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stvrnzcherries · 28 days

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WHEELS ON THE BUS

m. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: You and Matt have always been best friends, you never felt something else but an incident while you both were in a road trip together might change that.

warnings: soft dom!matt, smut, pet names, use of y/n, foreplay, p in v, degrading kink, sort of breeding kink, edging, bulging, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't).

a/n: After MONTHS of being a lazy ass and also after a TIGHTT week of anxiety, I’m back and better than ever 🤍 expect more coming soon, I appreciate y’all.

Based on this request!

not proofread!

౨ৎ

The cold breeze tingled Matt’s skin, sending shivers down his spine as he kept piling up everyone’s bags inside the car truck, the blue hour of the sky created this dark yet comforting panoramic view of it.

A voice in the distance caught his attention “Wait up!” You taunt, running down to your best friend as a heavy bag carried behind you. You agreed a few days ago to go on this trip with Matt and his family since he was practically begging you to spend an entire week with him; even though he knew you hated the beach, you hated feeling sticky or feeling a singular drop of sweat on your skin, being in heated places was a thing that always drove you to the edge and you would get in a bad mood the whole day because of it.

It was just too excruciating, but you accepted just because your best friend didn't want to spend an entire week without you yet he liked seeing you suffer since he had always known your hatred towards the beach.

“Here ya go,” You said as you lifted the bag with all the strength you had and handed it to Matt, he just looked at you, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he placed your bag on the last spot in the trunk. “You excited?” Matt asked, closing the trunk before his eyes returned to bore into yours waiting for an answer, “If you mean I'm excited about torturing myself an entire week on the beach, then yeah.” You replied sarcastically gaining a chuckle from him, “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He said, patting your head gently.

“I highly doubt that being in the hottest weather ever is fun, Matthew.” You said, sticking your tongue out, he just chuckled and messed your hair a bit, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek as he pinched it delicately, “Thank you for coming either way.” He smiled gently and you returned it.

The eye contact lasted for a few seconds before the lousy voice of Chris caught each other’s attention, you both turned around to see him walking towards you “Time to hit the road!” He says with a big smile as he places his arm around you, he looks at Matt and then at me, “Are you guys ready?” He asked to which you replied with, “Heck yeah! Let’s hit the road!” A bright smile smeared your face as you, Matt, and Chris made your way to the backseats.

When Chris stopped taking hold of you to go to the other side of the car you were left with Matt inside the car and his face giving slight concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask furrowing your brows slightly.

That is when you realize what it was, the backseat had no space left for you, and neither Matt nor you knew what to do, “Fuck.” He muttered to himself looking back to where his brothers were situated and back to you with an awkward face.

Matt thinks for a second before parting his lips to let out the sentence, “You could sit on my lap.” His palm softly patted his lap as he looked at you with a sly smile.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, the awkwardness getting the best of you as you got into the car and carefully down your weight on your best friend’s lap. To which he just placed his hands around your waist and gently sat you down on his lap. “Relax, you’re not heavy at all.” He whispers in your ear as the car door closes.

You looked back at him and smiled shyly, trying to hide the fact that he was caressing the sides of your hips with his thumbs.

The first two hours of the road were completely normal, you and the triplets had a karaoke session for half an hour, and the rest was to talk about what you guys wanted to do as soon as you arrived and enjoy some snacks. But now you guys were only an hour away from the beach house that the triplet's parents rented.

Nick and Chris had fallen asleep for a few minutes and you could also feel your eyes heaving from the energy you wasted the first two hours throughout the way, also the fact that you didn’t sleep that well last night. Matt on the other hand was with his headphones on the minute Chris and Nick closed their eyes.

You patted Matt’s lap to get his attention, you looked back at him as soon as you did that he took his headphones off “You okay? Need something?” He asked with slight concern.

“No, I’m fine, I was just wondering if I could get comfortable so I can sleep while we get there.” You said with a little smile plastered on your face as he nodded.

Matt spread his legs slightly so you could have more space to get as comfortable as possible, you rocked your hips a little to the sides so your lower back could be resting on Matt’s chest level or closer to it, and you rested your head on his shoulder as he put his headphones back on.

Your eyes closed so easily, and your mind drifted to your dreams so swiftly that you couldn’t even imagine.

Thirty minutes left inside the car, you were still in the embrace of Matt’s arms, your position shifting once in a while.

And how clueless of Matt for not thinking how touch-deprived he is, every time you switched your position while your slept you would move your hips or straddle his lap, making his dick twitch against his pants.

His breathing getting heavier, and his body was shaking trying to contain the pure excitement that just the smallest friction could do to him. He felt so guilty for his body reacting and finding pleasure in something meaningless; something completely common and normal.

He closed his eyes, trying to contain these feelings towards you, towards your body to stop the erection that he sooner or later would have to fix all by himself.

And also wish he could arrive as fast as he could to the fucking beach house.

After what seemed like a good twenty minutes of sleep, you finally opened your eyes carefully, trying not to get blinded by the rays of sun that were passing through the window, the change of scenery makes your stomach flutter with joy as you see the ocean peek through the reliefs of the street.

You turned your head to peek at your best friend who seemed to be sleeping, his dark circles showing off a little bit more with this new change of lighting that the car has. You smiled to yourself as you saw your best friend opening his eyes quickly when he felt your gaze on him. “Did you get to sleep for a bit?” You asked, your throat was dry and raspy, nonetheless, a good cup of water could fix it as soon as you guys arrived at the beach house you were staying in.

Matt nodded, his eyes looking away from yours as he changed his position a little, making your weight lift a little, a small poking sensation in your inner thigh as he did this action. Something felt off in your surface.

You looked down, scanning Matt’s lap to check if he had something in his pockets that could make this sudden change in position make you slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyes widened as you took a glance of what was the strange object poking your inner thigh, it wasn’t just an object it was more of a certain body part. You looked away in shame, forcing yourself to stare at the blankly looking headrest in front of you, your stomach feeling fluttered as you tried to stop thinking about what you just witnessed.

The beach house was beautiful outside, it was a two-story victorian summer house, with a small front porch with two wooden chairs and a tiny round wooden coffee table, the breeze hugging your skin nicely, everything seemed to be perfect, the weather in Long Island was just the perfect balance of not too warm and not too cold, it definitely felt like the summer vibes were there.

As you entered the house, your eyes were amazed by the interior, the walls were covered in this beautiful blueish floral wallpaper, the couches looked like they some sort of English sofas, and a small chimney facing a large path to the back porch of the house, the stairs that lead to the way to the different rooms where you would be staying in for the next week.

Matt steps beside you, glancing around the place, “Wanna share a room?” He asked nonchalantly as he looked at you, taking in all of your factions, you looked back at him “I thought you and Chris agreed on sharing the same room, though?” You retorted.

Matt brushed the strands of hair blocking his view, “Yeah, I thought so too until he decided that he now wants to share a room with Nick.” He sighed, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and shower and then take a nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

You nodded “Alright, I’ll catch you later.” You replied, giving a sly smile to him as he walked upstairs and disappeared out of your sight. Things have gotten awkward since you discovered the hard-rock erection he had back in the entirety of the ride. You didn’t say a word but interacting with him or even just looking at Matt made you nervous somehow.

Your mind kept racing with the thought of seeing his body react that way to you, does this mean he feels turned on by you? Should you do something about it?

A few minutes had passed and you explored the rest of the house already, you carried your bag in your left hand as you went upstairs, a room door slightly opened and a dim light reflected on the inside of it. You pushed the door gently, and the first thing you heard was the shower running down, Matt’s bag half-opened in the bed, you tossed yours to the other side, sitting down beside it, your head had a pounding headache that you couldn’t make it stop.

Scanning the room, you see the bathroom door halfway opened, the fog from the steaming water escaping through it, you could see Matt, his silhouette revealing the way his forehead was resting on the tiled wall of the shower, the water running down his back and cascading through his hair, his hands rubbing his face exhaustingly as he sighed in pure relief.

The way his muscles flexed each time he brushed his hair back was enough to make you soaking wet in your panties. You stood up, your steps closer and carefully just to get a better view of his silhouette.

You were there, your hand opening the door more, the squeaking sound blowing your cover because Matt looked right at you in the eye, the eye contact holding on for what seemed like an eternity. You shut the door and ran down to sit back on the bed.

Would it be worth it to risk it all?

Dawn arrives, you've been playing with Nick and Chris UNO matches for what seems like an hour now on the back porch of the residence, every match Nick either complained or Chris would make a mess and you guys would have to play all over again, that was until Nick threw a tantrum over him and they both went to their separate ways inside the house.

You were lying now on the couch of the living room, bored filling your senses, your phone not even making an effort to entertain you at all. You heard steps coming from the staircase, as you looked up you saw Matt, his hair was still a little wet and he looked like a brand new person in comparison to how he looked a couple of hours ago. “Hey, I’m going to drive around town, I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

You stood up from the couch, “Sure! I was getting bored, so.” You both walked towards the front door, Matt opening it for you.

The town was almost like a sort of ghost town, with a few people walking down the sidewalk, and making their way to Amangasett beach. The lamp posts illuminated around with a tenuous yellowish light, the night sky revealing a pale moonlight. “Wanna go for a swim?” Matt’s voice takes you out of your trance.

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” You replied with a small smile as you moved to his seat and gave him a side hug, to which he just chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

Matt parked the car in an almost empty zone at the beach, the place seemed clear of big crowds, just a few couples sitting by the edge of the ocean but no one else. As you got out of the car you took off your shirt and shorts quickly, running down to the ocean as Matt followed your pace, the both of you giggling.

Your body trembled when your toes grazed lightly on the water, the adrenaline and tingling sensation making your heart flutter anxiously, you kept sinking your body until half of your abdomen was fully covered by the ocean, you looked at the moon taking in the sight of it until you felt cold fingertips touch your lower back. “I’m glad you came with us,” Matt said, his voice sounding so distant yet it had a hint of something else you couldn't fully recognize.

He spins you around by grabbing your waist, your eyes meeting his as he pulls you closer, your breaths mixing with each other’s as he takes the sight of your face, his hands still positioned on your lower back. His eyes shone brighter than ever before. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” You looked for a split second at Matt’s lips, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips before parting them.

“Yeah, friends…” He breathed out, his words laced with that unknown feeling you can’t recognize, his eyes giving a glint of lust as he looked at your lips.

Your mind drifts to the moment you both are in the car, his hard rock erection making you question whether it’s worth it to risk the friendship or pretend like it was a little accident, even though it wasn't little at all.

Or the shower incident, nothing of what happened today was by accident, there was not even a chance that it was.

Your attention gets drawn by his breath getting closer to your ear, his voice carefully whispering his words “What you thinking ‘bout?”

You licked your lips, your voice trembling and your words slipping out of your mouth sloppily “Nothing…w-why?” your lips pressing together as his breath reached down your jawline, his lips grazing the fine line of it teasingly, a low dark chuckle getting out of his mouth when he saw you shiver by the smallest contact.

“Remembering what you saw in the bathroom, hm?” His lips pressed tentatively, traveling from your jawline to your neck, you titled your head to the side to grant him more access, his hand sneaking down to grab your throat delicately as he kept abusing your sweet spots. His other hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about…” You breathed out, breathless whimpers coming out of your mouth as Matt kept doing his attack all over your throat, leaving hickeys and wet kisses all over. He hums, Matt’s vibrant voice coursing through your body “Really? How funny, considering you even tried to be sneaky about it.” He says as he returns to kissing your jawline, then your chin, and then he gets to your lips, tempting you to make the move, his teeth biting your lower lip gently.

“Don’t act so innocent now, you were sneaky about your little accident back in the car too.” Your words shut out with such confidence, you looked at him, your eyes piercing his as you took in his reaction of pure shock; his lips parted and that was the chance you decided to get to kiss him. The both of you synchronized perfectly as if your lips were meant to be for his.

Your hands went directly to his chest, your fingertips doing small circles around his collarbone as he pulled you closer by your waist. Your noses were touching at this point and the kiss got more intense, the both of you roaming your hands all over each other’s bodies.

You were now lying down on the backseat of the car, your hand gripping Matt’s hand as he sucked your right nipple, his other hand playing with the left one, your back arched off the seat and your legs were wide open, fully unclothed now in the secluded space that he decided to take you to. Your eyes closed as you let the overwhelming pleasure take control of your body, his tongue swirling around your nipple, your breathless whimpers making Matt get harder beneath you with each passing second.

His kisses trailed to your belly, kissing it intently “I’m going to stuff this beautiful body of yours with my babies” A dark glint on his eyes as he ascended back to your face to kiss you. His hand traveled down to where your folds were, his fingertips adding pressure as he moved them in circles, causing you to gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure you were experiencing. Your hands flew to Matt’s biceps, your nails burying deep inside his skin as he kept getting you all worked up.

His lips rushed to kiss yours, this time more desperate and sloppier than ever as he kept adding more pressure on your sensitive nub, your moans getting louder as the knot in your stomach gets stronger. “m’ god” You babbled between kisses, your eyes closed as you take in all of the ecstasy.

“So close…” You breathed out, the knot snapping any second.

Then suddenly, the feeling stopped, completely gone.

You opened your eyes, Matt’s looking at you with a devious expression as he untied the lace from his shorts, the bulge of his dick very visible even though you are in an almost dark place. “What?” He asked, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle as he spoke, “Wanted to finish?” You nodded, the desperation clear.

“Why would I let you finish if we haven’t even started? Hm?” He crawled back to be face to face with you, you felt his tip grazing your folds unintentionally, “Spread those legs wider for me, m’kay?” He said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

The desperation and adrenaline fuels your body, your legs spread wider enough to give him space between you, he positioned his tip in your entrance, edging you out even more until you had to practically beg to him. “Matt, please—“ you huff out at the undying desperation that your body was craving.

“Aw, look who’s getting frustrated now…” He coos, his left hand pumping his dick slightly before he slammed into you without warning, his movements frantic and hard, your head hitting the door slightly each time he pounded back inside you.

Your hands flew back to his biceps, gripping onto them for dear life as erratic moans emitted out of your mouth, his pace was nowhere close to being steady, it was sloppier as if he was already on the verge of getting on his own high too.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly, making you salivate due to the incredible amount of intoxicating pleasure you were given in twenty minutes. Your mind felt fuzzy, this kind of pleasure was something that you’d stopped experiencing a long ago, your eyes crossing and shutting as you felt that sweet sensation of being closer, Matt abusing that spot deep inside you over and over again.

You couldn't even remember the last time sex felt this good, and never in a million years, you would’ve thought that your best friend would be the one to achieve that with you. Your thoughts stopped as soon as you felt his thumb on your tongue, indicating for you to suck it which you didn’t hesitate to be asked twice.

Your tongue swirled all over his thumb like a lollipop, getting it all wet as you felt the grunts and whines from Matt, the grip his other hand had on your hip getting tighter within two minutes. His pace not slowing down but getting ten times faster than it already was, the car shaking and your hands gripping the door to hold onto dear life.

Pornographic moans emitted out of your mouth as you felt that tight knot forming once again and getting closer and closer to snapping ferociously, your hand gripping tightly onto the seat as your eyes closed.

Matt’s placed his hand to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. “All that teasing to get dumb fucked by me?” He said, his voice losing power from time to time.

snap.

Your juices spurt all over the seat and coated Matt’s dick in a thin, sheer coat of hot cum. Moans emitted out of your mouth as your grip on the headrests of the car loosened up due to the lack of strength that your body was capable of holding up. Your legs are all wobbly and your muscles are sore from all the containment that they did.

At this point your mind was fuzzy, too dumb fucked to acknowledge that the well-known knot snapped already, your body too weak to keep upholding Matt’s pace as he kept pumping in and out constantly.

Not too long after, Matt came to his release too. Your juices and his combined deep inside you, he pulled out of you as he admired the conjoined trail of juices coating his shaft. His left hand immediately went deep inside you, making sure his hot seed was ‘secured’. He pulled his fingers out, a popping sound as he did so, and cleaned them off easily, admiring the rest of your body, a gleam on his eyes reflecting the lustful expression of being satisfied enough.

He pulled you close to his body, sitting you straight up as you both recovered, Matt trailing kisses all over your face and repeatedly saying “M’ love you” as he caressed your hair with ease.

Both of your chests were going up and down irregularly, trying to stabilize each other’s breathing back to normality.

Matt’s eyes shifted around the car, taking a look at the foggy windows, a sly smile smearing all over his face as he traced with one of his fingers the foggy window in front of both of you, tracing the words.

‘We just fucked :)’

You finished reading what he traced on the window and chuckled weakly as Matt looked proudly at his ‘work of art’.

౨ৎ

a/n: tysm for 600 followers, wtf I can’t believe we’re already 600 (Nick fic coming real soon as a 600 followers special). It’s funny how I can easily write shit about Chris or Nick but when it comes to Matt, this mf is the hardest person to ever write off 😭 love y’all

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi

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sunshine-and-kookies · 4 months

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UNHINGED (m)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Summary-> The corporate recession has your company grovelling for funds.

As the relegated chief operating officer, you have to bear the brunt of seeking out an enterprising and successful shareholder who can revive your company for posterity.

As a sorry state of affairs, you're compelled to enlist the CEO of Jeon Enterprise for his help. However, The question remains.

Just how much convincing are you willing to do?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Part: 1 of 2

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Pairing: Yandere Jeongguk x Female Reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Yandere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Warnings for both parts: Power Imbalance, Blackmailing, Manipulation, inebriation, smut, fingering, groping, penetration, some nasty stuff, light choking, a few corporate jargons, jk is a dick who is smitten with oc, jk is selfish asf, threats of violence (not against OC).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Word count: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Disclaimer: This is a two-shot which delves into themes that may be triggering or dark in nature. It is important to note that the behaviors portrayed by Jungkook are purely fictional and do not reflect his real-life character. Reader discretion is advised. Minors are discouraged from engaging with this content. Remember, plagiarism is a serious offense.

°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°˖➴°

"This is unbelievable", you lament, hunched over your desk.

"How did the stocks plummet so much?"

"Miss. L/N, The stock market is a gamble." Mr. Kwon offers.

"I am aware of that Mr. Kwon. But the risks we took were calculated." You massage your temples, grumbling defensively under your breath.

The predicament at hand induced mixed emotions in you. On one hand, you were anxious. Anxious for the employees who have a family to fend for, the news headlines they'll be witnessing and the confrontation you'll need to have with the stakeholders.

On the other, less dominant hand, you felt uncannily relieved.

Ever since your company, Jubilee and Co, invested in the share market with you at the helm, you've been waiting for something to go awry.

Simply, because you couldn't fathom anything remotely auspicious happening under your leadership. Not because you didn't have faith in your capabilities. No.

It was because you've gotten the short end of the stick from life so often that you've grown accustomed to it.

And now that your trepidations have borne fruit, you feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders.

Gingerly clutching the cup of coffee perched on your table, you take a sip. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

"Mr. Kwon, prepare an excel sheet that has all the consolidated data of the company's capital. We can't afford any delays. I have to begin looking for plausible shareholders."

You could feel the soreness kicking in, as you knead the knots in your shoulder.

It was gonna be a long day.

..............................................................................................................................

You peer at your phone's self camera for the umpteenth time.

Huffing, as you rake your fingers through your hair. Everything about your outfit seemed off but scrounging for a better one would take an eternity. You were living on borrowed time as it is.

"Miss. Y/N L/N, Mr. Jeon is ready for you."

You stand upright, hands clenching the portfolio in your hand futilely, your heels scuffing across the floor of the hallway.

Navigating through the huge corridor, you spot the door of the room where the incumbent CEO sits.

Knocking lightly, you speak "Mr Jeon?"

"Come in."

His husky voice beckons.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you step into the room.

And as soon as you do, you're rendered awestruck by the cabin.

It has expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the bustling city below.

The golden hour sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

The walls, adorned with exquisite golden motifs, which no doubt must have cost a fortune.

Fitting for a billionaire like him, you suppose.

Right in the center of the room is a rich mahogany desk, cluttered with documents.

Perched behind the desk is Jeon Jeongguk, the formidable CEO of Jeon Enterprises. It is renowned globally as the only firm which deals with technological ergonomics. Their unparalleled success transcended borders, setting the standard worldwide.

Needless to say, Jubilee and Co was a far cry from Jeon Enterprises.

You've read enough tabloids about the cold, formidable CEO to know what might transpire.

On behalf of your company's stakeholder, you'll ask him for help. He'll eye you incredulously, disdain marring his face before he politely calls the security guard to escort this deranged woman out.

You're taking a leap of faith coming here and hoping a tech tycoon like him even spares you a glance.

You hear him take a sharp intake of breath, prompting you to look at him.

His mouth was slightly agape, eyes widened, as he stared at you from across the room.

His gaze trailed your dainty form from top to bottom, eyes darkening the more they consume you.

You shudder.

You should have taken time to look for a more flattering outfit. Or maybe your hair was dishevelled?

Clearing your throat, you politely ask him, "May I take a seat, Mr Jeon?"

Caught off guard, Mr. Jeon suddenly stands up before motioning for you to sit.

"Please do, Miss...?"

"Y/N L/N." , you supply.

"Y/N..." His dulcet voice repeats your name, as though in a trance.

There was an eerie tension in the room but you would be damned if you let it get to you and lose this golden opportunity.

"As the chief operating officer, I'm here to represent Jubilee and Co."

This was it.

This was the part where you'll be catapulted out of the building by big and buff security men--

"How may I be of assistance to Jubilee and Co. today?"

You blanch.

Out of all outcomes you were expecting would ensue your introduction, this was the most unexpected one.

You were not prepared for this, how do you broach the proposal of an alliance now?

Quickly gathering yourself, you resume.

"We are honoured you have decided to give us the time of the day, Mr Jeon."

"Don't mention." His tone, though professional, betrayed a hint of eagerness.

"From what I presume, you're here to ask for an affiliation." He continues.

"Your stakeholders want Jubilee and Co to become a subsidiary under Jeon Enterprises."

You were tongue tied.

Mr. Jeon was an astute man. You'll give him that.

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

"And why, exactly, should I invest in a company that is, for a lack of better word, in shambles? Inundated with abysmal employees", He rejoinders.

You wince. No matter how true his word were, they were acerbic.

Jubilee was like a baby to you.

You've gone through hell to make it transition from a tier 3 brand name to a decently esteemed firm. You've spent countless sleepless nights looking after it, skipped meals to tend to it's wounds.

Chagrined, you speak before your brain can process your words.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon. But Jubilee is more than just its current state. It's a testament to resilience, to the countless hours of dedication and hard work put in by its employees, including myself."

Your gaze meets his, vulnerability shining in your eyes.

"Yes, we may have faced setbacks, but we've also overcome them. I believe that adversity often presents the greatest opportunities for growth. I understand your reservations, Mr. Jeon, but I urge you to consider the untapped potential within Jubilee. With the right investments and guidance, I firmly believe that it has the potential to rise from its current situation and flourish once again."

A hush falls over the room.

Jeongguk's gaze remained unwavering, fixed on your face throughout your entire tirade.

"Consider me convinced, Miss. Y/N."

"S-Sir?"

"I guarantee. Jubilee's stock will be restored, funds will be augmented, and brand reputation will be unrivalled. The employees that will henceforth be inducted will be recruited by my personal hiring team."

You can barely hear the rest of his sentence, already thrumming with excitement. Your mind plotting all the ways you can get back at the naysayers.

The resurgence of Jubilee is inevitable, now that you have Jeongguk on board.

"But, you must understand Y/N, there are no free lunches in this world."

And just like that all your dreams come crashing down.

"Pardon, sir?"

Mr. Jeon gracefully rises from his chair, closing the proximity between the both of you as he leans on the front of the desk, positioned directly in front of you.

"I'll accede to all your demands, but I want a fair trade."

Mr. Jeon's words hang in the air. You had hoped for a smooth negotiation, where was this coming from?

"What kind of fair trade are you suggesting, Mr. Jeon?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze.

"I'll provide my expertise, my resources, to ensure Jubilee's revival," he begins.

"But in return, I ask for something beyond the confines of business."

There is a tacit silence enveloping the room.

The implication of his suggestion is glaringly blatant.

Situations like these were rife in the corporate world. Pleasure in exchange for business gains was not unheard of.

What was however, unheard of, was an employee of Jubilee engaging in such lewd dalliances.

While they were definitely slacking and inept when it comes to work and strategies, Jubilee has maintained a pristine image of possessing the most morally sound employees.

You are caught in a mire.

On one hand, you are disgruntled that he thought you were so shallow that you'll take him up on an offer as promiscuous as that.

But on the other hand, you are convinced this is your only shot at reviving Jubilee. Jungkook's assets and team marshalled together will undoubtedly take Jubilee to unprecedented heights.

"We have a deal, Mr. Jeon."

..............................................................................................................................

"Jeongguk, stop please! Not now, I have to get ready for a meeting."

"I don't renege on my promises, baby girl." He hums, biting your lower lip as his hands fondle your clothed chest.

"And I expect the same from you, yeah?"

The past few months have been very conducive for Jubilee.

As expected, with Jeongguk's acumen & assistance, the company is practically thriving, now in a league comparable to the unicorns.

And it had to be. You've traded yourself for its prosperity after all.

"Fuck", the expletive rolls off your tongue as a strangled moan.

His palms knead the flesh as he grinds his hips on your clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty, my baby. Got me wrapped around your little finger like a hormonal fucking teenager."

He grunts in your ear as one of his hands find purchase on your hip, the other smoothly lifting your pencil skirt to stroke your thigh.

"Kook, I c-can't"

He is terse as he pants, "Yes, you can. You will do everything I ask you to, am I clear?"

"Y-Yeah"

"Good girl" He dotes.

Unbuttoning your top and latching his tongue onto your now bare nipple.

"Stop teasing Kook, touch me already. I'm so fuckin' wet"

He grins as he resumes his ministrations on your inner thigh, cheekily peering up at you from where he is stationed, between your breasts.

"Someone's needy."

You huff exasperated, placing a hand on his as you halt him.

"Fine, I'll just ask Taehyung for help. He won't deny me anyways."

All air escapes you as you're suddenly jerked, your bare back meeting the wall with a thud.

You open your eyes at the sudden movement.

Jeongguk's laborious breath is laden with ire.

Eyes closed. Jaw clenched.

His previous playful beam, nowhere to be found.

He takes in a deep breath before opening his eyes.

They're the darkest you've ever seen them. Pupils enlarged to an extent that his eyes appear pitch black.

You fucked up.

His hand comes up as he lightly chokes you, not enough to hurt you but enough to cause a pool of wetness dripping down your thighs in its wake.

"Say shit like that one more time and see me burn that fucker alive."

"You have the fucking audacity to even think of another man, when yours is right in front of you? Don't you fucking forget who you belong to Y/N. You're fucking mine. Body, Heart and Soul. You've sworn your loyalty to me. You've surrendered yourself to me completely the day I agreed to buy that shitty company of yours."

Your panties are completely drenched at this point and you're unsure if its because you're turned on or petrified of how vexed he has become by the mere thought of you with another man, even though you had said it in jest.

Without any preamble, his fingers prod at your entrance as he sinks them in. Your walls embracing him like second skin.

"Even your tight little pussy isn't yours anymore. It belongs to Jeon Jungkook.”

He slaps your pussy immediately after, as though proving his point.

“And I don't fucking share, so you better pray to any deity you worship that I don't fucking catch you masturbating or so help me god."

He fingers you passionately. Not stopping even after you plead him to.

"T-Too sensitive, K-Kook."

Unbuckling his belt, He pulls out his penis. It stands tall, proud and red with pre cum oozing out of the tip.

You grab him for stability as he pushes the tip in, letting your walls adjust and clamp before he brutally picks up his pace.

"Tell me who you belong to." He bellows.

Too out of it, you fail to form a coherent response.

THWACK.

He slaps your ass hard.

Once. Twice. Too many times to count.

"I-I'm yours Koo, only yours." you manage to say, eager to cajole him.

"Damn right you are." He hums, seemingly placated with your answer. Picking up his pace, he spits in your mouth, meshing his tongue with yours, while his fingers play with your clit.

You feel the familiar warmth below your cervix, as you groan,

"C-Cumming"

He gently pats your hair, kissing your earlobe.

"Let go, baby."

As you ride off your high, too blissful to pay attention to your surroundings, you don't notice the way Jeongguk's gaze darkens.

............................................................................................................................

Part: 1 of 2

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kairawrites · 2 months

Text

first match.

author's note: first story I am sharing. please let me know if you want more for jude.

🌺masterlist🌺

pairing: jude bellingham x singer!reader

kiss prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

summary: After a nasty breakup and a smear campaign by your vengeful ex, your PR team goes into hyperdrive, searching for a way to salvage your reputation as you finalize your sophomore album. To reclaim your title as America's sweetheart, you reluctantly agree to 'date' footballer Jude Bellingham. After a successful and perfectly planned meet-cute, you realize the plan might actually work. To keep the rumor mill spinning, Jude invites you to Madrid to watch him play.

You sit stiffly in the plush leather chair, your gaze fixed on a random spot on the far wall. The spacious office of your record label, with its panoramic view of Los Angeles, feels more like a cage than a refuge. Your fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on your sweater, the silence in the room heavy with unspoken tension. Last night was another sleepless one, your mind spinning with the chaos of the last few months.

The door creaks open, and Lara, your manager, strides in with her usual brisk efficiency. But it’s the man following her who catches you off guard. Tall and athletic, with a calm self-assurance, he immediately seems different from anyone you usually deal with during one of Lara’s many SOS meetings.

Unlike the man next to him, who wears a suit, he’s dressed in a well-fitted navy blackbomber jacket over a crisp white T-shirt, adding a casual yet polished touch. His dark jeans are tailored to fit just right, and his sneakers are sleek and clean, hinting at their designer pedigree without being overtly flashy. A simple silver chain peeks out from beneath his shirt. He wears a black fitted cap that he removes as he scans the room. His dark curls are neatly styled, and his eyes are a striking shade of deep brown—intense and thoughtful.

You turn to Lara, your irritation evident. “You didn’t say we were meeting with another artist. I’m not doing a feature with a random guy.”

Lara, however, ignores your protest, her focus on the two men before her. “Y/N, this is Jude Bellingham,” she introduces the young man with an upbeat, professional tone. She motions for you to stand. Doing so, you quickly shake his hand before sinking back into your chair. “Jude, meet Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jude grins, his eyes lingering on you as you lift your phone from the table.

Email Hendrix new song. You ignore the calendar notification before placing your phone back onto the table.

You were supposed to submit the new song last week, but it has been rescheduled for the third time. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation you had zoned out of.

“Thank you for fitting us in during your vacation,” Lara says with a smile as your gaze drifts across the table.

You stare just long enough to take in the polite smile he offers. He’s handsome, you note distantly. “What’s your name again?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Jude Bellingham,” he repeats, his voice steady, though you can see the hint of surprise in his eyes.

You nod absently, not hiding your lack of interest. “Never heard of you.”

Lara’s eyes widen, and she quickly looks between you and Jude, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” she says hastily. “She’s been…out of the loop for a while. She kinda keeps her head in the sand when working on new music.”

Jude’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile as he takes a seat beside his manager, who has been silently observing the exchange. “No worries,” he says, his tone easygoing.

He attempts to hold eye contact, but your gaze drops as Lara passes you an iPad.

Jude, however, can’t help but stare for a moment longer. He knows exactly who you are. He’s seen the headlines, the endless parade of tabloid articles that have taken over his social media feeds in recent months:

*"America’s Sweetheart Caught Cheating?”*

*"Ryan West’s Heartbreak: Y/N’s Betrayal?"*

*"Ryan West: Played a Fool by Y/N? Singer Dumped After He Helps Secure Her First Grammy!"*

*"From Darling to Villain: The Fall of Y/N."*

The headlines were relentless, painting you as the villain in the messy, public breakup with Ryan West, the wild, playboy singer whose antics are as legendary as his music. Jude had seen the pictures throughout your relationship—snaps of a happy couple slowly morphing to you tearful and exhausted outside of clubs and in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, Ryan’s angry rants during concerts, and the public’s merciless scrutiny of every detail. The narrative turned on you overnight, casting you as the one who shattered the fairytale, though it’s clear to him now, seeing you in person, that there’s much more to the story.

You’re undeniably beautiful, even though your appearance starkly contrasts with the perfectly curated photos on your Instagram. Your skin glows softly in the muted light of the office, and your long dark locks are pulled back into a simple ponytail. Without makeup, your natural beauty is evident, but there’s a guardedness about you, a weariness that clings to you like a shadow. You’re wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and your lips are set in a firm line. Your dark, eyes remain focused anywhere but on him. You’re present in body but somewhere else in your mind, uninterested in the moment and, by extension, in him.

Lara notices how Jude’s eyes linger on your features, a hint of admiration in his gaze. She gently but firmly pulls your chair closer to hers, her expression shifting to one of urgency. As Jude leans over to better hear his manager speak, Lara shoots you a sharp glare. “Do you really not know who that is?” she hisses quietly. “Didn’t you read the email I sent?”

You shake your head, already annoyed by the direction this conversation is taking.

“He’s one of the biggest footballers in the world right now,” Lara explains. “He’s just finished a fantastic season with Real Madrid and is on vacation after helping his national team reach the finals of the Euros.”

“Throwing out accolades isn’t going to make me suddenly know who this guy is, Lara. I don’t watch soccer—”

“For the love of God, please do not call it that to his face,” Lara winces. “Since you didn’t read my email, here it is. He’s basically a household name for every fan of the sport. This isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about—Jude Bellingham is a huge deal. Kids want to grow up to be him, women want to sleep with him, and men want to be him. This is a massive opportunity, so you need to make this work because, frankly, we don’t have many other options right now. The media has been brutal, and we need to change the narrative.”

Change the narrative–the phrase that has appeared in every text, phone call, email, and conversation with Lara from the past six months.

You take in her words, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. The last thing you want is to be forced into something like this, but you also know Lara’s right. If this can help you regain some control over the situation, it might be worth it.

“Fine,” you say at last, your voice laced with reluctance. “But let’s keep it simple.”

Lara nods, visibly relieved. Her swift response suggests she’s eager to finalize things before you change your mind. “Thank you. Now, let’s get this started on the right foot.”

You straighten your posture as Lara retrieves a stack of iPads from her purse. Powering the first on, she slides it across the table. Your expression remains guarded as you look at Jude. He seems relaxed, though there’s an air of curiosity about him as he watches you.

Jude clears his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice steady despite your apparent lack of interest. “I’m actually a big fan of your music.”

“Thank you,” you mutter, barely audible. “And thanks for coming.”

“Y/N, Jude’s team approached us with a proposal that could be mutually beneficial,” Lara explains. “We think it’s a great opportunity for both of you to take control of the media narratives for each of your careers.”

As she begins explaining the details of the contract, you lean forward to start reading it, trying to focus on the terms. You attempt to ignore the brown eyes carefully watching you from across the table by zooming in on the document. You skip each page, focusing on the bolded text.

**Duration**: The PR stunt relationship will last for six months, giving both parties a clear timeframe for the arrangement. The time can be adjusted to fit the likings of both parties.

**Public Appearances**: Both parties agree to attend a minimum of five public events together, including concerts, charity functions, and social gatherings, to ensure maximum media coverage.

**Social Media Engagement**: Both will make joint social media posts and coordinate public appearances to generate buzz and maintain public interest.

**Media Interviews**: Both parties will participate in at least three joint interviews or promotional activities, designed to keep the media engaged and the narrative active.

**Behavioral Expectations**: Both parties are expected to maintain a positive public image and avoid any controversial behavior that could negatively impact the arrangement.

**Privacy Clauses**: Provisions are included to protect personal boundaries and ensure that certain aspects of your private lives remain confidential.

**Termination Conditions**: The contract includes terms for early termination, specifying any penalties or requirements for ending the arrangement before the agreed-upon end date.

You bite your lip, unable to hold in a nagging thought. You glance at Jude before looking back at Lara. “I don’t date athletes. My fans know that.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “That’s fair. But, well, we’ve seen how it turned out with musicians. You might need to give an athlete a try.”

His smile spreads as he notes the narrowing of your eyes.

“I mean,” you huff directing your attention to Lara. “Won’t people be suspicious if I suddenly fall head over heels with someone like him? He’s not my type.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

As you approach the security gate, you are greeted by shocked but excited murmurs. Fans recognize you immediately, their phones out, capturing every moment as you present your ticket. You pose for a few quick pictures, deflecting questions about whether you are here specifically to see Jude play. “Just here to enjoy the game!” you say with a smile, trying to stay composed despite the intense scrutiny.

“Follow me,” Toby Bishay, Jude’s best friend, says with a reassuring smile, breaking through your anxious thoughts. His warm smile brings one to your lips. “I’ll show you to your seat.”

“Just stick with Toby,” Jude assured you through a brief text exchange earlier in the morning. “He'll keep an eye on you. Glad you had a safe flight. See you after the match."

You trail after Toby, trying to shake off the feeling of being under a microscope. The perfectly crafted “meet cute,” which happened shortly after your initial meeting, was captured by paparazzi in LA, not taking long to circulate. The rumors exploded, and the world wondered when you’d be spotted together again. The time finally came nearly three weeks later, and now you find yourself on the biggest stage in the football world, every eye on you.

The electric hum of excitement buzzes through Santiago Bernabéu Stadium as you follow Toby through the corridors, the air thick with anticipation. Thousands of fans are already in their seats.

“Have you ever been to a game before?” Toby asks, glancing back at you.

“No, this is my first time,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious at the admission.

“Then you picked a great game for your debut,” Toby says, guiding you through the maze of hallways. “The atmosphere here is insane–unlike anything else.”

You study him as he glances at his phone, wondering how much he knew about the relationship between you and his best friend.

“Jude pulled out the stops,” he chuckles, pausing to hold the door for you. “Wanted you to have the best seats in the house. Remind me to have him invite you more often.”

As you emerge into the open, the sheer magnitude of the stadium hits you like a tidal wave. The sea of fans stretches out in every direction, a sea of white Real Madrid jerseys and waving flags. The stands are a swirling mosaic of movement and color, with scarves held high and banners flapping in the breeze. The roar of the crowd is overwhelming, a vibrant, pulsating force that envelops you.

The atmosphere reminds you of your own concerts—the energy, the collective excitement. But it has been a while since you’ve been a member of the crowd instead of the one performing. The memory brings a nostalgic smile to your lips. You hear the crowd chanting in unison, their voices melding together into a powerful wave of sound. “Hala Madrid! Hala Madrid!” The energy is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to resonate with every cheer and chant from the stands.

You look over to find Toby watching you with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“This is nothing,” he assures you over the roar of the crowd. “Wait till the game starts.”

Toby leads you to your seats, which are positioned near the halfway line, offering an excellent view of the field. You can feel the weight of the crowd’s curiosity pressing down on you as you settle in.

A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach as you notice the woman next to you widen her eyes. She quickly turns to her boyfriend, whispering something in his ear.

You adjust the jersey you are wearing. It was delivered to your house merely twenty-four hours ago, as you struggled to finish last-minute packing. It came with a note from Jude that read: Gotta look the part.

You instinctively reach up, adjusting the elastic of your ponytail. You remember leaning over the hotel sink, studying your handiwork. The high ponytail was strategic, making it impossible for anyone to miss Jude Bellingham’s name and number prominently displayed across your back.

You sit forward in your seat, your hands gripping the railing as you scan the warm-ups. Your brow furrows once you realize Jude is nowhere in sight. It is strange not to have seen him in person since your first public appearance. Busy with training, he had flown back to Spain while you attempted to work on your album. But the lack of inspiration meant you hadn’t made any progress. In the three weeks since your last meeting, most of your communication has been through text, with a few phone conversations as you worked out the logistics of your visit. His texts were a consistent flood of humor, cheekiness, and a few tidbits of personal information. He didn't seem to mind that your answers weren't nearly as interesting or long as his. He had expected it to take a bit for you to warm up to him. When you'd expressed the struggle with finding inspiration for your new song, he invited you out to Spain for the week.

“Don’t worry about the attention,” Toby says, sensing your discomfort. “Once the game starts, they’ll be too focused on Jude and the action to pay much attention to anything else.”

You nod, trying to take comfort in his words. You pull out your phone and snap a photo of the field as the players warm up. The view is breathtaking—the vibrant green of the pitch, the players stretching and preparing, the energy of the stadium. You carefully consider what to write before deciding to type “Hala Madrid!” and sharing it to your Instagram story.

You instantly close the app, knowing it will only take a few seconds for the post to confirm what the internet is already wondering. Clicking on your messages, you ignore the waiting message from Lara that reads: Remember to smile and cheer for your man!

Instead of responding, you click on Jude’s name. The last message he sent was a simple, No need to say thank you in response to your gratitude for ensuring Toby would be your guide.

You quickly type, Have a great game! before slipping your phone into your purse.

As the game begins, the referee’s whistle pierces through the air, and the match kicks off with a burst of energy that ripples through the stadium. The crowd's collective roar washes over you. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

As the first half unfolds, Toby leans over, pointing out a few things. “So, Jude’s playing midfield. His job is to control the game—set the pace, connect the defense and attack. Watch how he moves off the ball, too. That’s where he really shines.”

You nod, not entirely sure you understood everything, but appreciating Toby’s effort to make you feel more comfortable.

At first, you find it hard to focus. The crowd is so loud, so passionate, that it is hard to concentrate on anything else. You’d never seen anything like it—the way the fans were completely engrossed in every pass, every tackle, every near miss. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself getting swept up in the atmosphere, your eyes increasingly drawn to Jude.

He is everywhere on the pitch, commanding, graceful, yet powerful. The way he moves, the way he controls the ball, it is almost hypnotic. Toby was right—Jude was something special out there.

“See how he’s always looking around?” Toby points out as Jude receives the ball. “He knows where everyone is before he even touches the ball. That’s what makes him so good—he’s always thinking two steps ahead.”

You nod, your focus entirely on Jude. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as you watch him maneuver through opponents with a grace and precision that’s nothing short of extraordinary. The skill and artistry of his play make it clear why he is so adored by fans.

Suddenly, a collective gasp from the stands jolts you from your trance. Your eyes snap to the field just in time to see Jude being tackled hard. He hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, he lies motionless. Panic grips your chest, a cold wave of fear crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your seat. The stadium seems to hold its breath with you as Jude sits up. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with worry.

Relief floods over you as Jude grins, pushing himself off the ground. The crowd erupts into cheers, and Jude gives them a reassuring wave. You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing.

“Surely that’s a foul,” you glance over to find Toby grinning.

“That happens a lot,” Toby says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Jude’s used to not getting calls. He’ll be fine.”

You nod, your eyes following Jude as he moves back to position.

The game progresses, the tension building with each passing minute. As the half winds towards halftime, the tension in the stadium is palpable. Jude makes another run down the field, and you can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. Memories of his earlier tackle flash through your mind, making you hold your breath as you watch his every move. You grip the edge of your seat, your heart racing with anticipation.

Jude skillfully navigates past a defender, and you can barely contain your nerves as he lines up for a shot. The entire stadium seems to hold its breath in a collective gasp as the ball sails through the air. Time seems to slow down in that suspended moment, and your eyes follow the ball as it arches toward the goal.

Then, with a powerful strike, the ball whizzes past the outstretched arms of the goalkeeper and smashes into the back of the net. The stadium erupts in a cacophony of deafening cheers. The sound washes over you like a wave, a mix of joy, relief, and exhilaration. You find yourself on your feet, screaming and jumping up and down, completely swept up in the euphoria of the moment.

Toby pulls you into a hug, the thrill of the goal echoing in your cheers. The crowd's energy is infectious, Jude stumbling forward as his teammates crash into him in excitement.

As the crowd’s cheers intensify, Jude escapes the huddle and waves to the stands. Your heart skips a beat as you realize he’s jogging in your direction, his eyes locked on yours.

Without hesitation, Jude leans over the barrier and pulls you into a tight hug, his arms securing around your waist and drawing you close. You giggle, maintaining your balance as you feel the heat and sweat of his jersey against your skin. Jude’s embrace is warm and comforting, his grip tightening as his face buries into your neck, and the crowd’s cheers fade into the background.

As you pull back from Jude’s embrace, still breathless from the moment, you can’t help but exclaim, “That was amazing!” Your hands instinctively rest on his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "You were--amazing!"

Jude’s smile broadens, a genuine, radiant expression that lights up his face. His eyes lock onto yours with a softness that surprises you. There’s no trace of the cheekiness you expect from him.

“I had to make your first match memorable,” he breathes.

“You did that.”

Jude’s eyes linger on your grin as if savoring the sight. He registers the way your smile lights up your entire face, making you look even more radiant. The warmth and joy in your expression seem to captivate him, making you appear more beautiful than ever. It’s a sight he, and the world, hasn’t seen from you in months, and the pride he feels at making you smile swells beneath his racing heart.

Your smile softens as his grip drifts to your hips. The warmth of his smile seems to draw you closer as if an invisible force is compelling you to bridge the gap. His eyes hold a gentle intensity, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared understanding and anticipation.

But the spell is broken as his name rings through the intercom system, forcing you to blink. The deafening roar of excitement from the crowd reminds you of the public nature of the moment. Jude’s gaze shifts briefly to the surrounding commotion, and with a playful grin, he pulls back, his smile still warm but tinged with a hint of mischief.

“So, how about a kiss? It’s definitely what they wanna see.”

"And let me guess, you're a man of the people?"

"So I've been told."

Your eyes roll. Lightly pressing against his shoulders, you arch your brow as his grip remains. Your eyes pass over Jude's shoulder to the players returning to their positions.

“Maybe if you get another goal.”

“Deal,” he winks, before pulling back with a smirk and jogging back onto the field.

You watch him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. As you sink back into your seat, a hand resting on your chest to steady your breath, the realization of the stunt hits you with renewed clarity. It’s all part of the carefully orchestrated PR show. But as you look at Jude rejoining his teammates, a small part of you wonders if there’s something more beneath the surface. The match continues, and you find yourself caught between the excitement of the evening and the nagging reminder of the reality you’re playing in. But you can't help but wonder what will happen if he looks at you like that again during your week in Madrid.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x black!reader #jude bellingham imagine

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delirious-donna · 5 months

Text

The Mistakes We Make [Part Eight]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: Kento has come to some startling conclusions and works to put his decisions into practice. Finding the apartment empty whilst a storm rages outside tests his restraint to the limit. It'll be fine, right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, take the title as it's own warning cause I don't want to spoil everything

Part Seven | Series Masterlist | Part Nine

The following morning was overcast. Heavy grey rain clouds dominated the sky, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. A breezy wind blew through the city, buffeting off the panoramic windows and carrying debris from the streets so far below up to whip against the glass. Despite the gloomy conditions, your mood was surprisingly bright and dare you say, positive.

Sipping your coffee, the miserable weather was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, your head was full of possibilities and thoughts of the immediate future. The second you woke up to find yourself tucked up in bed, still fully dressed but snuggled beneath the duvet, you knew exactly how you must have ended up here. Kento carried you to bed.

Kento Nanami put you to bed with care. He didn’t leave you to sleep in an awkward position out on the couch, no. That man—that annoyingly endearing man—had lifted you carefully enough not to even disturb your slumber and carried you to bed. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t make any sense.

He likes you. You like him. It was obvious, and if the realistic snapshots of your dreams held any authenticity, maybe he had kissed your head and murmured soft sentiments to you. That part was wishful thinking but not outside the realms of plausibility given how real the dream-like moments felt when you examined them closely.

It made you smile into your mug, lost in thoughts of what to say or do when Kento finally appeared from his room. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and frowned. It was later than you expected and there was still no sign of the man that was always up bright and early. Maybe he had decided to sleep in for once, and of course, he would pick the day that you wanted to see him most to indulge in more hours of sleep.

By noon you were worried. The apartment had long fallen silent, the music you had played earlier turned off so you could try to listen for signs of life from your host. There were none to speak of. Closer and closer you crept to his closed door until your ear was pressed against the solid oak. You couldn’t hear any movement, no rustling of sheets or footsteps to suggest he was getting dressed. No sounds of faint snoring or the distant noise of a running shower.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You knocked once, quietly.

There was no answer. So, you knocked again, this time far louder and you followed it up by calling out loudly. “Kento, are you in there? Is…” you searched for the right words. “Is everything alright? I’m starting to worry.”

Again, there was no reply. This was getting ridiculous, and your annoyance at not knowing what was going on got the better of you. The door opened whilst you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the floor just in case you were about to walk in on him half-dressed or worse… naked. However, the bedroom was empty.

The bed was neatly made, nothing appeared out of place from the time when you had last nosed about in here. It felt like forever ago but in reality, it wasn’t that long. You stuck your head around the corner, glancing into the walk-in closet and finding it equally empty. The bathroom was next, and once again you knocked before entering to find it empty and like it hadn’t been used in at least a few hours.

Had he left before you even woke up? It was the only thing you could think of since a thorough search of the entire apartment turned up no missing blond man. You weren’t sure why it bothered you as much as it did. He was a grown-up, he could come and go as he pleased. Yet, you expected that he might have left a note or something to let you know where he was and when he would be back, or was that assuming too much?

In the end, you did your best not to let it sour your mood. Kento was a free man, perhaps he had errands to run, and he would be right back with groceries in hand, you simply didn’t know. You had your own agenda today, and one you were excited to get to. It had been on your mind for several days now, knowing that your time here with Kento was ending, you wanted to buy him a gift to show your gratitude for his allowing you to stay here when he didn’t have to.

A few ideas were running through your mind as to what would be most appreciated, and the sooner you hit the stores, the sooner you hoped to come to a final decision. You wanted it to be special, something that he wouldn’t think to buy for himself. Were you putting a lot of stock in this gift? Maybe… but it was how you showed your lo—appreciation. Love was too strong a sentiment, or so you tried to reason.

You hastily scrawled a note and left it on the kitchen island. The front door locked behind you, whilst the elevator took you down to the lobby for the battle against the elements to commence.

Gone out. Be back later! Hope you’re having a good day. X

Everything was silent when he returned home. Kento wasn’t sure what he expected, and what he would prefer, but somehow it wasn’t as relieving as he expected, to walk into a noiseless space. How quickly his appreciations had changed.

He saw the note almost immediately, not bothering to pick it up since the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety. His finger did somehow find its way to touching the small flourish of a kiss, and he scowled upon realisation. He hadn’t spent the day clearing his head and mentally running through every outcome he could foresee just to return straight back to square one. His mind was made up. Giving up everything he had built for himself was pure insanity. End of discussion.

A powerful gust of wind pounded against the windows, drawing his attention to the weather conditions he had driven through, and his frown deepened. Kento stepped towards the glass, eyes scanning the barely visible streets below and the tiny moving umbrellas which appeared like dancing circles as people navigated around each other.

Did you have an umbrella with you?

Were you out in the elements or tucked up somewhere safe and cozy like a small café?

What was so important that you had ventured out on such a horrible day in the first place?

It didn’t matter. It was none of his business, and he should stop thinking about it.

Picking up a random book from his overstuffed shelves fit to bursting with books he wanted to read but had never had the time for, he didn’t even glance at the title before he was settling himself in the farthest part of the couch. Sure, it was the seat that let him both keep an eye on the front door and allow him a view of the worsening weather, but he refused to acknowledge that fact.

Three hours passed and Kento could recall exactly nothing of the pages he’d dutifully turned in his book. He read the lines of text but none of them stuck no matter how many times he repeated the action. Frustration burned hotter the longer he tried until he threw it down on the arm of the couch and turned worried eyes towards the now storm raging outside. Where the hell were you?

It had never dawned on him to exchange numbers with you, there hadn’t seemed to be a point since you were occupying the same space, but now he saw the idiocy of such a small oversight. He was halfway towards his phone on the kitchen island to call Karin and have her send through your contact info when the door suddenly burst open.

A small puddle surrounded your feet, every inch of you soaked right through and shivering. Your hair was plastered across your face, obscuring your eyes which didn’t help you wrestle with the half-folded-down umbrella in your hand. Several of the metal spindles were broken or sticking up at odd angles from the winds and Kento reached for you before you even realised he was there.

“Shit! You’re soaking wet. Where the hell have you been?” Kento thundered, his tone refusing to diffuse even when you squeaked in alarm and almost stumbled backwards.

His hand wrapped around your elbow was the only thing keeping you on your feet. The umbrella was wrenched from your grasp, a startled yelp only further fuelling the snarled expression you could make out between the messy strands of your hair. You could feel the fury ripple outward from his body and into your own. What the fuck...?

Kento disappeared. One moment you were being firmly pulled into the living area by his strong hands and the next he had let you go and rounded the corner, out of sight. Shaking from the cold that continued to penetrate your clothes, the chill all the worse now you weren’t running on the adrenaline of battling for your life on the streets far below, you were bamboozled by his demeanour. The warmth of the apartment was apparent, but until you could strip off every layer of sodden clothing and soak your bones in a warm shower or bath, your teeth would chatter, and your limbs would shudder.

Suddenly, you remembered to check the package, which was tucked securely inside your bag, grateful for your forethought to wrap the box in several plastic bags before placing it inside. It was unscathed and you exhaled a sigh of relief. The gift was far from inexpensive, something you would never have bought yourself and yet, you happily dropped a not insufficient amount of money on the man who returned to you with a large fluffy white towel in hand and a scowl etched across his face.

He took the bag from your grasp before you could protest, setting it on the kitchen stool and leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. With your hair now a little less wet and back into some semblance of submission, you could see how terse his expression was and it caused you to frown in reaction. What was the problem?

“Thanks. I’m definitely going to need a hot shower after the day I’ve had,” you conceded with a chuckle. It was your attempt at an olive branch, hoping that he would drop the bad attitude he was wearing like a cloak.

Kento scowled harder. “Why were you out in a storm in the first place?” He was trying to calm the ire that was eating him alive, unsure where the heart of his anger truly came from, or at least, not willing to admit its source.

“Shopping.”

“Shopping,” he parroted back. “You risked your life to go shopping? Are you that stupid?”

You recoiled. The words landed directly against your chest. An anger of your own beginning to bubble like water brought to a rapid boil. It was funny how fast you forgot about the steady drip of water creating a large pool around your feet, nor did you feel the cold as acutely.

“Excuse me?”

Kento pushed off from where he was leaning, gesticulating towards the evident storm raging outside. Sheets of heavy rain blown by the howling wind lashed the glass as if to prove his point and you seethed at him, hands curling in and out fists by your sides.

“You heard me. What could be so important that you would risk your life in conditions like these?”

You stalked closer, fury pounding in your veins enough to make your blood sing with molten heat. “You were out in it too!” You yelled, barely drawing breath between words. “Unless you’ve got some hidden room in this apartment that I’m not aware of. At least I had the decency to leave a note.”

He scoffed, turning from you to increase the distance between you both but you weren’t done.

“You could have been laying sprawled out, in need of help for all I knew! I was worried that—”

“That is different,” he countered whilst a broad hand ran roughly through his hair. The usually neatly parted blond hair was ruffled as if he had already worked his fingers through it whilst you were out. “I was safely in a car, not traipsing around the fucking city with only an umbrella for protection.”

This man. This perfectly outrageous, infuriating man. Oh, he was doing his damnedest to push every one of your buttons. You weren’t some stupid little girl that needed protecting or coddling.

“And what does it matter to you? You’re not my fucking brother, Kento! At the end of the day, we’re nothing to each other!”

Shit, that hurt. The regret was immediate; tears burning behind your eyes, threatening to blur your vision and you’d be damned if you were going to let him see them fall. Withdraw. You needed space, to pull back from this stupid, meaningless argument. Except it wasn’t meaningless.

You made to move past his hulking frame that filled the way to the hall and the solace of your room, but two strong hands shot out to prevent you from running. His grip shook, fingers curled around your shoulders as he pulled you to him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Kento looked downright furious; his lips curled back from his teeth with a snarl and his eyes snapped fire. The raging inferno of a wildfire—uncontrolled and dangerous—shone in those intelligent brown depths.

“Oh no, you don’t get to walk away, not now. Do you honestly think a brother would be this worried… shit… that they would get this angry about you being in danger? I don’t think so. You’re an intelligent woman, you know this kind of reaction is reserved for something far more intimate than that.”

His words stole the remaining air from your lungs, you were held in a vacuum with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your eyes bounced between his, certain you hadn’t just heard what he said. It had to be all in your head, your traitorous brain implanting false declarations, but… no. He did say that. He had worried about your safety, and not because of some arbitrary sense of obligation. This man who you wanted to yell at some more. This man who you wanted to do nothing more than shut up with a kiss.

“Wh—”

The world stopped turning. Everything felt frozen in place as your lips found his and the relief was immediate. The starchy material of his shirt felt alien against your fingers, not that you were even sure when they had fisted into it in the first place. Kento crushed you to his chest, forcing you to step onto your tiptoes to continue the assault. His hands found your waist at the same time you curled an arm around his neck. The taste of coffee erupted on your tongue, bitter but sweetened by warm honey notes that felt indulgent.

This moment felt forever in the making, all the missed opportunities and miscommunications seeming inconsequential now that you had him where you wanted him. You could drown in this man. The flames of your anger continued to flicker in the periphery; he wouldn’t get off this easily, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about his earlier hurled words when his tongue was pushing past the seam of your lips. He was a combination of sweet and salty, leading the dance with a gentle dominance that suited him perfectly. Kento’s hands were careful, considered in how he held you, whilst he let his tongue curl over your teeth and stroke over your own. You were kindling in his hands, soaked to the bone yet you felt not an inch of the cold penetrating your skin. Kento would set you ablaze and you’d let him.

Your eyes hooded then finally closed, the shock of how you had both lunged in the same breath was long over and now you were simply a mass of sensations, lost to your desires and happily so. Your fingers inched towards the rough undercut at his nape only to be ripped away, shattering the cocoon of warmth in an instant. It felt like a punch to the gut, gasping like a fish out of water and you blinked in alarm.

You could only watch whilst Kento shook his head in resignation, his face lowered so as not to look you in the eye and the scratchy feeling in your throat returned tenfold. The hands that only seconds ago tenderly explored your waist now imprisoned your wrists, preventing you from touching him any longer.

“I can’t… we can’t do this,” he said whilst the bottom of your stomach fell out. How dare he pull you into that claim without your consent.

“No! You mean you can’t do this. I want this, I want you, Kento. You’re the one pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length,” you half screamed back. The tears were falling fast, hot splashes against your cheeks and you hated yourself for it.

“It won’t work. I—I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how I could make it work and I can’t.”

Goddamn him. Didn’t he realise that it wasn’t a puzzle to solve, it wasn’t a project to manage? It should be a venture started together; he should be able to lean on you as much as you could depend on him. He was a fucking coward. The seams of your heart were being ripped open and he spoke words of reason, of logic, like those were the only things to consider. Couldn’t he see how much he was hurting you?

“Coward.”

He didn’t try to stop you when you pulled free, turning on your heel to snatch up a plastic-wrapped lump from your bag. You shoved it into his chest with force, resulting in a grunt of surprise at your unexpected strength.

Kento could barely look as you barged past him to run down the hall. The door of your room slammed shut with an air of finality that churned his stomach into a mass of thorn-tipped vines. He despised the hurt that was etched across your face, the tears streaking your cheeks and the complete betrayal dulling your usually sparkling eyes. You were right; he was a coward.

How long he stood there, staring down an empty hallway whilst the rain lashed and the winds howled, he didn’t know. Eventually, he glanced at the package in his hands and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out a gift-wrapped box from the layers of plastic bags protecting it from the elements, a golden bow adorned it, and he smiled despite the pain. With careful fingers, the bow pulled loose, and the paper unwrapped to reveal an expensive camera.

Kento scrubbed a palm down his face, eyes slowly shuttering at the gift he would have never considered for himself, but which was perfect. He hadn’t given you nearly enough credit, you were so wonderfully compassionate and understanding, and he had fucked everything up. He knew in his rational mind that it shouldn’t work, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t, not if you worked at it and were both willing to compromise.

Should he…

You needed time after what he had done. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if he knocked on your door right now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this right. Things would look better in the morning, he had to hope that there were enough remnants of what had been there before to repair the damage. Kento touched his fingertips to his lips, he could still feel yours against him and what he wouldn’t give for one more taste. One more smile. One more playful tease at his expense. One more secret glance that tightened his chest.

“Fucking coward.”

The storm had passed by the next morning, leaving behind a beautiful cloudless sky and the dawn chorus of chirping birds. Kento woke with a start and immediately winced at the streams of sunlight filling his bedroom. He sat up with a grimace, holding his pounding head in his hands and looking down to find himself still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A crystal-cut tumbler half-filled with amber liquor sat on his nightstand and he recalled having drunk several very full glasses to find the embrace of sleep. It had refused to come to him without the alcohol numbing his emotions and he was only glad he hadn’t done something stupid in his drunken stupor like trying to speak to you. That wouldn’t have gone over well, that much he knew.

Speaking of you, he recounted hearing sniffling noises during the darkest part of the night, but he couldn’t tell if they were yours or if his conscience was torturing him. He wouldn’t put it past him, the midnight hours had been spent berating his stupidity and warring with the voice in the back of his head that continued to chirp that this was for the best.

After he straightened himself out, washing his face and changing into a clean outfit, he went in search of coffee and hoped to find you in the kitchen with your morning cup. Instead, what he found was an apartment that was eerily quiet, even more so than when he returned home yesterday. Each footstep filled him with rising dread, the icy prickle of unease at his neck and no amount of scratching would relieve it.

The whisky bottle from last night was exactly where he left it. The coffee machine was cold and unused. The camera you had gifted him lay on the couch with the golden ribbon rumpled on the floor beneath. Kento swallowed; unwilling to believe what he knew in his heart to be true. Instead of facing reality, he began his morning ritual of preparing coffee until he pulled down two mugs instead of one.

His hand shook around the grey mug you had favoured since you burst into his world in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. The smell of French roast turned his stomach and he launched himself down the hall to confirm his suspicions. There was no answer to his insistent knocks at your door, each one another nail in his coffin until he was completely trapped.

The room—your room—stood silent and empty.

Every trace that you had ever been here was gone, that was except for your scent which lingered in the air, thick with melancholy. Kento sat on the corner of your bed, his head cradled in his hands at the gravity of what he had done. Not only had he acted cowardly, but he had also caused you to run from him and that was a sucker punch to the gut.

“You’re a fool, Nanami. A coward and a fool…”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento angst #jjk angst

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vulpixisananimal · 3 months

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(Self harm scars below the read more!)

(You wake up.)

(The last time you woke up, you got a name.)

(Null.)

(Null, nothing, nobody. Blank slate. Actor. Tool. Whatever. You don't know why you chose it, maybe it's because that's what you are, a nothing.)

(No, not a nothing. You exist now, after all. You curl your fingers, feeling the warm sheet on your body. That's right, you had made it to a bed. You open your eyes.)

(You're alone in a room, big enough, one bed. Looking to your side, you see the signs of a second person who had already gotten up and dressed. You must have slept through it.)

(You look at your hands, you hold them close, stretch them to the ceeling, clasp them together. They're wrong. They're frail, pale, with teltale scars on the wrists. They're not your ams. Sitting up, you see your legs. Shorter, you're short. Your hair is a mess. Your body aches and you haven't even done anything yet. This is the body of somone who spends their life traveling, being sneaky, and couldn't lift a sword to save their life. Yet, it was your body.)

(Null Null Null. . . Where did you come from?)

(You stood up and walked to the window. It was raining. Your memory is mixed, jumbled, confused. On one hand you remember that ever changing house, you remember fighting that person who you couldn't touch, and you remember a play. Many plays.)

(On the other hand, you had memories of a city of bright lights and rain. You could remember the blood, and the tears. You could remember how time bent to your will, how everything slowed around you. You remember the masks, the little girl, that panoramic feeling, and-)

(And you remember that it's all fake.)

(Everything. All those memories. They're not, real. They're of a story, a play, a show. It was a tragic story. One that you loved, or Siffrin loved, as a child. You couldn't remember all of it, but you could remember enough.)

(That's why you're Null.)

(. . . You get dressed. You don't like it. "Your" clothes feel off, distracting, annoying. You don't know how you lived with it before. The hat was distracting, your hair was distracting, the eyepatch was distracting. You hated it, you really, really hated it. You rub your wrist.)

(Come to think of it, you had yet to be "in charge" alone. Finally. Might as well meet the rest of your companions. Companions? Fellow actos? Friends? You'll figure out a good name. You head downstairs.)

(Ah, the common area. There were a few people there, as well as a couple of your companions. Mirabelle was sitting at a table with some plates of food on it, she was writing something, and Isa was chatting with one of the other patrons.)

(Isa was talking to some tall girl with silver hair and a winter coat. At another table were two other people, one with hair down to his shoulders and a cloak, and another with a fancy vest reading a book, they were bickering. Seeing you come down, Isabeau quickly said goodbye and went to Mira's table and waved you over. You join them.)

"Good morning Siffrin!" (Mirabelle says cheerily.)

"Morning." (You say, get into character.) "Did I miss much?"

"Hah! Not at all Sif!" (Isa said, sitting down.) "Sif, right?"

"Yep!" (You lie.) "I slept like a rock."

"I'm not surprised, we had a long day yesterday, eat up!" (Mira said cheerily, oh! The food was for you! It was samosas, you start to eat.)

"Everyones doing their own thing right now." (Isa thought for a second.) "Bonnie's becoming best friends with Jan in the kitchen. Nille wanted to get unpacking properly. Odile. . . I think is still asleep? And Ramos went for a jog."

"Ramos jogs?" (You say, tilting your head.)

"Yup. They're a good runner, better than me." (Isa says.)

(You think back to when you fought them. Upwards of ten times you had to try that fight, they were fast. You roll your eye.) "And they said they weren't strong."

"Exactly!!" (Isabeau waves dramatically.) "It's just mind boggling if you actually get to know them. Sure they're not a hard hitter but that's fine! They're fast! You're like that and you're the strongest here!"

"Yes, it's because I'm fast." (You wave a hand, voice dripping with sarcasm.) "The time loops have nothing to do with it at all."

"W-well--" (Isabeau stumbles over his words.) "I-I mean, you were strong anyways?"

"You flatter me~" (You chuckle, this was fun.) "Who were you talking too, by the way?"

"Oh!" (Isa looks over to the girl with silver hair, she's writing in a notebook.) "She's a traveler, like us! We were swapping stories."

(Hmm, you smelt a lie in there.) "Nothing too personal, I hope."

"O-oh! Of course not no!" (Isa turned back to you.) "Just a friendly conversation."

(You let it go. If needed, you'll interogate her later. You finish up your food and stand up.) "I think I'll go on a walk."

"Didn't we do a lot of that yesterday?" (Isa asks, jokingly.)

"Well, yes, but. . ." (You look off to the side.) "I noticed there's a Favor Tree. I wan't to go see it."

"O-oh, will, will you be alright?" (Mirabelle asks, worried.)

"I'll be fine. No wish making for me, either." (You respond, smiling.)

"Just be careful of the rain, Sif!" (Isa encouraged you. You smile back, say your goodbyes, and head to the door.)

(It was a light rain. A nice rain. You felt the raindrops fall onto your hat, and slide off of your cloak. You stay there for a moment, feeling the rain, hearing the rain. It's nice. You walk towards the Favor Tree.)

(It's up a short hill, a well worn path marking where to walk. It was a large tree, you didn't know what kind. Turning to look behind you, the homestead looked much smaller now that you were further away and above it. How many people have gone through here, you wonder. How many have made their wishes, correct ritual, or not. You don't know, it didn't matter.)

(You stood at the base of the grand tree. It's branches spreading up and around you, engulfing the sky in a natural painting of a lightless night. The rain was gone, here. It was eaten by the leaves and wood above you. It was nice.)

(You had no wish to make. You had no wish you WANTED to make.)

(You sit down at the base of the tree, the soft earth is comfortable beneathe you.)

(Who are you, Null? Who are we.)

(For the first time, you've been able to walk on your own. Talk on your own. You met your companions, even if it wasn't under your own name. You're living in this world. But. . .)

(You close your eyes. To sleep? No, no. You wanted to talk. Talk to them.)

(The book reading one and the cloaked one belong to @fungal--wastes and @neoncityrain)

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fujilfelevator · 7 months

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thedirtygridd · 2 years

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FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS - WITH CHARLES LECLERC, PIERRE GASLY….AND YOU. (part one)

WARNINGS - 18+, sexual content

Summary - This is based off a request I had. I have added a few parts though! You are dating Pierre Gasly, when you find out he continues to cheat on you…so you call your friend, Charles Leclerc around to your apartment to seek some comfort. And things take a dramatic turn…

The doorbell rang. You leaped over to open it, making sure nobody else was watching.

“Come in, Charles” you said as you opened the door for him

As he brushed through the door, a wave of aftershave hit you. He smelt so good. He wore a white shirt, with his top three buttons wiiiiide open. You were instantly aroused at the sight…and his beautiful scent.

You both sat down on the couch, next to the wide glass windows, offering a panoramic view of down below, from your penthouse apartment. Well, when you say “your” apartment, you mean your boyfriends apartment.

You were currently dating Pierre Gasly.

But it wasn’t as good as it may have sounded. And Charles knew this.

“So why did you call, what has happened this time?” He asked , sounding caring and concerned about you

“He’s at it again. He’s fucking at it again” you said, angrily.

You added “he’s out. He’s with another girl…no doubt getting absolutely pissed and fucking her after. He’s with a different girl every few weeks, Charles. The media know it, the other drivers know it. Even you know it. But I’m supposed to act like I don’t know. And somehow act all happy about this?”

“Ah- well….” Charles couldn’t finish fore you interrupted

“Does he talk about the other girls to you?” You asked

“Err yeah…sometimes. But I try not to listen, you know. Well, I think he’s a dickhead for it. You deserve a better guy” Charles responded

Your eyes caught Charles’ in a different way to normal. You both looked away awkwardly as you filled in the small awkward silence.

Charles then said “if I had a girl like you, I wouldn’t be sleeping around like Gasly is. Mate, he must be crazy”

Your eyes caught Charles’ once more. This time you stayed locked in on each other.

You both leant forwards and your lips touched.

You gently kissed Charles , amazed at how good he tasted, you felt his tongue slowly creep out of his mouth and into yours when you suddenly pulled away

“No. We can’t, Charles. He’ll be back in a minute and imagine what he would say” you spoke

Charles responded quickly and confidently while pulling you back to him. “To be honest…I couldn’t give a fuck”

He pulled you onto his lap and you kissed again. But this time, it was harder, it was more passionate. Your tongues sliding against each other. Spit dripping between each of your mouths.

You lifted your legs and straddled over Charles lap, both legs each side of him. You brushed your fingers over his jawline as your tongues locked in with each other

“Mhm….oh” Charles let out some deep groans as you kissed. His hands had made it to your ass, and had placed a firm grip on it.

Next, you ripped his shirt apart. The anticipation of seeing (and feeling) what was under that shirt got the best of you.

You heard his buttons fly across the room as you ripped it off him. He didn’t care tho. His hands only found their way into your pants , and his fingers began rubbing your already wet clit.

You pulled his shirt aside and instantly placed your hands on his hard, wide chest. Your fingers took in the feeling of this incredible man. You leant down , licked all down his neck, before arrived at his abs, where you taster and sucked on them for what seemed like only a few seconds.

Charles’ fingers left your pants and you heard him spit onto his fingers. The next minute, he has his hand back down in your pants, but now two of his fingers had entered you.

The feeling instantly made you grown. You licked on his neck as he gave you this immense pleasure. His fingers instantly finding your G-Spot as he carved his way inside you.

You salivated on his thick neck

He took his fingers out of you and sucked on them. He savoured the taste of you before kissing you passionately once again.

His hard cock had now slipped out his pants, and slipped inside you.

He held your ass and gently pushed you down on his cock as you rode on top of him

You felt his hard, throbbing cock penetrate you like no man had ever before. He pushed open your tight walls, almost like a battering ram would open an impenetrable door

He cock kept pushing into you. Deeper and deeper….the feeling stronger and stronger. Until he had positioned himself.

He then gripped your ass with his hands and levered you into a position where you could not only ride him, but he could also thrust into you at the same time

He went at a good pace. Not too fast…but not too slow.

He used all the inches he had for every stroke.

You instantly came.

You squirted on his cock and apologised for it at the same time, as you felt it splash out onto him

“Shit …. Errr I’m so-“

You couldn’t finish. He pressed his fingers on your lips and said

“Shhh baby. Don’t apologise, I fucking love it “

You continued to ride Leclerc. You had lost count of the orgasms

You used your hands to smother his hard abs and chest as you connected with each other. You were in heaven.

This is when the door slammed open. Pierre stumbled in, drunk as hell. You turned to look at the door as he stumbled into the living room. You noticed he had love bites all over his neck. His shirt was wide open and ripped , with lipstick marks all over it.

You stared at Pierre while you continued to take Charles’ cock.

“Go to bed Pierre. I know you’ve been fucking cheating on me. And you know what. I don’t fucking care anymore. “

“Mhm…” you groaned as Charles continued to plough his way inside you, this time he felt like he was getting harder with his thrusts. Almost as if he was showing Pierre how to fuck you good

“Charles what the fuck man?” Pierre shouted across the room

“What do you want Pierre?” Charles asked as he continued to fuck you.

“You clearly don’t want your girl do you?” He added. “So that’s why I’m fucking her. Maybe you could learn a thing or two ….”

Pierre stood and watched as Charles flipped you onto your back on the sofa. He rolled on top of you , gently spreading your legs, before pushing his way inside you again.

He went hard. He was sending Pierre a message. He groaned deeply in pleasure as he stretched out your tight walls. He bent your legs up as he managed to get deeper inside you.

You had lost count of your orgasms by now. They felt constant. Every thrust was unbelievable.

You placed your hands on Charles’ sweaty, muscular back as he pounded you. You tan your fingers down all the little indentations as his back muscles flexed and worked while he fucked your body.

You felt his body getting sweatier and sweatier as he did it.

Pierre continued to watch over you as Charles took you harder.

“Oh baby, I’m getting close” Charles groaned

“Charles don’t you fucking dare. You fucking crazy dick head !” Pierre shouted.

He was fuming as he screamed across the room. He stumbled towards you both, looking like he was about to hit Charles. But he was so drunk, he found it so hard to step in the right direction, and was tripping up all over the place.

“Where do you want it?” Charles asked over the noise of Pierre stumbling around, as he kissed you gently, while continuing to thrust into you

“In me” you responded.

You saw charles’ eyes light up.

He thrust faster and harder into you. You felt his cock hardening as he did so

“Mhm I’m gonna cum” Leclerc moaned. His tongue lipped his lips as he said it

You now felt like you had the hardest object in the world inside you. His dick hardened to an extreme level, before he released his thick, white, warm load inside you.

You felt it splash up against your tight walls. His warm milk filled you up completely.

By the time Charles had dumped his full load inside you, pierre was getting closer.

Charles slipped his cock slowly out of you , and took a step back to admire the sight of his cream pie.

His thick, white milk slowly leaked out of you and onto your thighs

By this point, Pierre had seen the cum of his best friend leaking out of you.

Charles approached Pierre on his way out. He didn’t take his shirt, he only put on his shorts again.

He tapped Pierre on the shoulder as he walked out. “Maybe you can help your girlfriend clean up after me, because I made a mess….”

Charles slowly left the apartment, blowing a kiss to you as he did.

You lay there giggling at the sight of Pierre looking so angry, still feeling Charles’ cum dripping out of you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna get that dickhead back for this….”

Pierre said while getting his phone out, almost as though he knew exactly who he was about to call…..

To be continued

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #lando norris #lando norris smut #george russell #formula one #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly imagine

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otfujielevator · 1 year

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#panoramic elevator lift plan by Ot-Fuji Elevator

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prismaticpichu · 2 days

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Oo how about “you’re safe now” with Sephiroth and any of agz? Whether that is true or not is up to you >:)

OOOOOOH, STAR!! That is a juicy one!!! :000 >:3cc Thank you so much for the delicious start!!! 💕

Sephiroth didn’t need to glance up to know it was Angeal who stalked into his office that evening, the exhausted huff and heavy slam of the door telling him all that he needed to know.

“...Long training session?” Sephiroth grunted, green eyes never straying from the document in front of him, his pen never halting in its elegant glide across the paper.

He heard Angeal plunk onto the couch. “Very long,” he corrected, and Sephiroth could see him sweep a sweat-sheeted layer of hair back from the corner of his eye. “I’m telling you... that boy, he drains me. Really drains me.”

Sephiroth scoffed, unsurprised. “Did I not warn you that a student would be a waste of your energy?”

“Gee... Thanks, Sephiroth.”

The man’s scoff hardened into a grunt. “I’m only being factual. If you had to take a protégée under your wing, I’m still baffled as to why you needed one of such... high demand.”

“High demand?” Angeal parroted, leaning back against the sofa. “What is he, a pet?”

“Mmn. I not the one who gave him the moniker, ‘puppy.’“

“Heh, well, it’s true.” Angeal’s lips curled into a smirk. “That kid’s got more energy than the average chihuahuas. And he’s clumsy like one, too. You know he broke three training swords by swinging too hard today?”

“Again...” Sephiroth scoffed, “why are you so devoted to this student?”

He was not expecting such a long swath of silence to pass after that. It was as if the words had struck something in his friend, strumming a tender cord that Sephiroth didn’t know to be so raw, leaving the man appearing extremely distant. Thoughtful. Wistful. For several beats, Angeal didn’t say a word, his gaze drifting over to the large, panoramic window behind him, scanning over the sprawling, bustling terrain of the cityscape below.

And when he did finally speak again, some noticeable time later, he seemingly wanted to redirect the subject entirely.

“...I need to ask you a favor, Sephiroth,” he said.

Grateful for the break in silence, Sephiroth continued to scrawl. “What?”

“...Can you look at me, at least? I’m serious.”

Something of a sigh escaped Sephiroth’s lips as he lifted his gaze from his paperwork, blinking a couple times to ease the strain, green eyes drifting across the office to lock with the sage, mako-fueled indigo of his friend’s.

He was almost taken aback by just how stern the man’s countenance really was.

“...If anything happens to me,” Angeal started, grimly, taking their connected gaze as permission to speak, “I need you to take care of Zack... alright?”

Sharp, blazing jolts of surprise coursed through Sephiroth’s body, stunned by both his friend’s direct words and the deeper implications. “W... what?” was all he could manage to say, the emerald eyes briefly widening before narrowing to slits, a pulse of concern hammering dreadfully in his heart. “Why would something happen to you?”

Angeal didn’t seem at all fazed by the question, the l prospect. “Life’s unpredictable... isn’t it? Who knows what might happen tomorrow.”

“Angeal—” Sephiroth started, unable to stifle the full extent of his panic. How... how could he even say such a thing? Genesis hadn’t even been gone for a week, and now Angeal was trying to insinuate something might happen to him as well? Something that might... take him away too...?! His lips curled into a snarl, defensive. “Why would you...—”

“Hey, relax.” Angeal put his palms up in a gesture of peace, comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”—There was a flicker im his eyes as he said this, a spark that Sephiroth just couldn’t decipher—”I simply... worry about Zack sometimes. That’s all. I’m afraid he’ll get himself really tangled up without someone watching out for him. He’s a good kid, though, Sephiroth.:; Probably the kindest soul in all of SOLDIER. And really good with a sword, too.”

Sephiroth raised a brow. Skilled with a sword...? Heh. Most younger SOLDIERs preferred guns—much easier to handle, more practical, quicker to kill... It did take a certain courage to wield a blade, a certain character...

Still—

Sephiroth’s eyes returned to slits, throat rumbling in protest. “I don’t care.” he shook his head, tempted to reabsorb himself in his paperwork, the feline needles drifting back to his pen and document. “I have no desire to adopt a student.”

Angeal rubbed a kink in his neck. “...It was only a hypothetical, Sephiroth.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the man grunted. “I do not want the responsibility thrust upon me. Ask somebody else.”

Angeal remained silent for a moment. “...Like who, Sephiroth? Tell me.”

“Gene—” Sephiroth began, instinctively, before reality clamped down on his tongue in a cold, jagged vice, swallowing the rest of the name instead as a bitter silence dogged, one that loomed over the two SOLDIERs, breathing into and thickening the air around them like pollution.

“Exactly,” Angeal said after a few moments, quietly. “You’re the only one who I could really turn to, Sephiroth. The only one who be able to truly protect nim.”

Sephiroth’s gaze fell to the floor.

“Sephiroth...” Angeal sighed, pleading. “I need to know that there will be someone looking out for him. Please... I’m asking as a friend.”

Sephiroth grunted. “...And how would we ever get along?”

There was a beat, and Angeal cracked a small, wan smile. “...Don’t worry about that,” he chuckled. “I didn’t just call him Pup for the energy alone: he grows on you, you know? He worms his way into your heart.”

Heh, right... Sephiroth rapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “...And who says I’m equipped to a student?”

Angeal shrugged, the tired smile still present. “I think you could use it. Both of you. Zack could likely benefit from someone a little tougher, and, you, well...” He thought for a moment. “I think Zack would be able to see what I see in you, friend. What... we both saw in you.” His smile faltered a little as he added this, another indecipherable flicker in his mako-fueled eyes. “In any case... I wouldn’t expect you to become best friends. I’m not asking that. Hell, I’d be rather shocked if you did. I’m only asking for someone who will look after the kid. Someone who I can trust, and someone who I know will...”—his eyes softened, swallowing thickly—”keep my friend safe...”

The silver bangs spilled over Sephiroth’s visage as he dipped his chin.

“Sephiroth... please.”

He never did give him an answer before Angeal’s phone rang, and the man raced out of his office in search of Zack.

The conversation never arose again.

—————

Green eyes fluttered open in the present, still sitting upright on his best friend’s couch, still cloaked in the sleepy darkness that had initially lulled him to sleep. Flickering lights from the television still puddled on his face, still buzzing with some late-night program that was left on... And that weight—the warm, sturdy weight pressing against his shoulder...

Sleepily, Sephiroth turned his head aside, and he couldn’t say he was surprised to find Zack sound asleep against him, a tranquil smile playing on his lips as he exhaled soft, rhythmic breaths into his coat, the light from the TV illuminating his sleepy visage, his scar, the thready cowlick that drooped endearingly over his nose...

Smiling softly, Sephiroth reached out, gently ruffling the feathery nest of spikes.

Zack’s own smile softened under his touch.

“…You’re safe with me. I promise.”

#ffvii #sephiroth #angeal hewley #crisis core #ff7 #pichu writing #zack fair #asks #ty!!#prompts #hurt/comf #I suppose it’s an ambiguous ending :3c #not really lol bc everyone here knows I don’t allow Nibelheim to happen but dhdhhdhdhd #plz imagine whatever you want to! xD

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loveselenade · 6 months

Text

Madoka 1.5

Since I’m watching PMMM for the first time (with a lot of it spoiled due socmed lol), I figured it’d be fun to write my thoughts so far, 1.5 episodes in. It goes without saying, but don't send me any further spoilers, as this is only fun if I can manage to remain as ignorant as I am now.

Things I knew before hand:

-Kyubey is a bastard.

-It has Shinbo Akiyuki's artistic sensibilities all over it (reason I started watching, tho I'm unclear what exactly his involvement in this is lol). Also, Urobuchi Gen is the main writer for this lol

-Madoka dies.

-Madoka is the paragon of good.

-Lesbian Satan.

-Homura has catholic guilt??

-Someone's backstory involves a brother or something.

-Guns

-Time loop.

-Jewel seeds but evil (this only makes sense if you've watched Nanoha, sorry lol)

-Witches

-Madoka saved a cat

---

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Illusory motion.

[image id: top view of a monochromatic, distorted staircase that looks like a spiral.]

An upwards climb or a downward spiral? The irregular curving of the stories and the pattern alternance sure makes it look like it's spiraling inward. As our lace curtain lifts so the play can begin, this is our first look at the kind of world that awaits us.

[image id: gif showing a close up to Madoka's legs and then a panoramic top view as she runs through a monochromatic hallway with a chessboard pattern]

I don’t have a lot to say about the witches’ labyrinths yet, but I’m always a sucker for dreamscapes (I loved them dearly in Flip Flappers, where they had the incredible work of Studio Pablo strengthening the storybook look), and I’m assuming the labyrinths symbolize something about the interiority or the difficulties the witch in question faced. I don’t have a lot to go by with the two labyrinths in episode one, but I did love the glimpse of the one we get in the opening sequence. I love the effect that it creates when alternating between panoramic shots or extreme close-ups to Madoka’s legs and back as she runs—respectively making her look too small against this overwhelming set piece or claustrophobically trapped in her impotence. As the camera moves along, there’s a sensation that the different patterns in the floors are moving. Because of the way we perceive depth via ascertaining the apparent parallelism or convergence of lines and value/color contrast, among other things, the pattern alternance in this monochrome set piece creates illusions of either motion or that each row is a step more elevated than the other. It’s a properly trippy place. I enjoy it. The straight white for the lighting and tiles creates an artificial and alienating atmosphere. The uniformity of its looks is disorienting. Is Madoka going the right way? It’s really a fantastic introduction to the world of Madoka Magica.

The path you must follow has been prepared for you.

[image id: A green, flourescent exit sign is centered in the screen, hanging above a dark path framed by silver chain fence]

Despite the disorienting feeling, Madoka follows mostly straight paths and there's a clearly labeled, correct exit. This brings to mind the predetermined paths present in Revolutionary Girl Utena's imagery.

Additionally, I find the way Madoka’s run is boarded reminiscent to Utena’s chase after Anthy in Adolescence of Utena:

[image id: gif showing a panoramic view of of landscape shwoered in sunset lighting and red, square pillars towering over the space. Utena, looking tiny, runs further into the place.]

[Image id: gif showing a top down view of a long monochromatic corridor with chessboard pattern that Madoka, a mere pink dot in the screen, crosses running. The corridor is right in the middle of the screen and surrounded by different equally black and white mandalas that turn slightly.]

We get panoramic overhead shots emphasizing the disorienting, geometrical maze and the impotence of our heroines' tiny figure against them.

Before reaching their destination, they both cross a stairs-bridges of sorts; Utena, towards the dueling arena where Anthy waits for her to continue the dueling cycle with Utena as champion; Madoka, towards the foyer where she can find her exit to where Homura is struggling against another hopeless, fighting cycle, one which Madoka choses to perpetuate when making a contract with Kyubey…

[Image ids:

The image to the left shows shows a stich of two Adolescence of Utena's screenshots: the one on top showing Utena crossing a bridge; due the top down angle and the inclination of the bridge, the planks on the bridge look like stairwells. The image on the bottom shows Utena crossing the bridge against the creamy, pinkish sunset sky. The bridge railing is shown a black silhoutte in the foreground.

The image to the right is a stich of two monocrohmatic Madoka Magika episode one screenshots: the on the the top shows Madoka crossing a corridor, the foreground is dominated by abstract geometric shapes. The one on the bottom shows Madoka going up an ample stair well, and the surrounding walls have a similar geometric patterning.]

Absolute Reality.

[Image id: Predominantly black and white screenshot showing a dark tree on the foreground and black debri flyaing around. A little to the right of the middle line stands Madoka, with Kyubey sitting on top of some fallen pillar. The subtittles are Madoka's dialogue and read: "Can I really do something to help?"]

The offer that tempts Madoka into a contract is the promise of agency. She can’t stand the reality where there is nothing she can do, thus it's the promise she does actually have power to influence the narrative and help others and stop their suffering what Kyubey dangles in front of her. Madoka feels deeply moved by the pain of others and has a strong empathetic response that makes it very easy for her to be preyed upon by our resident ugly cat here. It’s detrimental to her. Maybe Homura has a point in reversing her wish to be the divine embodiment of Goodness.

It’s then interesting that she expresses disappointment upon waking up not only in the premiere but in episode 02, as well. Her waking up animation might as well become bank during this introductory arc (I’m betting it does, can’t wait to be wrong). When confronted with the thought the world her senpai Mami introduced to her, one of great danger but also apparently fulfilling and actualizing, Madoka expresses disappointment. Even though she has a happy, easygoing life full of friends and family that love her and that she loves in return, there is something else she is looking for.

Confronting your own humble plainness again.

[Image id: Screenshot of Madoka's room dimly lit. Madoka is drawn towards the bottom left edge, hunching and hugging her huge body plush with a beleagered expression.]

Appearances, facades.

Trained confidence.

[Image id: Screenshot showing makeup labelled with numbers, as if to indicate the order of steps.]

Following Madoka’s "dream", we learn about her homelife anchored around her interactions with her mother as they talk about the love lives of the people around Madoka, contrasted to Madoka's own assertion that no one has an eye on her. Their whole bathroom conversation could be characterized as "girl talk": they go on about love and the need to maintain an appealing image as means to reach it. I could easily accuse this scene of being sexist (and it did rub me the wrong way initially), but the dialogue is naturalistic enough to paint a trusting, warm bond between mother and daughter; plus the repetition of the make-up motif in the second episode while interspersed with Mami's explanation draws attention to themes of appearance and desire.

A remark that can easily be taken as reinforcing gender essentialism lol

[Image id: Screenshot showing the sinks at the foreground barely visible at the bottom edge, with Madoka and her mother in front of them. Madoka is holding her red ribbons with her left hand hesitantly, while her mother has her hands over her hips, talkig matter-of-factly: "A woman's appearance is the one thing she can't afford to get looked down at."]

The contrast in the way mother and daughter carry themselves is apparent. When Madoka relays her reports about her homeroom teacher's love life, her more experienced mother offers keen observations about the possible state of the relationship. Where Madoka takes things at face value, her mother can see deeper. The same applies to the image they project to the world— where her mother has a set (numbered) method to achieve her ideal image, Madoka fumbles and fusses about her ribbon choice and not being seen as too much. The frame pan showcasing the end result has Madoka standing timidly with her hands folded over her lap and her back reflection shown in three different angles in the background mirrors, as if she's being thoroughly scrutinized. While her mother confidently observes her reflection in the mirror, Madoka shrinks at being observed.

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka in the middle with a dopey and hesitant expression and her arms drawn close. Her reflections are shown in the mirrors in the background.]

I can't say that Madoka’s self-confidence is worryingly low given what we’ve been presented with—while she lacks the self-assurance her mother possesses, she doesn’t seem particularly self-deprecating. While her affirmation that no one looks her way reflects that self-consciousness, Madoka doesn't further put herself down. Instead, it could simply be that she's a teenager only now discovering her identity, what she's comfortable with, what she wants and what place can she carve for herself in this world. Her mother advises her to train the image and behaviors of someone confident as a first step to grow more certain of herself. The scene places emphasis on the process of purposefully building the image you project, which becomes relevant as episode two's layouts play with a reflection motif around talks of desire.

While thinking back on Kyubey’s proposal of granting them one wish in exchange of risking their lives, Madoka ponders about what she wants. Her waffling contrasts to her mother’s immediate, cutting response concerning pragmatic concerns from her work life when Madoka echoes the question to her. Although, of course, her mother lacks the whole context that makes the decision heightened, Madoka’s roof talk with Kyubey and Sayaka reinforces that there isn’t anything she wishes for that strongly. Yet.

Additionally, when Madoka proposes a bigger ambition to her mother (“Wouldn’t you rather become CEO yourself?”), the image her mother projects into the mirror changes drastically into a more fierce and dangerous look, complete with the repetition of her labeled make-up symbol. This ties a connection between the image people project and what they desire. And just like Madoka has a rather inhibited persona, so do her desires appear mild.

This takes us to Mami, their helpful senpai.

A slightly distorted image seen from below the glass table totally screams trustworthy.

[Image ID: Screenshot of Mami drawn in a low angle, showing her sitting with her legs neatly folded under her backside and her hands resting on her lap. Despite the sunset light filtering through the windows, she's very dimly lit. Most of her image, from the waist up, is shown slightly distorted as its filtered through the glass of the table. The table legs curve outwards and frame her the image in a strange way. The subtitles present her offer: "You should see for yourself what it's like to do battle with witches."]

Knowing the spoilers that Homura is trying to save Madoka from death via time loops and preventing her from forming a contract with Kyubey has an interesting effect— that is, it casts suspicion over other characters. Mami is the helpful senpai that shows up in the nick of time to save them from the witch, heals Kyubey, explains the situation to them and even promises to protect them from Homura at school. She also offers to show them the fieldwork so they can make up their mind about whether to become contracted! The earlier, careful portrayal around purposeful appearances and the reflection motif repeating during their talk can’t be coincidence. Clearly, she wants to be seen as someone who’s dependable, and whether this has more sinister implications or is stemming from personal wishes is unclear to me yet. Mami feels more like Kyubey’s sales associate than anything else. “You can come observe” it’s the pitch you give someone unsure whether to join a club so you can lure them further in. She’s encouraging them to take on a responsibility that can have rather grim outcomes, despite her early assertion that magical girls don’t necessarily work together to reap the rewards of fighting witches—a statement that further reinforces the narrative of Homura as an antagonistic force to our young heroines. Mami either is very upstanding and thinks it’s a duty they should take on since they were chosen or there is something deeply fishy going on here.

For all intents and purposes, Mami is a completely separate entity to our young heroines, not unlike Homura. She’s the one who’s a magical girl already, they’re the uninitiated. They sit on the same side of the table, opposite to her. This shot emphasizes their separation through the black leg of that foreground furniture.

There’s clearly a lot we don’t know about her.

[Image id: screenshot showing Mami's living room. There's sunset light still filtering in, but the room is mostly dimly lit. Mami is on the side of the wall, so she's in the shade. They're sitting at the table, Madoka and Sayaka together on the same side and visually opposite to Mami. The black legs of a furniture are shown in the foreground, creating a strong visual barrier between Mami and her juniors.]

Isn’t it just so fun how this reflection shot obscures her face? Like she’s covering it with her hands in sorrow. Seems charged that it coincides with her explanation about witches causing suicide and murder, does she know of someone who was a victim of them? OR better yet, someone who became One?

I know that magical girls become witches in this series, which also poses interesting possibilities…

[Image id: Screenshot showing Mami's lap with her hands resting on top of it as she sits in front of the table. Because of the top angle, the reflection of her face shows dimly on the glass table. Her face overlaps her hands. The subtitles read: Many of the inexplicable suivides and murders that occur..."]

Are my suspicions on Mami’s intentions totally off-mark? I have no idea, but it’s incredibly fun to doubt her lol

Speaking of despair lore, I usually raise my eyebrow—think it’s full of shit— when there’s worldbuilding that links suicide and violence to supernatural entities; it’s a run-of-the-mill battle shonen explanation, Noragami also uses it with Ayakashi as amalgamation of negative feelings and energy from the people of the places they haunt. Now, this could still work on an allegorical sense of how oppressive environments lead to such emotional outcomes, since most stories don’t engage with the structural causes of such problems… It can be that, or end up attributing a metaphysical cause as the source of all darkness without even so much extending understanding and sympathy to the people who suffer from it. Where does Madoka Magica fall, I wonder…

Blessed fools.

A pained smile framed behind by bars, a surefire sign that someone isn’t totally trapped.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Sakaya's back with her face turned in profile towards the right. She's smiling ambigously and her right hand is holding to the white chain wall that dominates the background against the bright daylight sky. The subtittles read: "Well... Maybe the pair of us are just fools?"]

Given our young heroines lack of direction, ardent ambitions or anguishing desires, Sayaka muses that perhaps the fact they don’t have anything they’d die for is a sign they’re blessed fools. This rings true for Madoka. She’s a happy kid with a supportive family and friends. Despite her longing for something more—her own agency? confidence? Romantic love?—, there doesn’t seem to be anything that is making her actively miserable. Her mild adolescent ennui is not necessarily something pernicious and would’ve likely resolved itself as she experienced and tackled more challenges in her life with the guidance and support of her family. This whole business paints more ill-fated for her (and I mean, I know it is. What a tragedy, hers).

But is this true for Sayaka? This brief shot with its ominous red sky and its bedridden figure shrouded in darkness begs to differ… The fact she feels guilty over being chosen, thinking there’s people who’d make use of a miracle much better than them makes me think it’s rather someone she knows… Is this her motivation to get into Kyubey’s magical girl agency? I don’t have a lot to go by…

[Image ID: Screenshot representing a short-haired person in bed shown facing right . Most of the shapes are represented as black silhouttes, sans the translucent curtains and the ominous red sky framed by the window. The subtittles read "We've been so blessed.."]

Sayaka and homoeroticism.

Welcome back, Shinohara Wakaba.

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka, Sayaka and their irrelevant friend Hitomi at the park. Sayaka is hugging a slouching Madoka from the back, saying "You must be my bride, Madoka!".]

The Girl Talk in episode one continues as we follow Madoka’s commute to school with her two friends: the blue one, the to-be Magical Girl, Sayaka and this one random girl that I'm surprised it's even there. The banter and physicality to Sayaka and Madoka’s interactions is fun and warm, selling their chemistry as friends. And near the end, Sayaka playfully proclaims Madoka must be with her, which immediately brought to mind Revolutionary Girl Utena’s Shinohara Wakaba's own ambiguous, very physically affectionate date-play with Utena.

Rather than being a maiden in the sidelines, however, Sayaka is positioned as Madoka’s protector against Homura. Given Homura is fighting to be Madoka’s silent protector herself, this is unbelievably funny to me. When Madoka finds Homura's staring off-putting during P.E., she hides behind Sayaka. When Madoka— with Kyubey in her arms— is alone facing the inscrutable, darkness-shrouded, threatening Homura, the one who shows up to save her is Sayaka. When they're alone within the creepy labyrinth, Sayaka protectively embraces Madoka. When Madoka is worried that Homura might try to attack them at school, Sayaka offers to punch Homura. This antagonistic placing of Madoka's two protectors is hilarious, and I'm curious to see if the dynamic fizzles out as we delve into Sayaka's innermost wishes and struggles or if the tension will boil over into something interesting.

'Get behind me, Madoka! I got the fire extinguisher!'

Such a hilarious way to break the tension.

[Image id: Screenshot showing Madoka and Sayaka in a dark parking lot, with most of the background shrouded in shadows. Sayaka is holding a fire extinguisher that she's shooting towards the left, and Madoka stands behind her, holding Kyubey.]

Even their sitting order in class positions Madoka behind Sayaka lmao Does Sayaka have a thing for Madoka or just a hero complex?

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Madoka and Sayaka sitting in their classrooom. Sayaka is shown sitting a row in front of Madoka, a column to the left. Madoka is holding Kyubey in her arms. The subtittles read: "If she tries anything on you, I'll punch her lights out!"]

The show acknowledges the homoeroticism between the two in a tongue-in-cheek manner during their commute in episode 2, when their normie friend feels put off by the apparent intimacy of their silent (telepathic) communication:

"You've been staring so intently into each other's eyes… What on earth did you do after I left yesterday?!"

This girl is too homophobic to become a magical girl, smh.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Sayaka, Madoka and their friend Hitomi drawn in profile at the park. Sayaka and Madoka are positioned on the left side of the screen, with a tree in the background subtly serving as visual barrier between Madoka and Sayaka. Madoka is slouched and halfheartedly reaching to Hitomi. Hitomi is positioned on the right side of the screen, with her hand to her heart and running towards the left. Her dialogue reads: "Don't you see that it's a love that can never beeee?!"]

Madoka points out that their normie friend's remarks sound a lot like what Sayaka tells to her on a regular basis, lending credence to my Wakaba comparison lol This gag could simply be an acknowledgement of the charged homoeroticism present in the series, but it still amuses me so far a lot of it has circled around Sayaka and Madoka.

Akemi Homura

Her soundless, despaired scream as she catches sight of Madoka with Kyubey was so cinematic ❤️

[Image id: gif showing a zoom out of Homura's face as she screams. She's resting on a tree branch that's represented as a black silhouette, with debris floating around represented in the same way.]

Speaking of homoeroticism, it's time to talk about Homura. I actually felt a little sad that I already know about her motivations because she's so incredibly off-putting, I'd have had a lot of fun speculating about the meaning of her actions, the way she's framed and the meticulous way her micro expressions are portrayed. However, it's not like there isn't still some room to have fun reading into them. She enters the picture via the classic transfer student trope. From her introduction alone, she creates an awkward atmosphere with the way the standoffish silence lingers due her laconicism.

Despite her aloof demeanor, and in pure transfer-student fashion, Homura still stands out both in academics and physical feats (she even breaks the regional high jump record lol!); as such garners the attention of her peers. Nonetheless, she couldn't be more uninterested in them, as the one she can't keep her eyes off is Madoka. Her taciturn, blank-faced and cutting demeanor can paint her staring as downright aggressive. This is further reinforced by being color coded with the darkest values in the cast so far: black and purple are her signature colors, classic villain palette.

Her conversation with Madoka as she rehashes the "could you show me where the infirmary is" routine is the big standout of hers in episode one —the tropey nature of this encounter makes it very easy to imagine how their first interactions went down the first time—. The low angle that emphasizes her head tilt and the accentuated shadows on her face and body make her look haughty and intimidating.

She's literally staring down Madoka lol Worth noting this same framing is repeated as she warns Madoka in a few minutes, complete with rotating animation for gravitas, contributing to Homura's bad vibes.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura's face and shoulders slightly turned to the right side of the screen. The right side of her face is heavily shadowed and so are her shoulders. She's looking down on the viewer. Her dialogue reads: "May I ask you to accompany me?"]

While one could think that the reason she approached Madoka was to issue her warning, I'm actually not that certain. It could be due the way her anguished reactions to being around Madoka make her look quite erratic as she tortures herself with these distorted echoes of her memories—but I also have to point out the abrupt way she brings the interaction to a halt, stomping and suddenly turning. The way she behaves through the whole interaction feels quite impulsive, which gave me the impression of Homura purposefully trying to recreate the past (whether out of indulgence or to torture herself, I'm not really sure).

It's really fun the way this obscured close-up to her profile hiding her eyes— making it difficult to parse her emotions— paired to how the next highlighted extreme close-ups have her clenching her teeth led credence to the "Homura is a hostile party" narrative. Personally, the timing is what gets me. She reacts deeply upset to the fact Madoka politely yet impersonally addresses her as "Akemi-san" lol This girl was in the trenches.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura's shadowed profile facing left. She is holding her face up, seemingly imperious and her mouth is tightly shut.]

The way the timing makes it seem like she's really pissed at Madoka’s remark that her name is weird + subsequent fumbling is very funny lol I wouldn't say she's not upset from it, but mostly in the "it's painful to be around you" way.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing a extreme close up to Homura's clenched mouth, as she lowers her face. There's heavy shading on the left side of her face and lens flare coming from the right side of her face.]

There's a lot of natural verticals in the panels of their classrooms and the windows they transverse that create visual divisions between the two. I found it particularly noteworthy that while there's a natural sense of distance and awkwardness between the them, Homura is the one who accentuates it and fully brings herself to the other side of the threshold when she suddenly skips forward ahead from Madoka. The idea she's intentionally cultivating a distance between the two is very intriguing and appealing…

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura and Madoka facing left as they walk through the corridor with blue window panes. There's a particular wide vertical division in between Madoka and Homura, placed more or less in the middle of the screen. Homura is on the left side of the screen, but closer to the blue vertical division. Madoka is falling behind, with more white space between her and the middle.]

Their sitting order reinforces this idea, situating Homura all the way to the front, completely out of reach.

[Image ID: Screenshot showing Homura sitting in the front row, looking back at Madoka's seat.]

They look fully at odds with each other thanks to the high contrast between the bright windows and the shaded frames. The dark values to their visual barriers fully bring out the tension brought by Homura's sudden halt-and-turn as she issues her warning. Homura is framed as thoroughly oppositional to Madoka, and she herself doesn't bother to correct any misunderstandings. It's pretty interesting she's fine with being vilified if it might grant her any slight chance to get what she wants.

[Image ID: screenshot showing Homura and Madoka drawn in a symmetrical composition, separated visually by the regular window panes. Homura is drawn towards the left edge of the screen, facing right and standing imperiously. Madoka is drawn on the right side of the screen, towards the edge as well, slightly slouched and in a timid pose. Subtittles show Madoka's dialogue: "Yes, really! I couldn't lie about that."]

Homura's dead-eyed ominous warning vs Mami's personable, smiling offer of support, fight! But this is truly why I can't trust Mami lol Should you really be tacitly encouraging them, Yellow Senpai? A cutting warning really seems more befitting here…

[Image ID: Extreme close up to Homura's blank left eye with the right side of her face being heavily shaded. The subtittles read: "Because if you do, you will end up losing all of those things.]

Odd ends.

There's a lot of small gestures that really bring out charm to the interactions and feelings, but if I pointed out absolutely everything, I'd never finish this lol

There's one thing from the Madoka-wakes-up Bank I do want to point out, though: the odd feeling Madoka’s head turn with the hard shading gives me. Now, I know it's a Shaft™ thing, I've watched another TV series directed by Shinbo that was produced there and I've heard of it. But I still find the timing peculiar— after the opening sequence with her running to the rooftop in episode one and the brief recap with Mami's transformation in the second, just before she wakes up. Of course, this reinforces that sense of being at the verge of waking up from an odd dream, which Madoka fully believes, but it can also get a sense of deja vu. Typically, one would assume that Madoka’s run towards the rooftop is a glimpse to an event that will happen later down the line. But given the nature of this being a time loop and Homura's insistence on preventing Madoka’s death via preventing her contract altogether, which it's implied to happen in that sequence, I don't think there isn't any reason to think that it's not something that didn't already happen. If this ends up being the case, I'm curious how that'd affect further loops.

Tell me your secrets, you pink little one.

[Screenshot showing a extreme close up to Madoka's eyes facing towards the left. Her face is drawn almost facing front, leaning towards the right. There's heavy shading on her face and a black background.]

Expectations for the rest of the introductory arc:

-Second half of episode 2 will end in a cliffhanger that'll destabilize routine while they fight a new witch.

-Said cliffhanger will involve Mami (I HOPE IT DOES). I'm suspicious of her and hope she does something terrible, but I think it's equally, if not more, likely that something terrible happens to Her lol

-🤷🏻‍♂️

Hmm that's it. I'm not very good at imagining scenarios lol

I'm also half-expecting to be wrong about nothing making Madoka miserable, mostly because I've been obsessing over Takamachi Nanoha, another seemingly well-loved, normal kid who turned out to have Important Baggage lol

#pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #madoka kaname #Homura Akemi #Sayaka pmmm #Mami pmmm #so this post made me discover that the image limit is 30 pictures LMFAO #anyway i'm dead and i'm tired. I get it now. I need to save a back up of my file and images and write the img ids as i go #i'm dead #long post #like extremely long post #Mami Tomoe

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xuchiya · 4 months

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"Chapter 7: All things must come down" || kang yeosang [a mini-series]

|| next: chapter 8 || if you haven't read the previous chapter, here's the masterlist.

genre: non!idol yeosang. fluff. angst. violence. mentions: gun. knives. attempt murder/kidnapping. blood. anxiety attack.

"my lady as much as I want to drive that ... chariot as our runaway vehicle ... you're on your own."

"KANG YEOSANG?!"

The soft glow of the city lights twinkled below as you and Daniel were seated at a table near the large windows of the N Seoul Tower. The panoramic view was breathtaking, a sea of lights stretching out into the horizon, the city bustling below like a distant memory.

At first you find the invitation, the situation and more importantly, him— odd. Like you have not been invited to dinner, out of business matters, and a place you have been trying to book yet it seems fate does not want you to. But as the minutes passed by and Daniel doing his best to warm you up to him, you found yourself more relaxed than you expected, the weight of the day’s sorrows momentarily lifted. Daniel was surprisingly charming, steering the conversation away from business and allowing you a rare moment of normalcy.

The topics flowed effortlessly, from lighthearted anecdotes to shared interests. The first impression to him slowly faded as you took upon yourself that you were just rushed by adrenaline and it was the first time meeting someone—other than your grandfather's oldest partners in business—it must have been really odd to you. For a brief moment, you could almost forget the words of Yeosang's caution.

“So, what made you choose this place?” you asked, sipping your wine and eyeing the twinkling lights. Daniel leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips, a quick scan of the view before returning them back to you. “It’s one of my favorite spots. The view is incredible plus, it’s away from the office, away from the stress. Just us and the city below.”

You nodded, feeling a bit of the tension slip away. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” Your cheeks suddenly flared in red hue, you took the wine glass and sip it quietly as a way to distract yourself.

The evening continued with laughter and a genuine connection forming. Daniel shared stories about his travels and experiences, his demeanor disarming. Despite Yeosang’s warnings echoing in your mind, you couldn’t help but enjoy his company. He seemed genuine, his earlier desperation replaced by an easygoing charm.

As dessert arrived, a waiter was serving the food when he accidentally tipped over a wine glass, causing a small commotion. The red liquid spread across the tablecloth, splashing onto your clothes. You stood up as you felt it dripping on your dress pants.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” the waiter stammered, quickly trying to clean up the mess. You waved it off, laughing. “Hey it;s okay, It’s alright, accidents happen.”

Daniel stood, helping to dab at the stain with a napkin. You sigh, thanking him quietly. “Let’s get you some fresh air,” he suggested, guiding you outside to the observation deck.

The cool night air was refreshing against your skin, and you took a deep breath, the stress of the day melting away. Daniel handed you a fresh glass of wine, and you clinked glasses, toasting to the night. “Thank you, Daniel really.” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you that was more than just the wine.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime. You deserve a break.” As you both stood in silence, the wind suddenly picked up causing you to close your eyes and inhale deeply. Nights like this are calming, most especially after a good dinner.

You felt a soft and warm cloth draping over your shoulder, your eyes widening before your fingertips ran through on the soft cotton of his coat, “Cold weather, we can not guarantee their heir getting sick, don’t we?”

You chuckle softly, “I’ve been sick a few times Daniel, it’s nothing new.” He let out a soft laugh before finishing off the rest of his wine. “Well it’s new to me since you look adorable with the pink nose.” Your head whipped to his direction, his attention was focused on the view in front of the two of you, even with the small light illuminating, you saw his cheeks in red hue. You moved your head back to the city lights below.

As the night wore on, the breeze became a lull and the white noise of the city below had made your bones and nerves relax— or so you thought it was nature helping you to unwind as you began to feel an unusual heaviness in your limbs, your eyelids growing heavy. You tried to shake it off, blaming it on the emotional toll of the day.

“Are you alright?” Daniel asked, concerned, laced his voice. You blink a few times,only in making it worse as each close of your eyes it went heavier and heavier. “I’m just a… bit tired,” you admitted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his hand gentle on your lower back. You weren’t able to answer him and let him lead you back inside. You did not notice anything in particular but what you remember each time you force your eyes to open is Daniel waving off to someone, inside the elevator down the lower ground where he had parked his Mercedes, as he guides you to the car— you stumble on your feet to which he caught you on time.

It was that moment, you felt different. You weren’t sleepy because of everything tolling on you or the fatigue finally catching up, you knew it was something else, was it the food? Or the coffee before you had dinner? Or was it the wine? Yet none of those were able to put your finger in it. Your heart beat so loud in your ears that it started ringing, your body a little bit flushed and the way your eyes were hazy and blurry— your surroundings duplicating, you held onto what was holding you until then you felt a hot breath next to your ear,

“Careful, don’t want to harm their heir, don’t we?” Your head turns to Daniel slowly. Your heart fell on the bottom of your stomach when you took notice of his eyes— it wasn’t those gaze when he was talking about his trip, or the way he accomplished the smallest that felt big to him— it looked distant, plain and there was a hint of … vengeance.

“Da-Daniel?” You were confused. “Let’s get you home now, hmm? It’s getting late and you’re sleepy. Not safe.” He gave you a tight smile before leading you to his Mercedes.

As you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, Daniel's demeanor shifted. The kind, charming man you had dinner with seemed to evaporate, replaced by a calculating coldness. He stood in the dim light of your bedroom, his eyes scanning your unconscious form with a mixture of contempt and determination. Stepping quietly to the door, he took out his phone and dialed a number, waiting until the line connected. "It's done. She's out for the night. Make sure the next phase is ready."

He paused, listening to the response on the other end. "No, she has no idea. Her guard is down. Just keep to the plan and ensure no one slips up. We can't afford any mistakes."

As he ended the call, Daniel took a moment to survey your room. His eyes fell on the various personal items scattered around, each one a testament to the life you had built, the legacy you were set to inherit. His lips curled into a sneer when he saw a Yamaha figurine on your computer table.

He had initially targeted your father, believing him to be the key figure behind the company— the chosen heir. His plans for sabotage had been meticulously crafted, designed to exploit weaknesses and create chaos. But discovering that you, not your father, were the true heir had thrown him off balance. You were younger, more resilient, and surrounded by loyalists like NingNing— your aide, whose presence complicated things.

Then Yeosang was added to his list.

Yet, Daniel was nothing if not adaptable. He knew he had to break you down, both mentally and emotionally, to get what he wanted. Your father's empire had to crumble, and so did you.

Daniel knew he had to level up his strategies, every time he saw an article about any kind of succession over the company you have been accomplishing, his mind thought of a lot of ways to remove you right there. Because he believes so deeply in his father’s words that you do not belong on that spot nor were you supposed to be the heir.

“Eveything will be over … just doing you a favor, Lady.”

With silent steps, Daniel left your room, making his way back to his car. His mind raced with the details of his plan, each step a calculated move on the chessboard of corporate warfare. He would start by isolating you, creating rifts within your inner circle. Yeosang, your personal bodyguard, was the first obstacle. Daniel had already set in motion a series of events to undermine Yeosang's trustworthiness, planting seeds of doubt within your father's most trusted security personnel. Next, he would introduce subtle disruptions within the company. Small incidents at first, easily dismissed as coincidences or minor errors. But each one would build upon the last, creating a pattern of instability and mistrust among your employees. Daniel knew that once the foundation of trust was shaken, it wouldn't take much to topple the entire structure.

But his ultimate goal was more personal. He wanted to see you break, to witness the light of determination fade from your eyes. The plan to drug you tonight was just the beginning. He needed you vulnerable, questioning your own sanity, doubting those around you.

And he is slowly getting there. One step at a time.

As he drove through the quiet streets, Daniel allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had always been a master at wearing masks, presenting whatever facade was necessary to achieve his goals. And tonight, he had succeeded in getting closer to you than ever before.

By the time you awoke the next morning, disoriented and groggy, Daniel would already be laying the groundwork for the next phase of his plan. You wouldn't see it coming, not until it was too late. And by then, Daniel intended to be in a position where he could watch the empire your father built—and you—crumble to the ground.

taglist: @yeosangsbabygirlsblog, @hi-kariii,@ateez-atiny380

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez yeosang #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang au #ateez fanfiction #ateez atiny #ateez au

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