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myouicieloz · 3 days

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Live my life

band!aespa x fan!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.

320 notes · View notes

davidtennan-t · 2 months

Text

May Noble Guide You. Always.

Donna is always looking out for ways to help her best friend.

Major angst but a happy ending! Inspired by this post, because I still think about Fourteen morning, noon and night.

And yes, Skyrim is involved.

1592 words - also available on AO3

“Hey, Spaceman?”

“Yeah, Donna?”

A pause.

“Have you ever dabbled in video games?”

The Doctor glanced up from the toaster he was tinkering with, eyes peeking over the top of his glasses. Even after so many years of travelling, living, experiencing, he was sure he’d never been asked such a question before.

“Hm, not really,” he answered after a second of musing, “never really been my thing, with this face or any of my other faces. Not even the younger version of this face.”

Donna nodded and returned her attention back to her laptop.

An article was open on her screen, which she was attentively scrolling through.

‘Gaming as therapy? Research shows video games can provide distraction and escapism.’

“Oh, wait!”

Donna nearly jumped out of her seat – she still wasn’t used to his sudden outbursts, even if he had been living with them for nearly half a year now, and she had of course travelled with him all those years ago.

Some things never changed.

“Could you announce your brainwaves any louder?” she uttered but turned to listen.

“I once saved Rose from certain death by playing pinball,” the Doctor explained, “true story. And I did have a run-in with Iwatani Tohru when an alien invaded his base model for Pac Man… lovely bloke, he was. There was also that time I tried to stay with the Ponds, played on something called a ‘Wii’. Oh! Yaz once challenged me to a game of Tetris – I wasn’t very good at it.”

Somehow Donna knew that last part was a lie by the way his nose scrunched up. She shook her head in amusement.

“I won’t even ask,” she smirked. The Doctor smirked back and returned to his tinkering.

As she continued to read the article, listening to the sounds of the toaster slowly being dissected, Donna wondered if the idea forming in her mind would be worth it.

She would do anything to help her best friend. Even if they’d found ways and means to help him in this ‘semi-retirement’ period, it didn’t hurt to try new methods.

“Why’d you ask?”

Donna glanced up to the form of the tinkering Time Lord again and smiled.

“No reason, just curious… Rose dabbled with gaming for a while, but I don’t think it’s really her thing.”

The Doctor’s expression formed acknowledgement, just as a couple of screws fell onto the dining table.

“By the way, you know what happened last time you tinkered with that toaster. You can apologise to the fire crew this time, not me,” Donna smirked, “anyway, it’s time for dinner – your turn to make the toasties. And how you’re gonna make them without the toaster, I’ll never know.”

“I’ll use the grill!”

“You nearly blew the house up last time.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

Guess it was time to put the toaster back together.

A couple of weeks later, the Doctor was riding a storm. It was an invisible one, but Donna could see how hard it was affecting him this time.

Odd little things would begin to happen. His smile wouldn’t be as bright, his movements became slower, and his voice lost its erratic spark – the family were reminded they were living with an old, wounded man who’d been through unimaginable horrors.

It started with a nightmare, this time. Or, maybe it didn’t… Donna told herself the Time Lord didn’t always need a reason to feel the way he did. He didn't need a trigger point.

He’d told her himself – he’d lived a lot and suffered in the fifteen years since they’d travelled together.

He’d lost a lot.

And sometimes, that hit him like a brick wall.

“Doctor?” Donna announced quietly as she walked into the living room. It was just the two of them in the house for the afternoon, but she’d barely saw or spoke to the Doctor since breakfast. He’d hidden in the TARDIS for a while, but then she’d spotted that skinny frame trudging back into the house as she’d pottered in the garden.

And here he was. Sat on the sofa, hunched over, elbows on his skinny legs with his hands hiding his face. His hair seemed messier than normal, and he wasn’t even wearing that waistcoat of his.

“You okay?”

No response.

Donna didn’t hesitate to sit down right beside him, silently letting him know she was close.

Almost immediately, the Doctor uncurled himself with a heavy inhale, realising he wasn’t alone anymore.

Donna didn’t need to see the tear stains on his cheeks to know he’d been crying.

And then, the Doctor shuffled towards her like a wounded animal and wrapped both arms around her, while burying his face into her shoulder.

Donna’s arms wrapped around him in turn without hesitation. She gently held the back of his head, her fingers gently massaging through his hair – he seemed to like that. It calmed him, even if he’d never admit to it.

Silence prolonged for a few minutes.

Donna glanced over at the TV. Or rather, she glanced at the brand-new box sat beside it. A black box with a remote control perched on top. It was funnily shaped, almost like a Sontaran ship.

Obviously, she hadn’t mentioned that part to the checkout man when she’d purchased it.

Perhaps it was time to put that box to use. The box that held these forms of escapism and adventure... maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t – but she was willing to give it a try.

“You’re okay, Spaceman,” Donna whispered to break the silence, returning her attention back to the Time Lord, “I’m right here.”

“I know you are,” came the muffled reply from her shoulder – not in his ‘I’m not that dumb’ tone, but rather a proclamation of ‘I’m so glad you’re with me.’

His voice was still shaky and rough, so Donna gently leaned back to rest against the soft cushions of the sofa, while the Doctor followed and tucked himself against her, those long legs curling up like a cheetah after a run. She knew he was feeling rough when he didn’t want to leave her side, not for a while at least.

“M’sorry,” the Doctor said in a muffle. Donna heard the guilt in his voice, and she wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t be so daft,” she said softly, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. You’re home… and home is where you’re looked after.”

She kept a hand on the back of his head, stroking through his wiry brown but greying hair.

And they sat like that for ten minutes. A sad but comfortable silence.

And then, Donna decided it was time – time to see if that box beside the TV could bring her best friend a new form of comfort.

“I have something for you to try,” she announced.

The Doctor knew what those words meant. It meant Donna was trying for him. His old, arrogant and younger-self wouldn’t have entertained any such ideas she laid out for him, but now, he did… he wanted to.

“What’s that?” the Doctor asked, sniffing lightly.

“Wait here,” Donna told him, gently easing herself away from the Doctor so she could get up and walk to the TV.

The Doctor watched, intrigued, as the TV lit up and beeps emitted from the large black box, now glowing green.

He didn’t question anything. Not even when Donna returned to him with some sort of controller in hand. He sat up and took it from her when she offered it out to him.

“It’s all set up for you. Rose helped me do it… pick any game you like. I’ll be making supper if you need me.”

An hour or so later, Donna hadn’t heard a peep from the Doctor.

All she could hear over the boiling potatoes and the rather noisy air fryer, where odd sounds coming from the TV. With everything prepped and ready, Rose and Shaun due home shortly, she took off her oven mitts and returned to the living room.

There, she found the Doctor, in a very different state to how she’d found him earlier.

He was perched on the edge of the sofa, but his head wasn’t in his hands this time.

Instead, his long fingers were gripping the controller, his tired but intrigued eyes watching the screen while his thumbs moved the joysticks.

Donna’s heart suddenly felt very, very full.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

The Doctor didn’t stop what he was doing – on the screen, there was a cat-like creature wearing rags running around a medieval looking city.

“I used to be an adventurer like you… then I took an arrow in the knee.” Came a voice from the TV, between the calming melody of music.

Donna didn’t have a clue about any of it, but she smiled.

“It’s interesting, I’ll give you that,” finally came the reply. “I’m supposed to be alerting some Jarl about a dragon. But I thought the flowers were more interesting, so I’m collecting them.”

Donna still didn’t have a clue, but she nodded.

“Okay, well, not too much longer, mister… Shaun and Rose will be back shortly, and supper is nearly ready.”

“Whatever you say, Mum,” the Doctor acknowledged.

Donna shook her head with a smile and decided to return to the kitchen.

“Donna-”

She stopped, looking back towards the sofa. The Doctor was looking at her, a small smile on his face. A smile which she could see was ladened with an appreciation, perhaps some relief, even.

“This is helping,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Spaceman.”

#i know i have an unfinished fic to do but cmooooon #angst is calling #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #fourteen x donna #doctor who #david tennant #my fic

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commandtower-solring-go · 9 months

Text

I want people to know how big a deal that kid beating Tetris is.

When we talk about beating games, we usually do so in one of two ways. First, finishing the game. Any%. Getting to the end. Second, completing the game. 100%. Doing everything.

This kid did neither.

Arcade games of the time didnt have a traditional beginning and end. They relied on a score based gameplay loop. "Winning" was losing with the highest score. As such, a traditional final stage or level wasn't necessary because the game was built to loop on itself or speed up continuously until the player inevitably lost.

However, many games still had a hard limit. Either due to a hardware limitations or inconcevable corner cases in a game's code that would force it to crash. Pacman's final state is quite famous. At 255 completed levels, the game would load in a corrupted and incompletable level know only as the Kill Screen.

The abridged reason for why this happens is that the high level count causes too many fruit to be drawn on screen. Which results in the fruit being drawn over other data, corrupting it and rendering the level incompletable.

Few of these are reached and only by the most dedicated players.

But why the hype around Tetris specifically?

Well, it was believed for a long time that Tetris' kill screen had already been found.

On the NES version of Tetris, when you hold the left or right buttons on the d-pad, the falling tetris piece will only move every few frames. This produces a maximum speed that Tetris pieces can be moved to either the far left or right side of the screen

As you play Tetris and clear lines, the game speeds up. At 290 cleared lines, the tetris pieces would fall so fast they simply could not be moved fast enough across the screen to be usable.

This was believed to be the end of the game. No human could go much further than around level 29. The original kill screen.

Then, players developed a new technique. Hypertapping. By holding the controller upside down and resting their thumb on the d pad, players would rapidly strike the back of the controller with their free hand to move faster than the default speed. Up to 10 times a second.

This technique saved tetris, and reopened the gates, making new kinds of high scores possible.

Players went on to develop new tools to chase the true kill screen. What they found was an ever changing kill screen. Entirely based on actions leading up to the end. They found what level it occured on would change. Theoretically it would be anywhere between level 155 and 255.

Bear in mind, passing level 29 was thought to be humanly impossible for decades.

Until this kid came along. Not only did he managed to max out the game score, but he managed to become the first person to hit Tetris' absolute kill screen at level 157.

#an actually proof read version

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lieslab · 5 months

Text

Tetris

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: A simple trip to the arcade leads to disaster after disaster and a brief doubt that your boyfriend truly loves you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Trigger warning: Anxiety (specifically social anxiety) and self-doubt.

A/N: Anonymous requester, I've done it. This was super fun to write (I mean up until the self-doubt and anxiety part where I proceeded to get a little sad) Never fear because I managed to make the end fluffy just like you requested!!

I'm sorry it's probably been posted way later than you expected. I have a job and I've been looking at college options and that's the reason why all my requests are a little slower. It's never too late to make your dreams come true. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

It was a blast from the past, walking into the arcade that your boyfriend found one day. It was like stepping back into the 80’s. Fun colorful and bright prints littered the black floor. Neon strands hung above your heads in waves. The lights had been dimmed to make everything pop.

“Do you like it?” Han turned to you and beamed.

“This place is amazing. How did you find it?” Your eyes were wide as you glanced around. The white t-shirt you were wearing seemed to glow beneath the neon funk. It was trippy and it was exhilarating. Excitement thrummed through your veins.

“I don’t know. I went on a walk one day and accidentally entered. I wanted to go to the coffee shop next door and got lost in my thoughts. I ended up here in the process.”

Off in the distance, you could hear the hums of bowling pins being set back up. Squeaky motors had been used year after year after year, gathering up rust and remaining ungreased. The old hinges seemed to be on their last limbs, but they still managed to hold up.

Cheers filled the air as a family, split in half for the bowling game, managed to gather a strike. Kids laughed and rushed in front of you. In another section, the greasy smell of fried food wafted over to you. You practically drooled at the sudden overpowering scent of pizza. The acidic tomatoes and the greasy cheese mingling with pepperoni.

Arcade game after arcade game sat along a side wall. Multiple people’s silhouettes were lit up from the static screens. You managed to catch a few glimpses of familiar games. Pac-man, Frogger, Donkey Kong, and Tron.

More modern games had been speckled throughout the large area. Skeeball had been placed across from the bowling lanes. Four basketball hoop games and a few football throwing games sat beside it. Larger machines that held more unfamiliar games were speckled throughout.

Han laced his fingers through yours and led you towards the counter to get coins to play. It was one of his favorite parts of the place. All the games took old golden coins instead of electronic swipeable play passes.

When he handed you a cup full of coins, he smiled. “So where should we start first?”

You shrugged, still looking around with wide eyes. “There’s so much to do. We could do anything and-”

“Then it’s a good thing that we have the whole afternoon to play, isn’t it?”

His uptick in energy made you smile. The two of you slipped into the full arcade and began to play. You managed to last for nearly two hours before exhaustion set in. Han still seemed to have so much energy, but you felt drained.

More people were flooding into the building. Han was distracting himself from this by focusing on the games, but you couldn’t. You were becoming more and more aware of how much harder it was to move through the area.

Most people were polite, but some were not. A few glares were sent your way by a group of teenagers at one point. Your stomach churned with anxiety as you mumbled a quiet apology for stepping in front of them and scurried away.

Han hadn’t realized it because he was too busy gushing about Pac-Man and how he wanted to get on the leaderboard. You were happy that he was happy, but you were starting to feel constricted. The crowd seemed to push against your lungs and make it harder to breathe.

You made your way over to the game and Han began to play. After about four rounds, you announced that you were going to get a drink. Too involved in the game, he mumbled a weak response and you disappeared.

In the cafe area, you felt a lot better. After ordering your drink, you sat down at a small table and sucked in a deep breath. During some days, your social anxiety was worse than other days. Just in general, you could have bad anxiety days.

It ruled your life, no matter how much you tried to work on it. You tried to journal and you had tried therapy, but nothing seemed to stamp out that fluttery and panicky what-if feeling. It was some piece of your brain that you didn’t quite know how to get rid of.

For a while, you were content with leisurely sipping your drink and observing the people in the bowling lanes. Parents in one lane were with their two kids. The kids couldn’t have been much older than ten. The mother and daughter had teamed up against the father and son.

“Mommy and I are going to beat you!” The little girl smirked. Two black pigtails had been tied at the sides of her neck. She was dressed in a lavender dress that seemed to radiate beneath the white lights above her.

“Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh!” The boy stuck out his tongue. His hair was the same deep shade of onyx. Both of their facial features were a perfect blend of their parents.

“This isn’t fair!” Another voice cried off in the distance. Your eyes adjusted to find two younger girls. One stood with her hand on her hips and the other stomped her foot. “It’s rigged!”

“It’s not rigged, it’s your fault that you don’t know how to bowl. I tried to tell you, but you’ve refused to listen to me. This is your own fault!”

You smiled at the sight. Everything seemed to be against you when you were a kid. It was so easy to get frustrated and upset at the age when you didn’t understand how the world quite worked.

“Feel it? The weight of the ball in your hand? Just get used to it and hold on tight. Don’t want to drop the ball on my foot, do we?”

Your head snapped to the opposite side when you heard a man’s voice. A guy was standing behind a girl. Adorned in a gray hoodie, he had an arm looped around her waist. She laughed with his right hand tucked over hers.

“I’m being serious, get used to this and this motion.” He slowly began to rock her arm back and forth. It was the same motion that you used to bowl and release the ball. “Once you get used to this, you focus on aiming.”

“And how do I do that?” The girl asked.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, sweetheart. Keep your gaze locked and loaded in the middle of the pins. Focus on that middle point. Breathe in and breathe out and then release the ball, got it?”

You watched the girl do what he said and she released the ball. He kept his chin over her shoulder while the two watched the ball slip down the lane. Over and over the bright orange ball rolled head over heels until-

Crash!

The girl beamed as all the pins fell over. “I did it! I did it! I did it! I got my first strike!”

“Congratulations, baby.”

You looked away as the girl spun around and kissed the guy. It felt like such an intimate moment and you didn’t want to intrude. Your mind began to drift back to Han. You shifted in your chair to find him still hooked up in front of the Pac-Man game.

A sigh slipped out through your nose. You didn’t mean for your thoughts to start wondering, but they began to creep in. Did he love you as much as you loved him? When was the last time the two of you had such an intimate moment outside of the house? Was he embarrassed of you?

He rarely held your hand and never even attempted to kiss your cheek in public. Sure, you both walked side-by-side, but that wasn’t the same thing. The more you thought about it, the more hurt you felt. You were squeezing the juice out of your own heart.

The lump began to form in your throat and you quickly stood up. In the process of attempting to grab your drink, you knocked over the cup. It hit the ground and spilt all over the floor. Your tears blurred your eyes and you cursed beneath your breath.

Why were you like this? Why were you such a klutz? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to gather the courage to go ask for napkins. Before you could stop them, someone headed towards you.

The kid was too distracted by the handfuls of tickets in his arms. Quite literally, he was skipping off to the front to gather prizes when the disaster worsened. A loud gasp left his mouth as he slipped in the sugary soda. The back of his shirt seeped it up as he fell.

The moment you heard the ruckus, your eyes opened in shock. A loud wail came from his mouth and alerted everyone near your area. All eyes were on the two of you and your heart quickened.

You dropped to your knees instantly to try to console the poor boy. You reached out a hand and gently pulled him up. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A woman’s shrill voice filled your ears. You glanced over to find a woman standing with her fists on her hips. “Get your hands off my son!”

“I-I’m sorry, it wasn’t like that, he fell and I-”

“That doesn’t give you the right to touch him!” She snapped as she rushed towards him. “Come here, come on, let’s get you to the bathroom to try and clean you up.” She shot you a final glare before you were left alone. Eyes from earlier still lingered.

You suddenly thought you might burst into your own set of tears. Before you could approach the counter to ask for napkins, a worker appeared with a mop. He huffed as he dunked the murky tendrils in a bucket of sud filled water.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not like you’re the first one to make a mess, butterfingers. You certainly won’t be the last one either. Just get out of here and try not to make another mess, will you?”

You mumbled another apology and rushed away from the mess with your empty cup. You tossed the remainders of the sticky mess into a trash can and disappeared back into the crowd. You were about ready to sob and to make matters worse, you left your coins somewhere and you didn’t know where.

You couldn’t play anything and Han still had your wallet. You had given it to him earlier because your pockets were small in the pants you chose to wear. If you bothered him, you’d ruin his Pac-Man game and you didn’t want to worry him.

More than anything, you just wanted to go home. You wanted to change and go back into comfy clothes and relax. You had reached your limit minutes ago and things were only getting worse.

So you circled the arcade again and then again and again. You didn’t linger in one spot for too long. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself and you kept your body tucked into itself. The last thing you wanted to do was cause another issue.

You circled over and over until you caught a glimpse of Tetris. The game was on and ready to start, but nobody was around it. It seemed like someone decided to play it and then decided to abandon the game before it could begin.

You couldn’t help it, after nobody appeared for nearly a minute, you slowly walked over. Your gaze casted around, but everyone was still in their own little worlds. After pressing start, you began to play the game.

In the beginning, you were good at it. Pressing the controls and adjusting the multi-colored awkward shapes to fit together. You were making good progress until you messed up on a T-shaped block. The moment that happened, your anxiety began to brew. You began to worry about other blocks before they were down.

Tetris was a lot like anxiety. Everything seemed to do well until something slipped up. One small slip-up was enough to make you panic about the future. Instead of attempting to focus on what was in front of you, your brain was multiple steps ahead of itself.

When you realized this, you couldn’t stop. You tried to focus on the block in front of your eyes, but you were constantly thinking about the block that would come next. Where would you place it? Would it fit between those two shapes? What if it was too big and caused the blocks to stack higher? You weren’t supposed to let them stack too high.

You didn’t realize you were crying. The screen illuminated the glossy tears silently trickling down your cheeks. You didn’t notice until warmth slipped onto your hand. It was then that you realized you were crying and it made you stress out more.

Before you could try to fix it, the game ended and a huge game over screen sat in front of your eyes. There was an option to play again, but you didn’t have more coins. You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath.

“Baby, are you okay?” Han’s voice hit your ears.

You spun around to come face-to-face with him frowning. You quickly used the back of your hands to wipe away the tears. You sniffled again and nodded.

“What happened?”

“Just some anxiety and stuff.”

“What kind of anxiety?”

You didn’t mean to blurt it out, but it came out anyway. “Do you love me like I love you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, y-you don’t really interact with me when we’re in public. You don’t hold my hand or kiss me. I mean, you did earlier, but that was only once and I just…” You trailed off. “Am I not good enough for you?”

He gently reached out and took your hand again. You let him lead you through the crowded maze of people and pull you alongside a further away wall. “What’s got you so worked up? You know I love you a lot. I don’t touch you a lot in public because I don’t want to make you nervous.”

“Oh.”

“Do I not show you enough?” He frowned.

You shook your head, “I-I just…I don’t know.”

“You’re ready to go home, aren’t you?”

You meekly nodded and pawed at your eyes again. Your social battery was blaring with an alarm. You needed to go home and recharge before you went out again. You needed personal space to feel like you could breathe again.

“I have one more coin and then we can go home, okay? I was actually saving it for you. I don’t think you’ve gone to the claw machine yet, have you?” You shook your head. He grinned, “let's go!”

You let him lead you over to the claw machine. He handed you the coin with a smile. “I’ll let you do the honors because you’re good at these.”

“I only have one try.”

“Yeah, but I believe in you. Even if you don’t get anything, I still have all of our tickets. We have to go redeem our prizes.”

You slowly slipped the golden coin in the slot. There was a whole section of the games, but Han had pulled you to one lit up neon pink. Inside, a wide selection of plushies sat staring at you. As the game started up, you debated on what to try and aim for.

After a brief consideration, you finally grabbed a hold of the black controller and began to shift the claw. You put all your focus into the game and tried to block out the surrounding noise and Han. You needed perfect attention while doing this.

The crane swung for a bit and then it stopped. Just for a brief second, you tilted the control to the left. Holding your breath, you pushed the red button. A soft whirl filled the air and you and Han watched the crane begin to outstretch and fall down.

The tiny arms opened as it sank further and further into the pit of plushies. Silently, you begged it to grab the one you were aiming for. You waited and waited and waited until-

“Holy shit,” Han whispered.

The claw had grabbed onto the plush. You kept holding your breath because you had seen this multiple times. It was only when it dropped into the prize shute that you let your breath out.

“You did it!” Han cheered.

You smiled, ducked down, and retrieved the prize. When you held it up in the light, Han’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s beautiful. What are you going to name them?”

“I’m not.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, “you’re not?”

“It’s up to you.” You reached out and held the boba tea plushie out towards Han. A small brown straw poked out the top of it. Plush velvet black spheres created the illusion of boba balls. A faint blush sat on its cheeks and there were sparkles in his eyes.

“You’re giving him to me?”

“He kinda looks like you. Plus, he’s very cute. I know you’ll treat him kindly and take good care of him.”

Han’s eyes softened as he took the plushie from you. There was blush powdered across his own cheeks. “Thank you. You already know that I’ll cherish him forever. I’ll take him home and place him next to Han Quokka.”

At that moment, he simply didn’t care that the two of you were in public. He placed the plush beneath his arm, gently cupped your face, and pressed his soft lips to yours. When he pulled away, you were left dizzy and breathless. He laughed at the gobsmacked look on your face. You were left floating on cloud nine with your anxiety far away from your immediate thoughts.

He slipped your hand into yours. It was getting late and the arcade had emptied out a little. It was starting to feel like you could breathe again.

“Come on!” You grinned, “let’s go get the rest of our prizes!”

When you began to run through the crowd, he followed right behind you.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Taglist, and inbox rules

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #kpop fanfic #han jisung #han jisung fic #han jisung fanfic #han jisung stray kids #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n

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hannahlovesluca · 10 months

Note

Hi!!Can i ask for LUXIEM(or just ike) hcs with an s/o who's just insanely good at suika or puyo puyo even though they just played the game once or twice?:D

i had to write this ASAP i love writing ab reader playing games LMAOO

Luxiem + S/O who’s good at Suika

• he’s mediocre at suika, so normally he wouldnt join any tostus while the other is playing (i hardly see him join totsus in general so-)

• however if its YOU whos hosting any kind of tostu or just anything, HES JOINING INBA HEARTBEAT

• yk how he is with ike? all simp-y and always looking for a way to spend time with him? yeah he does that to you too

• anyway, when he sees you get 3000+ points your FIRST TIME PLAYING

• his face: 😧

• he probably doesn’t believe that its your first time LMAOO - you probably have to prove it to him off stream somehow

• if you’re his kouhai: “y/n, i’m your elder you can’t be embarrassing me like this…”

• if you’re his senpai: “…you know what they say; the elder, the wiser.”

• “oh god, please don’t bounce up…” “PLEASE BOUNCE UP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD” - guess which one is vox

• anyway, afterwards, he’ll probably force you to watch him play fnaf afterwards so he has sone sort of pride in being able to out-do you somehow

• the mf sings to try and distract you to get you to mess up

• change. my. mind.

• “country rooooaaaaadssss, take me hooooooooome, to the plaaaaaceeee i BEEEELOOOOOOONGGGGG”

• getting 3000 first time hes just like ?????

• probably has that one face with the wide eyes and mouth wide open (like that one clip of sonny during the game show off collab w/ noctyx)

• and if you’re like him and start spewing nonsense to focus better, he’ll be laughing so hard

• “hey, chat, do you think anal hurts that bad?”

• “what???”

• if you have his fugi on your head whilst streaming he’ll probably pretend to punch it now and then just to get a reaction out of you

• mf is okay at suika but not like terribly amazing

• that being said hes rooting for you and will probably be so amazed at you repeatedly getting over 3000

• if there ever is a point where you’re malding he’ll either - A: Mald with you - B: Laugh his fucking ass off

• “WHY THE FUCK DID IT BOUNCE UP TO THE TOP?!?!”

• “LMAO AHAHAHAHAHABSISHWHAHA”

• definitely literally says “lmao” if you fail

• will bring up the most random things to talk about!!!

• “y/n have you seen that food theory video where he tried to cook his steak in the dryer??”

• “luca wtf are you talking about?”

• if you recently had an off collab he’ll also be telling embarrassing stories about you

• “[insert fan name] did you guys know that Y/N eats their oatmeal dry?? like no water.”

• anyways all around, hes amazed and he probably sends you a sweet discord message after stream

• “you’re so good at suika!!! :D”

• FOLLOW UP MESSAGE: “ew that was cringe ignore that”

• he just sucks at suika so hes just like: :0

• “y/n??? this isn’t like…pre-recorded?”

• “DO YOU NOT TRUST ME, IKE??”

• im running out of ideas for them uhhh

• when you get over 3000 your first try hes genuinely so amazed

• say he has a zatsu the next day, if someone superchats him about the totsu the night before he’ll go on a rant about how jealous he is that you’re so good at Suika

• “yeah, Y/N is like Shu and Mari with Tetris, they need to teach me their ways.”

• “an akasupa! ‘honest opinions on Y/N?’ Good question!”

• and then never elaborates

• uhhhhhh

• will most likely start bringing up either super philosophical topics to talk about or it’ll end up just being about miku

• LMAO IMAGINE YOU START TRASH TALKING IKE BEFORE HE JOINS THE TOTSU AND HE JOINS OUT OF PETTINESS???

• “yeah- so ike sucks at this game HAHAH-“ *ike joins* “SAY IT TO MY FACE”

• as soon as you sent the message you were doing a totsu he reacted to the message with that pepe side eye emote they have in the NIJI discord

• probably doesn’t join first, he waits for others

• LMAOO IF ITS HIM AND CLAUDE ITS GONNA BE CHAOTIC ASF

• claude: “y/n how do you feel about patriotism?” shu: “frick the patriarchy” y/n: “????”

• but, if the other leaves and its just you two, since hes pretty good at the game as well, he’ll probably help you with where to drop it

• and again, like luca, will probably bring up random topics

• and ligma jokes

• lots and lots of ligma jokes

• will also send messages in the discord server like:

• Shu Yamino: “y/n is too good someone plz trash talk them”

• Shu Yamino: “oh frick y/n’s good”

• LMAO PROBABLY TWEETS TOO

• Shu Yamino 👟☯️: y’all cant compare what the flip is this

notice how luca and ike’s are the longest

#luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #nijisanji en #luxiem #shu yamino #mysta rias #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #hannahlovesluca

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girlsneedff · 5 months

Text

Tetris player!Chosou x f!reader (NSFW!!)

Minors and ageless bios please dni

Mating press, slight Tetris! babble, established relationship, breeding (slightly)

Author’s yap: ok ok so I basically sat and watched this Tetris tournament on TikTok and I got inspired… possibly one of the more unserious things I’ve written, but that’s ok!!

————

Tetris! is boring as shit.

How could someone sit there in front of a rickety old 8-bit, shitty quality game and have fun for hours? It was stupid.

Well, that was before you started dating an 8-time Tetris! champion. Now the game is absolutely amazing- a Heaven sent.

Chosou Kamo’s a man of few words. Even when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out (you were in the same humanities class), it went like this:

“Hello, we- ………date?” The blush saturated his cheeks as he twiddled his thumbs while remaining eye contact.

Oh, those thumbs.

He’s cute, and you’ve been ogling him a bit (a lot) during class, so of course you took up his offer, regardless of how ill-planned it was.

Next thing you know, you’re at his place- always watching him prep for a tournament he’s competing in. Whether it’s an actual controller or on his pc- he practices for hours- at least 3. His hair is in his usual messy pigtails as he chews the inside of this right cheek.

Next Tetrimino is an O- he moves that to the left-most end of the field. Then it’s a T- he flipped it so it fits nicely into this little slot he had created with some past pieces. He gets an I- his face lights up as he gleefully moves it to the right-most end of the field, sliding it into the perfect position and boom: Tetris!

A line of 4 disappears with this completion, and the game continues, his fingers moving at rapid paces to keep up. His eyes flicker to you, to make sure that you saw his victory, then back to the game.

You must admit, when he first told you he was a multi-time Tetris! winner, you damn near laughed at him. You wouldn’t do it in his face- but you definitely have scoffed thinking about it before.

“Hi- oh yea this is my boyfriend. Oh what does he do? Well he’s a Tetris! Champion!”

Your peers would look at you sideways.

But you couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they think now. You’d scream it from the rooftops actually. He’s made you scream a lot more embarrassing things than that.

You owe Tetris! your sex life. Truly. In your vows, you might give Tetris! a shoutout. Because the way that this man knows how to work his fingers- it’s unnatural. How he works his everything- jeez he’s Heaven sent.

————

“Baby, I need an opponent.”

You sit up to look at your boyfriend. He’s sitting in his gaming chair, still working away at Tetris, while you lie on his bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Why don’t you call up your frien-”

“Play with me.”

You freeze. This was the first time he’s ever brought this up. You’ve been coming over for 4 months now, and never once had he asked you to play with him.

“You know I don’t really know anything about Tetris!, right?”

“I’ll teach you. I just need to practice for tomorrow against somebody. It will help get me in the mood.”

It sure as hell did help him get in a mood. Sitting in his lap, he hands you his other console, makes sure you’re ok, and presses play. His console rests on your lap, while you hold yours up a bit.

…

And he lost.

…

Because how the flying fuck did you two end up on the bed?

Lock down: When a Tetrimino is put into a place where it’s no longer moveable. Kinda like how you are now.

Choso supports himself on your bent thighs with knees damn-near touching your ears as he towers above you, sweaty strands of hair still sticking to his face as he keeps eye contact. There’s no possible way you could escape this- even if you wanted to.

Then, he does his next signature move: Hard Drop. When a player drops a Tetrimino right into Lock Down from its starting position- no alterations.

Well, save for the fact that he had you line him up with your cunt, he’s by the book.

Who knew that Tetris! players would be so good at multitasking? With every stroke, he plays with your clit like he’s moving pieces- this Tetris!-junkie really doesn’t quit. He keeps it at a steady pace, steady force. All the way to left field- down. In the middle- he lets it wait for a little bit before he moves it to the right and down. It’s dizzying.

The way his dick is stretching you, and how his lithe fingers work to bully your clit into submission, you felt like you were levitating.

Then he starts fucking drawing the Tetriminos on your clit. You swear you’re actually in Heaven, the angels singing choruses of Tetris! hymns and praises while perched upon fluffy white cumulus clouds. Your mouth is in a permanent “O” position.

He definitely felt you clench around him- he lets out a breathy moan- louder than the noises he was already making. He has an airy type of grit in his voice every time you have sex- one of the many things that you love about this man.

Chosou leans close to your right ear, deepening the position as he speaks:

“Z, I, L, O, J…”

Before you know it you’re creaming- babbling random nonsense that you definitely don’t remember, but definitely know it was embarrassing. Cumming from him saying letters? How pathetic. But you don’t give a goddamn fuck.

You dig your fingers into your own flesh, since you were propping yourself up properly.

Chosou kisses your cheek and your neck as he continues to fuck you through your high.

He finally succumbs to his own desire, pumping everything that he has inside you with a soft, yet kind of whiny moan.

From that moment onwards, you vowed that you will never disrespect Tetris! again.

#jjk #choso x black y/n #choso my beloved #smut #fluff #jjk x reader #choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader

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blueberry-bubbles130 · 20 days

Text

You know something I’m wondering about now that I’ve joined the Wreck it Ralph fandom. How do the characters in the arcade view and think of glitches in general?

I don’t just mean stuff like Vanellope and how she glitches around the place. I mean like actual game glitches. Stuff like the Pac Man kill screen, where half the screen goes into numbers once you reach level 256. Like someone in Mr Litwak’s Arcade must have reached it at one point and it must have been odd to the players. And it must have been terrifying for the characters. How do they view it? Does it hurt the characters? How do they feel when the game eventually crashes when a person goes too far in the game?

Like different things can happen when you reach the very end of an arcade game. You can still play level 256 of pac man despite half the screen being a garbled mess. Or how in the original Donkey Kong the timer fucks up because of the coding and when you reach that point you only get about four to five seconds to finish a level. And Tetris, that has multiple problems when you get far enough. Initially it stopped because it just got too fast to play properly. Then when someone got past that it crashed after a while. The way the games all start to fuck up.

It happens during the flashback when Felix is talking about Turbo. When he hits the car in Roadblasters, you see the game screen goal all glitchy with numbers and pixels flashing. Does that mean TurboTime had a kill screen if you played long enough while winning? Did the screen start flashing? did colours mess up? Did numbers cover half the screen? I just have so many questions.

So I headcanon that even though Turbo is gone by the end of the movie, his shadow still lingers across the arcade. And glitched levels and Out of Bounds areas are still talked about in somewhat of a hushed tone.

#wreck it Ralph #wir #turbo wreck it ralph #wreck it ralph turbo #turbotastic #turbo wir #arcade #game glitch #media analysis #arcade games

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hrts4hanniehae · 9 months

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clutch || seven

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

sorry for the late chpt. I was really sick so i tried my best on this chpt.

warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating & sex & liquid products of sex, death, mental health, horrible sister, entitled sister

she was careless. 1 day of happiness was enough for her to forget the problem at hand. work had been enjoyable and there were discussions of displaying her art. she had time between her shifts to work on he last of her commissions. of course it would be ruined by her stalker.

the moment he had read her tweet, he was out the door and going to find her.

he saw e/n lurking around. bastard.

when he did, she was cowering in the dressing room. wordlessly, he wrapped his jacket around her before handing her his cap and a mask.

"wear this." - wonwoo

"thanks, wonwoo... i owe you one." - yn

they made it out with no issues. e/n was gone but who knew when he'd be back?

no matter how much she tried to enjoy her dinner with wonwoo, she couldn't help but feel eyes on her. but wherever she looked, there was no one.

wonwoo watched as yn's typing got even more agitated.

what the hell is going on... is she playing speed tetris or something...

when she finally slammed her phone face down onto the table, he finally asked her what happened.

"family argument. Now I have to bring a very attractive guy to my family reunion next sunday. and I also have to close my art deal by next wednesday and have an auction by thursday. great." - yn

"but why?" - wonwoo

"my parents found out about e/n and blamed me. my younger sister played a victim angel again so i snapped and called her out for being a brat. so now i have to one-up her in fame and a partner." - yn

"any ideas of who you're going to ask?" - wonwoo, crossing his fingers. wait why am i crossing his fingers?

"if any of your friends can help me, that would be great. i'll probably ask mingyu or dino since they're single and famous." - yn

"i'm single and famous" - wonwoo, whispers under his breath

"sorry what did you say?" - yn, leaning in to hear him from across the table

"i said, i'm single and famous. i'll go with you." - wonwoo

a pause. subtle panic. a smile.

"really? oh my days, wonwoo. you're my saviour. i LOVE you. you have the fame AND the face card. chaeyoung is going to quake and crumble!" - yn

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ💓ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ badum.

well. he doesn't know she's with me now. be it make-believe.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees @hamji-hae @hyuckxtagram

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konveeart · 11 months

Text

I am not gonna name names (coughs @swollenbabyfat coughs) but my brain has been picked over and over again, and I succumbed to my need of going back to my roots and drawing Eevee!

I made these during the week before the last of October. The idea was to turn them into bookmarks which would reveal a "secret puzzle" on the back if all four were collected :)

Under the cut trivia, hehe~

The images uploaded are purposefully low-res.jpeg files. The idea was to imitate the nearly-lost-media file that's been distorted from the older internet days (around 2008), as a "tribute" to baby-old me learning internet surfing and being starry eyed at pictures with eevees and anime girls.

Before I drew these there was one night I lost sleep on, trying to find a specific eevee picture I was obsessed with back in the day. It was made by a user named "Rikoula", depicting a shiny eevee crying. It was my absolute favorite picture of eevee, and my entire purpose of getting better at art back in the day and for many years later, was to reach this level. Sadly, even after ending up watching eevee-tributes on YT (while not being able to find anything on the internet Archive, pinterest and the rest) up until 2012, I did not manage to find the picture. I hope one day I will.

I had the entire timelapse of these nearly ready. Sadly, as I saved the first part to be uploaded, I deleted the second believing it was the one "without music". I even double-checked the title and said "yep, 100% sure", even though later, before shutting down my computer I thought "hmm, maybe I should check what's inside the trash before I empty it". <<<<< idiot didn't do it :'(

I played tetris on how to arrange them and still can't decide so I settled with the order of the pokédex for this post. The original order I sketched them is like the tags.

#eeveelutions #fanart #eevee #jolteon #flareon #vaporeon #My shop is now closed!#thank you so much everyone for the support <3 ;;#I had to stop studying midway to close the store and make this update so now I am going back hehe

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theyrealllesbians · 2 months

Text

Wedding Season- Chapter 2

James swung the front door open and called out. "Hello!"

Euphemia, his mum, came running from the kitchen. "Jamie, darling. It's so good to see you, it's been too long."

"Mum, it's literally only been a week. I also spoke to you on the phone on Wednesday." He laughed.

"Oh well that's far too long." Euphemia grabbed at his face and brought his forehead down to rest against hers momentarily before pulling back and kissing his cheek. James pretended to ignore the way that she had to go on her tip-toes to reach him, deciding to save the 'you'll always be my baby' lecture until it actually mattered. "Where are Sirius and Remus, I thought that they were coming with you?" She asked, turning towards the kitchen whilst wiping her hands on an apron James recognised from his childhood.

"They couldn't make it. They have some wedding stuff they desperately wanted to get done tonight. Booking vendors or cake tasting or flowers or something like that. Honestly, I can't remember." James had begun to tune Sirius out whenever he spoke about the wedding. It was a never ending rant about carnations and vanilla sponge, burlap or silk, fairy lights or lamps, martinis or an old fashioned and quite frankly, James could not listen to one more second. Besides, Sirius had a way of making every decision seem like a life or death situation. As a result, James would often than not end up getting yelled at when he chose the 'wrong' shade of white for the chairs. He loved Sirius more than anything, but in order to stay friends with him, James had made the executive decision to step back from all wedding decisions. Besides, Remus and the wedding planner told him everything he needed to know as part of being the best man. So he really wasn't missing much. It's not that he didn't expect Sirius to go full on bridezilla, because he did. It's just that he didn't quite realise how many little decisions went into planning a wedding. Since 'helping' Sirius and Remus, James has decided that when he gets married, it'll be a small affair. Probably in his parent's garden, with food that he and his mum cooked, flowers picked from his own garden and outfits that they'd both wear for anniversary dates time and time again. He wanted to be able to remember the love, not the little stressors that -at the time- would seem to derail the entire day.

"Oh, I remember those days. So exciting, but unbelievably stressful, be sure to send them my love. And I'll send you home with some bits and bobs to give them." By 'bits and bobs' James knew he'd be leaving with at least a months worth of food. He'd be playing tetris with his freezer tonight, he would never dare complain though, his mum's food was the best he'd ever tasted. Besides, he would never pass up the opportunity to not have to cook after a long day at work. Sirius and Remus would be endlessly grateful as well.

"I will do. Sirius is desperate to see you, so I'm sure he'll be here next week." James let his mum know.

"Oh well you know he doesn't have to wait till a Sunday to come see me. Even if he just wanted to pop in for lunch, I'd love to have him."

"I know, and he does as well. I think it's just slipped his mind because of how busy he is. I'll remind him though." Sirius had a habit of this, withdrawing whenever life got busy. He'd prioritise his work and keeping the house clean, often forgetting that he could also make time to decompress and see the people he loved. Luckily it only took James or Remus forcing him to leave his office for him to get back into a normal routine in which he wasn't being stretched unbelievably thin or being wound incredibly tight. James could never quite tell if it was some form of trauma response, or whether it was just the way that Sirius was wired. Either way, he's gotten better compared to when they were at school. During A-levels, James doesn't think Sirius left their dorm for anything other than food for at least 2 weeks. Despite the fact that at least 50% of the time, if someone checked on him, he wasn't actually doing any revision. James didn't really understand it. He pulled out his phone and added 'call Moony/ drag Pads out the house' onto his ever growing to do list.

"What can I help with?" James asked, rolling his sleeves up while walking over to the sink to start washing his hands.

"Oh, there's nothing really." His mum responded whilst opening the 5th can of what looked like crushed tomatoes. James looked around and spotted 3 pack of unopened whole chickens, a pile of uncut vegetables and several pots on the hob that were dangerously close to boiling over.

"Mum, stop lying. How about I break down the chicken?" He knew his mum didn't really like cutting the chicken. As she grew older, it just got harder and harder for her to break the bones and separate the breast from the thighs. He grabbed a knife and a chopping board from their respective drawers before she could even answer.

"Oh well, if you don't mind." His mum shrugged before turning round to face him and quickly rattling off a series of instructions. "Make sure you get as much meat of the bones as possible, I won't stand to see it wasted. But keep the bones in the thighs, you know it's your father's favourite bit. Oh, and don't throw away the wish bone. We can break it after dinner. Then I need the breast diced and adding to the pot at the back. The dark meat is going in a new pot. Everything else can get turned into stock. Oh, and be careful! Don't cut yourself!"

James huffed out a laugh, "I'm 26, I think I'll be fine."

"Oh, you never know. They're pesky little things, let me know if you need any help." James turned around to face the chopping board before rolling his eyes. Yes, he was 26, a full grown adult who was no longer living with his parents, but he would not be caught rolling his eyes at his mother. It was a death sentence.

"Will do. Anyways, how've you been?" James asked, unwrapping the first chicken.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old." His mum always said this right before delving into some local drama that was in fact not 'same old, same old'. "Your dad has been driving me mad asking what shade of red roses I want in the garden. And I just quite frankly, do not care. They will look lovely no matter what. Oh, but did I tell you about what happened with the Wilson's?" Here we go.

"No, I don't think you did. Are they the ones with the ginger cat?" James swears that cat should've died years ago. He remembers it from when he was a child. Remembers the way it would try and bite at his ankles any time he walked past.

"Yes, wretched thing. Anyways, apparently Richard tried to murder Margaret last week."

"What?!" James exclaimed, turning around to face his mum. She didn't move.

"Yeah, Judith got a call from him on, when was it, Tuesday I think. Or maybe Wednesday. And she came round and told me straight away. Apparently, Richard had gotten himself in a panic over the online banking as Margaret doesn't know any of the passwords and he tried to smother her with a pillow. The police came round and had to take both mine and your father's statements, even though your dad knew nothing of what was going on. They took him straight to a special care home and are talking about court dates. Bless them though, you never would have guessed it would you."

"No, I suppose not. He always seemed pretty decent. Always gave me the football back after I kicked it in their garden."

"Exactly, and that's what I said to the police. Never would think of him to even hurt a fly. I mean the amount of eggs I have borrowed from him, you'd think he'd want me dead. But no, he always said yes as long as I brought him round a slice of cake I baked, and you know I always did." James let his mother's voice carry him into a slower motion, letting his shoulders drop and jaw relax more than it had in the past week. Something about the smell of his parent's fabric softener and the spices slowly cooking drifted him into a dream like state. One where his own bones grew warm and his skin infinitely softer. He wished he could bottle this feeling and get drunk on it every night.

"James!" His mother yelled, smashing his peace into a thousand splintering pieces.

"What? What's happened?" He span around, eyes trailing over everything trying desperately to spot the danger.

"Nothing." He let out a sigh. "I was asking how you're week had been?"

"Oh, yeah it's been fine. Busy though. I've been working with this little girl, about 7, helping her walk again. She's making really good progress, but she's absolutely terrified. She had this pin through her foot diagonally, and her mum says she accidentally put her foot down quite a bit when she still had it in. Didn't hurt her much, but must've been a weird, uncomfortable sensation. I mean I got the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. But yeah, it's been really nice seeing her get excited about walking again. Beats having to convince all the 17 year old lads that they won't actually be 'just fine' if they play for their club on Saturday." It's not like he had favourites, but it was easy to say that those who would greet him with a hug and tell him all about their teddies made his day just that bit brighter. James truly loved his job, he had to. If he didn't love it, he wouldn't be able to do it. He never intended to be a paediatric physiotherapist, he always wanted to go into rugby professionally. Ironically, it was Lily who was able to talk him into reconsidering his options, albeit not in the most conventional ways. She had said that he was 'too clever to let his brain get all mangled up, and that he was too much of a good person to let himself pick such a selfish career path filled with egotistical twats'. After a while, he did realise that he wanted to have a secure career and feel like he was making a difference in the world. He couldn't give up sport entirely though. So, during the week, he works for the NHS and in the evenings and at select weekends, he's the physio for the local rugby club. Seeing some of the injuries those players got helped him gain confidence in his decision very quickly.

"That's lovely, darling. Horrible thing for such a young child to go through, but I'm happy she's got the best helping her." His mum winked at him as she said that.

"I mean, it's not as bad as it sounds. She had corrective surgery, but it's meant that she hasn't been able to walk in around 9 months. So I reckon it'll take a while, but she's sweet and her parents are lovely, so I'm happy to spend as long as it takes helping."

"I'm sure that you are, love. You have always been so keen to help others. It is one of your better qualities." His mum grinned at him, suppressing a laugh.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He asked, adding the chicken to each respective pot.

"We both remember how many phone calls I used to get from Minnie?" His mum says Minnie as, to James and Sirius's horror, she'd ended up becoming quite good friends with McGonagall. In fact, they try to meet up every month for tea and a catch up since they've all finished school.

"That's so not fair. I'm an adult now. I've grown up." James drew out the last syllable, quickly defeating his own argument by sounding like a whiny toddler.

"Yes, yes, of course you have, babu." His mum smiled at him again as she continued to tend to the food cooking. "Did you get the invite for Priya's wedding?" Priya was James's cousin on his mum's side. He actually quite liked her when they were growing up. She was only a year older than him so they formed a little alliance along with his other cousins of a similar age.

"Yeah, yeah I did. I think I got it a couple months ago." James had added it to the shrine of wedding invites adorning his fridge. "Yeah, it's at the end of August right?"

"The 31st, yes. Remember, a lot of family that we haven't seen in ages is flying over, so you better be on your best behaviour." His mum fixed him with a firm stare.

"Again, I am 26." He knew this would have little to no effect on his mum's conviction that somehow he'd become the family laughing stock in one singular evening.

"Okay. Still, make sure that you are letting everyone see how happy and successful you are. You know that I only want you to be happy, but my sisters aren't as forward thinking as me so be sure to mention that you are top of your field."

"Well that's a lie." James replied outright, furrowing his brows in confusion whilst laughing to himself. He'd only been in the field for 3 years, so he wasn't sure what his mum was on about.

"You've got the best reviews in your hospital." His mum replied matter-of-factly, as if they were at all comparable.

"Okay, yes, sure. I'll be sure to tell them about my career so that you can have bragging rights." He chuckled as he said this.

"James! Take this seriously!" His mum started waving the spoon she had in her hand in his direction. James was forced to take a step back to save his freshly ironed shirt from being stained.

"Yes, James, take it seriously!" His father added, walking into the kitchen while shaking his finger in a comedic manner. "You know how important it is for your mother to brag to others about our family. You can't let her down by underselling your achievements." His dad had a cheeky smile dancing across his lips showing that he didn't take it seriously either, but Fleamont Potter would never be caught, even in death, not having his wife's back.

"Oh, if you can, be sure to mention that Remus has just opened his own business and that Sirius wrote and directed the christmas nativity!"

"Will do." James and his dad reply in unison.

"Oh, and James? Are you bringing a date?" silver eyes flashed through James's mind, "I only ask because everyone has been asking me if you've met anyone!"

"I wasn't planning on it." James shrugged, trying his best to act nonchalant.

"You might want to rethink that kid. You know how your mother's family can be once they sense a bit of drama." James shuddered a little at the thought of answering a hundred questions about his love life after he'd drank a couple glasses of wine.

"Oh, come off it. My family is not like that. They all just care about James's happiness, that's all. Don't make it out to be something cruel." His mum sniped back. His dad only looked at James again, a long pointed look.

"I'll think about it." James said. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to find a date, if only for a couple weddings.

"Oh! Does that mean you already have someone in mind?" His mum swung her head round so she could look at James. Walking forward to grip his forearms.

"Mum!" He exclaimed, "I just said that I would think about it!" The feeling of fluffy black hair beneath his fingertips shot down his spine.

"Oh! You're blushing! There is someone!" His mum was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"Mum…" James groaned, hanging his head.

"Euphie, leave him alone. If the boy says there's no one, there's no one. We have to believe what he tells us, otherwise we'll go insane." His dad placed a hand on his mum's shoulder and steered her away from James.

"Thanks. I guess?" James smiled at his dad. His dad simply grinned and winked right back. Great, so his dad did not believe what he was saying either, and his mum was clearly already planning his wedding.

Brilliant.

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astroboots · 2 years

Text

SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPES

Summary: Santiago and you make a sextape for Frankie.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) (hints of Frankie)

Content: edging (you know the drill with this bastard by now), peak brat behaviour, overstimulation, voyeurism.

Wordcount: 5.9k words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and Santiago talked you into it.

"Do you want to make a sex tape?"

You blink dumbly at Santiago, mouth agape. Your phone screen is still warm against your thumb from when you clicked the red button to end your call with Frankie not two seconds ago.

Your husband is out of town in Jacksonville, in a shitty hotel room they've set him up with, 10 minutes off base. Poor Frankie had sounded absolutely miserable when you spoke to him on the phone and the idea of sending him something to perk him up, a flirty text to rile him up, maybe a risque photo did cross your mind but a sex tape might be a little bit out of your depth.

You stare up at Santiago. His beautiful full lips, curling into a smile, eyes glinting with that trademark mischief that is the prelude for talking you into doing pretty much anything for him.

It's been that way since you were kids. There's never been one of Santiago's cockamamie plan that he hasn't managed to get you signed onto. Sweet smile and even sweeter talk. Car salesmen have nothing on Santiago.

“Frankie must be feeling lonely by himself in that hotel, we should send him something to make him feel less lonely," he says.

Santiago leans down, until his arms are caging you in, face close until the tip of his nose brushes against your cheeks, and that small contact makes you tingle all over.

“You miss him too right?”

Despite the self-satisfied smirk there, the sentiment is sincere. Still, you've never been one to make things easy for Santiago either.

"Santiago. I'm not Kim Kardashian. Don't be ridiculous."

He tips his head, considering you, and Santiago clearly hears the word that you did not say. You didn't say no. You prevaricated the way you often do when it's not that you don't want to: you like to needle him, for him to plead and ask nicely. For Santiago to pull out the red carpet treatment.

"How pretty do I have to ask?" he says, smiling wider than ever.

That is how you find yourself in your bedroom, not twenty minutes later. Wearing old sweatpants and one of Frankie's softworn T-shirts that you've spilled some soy and Sriracha sauce on earlier at lunch. It is, singlehandedly the worst outfit to memorialize on tape.

You tell Santiago as much, but he just sits you down on the mattress, ignoring that sentiment entirely with a half distracted, “don’t be ridiculous, that horny freak gets off on you wearing his ugly-looking clothes.”

Snorting with laughter, you sit down obediently as instructed because Santiago does make a valid point.

In front of you, Santiago is moving diagonally from the nightstand next to the bed to the footstool by the end of the bed, rearranging the furniture in the bedroom that would be "blocking the view," like he's playing furniture Tetris.

Then he comes back to stand in front of you, practically bouncing at the ball of his heels with excitement. You can feel the eagerness vibrate off of him, as he rolls ups his sleeves to his forearms. Eyes lighting up with that proud accomplished smile of his that makes butterflies swirl in your belly.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asks.

You shake your head amused, as you place your phone in Santiago's hand so that he can use it to record.

His smile drops, and it's like you've thrown a dark curtain over him, the luminous light in his eyes dimming, narrowing at the item in his hand, as if it's offended him, curled in half disgust.

"Phone?"

He says it with such indignity in his voice, it's as if you insulted his late mother by this very act.

"What's wrong with my phone?" you ask.

And boy do you immediately regret ever saying it. It launches Santiago into a game of twenty questions. Because suddenly, he's decided that he's the next Stanley Kubrick of homemade sex video tapes.

"Don’t we have something better?"

"Can't you go get Frankie's Go-Pro camera?"

"Don't you at least have a tripod?"

"How are we gonna get a good angle?"

"Is it okay if I move the reading lamp from the living room here to get better lighting?"

It would be childish to roll your eyes, but Santiago-Maria Luca Hernandez Garcia makes it really fucking hard not to sometimes. For someone who's never been able to properly frame himself in a selfie, he sure is high and mighty about his artistic camera skills all of a sudden. He only capitulates when you counter that a sex tape shot on a Go-Pro is a terrible idea. Nobody wants to watch themselves naked through a wide-angle lens.

This is so quintessential Santiago. He gets an idea into his head and will use every tool in his arsenal to convince you that his idea is a brilliant one. Then, once he has worn you out with his persuasion, and has you (begrudgingly) onboard, he will start bitching about every detail of the itinerary as if this wasn’t his project to begin with. You truly pity the people who had to be on his team for a group project back in school (which was almost always inevitably you).

It's enough to make you regret this whole endeavor before you've ever even started.

As you see him drag the armchair in the corner in front of the foot of the bed, and gingerly prop the phone against a cushion, the ridiculousness of this whole scenario washes over you. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the sheer stupidity that you’ve signed yourself up to.

Santiago fiddles with the phone on the chair, and you see him angling it until he's satisfied that it captures you in frame before he leans back up.

The tiny lens flickers red then green, and the bright light has you flashing hot then cold then hot all over again. Your nerves suddenly a lot shakier than they were just a few seconds ago when you were bantering with the man.

Staring at yourself framed within your phone screen, you feel observed, in a way that shakes your own confidence.

Your heart skips erratically and you remind yourself mentally that, it's fine, it’s just you and Santiago in here. But there's heat prickling your face. Your fingers feel numb, sweating hot and cold at the same time and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your fists into the sheets to get some sort of sensation back into your hands.

“Do you want to stop?”

There’s concern etched on the soft lines of his forehead, one finger already hovering over the stop button. Ready to give you an out, if you didn’t want this.

And it’s not that you don’t want to do this. It's just--

You shake your head. “No… Just--” You let out a stuttering laugh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. They’re shaky.

“You nervous?”

You hadn’t realized until he said it, but yes, you are. You give him a small nod, and he moves towards you, until he's sitting at the end of the bed next to you, and takes both your trembling hands in his, drawing them to his lap, and rubs them like he's trying to kindle a fire with your fingers.

The nerves in you melt, air flowing back into your lungs, and you can feel yourself warm pleasantly out to your fingertips.

"That better cariño?"

His voice is nothing like the teasing arrogance when he had tried to talk you into this in the first place. Nothing like the haughty banter when he had been going off about lighting and camera equipment. It's soft and gentle, a voice that tells you he's going to pick you right up if you stumble.

You nod again, releasing the long breath you've been holding all this time.

“Santiago, this is really stupid.”

He chuckles, a bright little sound that’s entirely too boyish coming from a man nearing the end of his thirties, with pepper and salt scattered over his five o clock shadow. It’s what makes it all the more endearing.

“That’s okay,” he says.

He leans closer to you, until he's mouthing the line of your jaw with his soft kisses. Lips moulding over yours, as he playfully nips at your bottom lip. Then he leans even closer, pushing, until the firm weight of his chest has you flat against the mattress and you're willingly pinned down underneath those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“You make me do real stupid shit too," he tells you.

Your head turns to the side, and you look at the bright lens of your phone staring blankly back at you.

Your face must look pudgy from this angle. Shit, you're not even wearing make up. Did you even properly brush your hair? This is so stupid.

“Don’t think of the camera,” Santiago tells you, pressing a succinct kiss to your lips. “Just focus on me, sweetheart.”

His hand comes to rest on your cheek and he guides you back to his lips, obscuring your line of sight. It's like you have Santiago-blinders on and all you can see is him.

Soft and steady, his hands skim down the sides of your ribs, sliding up the hem of your shirt before his fingertips is brushing up against your bare skin. It tingles, warmth spreading up your spine as Santiago, slowly drags up the fabric up and over the swell of your breasts. Exposing your naked skin to the colder temperature of the room, soothing you with his warm mouth as he presses it up along every inch of skin that is bared to him. Up, up, up, until he pulls the shirt off you completely, until all you're left is in your plain panties, while he is still fully dressed, and he grins down at you.

"Good?" he asks, and you nod back at him as he leans back to pull up his shirt and evens out the playing field for you.

One large hand rests flat against the inside of your thighs, and that helps, the comforting presence of him as he squeezes down firmly with just the right pressure that has tension melting out of you.

Santiago has beautiful hands really. His fingers are long and nimble. In another lifetime, one where his right hand weren't littered with scars left from four different fractures and calluses forged in live gunfire, one could have easily mistaken him for being a classically trained pianist with hands like that. Fingers that playfully flit across your goosebumped skin. Fingers that slide down your hips, along the plump flesh of the inside of your thighs before dipping inside, circling your clit.

You arch and buck into him, keen and writhing. At the first touch of him, he touches just the right note and everything goes blissfully silent in your head. You forget about the camera, forget about any qualms you had.

He goes slow.

Patient, might not be the word to describe Santiago, but he is taking his time. Letting his lips cover, nip and lick down every inch of you as they press downwards from the collar of your neck to the soft slope of your stomach, until you can feel the pleasant scratch of his afternoon stubble graze along the soft skin of your legs.

"Spread your legs for me, cariño," he murmurs as he presses his lips there until you oblige him, and do.

Both his hand comes to rest at your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. Anticipation beats hard beneath your chest.

He's so close to where you need him. Nose practically touching your clit, and you can feel your slick drip down and out of you. Your fingers clutch at the quilts underneath you, waiting, and still there's nothing.

Opening your eyes, you dip down your eyes to Santiago nestled between your legs to see what the hold up is. Then you see it, Santiago, grinning with a sly look into the camera.

"She's so pretty and wet, Frank," he murmurs, as his fingers spread your wet folds wide for himself.

Insufferable brat.

You cant your hips with an impatient scolding whine, "Santiago."

He chuckles, and shifts between your legs, "Sorry cariño, will get right on it. Just got distracted for a bit."

His head leans down again, then all you see is his curls, loose and wild at the top of his head, before you feel his tongue touching down. A long thorough lick that has heat crackling through your veins.

It’s nice and slow, agonizingly so. Different, from what you’re used to. Frankie gets lost in it—in you. Hungry, sloppy and messy in the best of ways. That brilliant, clever brain of his turns off and it’s like the only thing left that he’s able to focus on in this new world of his is to taste you and have you, free of rhyme and reason, acting on instincts alone, guided only by the vibrations of your body and the moans you make.

Santiago is the opposite of that.

His tongue is more deliberate. Like he’s trying to learn every one of your responses and sear them into his memory.

Long and graceful fingers, exploratory, like he's trying to map out every inch of you to make sure that there's no territory that's been missed.

Intentional.

Precise and measured.

Santiago is a man who plans every step ahead. Every touch, every whisper, every tantalizing lick. It's in the way he keeps his hands steady underneath your back when your legs start to strain from pushing up towards his mouth. The way he was wearing your favorite red shirt that sits just a little bit too tight on his chest. The way he knew exactly where to drag your armchair to ensure that the angle of the camera would be right.

And as you think it, you realize that even though he brought up the sex tape as an innocent spur-of-the-moment suggestion, the bastard's thought of this way before Frankie had called to check in today.

Fuck, he's played you.

His tongue curls against your clit, flicking up and white sizzling heat spears through your stomach. You gasp, mind wiped clean of thoughts as your fingers curl into his hair.

Fuck, fuck, what were you thinking?

You’re a twitching, aching mess for him. Thighs pressed tight to his ears, as you can feel the tingling heat that starts from your core that spreads outwards and surrounds you in a devastatingly familiar way.

His tongue is a languid, slick slide against your clit. Fingers gracefully coaxing you until you're right where he wants you to be— that pinpoint edge of a slow burning ache that spreads across the entire base of your spine until your legs start to shake in that tell-tale sign of your orgasm.

“Fuck— Santiago, I’m—” you warn, but you can’t even make out complete words to finish your sentence, just indignant whines and sobs that should be shameful but you’re too far gone to care.

Because you’re almost there, so close you can feel it from the tingling sensation that reaches all the way from the very tip of your ears to the curl of your toes—how close you are to coming on that man’s tongue, and then— then— he stops.

He does not let you come.

It takes you a second, maybe two, for your brain to even fully register what has taken place. You rise up on your elbows, to stare down between your legs, where Santiago framed between your thighs, gazing back up at you. Lips curved upwards with amused mischief. Not a grin, no—that bastard is smiling at you, warm and sweet like he hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“What are you—” you start.

“Not much of a sex tape if we don’t put on a show, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to protest, to give him the tongue lashing of his fucking life. But his fingers curl inside you, brushing against something devastatingly good. Your head drops back against the pillow with a thud, back arching away from your mattress and into his fingers, trying to have more of him, as he is rubbing against that deep spot that is blinding.

White, blistering heat spears through you that have you forgetting all about your indignant anger, have you forgetting what he did and fuck—makes you forget about your own fucking name for a second.

“Fuck, that’s such a pretty sound,” he says, voice feverish and rasped, “You think you can do that for me again?”

You groan impatiently, and Santiago's still smiling up at you, deep dimples burrowing into his cheek. It doesn’t matter that there are greys that are starting to skirt around his temples, or that wrinkles are crinkling in the corner of his eyes. He lights up boyishly, and all at once, you realize that —fuck, it’s embarrassing how much you’re a complete goner for this man.

The things you let him talk you into; the things you let him get away with. The things he’s doing to you right now: clever fingers rubbing-curling-pressing at that perfect place inside of you as he lowers his mouth to you again, his heated gaze never leaving yours.

The tingling heat is back, resuming its outward spread along your trembling limbs. A delicious pressure that builds and builds, more oppressive than last time under Santiago's skilled tongue and even more skillful fingers until you can’t think at all. Until all you can do is to rock your hips up against the heat of his mouth, gasping out his name. You reach out for him, your fingers sliding into his hair of their own volition to tangle and tug him even closer, pressing his face to your aching center.

Santiago doesn’t seem to mind at all. He just huffs out a sound that’s a half laugh, half groan and keeps kissing and pressing and teasing with that very same planned precision that is leading you ever closer to the edge of orgasm.

And then --of course-- he stops again.

An inhuman-sounding noise fills the walls. It takes you a moment before you register, it's coming from you.

"Shh, shh" he hushes, "it's ok sweetheart, you're okay."

Which is utter bullshit, your legs are trembling against the mattress, sweat dripping down your collarbone and you can't feel your toes. You're anything but okay.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You know that?” Santiago says.

"I hate you."

He's laughing again, no scratch that, giggling, that bright boyish sound that has a kaleidoscope of butterflies skittering in your stomach even though you're mad enough to kill him.

"No you don't," he rebuts confidently, as he presses his palm flat against your stomach. "You don't hate me, because I'm making you feel good, aren't I sweetheart? Why don't you tell Frankie how good you feel,” he murmurs, and then you feel his tongue press a slow lick inside you.

You don't get a word out, just a high-pitched breathless sound, as you spread your legs wider for him, as if the events from seconds ago had been erased from your mind by the pleasure that floods over you. Letting bygones be bygones, so long as his tongue never stopped. Sweet little circles, his thumb rubs into your hipbone as he gets you closer and closer to where you want to go. He leads you there, with his tongue and fingers, the soft curls bouncing on his forehead tickling against your stomach, until your orgasm is so close you can touch it with your fingertips.

So close you can see it, specks of white behind your eyelids, as you are whimpering out his name.

Then he stops.

He leaves you there suspended. Toeing the edge of a drop, right before a jump, and doesn’t let you go.

You want to scream. You're so close, your body is doing the screaming for you. Thighs aching and burning, tears stinging behind your eyes.

“Nonooo, fuck, Santiago, don’t sto—”

“Ask me nicely, Cariño.” Santiago's mouth is still pressed against your slick core, and you can feel the warm breath of his words against your folds as he says it. It makes you shiver at the sensation. “Ask me nicely, and I'll let you come. I promise.”

You open your eyes, with a sob, as you look down at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes, expecting his usual grin and bravado. Except it's not there, replaced by an intent that burns through your stomach, staring back at you in challenge: Beg.

You won’t, and it’s not just because if you gave in the man’s ego would be large enough to develop its own gravitational pull until it collapsed the very sun itself with it.

It's because you can't let him win.

The two of you have always had this strange competitive relationship. When he pushes you have to pull him back. Because if you give Santiago an inch he gets ahead of himself and will try to take a whole continent. You have to reel him back, and in the end if you’re lucky, he only goes for a mile. Still close enough that he’s not out of your sight. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s why the two of you work.

So of course you can’t beg. That’s just fucking ridiculous, to roll over and present your belly in defeat, to give in to this beautiful bastard is unthinkable to you.

You don’t beg, biting down your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself in your weakest moments when his tongue melts you. Don't beg when his fingers undoes you, unwinding the knot of heat that is blossoming in the depth of your belly, warm and achingly sweet.

You feel drunk on sensation, overstimulated by Santiago's tongue and mouth, as he latches his mouth on your clit again. You're not so sure about anything anymore. Don't know how long you've been here, how long he's done this, brought you to the precipice only to stop and start all over again.

It must be the fourth? Fifth time? Of having been led so close to your release with his tongue, only for him to slow down his strokes. To have his infuriating mouth, move away, and leave a trail of wet, soft kisses against the line of your inner thighs instead. To have him waiting until he knows you’ve climbed down from the very edge of a peak he’s held your hand and led you up to. After all of that, everything becomes a bit foggy and hazy.

It's not that you forfeit as such, you just can't remember doing it — can't remember asking him. But somewhere along the line, you let out a shaky, “ple-please” punctuated with a hiccuping sob.

He smiles.

“There we go. That’s all I wanted. All you needed to do is ask, sweetheart."

There’s an insufferable grin this time as you look down between your thighs. That diamond-cut jawline, belonging to the golden era of Hollywood is now glistening with your slick. He licks his lips like he’s tasting the remnants of something sweet and appetizing that he doesn’t want to go to waste.

After that first defeat, it gets easier. You can’t believe how easy it is as you start pleading and begging. Can barely believe that’s what you’re doing even as you hear your own voice all wanton and needy doing exactly that.

Santiago raises himself to kneel over your spread legs. His fingers are wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking himself languidly as he looks down on you.

"Frankie's right, you really are such a good girl, sweetheart. Look at you beg all sweet and nicely. Should I reward you?"

Your eyes are so dazed you’re unable to focus—everything’s a blur. You wonder what you must look like right now. How debauched of an image you must make for the camera— for your husband. Legs spread, slick and dripping, head thrown back, mouth slack and open.

“Please just— Fuck, Santiago, please. Please, I need to come.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your thighs, warm and sturdy as he draws them up and spreads them.

For all the frustration you should feel at him for taking things this far. For being such an absolute little shit, all you can feel as he pulls you further down the bed until your legs are locked around his waist (right where you two belong), is warmth and relief.

Santiago leans down until his forehead is pressed against yours, grounding you. The contrast between what he’s done— teased and edged, unwound you until you’ve lost any sense of time or thread of your surroundings; and what he’s doing to you right now in this moment—mouthing loving praises against every inch of your skin he can reach with the gentlest care— it tears you apart.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he tells you, his warm hands resting on your inner thigh as he spreads it further apart and crawls up your body to settle between them. “So perfect. Always are.”

Your eyes are drawn to his cock, how it’s proudly jutting between his legs as he strokes it, flushed and dripping with precome from the lack of touch and neglect.

It's only then it hits you, how Santiago has been neglecting his own pleasure throughout. Only focusing on giving you yours.

It’s ridiculous really, how your heartbeat quickens when he’s pressed up against your slick cunt, how needy you are when you feel the blunt hardness of him.

His hands wrap around the thick girth, and then he pushes inside you with his cock.

Fuck you might almost come from that first blissful stroke alone. He nudges insistently against something ruinous inside you that makes your vision whiten. You can't even make any noises, because all the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs. God, why didn’t you beg sooner if this was the prize he was willing to give you.

Santiago's moaning too. Low and gravelly and it’s such a beautiful sound that makes your chest draw tight. Then he rocks his hips into you, a deep and impatient thrust, not holding back. You drown in it. The lack of restraint and how he’s finally giving you what you’ve wanted for so long.

He's close. You grip onto his curls, tightly until it must sting. Just the way you know he likes it from all the time you’ve seen how fast it makes him come when Frankie does it to him, and Santiago groans, hips stuttering into you.

You’re so fucking close, and you tell him exactly that. Confesses it between gasps and heaving sobs. All you want is for him to fuck you harder and deeper, to make you come.

"Please, Santiago, please just—."

The molten heat blossoms and spreads from the base of your spine, upwards, and you're almost there. So full with the sensation that you think you’re going to burst out of yourself along the seams of your skin. You’re close, so close. Heat crackling along every inch of you and—

And then Santiago fucking pulls out.

You must be screaming at him. Want to claw and dig into the man’s curly hair and tear it out by the roots. Curse him to the depths of fucking hell while you’re at it.

But Santiago pulls you up until you're kneeling upright by the edge of the bed. He's murmuring sweet apologies into your ear as he mouths and kisses your neck.

For all the physical anger in you, your body is not pairing up with your brain, because the touch of him lingers with a pleasant tingle. You keen through sobs even as you’re uttering every curse that’s left in your presently limited vocabulary.

His arms wrap tightly around your front, shushing you and it almost sounds sincere if you didn’t know him as well as you do. "Not teasing, cariño, promise."

You don’t buy that, don't buy that for shit. But it doesn't matter if you do or don't, Santiago's hands are already moving to your hips, lining himself up from behind you, his front pressed up against your back.

"I just want Frankie to see you when you come," he murmurs into your ear. His fingers curl gently over the edge of your jaw, turning it so you’re facing straight away from him. “See that?”

Your vision is blurred and it takes you several moments before you’re able to blink and focus on the scene ahead of you. Your phone that’s pointed accusingly at your naked body.

Exhausted, limbs weak to your side like a spent rag doll, with only Santiago propping you up from where your back is pressed against his firm chest.

"I want you to think about it, cariño,” his warm lips are pressed to your ear, a low raspy caress in your core. “Think about Frankie watching this where he is.”

You whimper. Images of Frankie with his large hands and thick fingers, wrapped around his cock burning vividly behind your closed eyes.

You feel the length of Santiago drag against your folds, gathering the wetness that's just dripping onto his cock.

“Think about how he’ll be touching himself in that hotel room. About him watching this and seeing my cock stretch out this perfect pussy."

Then he's pressing inside you again. His palms slide from your breast to your stomach, the rough callouses catching against your heated skin, down and lower. Until you feel his fingers skate across your navel. There's a tingling sensation there until his hands come to the front, cupping your pussy, his fingers gliding over your wet slick clit, over and over. The entirety of your spine burns.

The inevitable steady climb of your orgasm builds and builds and builds after having been denied so many times.

You want it, thighs burning and everything in you aches with the need of it. If you don’t get to come this time you think you might very well die from it.

"Santiago, I swear to god, don't-stop-don't-fucking-stop."

It’s meant as a threat. But the words passing between your lips are breathless and needy. Whiny. Beyond any reasonable doubt it falls squarely on the scale of begging. The worst part is, you don't even care anymore. Because if whining and begging is what it takes for him to actually let you come, you’ll whine for him. You’ll beg and plead and do whatever it is he wants you to do.

Your pride was scattered somewhere between the third or fourth or maybe even fifth time he could have made you come but didn’t.

The sharp line of his nose digs into your heated cheek. Arms locked impossibly tight around you, pressing every inch of you to him, and still, it feels like he’s clutching on trying to press you even closer to him. Like he’s worried that you’ll slip between his fingers if there’s any gap of space between you.

"Not gonna stop cariño.”

His voice has no right to be that sweet and gentle. You can see his expression on the small screen on the phone mirrored back to you and he has no right to look strained and tortured as if he’s the one in pain. He did this to you.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says, and his voice is so quiet and gentle, it almost sounds like a plea. Like he’s the one asking for your permission, begging you to let him feel you. Like the last hour (or was it hours, god knows) had not taken place because of him. “Let's come together ok?"

His other hand comes to your hip, pulling you in closer to him. His hips snaps hard into you. It's so much, almost too much and his fingers are still circling your clit, and– and fuuuuuuuck.

It hits you all at once. Deep and sudden and everywhere, your orgasm overwhelms you, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't move. Sound disappears altogether, and the last thing you think you hear is Santiago's strained voice, distant and far away. You're only able to make out your husband's name and yours amongst the rest of the nonsensical words he's speaking.

The only thing you're capable of is letting Santiago fuck into you, until you can feel his hips stutter into a jerky pace, and the way his cock twitches inside of you as he comes with a strangled groan.

Santiago is snoring quietly when you wake with your ear pressed against his chest. The afternoon sun has dimmed now, replaced by a softer amber that washes the white walls in its sunset hues.

Raising yourself by your elbows, you cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, shit, 5pm, how did you sleep away half the day.

Santiago is how.

"Shit, did we fall asleep?" a raspy murmur comes to your side.

He's rubbing the sleep from his eyes, eyes squinting adorably as he sits himself up and surveys the room and spots the clock much like you did.

"Jesus, five? how did we even--" he grumbles a bit, fingers threading through his hair to try to detangle the absolute mess you've left it in, as he starts to wake.

"Oh, oh shit shit!" he curses and launches himself to the foot of the bed.

You watch him in surprise, as you see him grab the phone.

"Oh thank god," Santiago sighs out and his shoulders sag with relief. He turns back towards you, holding up the phone.

"Left it on when we passed out, thought the battery died and the video didn't save. Fortunately, it's fine, will just have to trim it down so Frankie doesn't have to watch us snoring for hours."

The image of it, Frankie sitting in his hotel, trying to get his rocks off, and instead being greeted by three hour footage of Santiago snoring, has you snorting with a grunt-like laugh.

In front of you, Santiago tilts his head as he just looks at you, with a dopey smile on his face.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he says, but the smile, sweet and warmer than the sunset blankets over you and you let it settle over you, without any further quip or remarks for once.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" Santiago asks you.

Your tongue salivates at the prospect, images of grilled meats and deep fried spring rolls already flashing before your eyes.

"Oh yes! Can we go to Chinos?"

Santiago smile slips away into a scowl. "Didn't that place get shut down for health violations last month?"

"Yeah, but they reopened this week."

"We're going to end up with food poisoning like that time we went there the night before graduation."

You tip your head, considering him, and you can clearly hear the word that he didn't say. He didn't say no.

Your lips curl into the sweetest smile you can muster as you flutter your eyelashes at him. "How pretty do I have to ask?"

Santiago shakes his head, until he flashes you a toothy smile that crinkles his eyes.

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and you may have talked Santiago into it.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

A/N: I started this piece well over 1 1/2 years ago and it was actually supposed to be the follow up to Coming Home but I got completely stuck at how to write edging scenes, and didn't feel confident enough at the time to finish it. I came back to it this week, realizing that ironically now this is all I write for Santiago, and finished it within an afternoon, and was just so buzzed and happy about it, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier #santiago garcia #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #homecoming #cici writes

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