURA ♡ //

You are light, warmth, and wild freedom, but with an air of mystery that keeps people guessing.

Your energy is intoxicating—people feel alive just by being near you.

You are the girl people write songs about, the one who leaves a mark without even trying.

You live in a way that makes people wonder what it’s like to be you.

Your laughter is like champagne—bubbly, sparkling, and slightly dangerous.

You leave behind traces of yourself wherever you go—a lipstick stain, a whispered memory, a feeling they can’t shake.

You are the main character, the untouchable beauty, the girl with the world at her feet.

You are equal parts mystery and familiarity—people feel like they know you, but they never really do.

You are the hurricane that no one can resist, the kind of storm people want to get lost in.

Your presence lingers, long after you’ve left—because how could anyone forget you?

SMARTS ♡ //

You are effortlessly intelligent—people underestimate you, and that’s their first mistake.

You know exactly what to say to make people adore you without them even realizing it.

You have emotional intelligence—your charm is calculated, your kindness strategic, and your allure undeniable.

You know how to work a room without even trying; people naturally gravitate toward you.

You are street-smart, world-smart, socially smart—you know how the game is played, even if you pretend you don’t.

You are a master of reading people—you can tell what they want before they even know it themselves.

You know how to disappear when needed and reappear when it’s most dramatic.

You have a natural talent for making things look easy, even when they’re not.

You can make anyone feel like the most important person in the room—until you decide they aren’t.

You may not always know what you want, but you always know how to get it.

PERSONALITY ♡ //

You are magnetic—people want to be near you, even if they don’t know why.

You are a mix of rebellion and softness, carelessness and depth.

You can be both fiercely independent and heartbreakingly vulnerable.

You love hard, but you never beg—if someone loses you, that’s their loss.

You are the life of the party, but you also know how to disappear when the world feels too heavy.

You are kind, even when people don’t deserve it—but you are no one’s fool.

You are unpredictable; no one ever really knows what you’re going to do next.

You have a wild heart, but a good one—you love deeply, even if it sometimes hurts.

You can be reckless, spontaneous, and a little self-destructive—but that’s part of your charm.

You are unforgettable—the kind of person who stays in people’s minds forever.

hope you guys enjoyed! requests are appreciated! lmk if you want anything!

[themiraculouschatnoirblog]

ATP i'm just not even sure why they put CN's name in the title...

Like, thinking about it, there's no way they ever planned for Adrien/CN to be near as much of a main character as Mari/LB.

First of all, they only gave LB a way to purify akumas/amoks. If LB and CN are supposed to be partners of equal standing, how is it that one can exist without the other? Bc no matter how many times they try to claim otherwise in the show, LB can handle herself just fine without CN. This is just the simple, sad truth because the writers decided LB needed to come off as a more competent hero than CN despite the fact that he has the same basic fighting ability that she does, if not better bc of his fencing skills. Actually, we don't even know if he could defeat a villain himself as they never give him the chance to. They always have to have LB be the one to save the day. They very easily could have LB be affected or trapped by a villain in the same way CN is all the time, just to have her be saved to perform her miraculous ladybug and purify the akuma. Like something similar to CN in Dark Cupid. They have the ability to do this, they just decide not to.

Second, and I mean this one's pretty obvious: the theme song, the shortened one they actually use for the show. Self-explanatory.

Third, Mari is the only one who got to meet with Master Fu for a long time, resulting in her being the only one who gets to know heroes' identities. For what reason? Now, I get why two people knowing one hero's identity could be risky, but CN could've gone to Master Fu, chosen a hero or two, and returned the miraculous after the battle with no problem. And when the issue of LB not having enough time to collect all the miraculous after a battle came up, I don't see why CN couldn't have helped. There would've been ways for holders to return miraculous without identities having to be shown (see: Alya's first outing as Rena).

Now, I could probably keep going for a really long time so I'll just make this final point: Adrien/CN is always left in the dark!! No matter how many times he expresses how much he hates secrets, Mari/LB was/is always leaving him out! For why??? Now, keep in mind that I've only watched through the first few eps of s5 and I barely remember them, so maybe she's told him some stuff now, but it's legit so frustrating. And now with s6 and the whole Gabriel secret... it's just gonna happen again, I can feel it. But fr: Adrien/CN deserves to know things!

I'll stop myself here. I wanted to make a quick clarification that I don't hate Mari or LB; I actually love her and I think she makes a great main character! I just wish that the show lived up to its name and had two mcs instead of one. They should be on equal footing with equal screentime (and importance), but unfortunately that's just not the case, and makes the show title seem pretty misleading. Anyways, since I apparently have more to say (more than even I thought lol) lemme know if you want me to continue this post or go into more detail about something!

Thanks for reading my first rant on this blog! <3

[tumblasha]

"a dios le pido" by juanes is bakugou's most played song the summer after his first year of high school (span - eng translations in tags)

A Dios le pido Un segundo más de vida para darte Y mi corazón entero entregarte Un segundo más de vida para darte Y a tu lado para siempre yo quedarme Un segundo más de vida yo A Dios le pido Y que si me muero sea de amor Y si me enamoro sea de vos Y que de tu voz sea este corazón Todos los días a Dios le pido

[silverselfshippingchaos]

so there's this character. i always thought he looked kinda stupid and i never found him attractive. but, uh....

... has he always been this handsome?!

[thelastunicornflipouts]

I still haven’t written anything about Alan Arkin’s passing. An amazing actor as well as a stunning singer, I would have loved to see a ‘That’s All I’ve Got to Say’ reprise done by Schmendrick with ‘I Could Write A Book’ (click the link if you want to hear it sung by Alan himself and let your mind imagine Schmendrick sing it for Molly).

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[assigned-boyking-at-birth]

Did anybody else see an American Pie by Don McLean + Supernatural edit in early middle school and get permanently changed by it or was that just me

[leatherbookmark]

ootd features the words "black dress" in its lyrics and people are like oh! this is a reference to another group's song, "black dress"!

i'm unwell.

[tamaharu]

love the girl trying to choreograph our choir stuff asking us to bring in sunglasses as if half the choir doesnt wear glasses

[dashiellqvverty]

everyone always wants to talk about jenny nicholsons video essays and i’m like does ANYONE want to talk about the art of the mattress aka the sleep song. bc it plays in my head every time i see anything about her.

[steddieprompts]

Steddie. 910 words. friends to lovers but they have to fight about it first.

---

“No, it can’t be Wednesday, that’s when Max has therapy.”  Steve sighed, bent over his planner and chewing on the end of his pen.  He felt like a bedraggled father of seven.  He kind of was.

“Well, it can’t be Friday, unless I skip therapy.”  Eddie responded, also bent over his planner, though his was just a spiral notebook.  Steve could never grasp how Eddie managed to keep himself organized with just that.

"You're not skipping therapy," Steve rubbed his temple, “What about Thursday?”

“Steve, come on, that’s when Coffin has practice. After Doug gets off work, remember?  He has to teach Mike the baseline for the new song or we’re never gonna be ready for our show in May.”

Steve let out another sigh.

“You can’t move it?” Steve asked

“Oh, I can move band practice but you can’t move your practice with Lucas?”

“I can’t help that we have to rent a batting cage!  It was the only slot they had!”

“What happened to basketball?  When did he start baseball?”  Eddie asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh, I get shit if I can’t remember when your band practices, but it’s fine if you forget an entire conversation we had about him playing both? Fucking double standards.”

“Well shit I’m so sorry Steve!  I can’t know every little thing all seven of these shit-heads are doing at all times.  Besides, when was the last time you came to one of Will’s campaigns, huh?  Or does D&D not matter as much as sports?”

“I went to the last one!”

“It was last week Steve! No, you didn’t!  You were with Hopper researching trucks!”

“Well shit, I guess I’ll just buy a van that barely runs like you!  Then we’ll really be able to get the kids where they need to go!”

“Do NOT bring my van into this!”

“You brought my truck into it!”

“Fuck you!”

“Well fuck you too!”

Steve slammed his planner shut and stood up from the table, his legs hitting the side and sending the salt and pepper shakers clattering over.  Eddie Shoved the table back, but Steve had already stepped out from behind it, halfway to the trailer door.

When he slammed the screen door behind him, the damp, spring night air hit his overheated face and he slowed, one foot hanging over the first step off the porch.  He stood there, looking out at the mist hanging in the trees, catching the last rays of the setting sun, and took a deep breath.

This was stupid.  He and Eddie were supposed to be planning a birthday party for Dustin.  They had started off so excited about it.  It was going to be Star Wars themed.  They found a bakery that would decorate a cake with R2 and C-3PO.  They had already bought decorations at Melvald’s.  Eddie had even gone as far as creating a one-shot Star Wars themed campaign, which was a feat.  Eddie was a nerd but he didn’t dabble in Sci-fi as much as Dustin.  So, he and Steve had rented all three movies and watched them until 2 in the morning, taking notes and planning.

All of that had gone fine.  Great even.  He and Eddie had never been closer, and Eddie was worming his way into Steve’s heart with how much he cared about the kids.

And that was it, wasn’t it.  Between them, they cared about the kids so much that they wanted to make sure everyone was covered. Everyone was involved. Ever since Eddie had joined the party things had gotten easier.  Mike had his place in Corroded Coffin.  Max had Steve to help her with her therapy.  They both took the kids to the arcade on Sunday nights and went off in the corner to play pinball, laughing about stupid things that happened in high school and talking about what they wanted in the future.  Planning to move out of Hawkins together if it killed them.

Things were better with Eddie.  Steve felt so much more connected, so much more wanted because of him.

Somewhere in the trees a cicada started chirping.  Steve took another deep breath just as the door opened behind him.

“Steve?”  Eddie’s voice floated out the screen door.  Soft with a hint of some deep emotion, too mixed to put a name on.

Steve turned around to Eddie with his hand on the door, skull and cross bone pajama pants and the warm glow of the living room lamp behind him.

“I’m in love with you.”  Steve finally said, somewhere between resigned and amazed, barely having time to process the revelation himself.

Eddie was out the screen door as fast as his damaged legs could carry him, wrapping his arms around Steve and pressing his face into his neck.

“Been waiting for you, Stevie.”  Eddie pressed into his skin, voice thick with emotion.

“Took me a minute to catch up.”  Steve replied with a derisive chuckle.

Eddie pulled back and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, quick and warm before smiling.  “Worth the wait.”

“Sap.”  Steve grinned before kissing Eddie again.

When they finally broke apart Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling him back into the trailer.  “Come on, lover boy, we’ve got a birthday to plan.”

“Lover boy?”  Steve deadpanned, though he couldn’t stop a stupid smile from growing.

“Would you prefer stud muffin?”  Eddie asked as Steve shut the door, “Or sugar lips!”  Steve’s laugh could be heard through the trailer window, mixing with the cicadas in the growing night.

[cinnaleaf]

「 Drunk &. Nasty | In Your DMs 」

summary: you said u weren’t into footballers, yet somehow you end up in jude’s bed after a night at the club | pt 2 of In Your DMs | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, slightly public sex via phone call, alcohol consumption, themes of public attention/fame, language wc: ~3.9k 💌: pt 2 as requested! pls remember me different, i am ovulating 🤸🏾‍♂️ song inspo: Party Girls x Victoria Monét ft. Buju Banton

Cool night air slapped you with reality when you stepped out of the club with Jude, but it didn’t last long. He walked you toward a black Mercedes parked in front with tinted windows. You could see a driver already holding the door open and inside there were galaxy lights shimmering on the ceiling.

“Go ahead” Jude motioned inside the car, smirking because he knew you’d be cursing his name for the next few hours, and not in the way you did earlier at the club. You hopped into your seat and he followed shortly after, filling the car with the scent of seat leather, your creamy coconut perfume, and alcohol wafting from each others lips. Jude spread his legs out, encroaching your space while you tried to keep a respectable-ish distance. You tilted your head back, pretending like you weren’t hyper aware of him watching you. The second the car door shut, he broke the silence.

“C’mere.”

You didn’t look at him, knowing he was probably trying to pull you into a compromising position in the car. “I’m good right here.”

“Are you?” He leaned in close, giving you a smug look while trailing his hands up your thigh. You tucked your lips in and blew out through your nose to try and gather yourself. Thighs were a very sensual zone for you and the higher he trailed, the wetter you became. “Stop the act Y/N.” You bit back a whimper when he kicked your legs open with his own foot for easier access. “You want it so bad you’re shaking.”

“I’m not shaking” you lied even though your thigh was flexing against his hand. You shifted in your seat, trying closing your legs to avoid the heat pooling from his touch but his leg was in the way. You didn’t want give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm around like that, but when his hand crept up even higher, you bit back a gasp. “I’m g-good,” you repeated with twitching legs from the feathery light feeling of his fingertips.

Jude tilted his head up with a cocky smirk, searching your eyes to catch you in your lie. “Yeah? You sure about that?” He squeezed your thigh and rested his hand right below the spot he wanted to touch the most, making you glare from his confidence.

“What point are you trying to make Jude?”

“My point is…” he began while dragging his hand back down to tease you. “You’re sitting there acting like you don’t want me but we both know you do.”

You were crumbling faster than you wanted to, so you scoffed a laugh to mask wanting to hop on him right then and there. “What???”

“You heard me. Stop pretending and come here.” Jude came in closer and trailed his lips over your neck, making you lean into it while you bit your lip.

“We’re in a car…” you answered just as Jude scraped his teeth over the pulse point on your neck, making you whimper in response. Having decorum was your plan, but something about being drunk after a night of dancing with Jude in the club had you ready to risk it all.

“Never cared” He leaned back just enough to look at you and you swore he was undressing you with his eyes. Once you saw him wet his lips with his tongue and drop his eyes to where your dress rode up, you knew you were done for. In one swift motion, he gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his lap before you could push back. Your knees hit the plush leather and he smirked at you while trailing his hands down to rest on your ass. “If you don’t want it, tell me. Use your words.”

You definitely wanted it now, so you stayed hush which satisfied Jude but also pushed him to tease you even further. His large palms gripped the cheeks of your ass to pull you against him and your head dipped back in a mix of frustration and arousal. “You’re so cocky.”

“Say that again,” Jude laughed, pressing you tighter against him so you could feel how hard he was for you. The contact made you stifle a moan and clench your thighs against his instinctively. “Say it while you’re grinding on me like this.” He shifted his hips under you to press his cock against your core, making you dig your fingers into his shirt while he guided your movements with his hands. “You thought you had it under control tonight and now look at you.”

“I-��� you wanted to fire back, but his hand dipped under your dress to trail the edge of your panties, making you jerk into his hand out of pure desperation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He gripped the sides of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss that was all tongue and love bites on the bottom lip. When he finally pulled back to catch your dazed expression, he brushed his thumb over your lips with a sinister grin on his face. “You’re soaking my jeans, angel. You need it that bad?” The cocky lilt in his voice set you on fire and you wrapped your lips around Jude’s thumb to give him a sneak peek of what was to come. He sucked in a breath and took his thumb from your mouth to pull the top of your dress down, making your boobs spring free. 

“Fuck. Such pretty, perfect tits,” he whispered while raking over your chest in appreciation. His mouth latched onto your nipple and you arched toward him, gripping the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around, lightly biting the sensitive bud.

“Shit” you gasped from the sting, clencing your thighs tighter around him to grind down while his other hand squeezed and kneaded your other boob.

“You’re so beautiful” he spoke against your skin, switching to your other nipple with the same greed and tugging it between his teeth just to hear you hiss. “And you’re making the sweetest fucking noises for me.” When Jude finally pulled back to look you in the eye, his pupils were blown with hunger. “We can keep going here,” he muttered, still kneading your chest, “but I’d rather fuck you properly in my bed.”

“You sure you can handle me for that long?” you quipped while grazing your hand over his hard-on.

“Keep chatting shit and I’ll show you how long I can go.”

Jude lifted you off his lap and signalled for the driver to drive faster while you sat back in your seat bewildered. He was acting like he hadn’t just been latched onto you like a starved man while you sat down with Niagra Falls between your legs. The ride back to his place was filled with heavy breathing and teasing touches that had you ready to snap, but when you finally arrived at his house, he seemed to be in more of a rush than you did. Jude barely gave you time to take in the size of his place before he was opening the door and leading you inside with him. The second the front door closed, his hands were back on you. “Let me show you around,” he teased, pretending to be polite when in reality he really wanted to put you through the mattress. He kissed the corner of your jaw and moved his lips to your ear, nibbling. “Or I can show you around after I ruin you?”

You fumbled with the button of his jeans, eventually unzipping them to grab his dick right through his briefs. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Jude groaned, forcing himself to step back. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the house. “Bedroom’s this way,” he said as if you had any fucks to give besides the one he was about to give you. You didn’t care where the bedroom was, you would’ve taken it against the front door or even the stairs but you didn’t want to seem too eager after your hard-to-get performance at the club. When you made it to his room, you were barely holding it together when he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his muscled, shirtless body. His jeans came off next and he pulled the bottom hem of his briefs up to show off his thighs and massive bulge. It made you shake your head because you saw him do the same thing at some of his matches when he wanted to tease his fans, but this was just for you.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away.

“Like what you see?” Jude smirked. His briefs joined his jeans on the floor and your jaw opened from the shock. You heard he was big but seeing his dick in front of you made you audibly gasp. It was thick, heavy, and had its own gravitational pull. It swung toward you with each step he took forward and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs together. Jude caught the shift immediately and reached for you. “What’s wrong, angel? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get it together. “Please. I’m not scared.”

“Good.” He grabbed your neck gently and brushed his thumb under your jaw as he tilted your head to look up at him. “Take this dress off.”

“Take it off me.”

You weren’t boldly challenging him in the way you thought you were. Jude didn’t need to be told twice and took the dress off of you in a quickness, leaving you only in your soaked panties. “Look at you,” he muttered in appreciation. “So fucking gorgeous. Let’s see how ready you are for me.” His hand slid up your thighs and he spread them for you, kissing his way to your core. He hummed when he saw the wet patch on your panties and dragged his thumb over it with enough pressure to make you whimper. “You’re so wet” he cooed with awe. Jude had to peel your panties off of you because you were so wet they clung. When his finger slid inside of you, your eyes rolled back from the fullness. If he had you like this from one finger, you had no idea how you were going to react from his dick. Jude smiled as he watched your face contort, then he added another finger in. “You gotta open up more for me baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax for me.”

The way he softened his dominance to make sure you were ready somehow made you even hornier, and you grinded against his fingers already a mess from his touch. Jude had you hanging on by a thread from the way he thrusting his fingers inside of you. Every time you clenched around him, your hips bucked in a pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, but everytime you were about to, he’d pull his hand back and leave you gasping for air while kissing the inside of your thigh to soothe the ache.

“Jude” you whined, barely able to breathe from how good it felt.

“Shhh, don’t start begging now. Took you long enough to answer me so I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kept you spread for him and trailed his lips closer to your pussy, yet not close enough for what you wanted. You were a goner and he was loving every second of it.

“Pleaseee,” you begged while squirming around from the heightened sensation of his warm breath between your legs.

Jude tilted his head, smirking against your skin as he kissed higher and skimmed the edge of your folds with his lips. “More?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing at his head to pull him down but he was stronger than you so you had to settle for begging now that he was in control. “Jude please. I need your tongue.” As soon as you said it, he flicked his tongue out with one long stripe between your lips, making you clench your thighs against him. He wrapped his arms on your thighs and slurped between them, teasing your clit with light suction and rhythmic licks while you pushed up against his tongue. He refused to let you cum and pulled away just as your moans pitched higher. “Why are you like this? Just fuck me please.” you begged, gripping his wrist in an effort to pull him back to you to no avail. You fed his ego to fullness with the stark contrast of yourself at the club and between your begging, he grabbed a condom and slid it down his shaft.

“You ready?” he coaxed, spreading your folds with both his thumbs. You moaned a ‘yes’ which made him smirk, lick over his lips, and spit on your clit as a silent way to claim your pussy as his. When he tapped his tip against your clit to mix his saliva with your wetness, you clenched around nothing, fueling you to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to grab his cock while biting your lip, slowly guiding him inside of you. 

But then your phone rang.

“Answer it” he grinned, even as his dick twitched from your touch.

You looked at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“I said answer it. Right now.” Jude leaned down and brushed his lips on yours, but then he pulled back. He was beating you at your own game now and it had you dizzy with lust while he reached over and handed you your phone.

Your hand shook as you swiped the screen. “H-hello?”

“Did you guys fuck yet?” Bri’s voice loudly came in through the phone, making you wince. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how was it? Was it everything you imagined? Does he eat it off the bone?? Is the girth to length ratio good? I need to know everything girl.”

You were barely paying attention to her questions while you watched Jude place your legs on his shoulders. He dragged his dick through your folds and rubbed his tip against your clit, making you open your mouth.

“Well?!” Bri’s impatient voice snapped you back to the phone.

Jude pressed his tip inside of you, stretching you out and making you quietly mouth a ‘oh my god’ at him with creased brows. 

“Y/N?? Hello?”

“Uh–I–yeah it’s good.” you managed in a shaky voice just as Jude pushed in a little more with a smirk. “Sooo good.”

“And?!” Tasha’s voice chimed in way too clear, making you realize you were on speaker.

“And…” Your voice broke into a sharp gasp just as he gave you a teasing thrust to keep you on edge.

“Wait, is he still there?!” Bri gasped. “Because you’re not really giving us a proper dick report. What about aftercare? Is he a cuddle after kind of guy or did he already call your Uber? He seems like the cuddle type honestly.”

Jude leaned in, loud enough for them to hear over the phone. “Tell them you’re busy.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered as he pulled out slightly, only to slide back in deeper. “I’m–um..really – oh fuck – busy. Very. Busy.”

“Was that him?!”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, looking up at him as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. He was pushing you closer and closer to orgasm, making your vision blur from pleasure. 

“I can’t” you whimpered quietly as he continued to thrust slow enough to keep you hanging on by a thread.. “I-I’ll call back later.”

“Yeah, she’s still working on the report.” Jude called out, even louder this time. He slid out of you and turned you on your knees, making you arch your back before deep stroking back in with a smack to your ass just as he pressed the end call button. You buried your face in a pillow to muffle your moans when he started hitting a spot that had you squelching into a wet mess on your thighs. 

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” you repeated in a chant, grasping at the sheets beneath you. “Deeper.” A dick like his wasn’t something you got to have often, so you were going to indulge, even if it did seem a little greedy to have him fill you completely. He pulled out slowly for you to feel every bit of him, then he gave you deep, calculated strokes with his balls slapping against you for extra sensation. You felt him smack your ass and you arched your back more to throw some back shots of your own.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

Jude slid his hand between your legs to massage your clit and your legs shook from the feeling. You didn’t know if you wanted to cum, cry, scream, or beg so you gripped his wrist instead, squirming. “I’m..I– oh god.” 

“So fucking good for me. I need to feel you cum on my dick.” The roles flipped. Jude’s arousal was being fueled by your sounds and now he was begging for you; the way he sounded while talking to you spurred you on.

“Don’t stop talking.” you moaned, throwing it back heavier on him. 

“Yeah?” He smacked your ass loudly. “Now you don’t want me to stop talking?” With another deep thrust, he felt you begin to flutter around him and he held your hips down to push you into the mattress. “You gonna cum for me?” You nodded as best as you could with your face pressed against the sheets, strangling out a moan.

“Tell me.” He demanded, feeling your muscles choke his cock with a tight grip.

“I’m gonna cum. Just for you, all for you.” you whined between the sounds of his skin meeting yours. 

“Give it to me then. Let me feel it baby.” In a quick motion, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. He gripped your neck, turning your head toward his lips while peppering kisses on your jawline. “You can’t believe you waited so long for this, huh? Such a good girl now.”

The moan that came out of you after he said that could only be described as pornographic. You clenched around him, flying higher and higher until your body shook against him from the intensity of your orgasm. He held his grip on you, talking you through it while telling you how sexy you sounded coming undone. Once you finally came down to earth again, he released his grip on you, making you fall against the mattress, shaking from orgasm aftershocks.

Jude removed the condom and rubbed your back, laughing at your predicament. “You okay?”

His laugh irritated you so you rolled over and sat up with a nod. “I’m fine. But you didn’t cum?” Your eyes shot down to his dick that was drooling with small beads of precum leaking onto the sheets. You trailed kisses from his thigh vein to the tip of his dick, pampering it with soft, short kisses while he twitched in your hand. 

“I thought I’d give you a break.” Jude saw you look up at him through your lashes and he licked his lips, caressing underneath your chin while you continued to tease him. “You clearly don’t want one though, huh?”

You answered by running your tongue along the vein of his dick, licking from base to tip in one long stroke. Jude’s head tipped back with a groan when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just enough to make him flex toward you. His fingers tightened on your hair, guiding your movements while you took him deeper, choking a little when his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Goddamn Y/N” he threw his head back in shock, but then quickly looked back at you because he couldn’t get enough of the sight. “Don’t stop.” Your tongue swirled around the tip as you pulled him out of your mouth enough to twist your hand around the base. Jude groaned, breathing heavily to hold on to the feeling for as long as possible. “Shit... do that again.” His voice was low but needy. You unhinged your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing to tighten your throat around his cock. Jude’s breathing got heavier and his hips thrusted involuntarily into your mouth for more. You started to feel him pulsing against your tongue as he strengthened his grip around the back of your head. “Stay right there and taste it angel.”

You swallowed around him again, milking him for everything he had while you massaged his balls. When you finally pulled off of him, his chest was heaving, he was sweaty and his eyes were half open while looking down at you. “Your head game is mad dangerous…” Jude leaned back to prop himself up on the headboard and pulled you in a straddle on top of him. 

“Is it?” you giggled as he gripped your ass to pull you just above his dick, which was starting to get hard again. When you felt him, you realized you were in for a treat. Jude’s refractory period was damn near nonexistent and the more you kissed, the harder you felt him get beneath you. When he finally pulled back, you were out of breath and riled up all over again. “Round two?” he asked, tapping himself against your folds. You nodded and he grabbed another condom, ready for a long night of ‘meeting your standards’ now that he was outside of your DMs and inside of you.

The next morning, you winced from the sunlight and cracked an eye open – only to be greeted by a room that looked nothing like yours. You shifted around, groaning quietly against the weight of Jude’s arm wrapped around you with his chest pressed against your back.

“Wait. What?”

Scattered condom wrappers were all over the floor. You froze, thinking in a daze while the puzzle pieces of last night came together in your mind. The club, the drinks, an answered DM, and Jude Bellingham. You turned your head to make sure you weren’t imagining things and sure enough, he was laid up next to you with a stupid smug smile on his face even in his sleep.

“Wait..did I– oh my god, I did.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered, scrambling to grab your phone from somewhere in the tangled sheets. You found it buried under a pillow, unlocked it, and opened Instagram. Your stomach dropped. At the top your feed was a still image of you in the club with Jude.

“It’s been like–what? Six hours? How are these people so fast??” You rubbed your hands over your face but it did nothing to undo the situation. You checked your messages and opened your group chat:

Bri: goooood morninggg to the latest star of Bellingham Baddies! i hope the D was worth it babe. i tried to defend you but they kinda ate me up too!!

Tasha: no bc why’d someone make an entire thread about you following jobe but not jude?? i’m sorry but i laughed

You groaned, wincing from your hangover as the text notifications kept going off.

Bri: she’s 100% regretting her life decisions right now

You glanced at Jude who was stirring awake. He gave you a lazy smile and kissed you. “Why are you up so early? C’mere.” he hummed against your skin, pulling you into him. You wanted to be mad at him but when he kissed your neck, mumbling, “Don’t leave yet. Need you to stay here a little longer with me,” you sunk right back into him like you did the night before, biting back a smile. You texted your group chat while Jude continued to scatter kisses across your skin.

You: No. 100% worth it.

You locked your phone and faced Jude who was grinning wide and had his eyes half closed from hangover grogginess.

Yeah. 100% worth it.

[formula-ghost]

Supermodel (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: Franco can’t understand how you, the love of his life, could ever feel insecure—so he goes above and beyond to show you (and the world) how beautiful he thinks his girlfriend is. This can be read within the RYD universe or as a stand alone one shot!

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI. Teasing, light dom reader/ sub Franco at the beginning dom Franco at the end, body dysmorphia/reader insecurity, worship, mirror sex, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk/mentions of AFAB anatomy (reader has a vagina), use of the word whore, protected sex. Use of YN. Also the song doesn’t match the vibe of the story but I wanted to stick with the Måneskin theme lol.  

A/N: Some more Franco content! I need some more time with the Oscar fic, plus I’ll be returning to regular life since the holidays are over soon, so I figured I’d tide you over with a spicy Franco one shot. Since (in my head at least) this is set in the RYD universe, I’ve included the same tag list, and I hope you all enjoy it!

TAGLIST:  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse  @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg  @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

Yeah, she’s a master, my compliments

If you wanna love her, just deal with that

She’ll never love you more than money and cigarettes

Every night’s a heartbreak

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Franco panted, his eyes trailing your curves up and down just as his fist squeezed tightly over the growing bulge in his pants. 

Your cheeks were flushed red, almost as dark as the wine-colored matching lingerie set you now wore before him, leaving little to the imagination. You couldn’t help it—no matter how long you’d been with the Argentine, you still got bashful when he complimented you. 

“I hope you know I mean it,” he began, leaving his spot on the bed to advance toward you. He gently brushed your hair away and kissed the top of your shoulder, looking up at you with his deceptively innocent doe eyes. “You’re the most perfect thing in the world to me.”

You smiled, blissful at the feeling of his touch. “It’s easy to say that when I’m standing in front of you in my new set.”

“I love you,” he said, as if it was as simple as telling the time. “So much. More than words can say. And I want you to remember that when you’re mad at me after I rip this off of you.”

He grabbed the strap of your bra, and you giggled, “You better not!” You playfully pushed him back on the bed. “No touching, not yet. Be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, obedient to only you. The grip you had on him was intoxicating. 

You climbed up on the bed, straddling him, running your featherlight fingertips up and down his arms and chest. 

“Mi amor,” he exhaled, “you are cruel to me.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, sarcastic yet seductive.

“Don’t you dare.”

You laughed. If he thought a bit of teasing was cruel, he would not be having fun for the rest of the night.

But, of course, he loved nothing more than ravishing your body, evident by his labored breath, laying next to you when the deed was finished. He stared at you with awe, your eyes still closed. He listened as you tried to catch your breath, placing gentle kisses on the top of your arm and into your shoulder.

You just let out a little noise in response, feeling safe and comforted by his touch. When you two were alone, he always needed to touch you in some way, much to your dismay during the sweltering hot months of summer. 

His kisses traced their way up to your neck, chin, and finally to your cheek, where he gently moved your hair out of your face to gaze on the gorgeous image of your face. 

“I wish there were better words in English to explain how I feel about you,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “Something stronger than I love you. Something more than just beautiful.” 

“You know I love it when you speak to me in Spanish,” you said, letting your eyelids flutter open to meet his gaze, only inches from your own.

“Yes, but I want you to understand what I mean.” He smiled softly. 

“My Spanish is getting better.”

“It is, you’re doing great,” he joked, nuzzling his nose into your neck, leaving you in a fit of giggles. “You’ll be talking circles around me in no time.”

“I wish. You’re fluent in yapenese,” you joked. You playfully mocked his voice, “Mi amor, you are so beautiful, the light of my life—” 

“Oh hush,” he said, smiling ear to ear. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“And it’s true.” He cupped your face, bringing you into a sweet embrace with a gentle kiss. “Join me in the shower?” 

“In a minute,” you answered, as he got up from the bed and started the warm water. After a few more moments of rest, you got up, picking up the discarded items of clothing that now dotted the floor, thrown aside in the heat of the passionate moment. 

You crossed the room to open the bureau and grab a fresh set of pajamas, before you caught sight of your reflection in the floor-length mirror. 

You had gained a little weight. It was normal, you supposed; a natural result of your many nights out with your lover. 

But you felt stuck in front of the mirror, your eyes rolling over the curves at the bottom of your stomach, what once was somewhat flat. Little thunderbolt-shaped lines now decorated the dimpled skin. And as you brought your arm up to grip the loose fat, you saw the extra flesh there too. 

“Mi amor, you coming?” Franco called from inside the bathroom. You hummed in response. 

You turned, noticing how the light caught every imperfection. The puffiness in your face, the roundness of your jaw, the lines and bumps and discoloration. You sucked in your stomach, seeing the surface flatten, then exhaled, watching with disgust how your body shifted.

“Amor?” Franco said, poking his head outside of the bathroom. Seeing you in front of the mirror, he crossed the room, finding his way behind you. He was covered only with a towel, wrapping his arms around your naked form and kissing your neck. But the sight of his flawless, athletic body behind yours did nothing to dismiss your insecurities. 

“What are you doing, pretty girl, hm?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I’ve gained weight.”

“Did you? I didn’t notice.” His voice was tinged with a genuine confusion. 

“I look like I’m pregnant,” you said, gesturing to your bloated stomach.

“No it doesn’t,” he assured. “But if you want to be pregnant, we can arrange that.”

You ignored his attempts at banter. “I look gross.”

“Mi amor,” Franco began, his voice more serious. “Do I need to fuck you again to show you how beautiful you are?”

“Franco—”

“YN.”

You looked away.  “You could be with a model.”

“I’m with you. And you’re perfect, and I love you with my entire heart.” You bit the inside of your cheek. He continued, “Look at me.”

You brought your gaze back to his. “Your body has changed a little bit, so what?”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re an athlete.”

“That doesn’t matter. No more of this talk. You’re beautiful. End of discussion. Now, let’s stop wasting water and get in the shower.”

You weren’t really feeling any better. If anything, you felt worse, now self conscious of your nakedness as Franco ran his hands up and down the soapy surface of your skin. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the shower, put on your clothes, and bury yourself so deep under the covers that you’d forget that you ever even possessed a physical form. 

And, much to Franco’s dismay, that’s what you did, turning away from him as you laid your head down to sleep. He pushed himself up next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He tapped his foot on your leg, initiating you to throw it over his is like you usually did every night. 

“You know,” he whispered, “this is when you’re supposed to pretend like you like me.”

“It’s not you, Franco,” you whispered back. “I love you. But it’s not something you can fix.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But that won't stop me from trying.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, and you fell into a tense sleep.

Although Franco hadn’t initially noticed your physical changes, he now noticed your emotional ones. You wore loose clothing more often, as if to hide your body not only from the outside world, but from yourself. You skipped breakfast occasionally when you were having a really bad day. And now, when you made love, you wanted the lights out, preventing him from seeing the shapes of your body.  

He knew that what you had said was true—he couldn’t fix this. No matter the amount of love he showered you in, he couldn’t change the way your mind thought when you looked at yourself in the mirror. And it broke his heart knowing that you couldn’t see the same version of yourself that he saw, the perfect girl who he loved so dearly.

Your pain was beyond his fixing, but not beyond his helping. If he had showered you in love before, it was monsoon season now. Flowers every week. More lingerie to model for him.  Touching you nearly every second of the day. More sex than your body could handle. 

Of course, you welcomed his affection. But none of it helped that wound deep inside of you. 

It was at work, of all places, that he got the idea. 

“We’ve got a meeting with the new sponsors today,” his manager explained as they quickly trotted down the long hallway to the conference room. “That luxury brand I was telling you about? I’ve sealed the contract, they’re just here to plan the promo materials.”

Now, sitting in the conference room, the brand representative explained it to him. “The idea for the campaign is risque luxury. We want something… elegant, yet dangerous. Formula 1 fans are the perfect audience. Most of the shots for the initial campaign would just be in-studio, and then, we’d need you to wear some pieces we provide at official Formula 1 events.”

“That all sounds fine,” he said. 

“Great! We’re still looking for some more representatives for the women’s line, but when we find them, we can set up a date for the shoot.”

“Wait, like a female model? I’d need to pose with her?”

“For the first shoot, yes. And if we can get some shots of you and whoever we choose at official events, that’d be perfect.”

“Uh, well, I have a girlfriend. I can't just…be taking random women to events.”

The rep laughed. “Oh, it’s not like that. The models are all professionals. I assure you that no one would be trying to take you away from your partner.”

“If you all need a female model, why not just use her? We’ll be seen together a lot more than anyone else, no?”

His manager shot him a death glare. Was it highly unprofessional to be suggesting his own girlfriend for a job like this? Absolutely. Did he care at all? Absolutely not. 

The rep asked, “Oh, does she model?” 

“Eh… no, not professionally. But this could be her big break, no?” Franco laughed, and the rep did too, for obviously different reasons. But Franco was, unfortunately, serious. 

“Does she have social media?” the rep asked, and Franco pulled up your instagram as the rep scrolled through. 

“Well, first of all, she’s beautiful,” the rep said, clearly trying to be polite. “But, modeling is not just about being pretty.”

“Then why am I here?” The room erupted in laughter, but Franco hadn’t intended the statement to come out like a joke. “No, I’m serious. I drive Formula 1 cars. What are my modeling qualifications?”

“Well,” the rep began, carefully choosing his words, “you have the Latin American market in a chokehold—”

Franco cut him off. “My fans love her, too.”

The rep pursed his lips. “I’m sure they do.” 

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult—”

“Not at all,” the rep said, cutting Franco off as well. “Let me ask, though… is this a deal breaker for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if we get a real model, are you saying you wont pose or be seen with her?” 

Franco looked at his manager across the table, who was nothing short of fuming. He began, “You said the theme was ‘risque luxury.’ I’m not going to pose for risque photos with another woman, no.”

The rep sighed. Franco continued, “And honestly, I still don’t even understand why you all even want me to model for you. Nobody in Argentina can even afford these outrageous prices—”

“Okay Franco, that’s enough!” his manager said, a false happiness in her tone. She turned to walk the rep outside, saying, “This has been a wonderful meeting, we can’t wait to hear from you…”

Once he had exited the building, she returned, looked at Franco, and said, “I hope you know you just lost us that contract.”

“Did you sign me up to do a photoshoot with a random woman?”

His manager paused. “...It’s business, Franco.”

“C’mon,” he said, “you knew about this, and you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought you’d understand. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“You knew that was too much.”

She sighed. “Yeah, okay, I took a gamble hoping you wouldn’t care and I lost. But that sponsorship money is coming out of your bonus.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to promote this overpriced shit anyway.”

“You’re the bane of my existence, kid,” his manager said, patting him on the back as she walked out of the room.

At the end of the day, all Franco could think about was coming home and collapsing in your arms. When his manager was mad at him—which was often, given his refusal to be media trained—it was his favorite way to destress. 

So when he arrived home and collapsed on top of you, interrupting whatever mindless show you had been watching, you just smiled to yourself. As he exhaled, you placed one hand through his soft curls, and threaded the other under the collar of his shirt to scratch his back. He melted into your touch.

“Hello,” you said, placing a kiss on his head. “Long day?”

“She’s mad at me again,” he murmured, closing his eyes. 

“What’d you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I did something?”

You softly chuckled, “Because I know you.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he pouted.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

He sighed. “I fucked up a sponsor contract. But really, it wasn’t my fault! They wanted me to pose with a bunch of models to sell their overpriced jewelry.”

You hummed. “I thought you liked doing photoshoots?”

“They’re fun, yeah, when they don’t want me to touch random women,” he frowned. You could hear the genuine disgust in his voice.

“I think you’re the only man in the world who would turn down the opportunity to be surrounded by models,” you laughed. 

He lifted his head up to look at you. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Why would I want a bunch of random women touching on me when I have a girlfriend?”

You laughed again. “Because they’re models.” 

He gave you a look of confused disgust and said, “Oh, hush, YN. You’re the only woman I want within a hundred feet of me at any given time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that other women are beautiful.”

He looked at you sternly. “Um, no. This is when you tell me I’m not allowed to look at, let alone touch, anyone other than you.”

“Franco, you know I’m not like that.”

“You are, though! What has gotten into you, lately?”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine.”

Franco sighed. “No, you’re clearly not. What do I have to do for you to understand that you are the only woman in this world that matters to me? I don’t care what you say, you are the only one I want, the most beautiful girl in the world—”

He leaned up to kiss you, but you dodged his affection.

“Hey!” he protested. You got up from the couch, feeling overwhelmed by the whole interaction. 

“YN, come back—” you just ignored him as you went back to your shared bedroom, barricading yourself in the attached bathroom and exhaling. 

Franco was right. The insecurity had been eating at you for weeks, and somehow, Franco’s commitment to trying to make you feel better had made it worse. Most girls would be happy that their boyfriend (especially their young, famous, athlete boyfriend) wanted nothing to do with other women. But somehow, it just made you fear the worst—when Franco finally saw you as you saw yourself, and you became nothing more than just another one of the many women he ignored.

“YN, come out and talk to me,” you heard him softly plead from outside the door.

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute,” you said through the tears that welled up in your eyes.

“No need to apologize, take all the time you need,” he said. “But when you’re done, promise you’ll come talk to me about it?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah,” you answered weakly.

“Okay,” he said. You could hear how he pressed his forehead to the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice was shaking.

You just needed 5 minutes to breathe and calm down alone. That’s what you told yourself as you took another deep breath and wiped away the tears that now spilled over the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m okay,” you whispered to yourself. “I’m okay, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You’d say it until it was true. 

When you'd finally calmed down somewhat, you still waited in the bathroom, not wanting Franco to see your puffy, bloodshot eyes, the evidence of your tears. But he knew you were crying. And he knew you’d keep your word and talk to him when you were ready.

He knew you inside and out. So when you silently emerged from the bathroom and found him in the kitchen washing dishes, he knew no words were needed. You slipped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back as he turned the water off and dried his hands.

He turned around and met your embrace, holding your head beneath his chin and enveloping you in his strong arms. His tender touch brought the tears back.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“No,” you corrected. “You’re so good to me. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“It breaks my heart to see you hurting like this. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Just hold me,” you said, burying your head deeper into his chest, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne and the warm comfort of his breath rising and falling. 

The next day, Franco woke before you, spending a moment staring at your sleeping form before he had to get up and leave for the day. 

He knew you had been struggling, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how your mind saw something so much more different than his saw. It broke him to know you thought of yourself so negatively.

But he’d hold you all day everyday if it meant it helped even a little bit. He would do anything.

So, when your alarm began screeching and you lazily turned it off, he let you sleep in, simply pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he went into yet another one of endless meetings with his manager before the season started.

She walked in and slammed a stack of papers on the desk. “I don’t know how you keep getting away with this shit every fucking time,” she said.

Franco raised a brow. Her tone wasn’t angry, as he expected, but rather…frustrated?

“The contract,” she continued. “The rep called me last night. They want you to do the campaign no matter what. They’ll let you do it with YN.” 

“Seriously?”

“Yes. We’ll have to get her in here to sign the contract, then we’ve got fittings and we still need to set the date for the actual shoot…”

His manager’s voice faded into the background as Franco remembered the previous night. The idea of you, dolled up in designer clothes posing next to him, had excited him at first. Now, he was unsure if that would just make things worse.

He had to be…deliberate in bringing it up. At home that night, as you two ate dinner, he decided to choose his words very, very carefully. 

“So, you remember that contract I said I lost?”

“The designer stuff?” you asked. He nodded. 

“Yeah. Well, I…actually didn’t fuck it up as bad as I thought I did. They still want us to do the campaign.”

“That’s good. It’ll get your manager off your case.” Your gaze drifted to the plate of food in front of you. The unspoken question lingered in the air. 

“Please don’t be mad at me—” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Franco, you’re a professional. I trust you.”

“Well, um… they want you to model.”

You looked up at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“I showed them your social media.”

“And they want…me. To model for them.”

“Well, they want you to do the campaign with me, yes. And wear a dress of theirs to a fancy event or two.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a model. And all my followers are just your fans, anyway.”

“Other driver’s girlfriends have done it, why can’t you?” He put down his fork and looked you in the eye. “YN, I think this would be a great thing. I can show you off to the world, and they’ll dress you up and make you feel beautiful. You’re beautiful without it, of course, but you know what I mean. I can’t make you say yes, but I’d love to do this with you.”

You took a beat to think. You couldn’t deny that you wanted the experience of going to lavish galas in designer gowns and seeing Franco grace the covers of magazine and social media home pages. Besides, you thought, if you truly looked bad they could just photoshop you to hell and back.

“Okay,” you answered, “let’s do it.”

So, a few weeks later, you found yourself in one of those cloth chairs that you had only seen in movies, having powder liberally applied to your face by a makeup artist. 

“The heavy makeup is just for the lights. They’re warm and harsh, so it’ll drown you out and make you look greasy if we don’t apply this much.”

You hummed in response, afraid to move your face. “I can tell this is your first time,” the artist said. “Just relax and let us work our magic, yeah? When they all say celebrities are fake, this is what they mean.”

You would have chuckled if you weren’t already sweating with nervousness. “Close your eyes,” she said, and you obeyed, only flinching as she generously sprayed setting spray over your makeup. 

“Alrighty, off to hair for you.”

Hair was the same—a nervousness that clearly identified you as an outsider to this world of glitz and glamor. You coughed when she nearly drowned you in hairspray. 

Then it was time for the final touches, the dress and jewelry. 

You gasped as they brought it out. A long silver satin gown, custom measured to hug your curves perfectly. Your neck was adorned with diamonds, your lips blood red, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulders. 

When you finally made it into the studio, Franco was already there, clad in a simple yet elegant black suit to contrast against the shiny fabric of your dress. He wasn’t facing you when you first entered, but hearing the click of your heels against the wooden floors, he turned and stopped in his tracks. 

“Oh my God,” he exhaled. “You look…” He was, quite literally, speechless.

You let out an awkward laugh, unused to having so much attention on you. 

“Amazing!” the brand rep said. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

And that, you did. The first shots were simple: you resting your arms on a chair while Franco sat, looking off into the distance, his perfect side profile on display. Both of you staring down the camera, arms placed in dynamic positions. 

Then you switched to the more sensual shots. Franco kneeled before you, kissing your hand, allowing you to show off the ring they had placed to contrast your black gloves. Another one, a shot of you holding his cheek as he gazed up at you in admiration. 

Then you switched, with him taking the more dominant role in the poses. His hand around your neck, showing off his own ridiculously expensive rings, as you tilted your head upwards towards him and he glared at the camera. A shot of Franco holding you up against a wall; his arm was draped above you to show off a watch, but his other hand found your waist and his head was turned as if to kiss you while you stared at the camera.

“Okay, play with the pose a bit,” the photographer instructed. “Let’s get some candids.”

You turned away from the camera, trying to ignore the incessant clicking and flashing in the background.

He smiled. “Hi, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you replied, smiling as well. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Franco leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “I really want to rip this dress off you.”

“Franco!”

“Oh, that was good!” the photographer yelled. “Whatever you said, do it again, her expression was golden.”

You laughed as you both repositioned, standing in front of the dark backdrop. 

“How much will it cost if I damage this dress?” Franco asked, looking at the photographer.

“Probably more than quadruple my salary,” the photographer laughed. “So please don’t.”

“But I have an idea. Just hear me out.”

Franco leaned down and gripped the strap of your dress in his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you and a thousand clicks of the camera. 

His most bold suggestion, though, was the shot from the floor; he laid down and had you crawl on his chest and kneel above his head, draping his shoulders in the luxurious fabric and showing off your bedazzled garter beneath a silt in the dress. Though the photo would only expose a little bit of thigh, you couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline that the position gave you. 

When the shoot was over, it hurt your heart a bit to have to take off the dress and jewelry. Franco could tell. A sad smile painted your face as they carefully removed the diamonds from your neck and ears. But the one that hurt most was the gorgeous diamond ring, which you gently slipped off your gloved finger with a pang of sadness.

Franco was right; it had been fun to dress up and show off, but it was over now. So you said a silent goodbye to this false world of luxury as you walked off to the dressing room, and Franco went over to the brand rep who was packing up your jewelry. 

“A lovely job, both of you!” he said. “I’ll admit, I was hesitant at first, but you all definitely proved me wrong. These photos will come out amazingly.”

“How much is the ring?” Franco asked, gesturing to the lockbox that it was now hidden away in. 

“Ah, I could tell she liked it. Are you thinking of popping the question soon?”

“Ah, well…” Franco said, nervous now. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was an engagement ring. 

The rep laughed. “Well, this one’s from the new collection, expertly crafted. Usually goes for around $130,000, but that’s just with the base without any modifications.”

Franco choked on his own saliva. He certainly wasn’t making that much money yet, and besides, he didn’t know if his little working-class heart could ever justify spending that much money on a shiny rock. 

But for you? Anything. 

The rep could sense his hesitation. “Well, if you decide to go for it, here’s my card. Maybe we can work something out.” Franco nodded and accepted the card, stowing it away in his wallet after he changed out of his suit. 

Once you arrived home, the mountain of makeup and hairspray that you were both still covered in acted as the perfect excuse for a shower together.

As Franco lathered shampoo into your hair, he whispered, “You looked beautiful today.”

You smiled. “I felt beautiful.”

The photos were released a few weeks later, sending the internet into chaos. 

YN!?!?!?! CAN FRANCO FIGHT?

Does YN know that we’d all kill to be her right now

The hand placement!! The look in his eyes!!! That man is IN LOVE!!!!!

You chuckled to yourself as you read through the comments on your Instagram post. 

You saw the most important comment: the one from Franco. 

Eres el amor de mi vida <3 

You felt butterflies rise up in your stomach as you tapped the little heart to like the comment, as if that same man wasn’t taking you to the F1 Grand Prix Gala in Monaco tonight. 

You wanted nothing more than to walk in on his arm, basking in the glow of the photoshoot. It wasn’t just the glamor of the shots or the makeup that made you feel better; it was Franco. The way he looked at you like you were a goddess—you finally understood what he meant when he said he wanted you to see yourself as he saw you. 

As you donned the loaned dress from the same brand—less extravagant than the gown from the shoot, but still gorgeous—you were so thankful you had let Franco talk you into this. 

Everyone was abuzz at the event, and you were getting kudos left and right from strangers, which was slightly embarrassing, but you soaked in the attention anyway. But the best feeling was your lover’s hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowded ballroom.

You stepped out onto an empty balcony, drinking in the clear night air, now alone from the crowd. Of course, he followed like a lost puppy. 

“Mi amor,” he said as you leaned against the ledge, “I don’t know what’s more beautiful, you or the night sky.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “That’s too much, even for you.” 

“Maybe,” he joked. “And, maybe, we should get out of here. I’m tired of pretending to like all these old rich people.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You two sped home, where Franco wasted no time taking off your dress and decorating the floor with it.

“Let me worship you,” he said, grazing his lips over the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Don’t you already?” you joked, evidence of your returned confidence.

“I do,” he said, “because you’re divine. I want to taste you.” He grabbed your panties with his teeth, pulling them down slowly, enjoying the burning desire you both felt as his skin grazed against yours. 

But even now that he had you fully undressed, he still teased you, gently kissing your thighs, looking up into your eyes with every kiss. You pushed his hair back, softly inhaling with every inch of skin that his mouth touched. 

“Franco…”

“Mi ángel,” he exhaled. “Mi reina, mi cielo, mi vida.”

With a featherlight touch, he brought his mouth to your wetness, kissing your clit before rolling his tongue around the soaked bundle of nerves. Your breath hitched.

He brought two fingers to your entrance, teasing you until you were dripping with want for him. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

His praise felt like your native tongue, the way your bodies and words naturally curved to each other, fitting together like you were made for this. 

He echoed your thoughts, continuing, “You take me so well.” He curled his fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars, eliciting a moan. 

“I live to pleasure you, mi amor.” He brought his mouth back to your clit, pointing his tongue and swirling circles around it as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. 

You squirmed under him, overcome by the pleasure of both his hands and his words. As he continued his movements, he never shifted his gaze from you.

But you looked away, to the mirror in the corner that had been moved as you got ready. You had a perfect view of Franco pleasuring you, and God, was the sight beautiful. 

Franco saw you looking and stopped, eliciting a frustrated whine from you. 

“Come here,” he said, climbing on the bed. “Keep facing the mirror.” He positioned himself behind you, grabbing your chin to keep your face straight as you both gazed at your reflections. “I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see how perfect you look when I take you.”

You wordlessly nodded, loving the vulnerability of being at the mercy of the man who worshipped you. 

As Franco unwrapped and put on a condom behind you, you studied the patches of red that colored your cheeks, flushed from your lover having nearly brought you to the brink of orgasm only moments before. 

He spanked you and you playfully yelped. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off this mirror.”

“What if I do?” you asked. “Will you punish me?”

He spanked you again, the other side this time. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Then, slowly, he placed his hands on your hips and found his way to your entrance, filling you with a swift but gentle motion. You both let out a low moan. 

“Even your pussy is perfect,” he said as he began to move. “Taking every inch of me.”

“Yes,” you moaned. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, increasing his pace and intensity, making you scream. “I want to fuck this pussy every day for the rest of my life.”

His words went through one ear and out the other; you couldn’t focus with his fucking you into the mattress with every thrust.

You cried and closed your eyes, hanging your head as you tried to hold back the waves of pleasure that were building in your core. But Franco roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back up.

“What did I tell you? Look at yourself, getting fucked like the perfect little whore you are.” You loved it when Franco was a little rough with you, but combined with the praise, it nearly sent you over the edge.

“Now,” he said, slowing down his pace, “since you didn’t do what I told you, you don’t get to cum.”

You whined in protest as Franco pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and empty. “Please,” you begged. 

He laid down on the bed. “If you want it, do it yourself,” he teased. “Ride me. If you want to cum, you have to watch as you make yourself cum on my cock.” 

You didn't argue, instead just obeying and sinking yourself down on him. You watched in the mirror as he disappeared in you, mesmerized by the way your bodies connected. 

His hands found your waist again as you began to bounce on him, chasing your release with an relentless pace. 

“Fuck, Franco, I’m close—” you moaned, and you felt his hand come down hard on your ass again. 

“Are you watching?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me how beautiful you look.” If he had said this at any time other than in the heat of your passion, you would have cringed. But now, moments away from an orgasm, you obeyed.

“I fit perfectly on top of you,” you began with a shaky voice. “And I look…I look perfect riding your cock.”

“What else?”

“I look beautiful covered in your love bites.”

“Good girl,” he growled, matching your pace, fucking up into you. “My perfect, beautiful girl.”

With his final statement of praise, you shook, letting yourself drown in waves of pleasure as he continued fucking you through it. 

He had switched back to Spanish now, babbling away what you assumed to be your praises as he chased his own orgasm, quickly finishing from the heavenly feeling of your walls gripping around him. 

When you all collapsed in a pile next to each other, he threw an arm around you, wordlessly holding you in his embrace. His words could never truly make it better, he knew that.

But thankfully, his words weren't needed anymore. Now, you believed him.