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#thank you for being so nice and cool in my tags
caesium-55 · 2 days
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—everything is orange. [ iv ]
pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader
summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.
note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.
masterlist.
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Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.
But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.
“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.
“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”
You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”
You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.
“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.
“Nice place,” he compliments.
You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.
Lando is saying things out of politeness.
Your studio is shit.
You know that.
It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.
It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.
“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”
“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.
“Ah,” your tone falls flat.
A moment's pause.
“So this is where you’ve been working?”
You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.
Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.
“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”
“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”
“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”
“That explains it.”
“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”
It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.
You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.
“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.
“Fake but okay.”
“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”
“No,” you answer.
“Should we grab something together?”
“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.
“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”
“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?
“So?”
“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.
Lando shrugs.
“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”
Your brows furrow.
“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”
“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”
“Huh?”
“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”
Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.
This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.
You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.
“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”
“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”
“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.
“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”
You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.
Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.
“We’re idiots.”
There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.
“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”
You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”
You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.
“We can eat that.”
You raise a brow.
“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”
“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.
“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.
“Tteok.”
“Tteok.”
“Bokki.”
“Bokki.”
“Tteokbokki.”
“Tteokdokki.”
You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”
“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”
You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”
“I literally said the same thing.”
“You didn't.”
“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.
“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”
You suddenly feel stupid for asking.
Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.
This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.
“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”
“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”
“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”
His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.
“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”
You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.
When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.
“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”
Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.
You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.
Maybe it's a sign to change careers.
You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.
You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.
The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.
Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.
You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.
“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.
“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”
“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”
Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.
“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”
“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”
You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.
“What's this place?” Lando questions.
“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”
“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”
“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”
“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”
You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”
You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”
“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”
You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”
“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”
You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.
Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”
“This is an ice cup,” you explain.
“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”
You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.
“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”
Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.
“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”
You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.
“Cool.”
“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”
You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.
“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”
Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.
The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.
“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”
A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”
You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.
“Is it delicious?” he asked.
“Very.”
You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.
“Oh wait, you should post something.”
“Now?”
“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”
“And delete it?”
“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”
Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.
“That one is good.”
“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”
“Blurry is an aesthetic.”
Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”
“I’m not good with them.”
“Me neither.”
“Your first caption was pretty good.”
“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.
You shrug your shoulders.
“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”
That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.
Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.
Your brows furrow.
He laughs, “I’m funny.”
“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”
“So I’m not posting it now?”
“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”
“That's very smart.”
“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.
“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”
You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.
Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”
Oh.
Yeah.
Okay. You understand it now.
“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”
You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.
“But you’re not.”
“I’m not,” you echo.
“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.
“I’m trying to be kind.”
“You don't have to try. You already are.”
“The companies make us act sometimes.”
“What?”
“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”
You shrug your shoulders.
“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”
“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.
“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.
Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.
“Hm?”
“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”
He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.
“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”
He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.
“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”
“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”
“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”
You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.
“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”
“You are,” he agrees seriously.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smirks, confident.
“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.
“You're handsome but you're not my type.”
His smirk falters. You give a chortle.
“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.
You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”
Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.
“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”
“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”
Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.
“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.
“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.
You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.
“A few years older than me.”
When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”
By months only but still.
“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”
You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.
“Looks good in red.”
“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”
He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.
“You're not connecting anything.”
“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”
You cannot help but raise an amused brow.
“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”
His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”
You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.
You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.
“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”
You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?
“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”
His forehead creases. You nod.
He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?
Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.
You blink at each other.
“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”
“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.
“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.
The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.
Lando rolls his eyes.
“He doesn’t look that good.”
“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.
“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”
“Lies.”
“I'm not lying.”
“It's Kim Mingyu.”
“And?”
You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”
You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.
“I’m tall.”
“You’re shorter than him.”
“You're killing me here.”
You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.
“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”
“Damn right, I am.”
You snort.
“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”
When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.
“Sand?” he questions.
“Sand,” you state.
“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.
“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.
“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”
“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.
“What if someone steals them?”
It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.
“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”
“I don't even know what that is.”
“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”
The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.
“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.
“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.
“I am palli-ing!”
You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.
Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”
“Lando!” you splash him in his face.
Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.
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Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."
He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.
In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.
Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.
"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."
"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"
"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."
"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"
You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."
"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"
You shrug.
Honestly, you don't know either.
It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.
"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."
You don't want to get mobbed again.
ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.
"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."
Lando's lips form a line.
"I suppose."
"Then, I'll be there."
The song making can wait.
Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.
Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.
Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.
“How's the song coming up?”
“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”
“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”
Strongly suggesting.
Translation: commanding.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fuck it.
He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.
You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.
Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.
Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.
To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.
“[Name]?”
“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.
“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.
“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.
“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.
“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”
“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”
Your heart warms.
“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”
“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”
“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”
The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.
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wizard-eater · 7 months
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@wizardpigeon I'm gonna be honest I don't remember what this is from but I assume it was in response to you leaving nice tags on one of my posts
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featherymainffins · 6 hours
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Peace and love on planet Earth but if I see one more post NOT about recovery and, in fact, encouraging eating disorders in the ed recovery tag, I might just turn into a chimpanzee and tear everyone's faces off.
#ed recovery#are you people for real?#ONE. I'm asking for ONE tag.#how tone-deaf and cruel do you have to be to post your active ed behaviour absolutely without any trigger warnings#or forewords#you know what i foolishly expect in the es recovery tag? ed recovery. yes i know very presumptuous of me.#i expect people who are trying to recover or are in recovery sharing their experiences and maybe some body positivity#talking about how hard recovery can be; for example. etc etc.#you know what happens in the tag? of course you do. ana meal diaries. posts about nothing but how much you body check#talking about how much you hate yourself because you're trying to lose 10kg and yesterday you had a salad and now you're asking#for tips how to get better at restricting and continuing your ed.#everyone who does that is a ghoul. and I'm done being nice and ignoring that shit.#like. some fucking room check maybe? I'm sitting in my flat shaking from cold which is caused only partly by the room temperature#and I'm doing my best to avoid everyone i know because i can't stand the thought of them seeing my form and when someone#i know accidentally meets me on the street or somewhere i feel like shit because I'm disgusting and if it were up to me#i wouldn't even leave this flat at all. so you know. naturally. i try to get myself at least some form#of support. i try to look for positivity for people like me; who are trying to recover. i want an outside source to affirm that I am not#repulsive. that I'm not insane when i think that all bodies are cool and fascinating and that there's no way or shape anyone is#expecting me to be in order to earn their love or at least their lust. and what do i get instead? you ghouls#wonderful. lovely. think about all the people like me next time you decide to post that shit in the recovery tag. thanks.
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slopdoughnut · 18 days
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My bitchass cat- 80 ft up in a goddamn tree
It has been a day
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dawntheduckrb · 5 months
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I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)
I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏
#seriously though I'm sorry for just up and disappearing like that#wanna talk to people and interact with them so bad lately but I just can't bring myself to do it#so the best i can manage is blabbing in the tags like always#i don't know wtf is going on but over the past few days I've just felt like i don't deserve to talk to anyone#tried to reblog posts from mutuals several times but something in my head keeps saying;#'yeah they don't actually care for your input at all and you're being a bother for even trying etc etc'#and i know deep down that's probably not true (i hope) but i can't reason it away you know#and i know the best solution to this is to just talk to someone#let it be known that i *did* make an attempt to#i tried texting someone (and succeeded) but i couldn't keep doing it and I'm back at square one (and now feel worse lmao)#i'm not really putting this here for anybody to see it as much as i am for myself#but i know that (hypothetically) this could be seen by a real human so it still kinda feels like I'm reaching out in a way which feels nice#makes me feel less like I'm shriveling up in my own self imposed solitude#so uh hello person who might be reading the tags (there's six of you guys here now which is crazy cause i post nothing but junk here lol)#((but thanks anyway for following and even more thanks for reading this if you did))#i'll make my way around all the posts i missed soon enough don't worry#i'm sorry i'm really not meaning to ignore anybody#i have drafted quite a few posts from moots that i couldn't finish leaving comments on but i have seen them#everyone here is super cool and talented as always <3 whether that be through art or writing or just finding neat posts to share#this wall of text is long enough and i'm very eeby so thank you again for reading this#tldr; not dead and i'll be okay eventually :)#not rb#hey look i didn't post a picture of my dog this time (a crime)#i'll make sure to share one the next time i get a good one
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crescentfool · 19 days
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Hi 👉👈 I don’t have a lot to say, I just wanted to hi give you from across the room because I followed you for P3 but it turns out you and I share a ton of fandoms and I just think that’s really super neat.
You get a good grade in fandom taste 💖
WAVES HI!! thank you for the follow and message, it makes me happy to hear that you've enjoyed seeing the other media i've reblogged stuff of! P3 is definitely something i hold close to my heart, but i have lots of media i'm full of love for too! so thank you for appreciating it, i hope you enjoy your stay! 🥺💙
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Mental Literature
Reynie had always had a habit of "writing things down" in his mind, he found it helped him remember important details and organize his thoughts. Certain words he liked, or ideas that came to him when he didn't have pen and paper handy. Often, these little notes become lists, or, less often, letters. After all, he had no one to write to at the orphanage.
The lists he used most commonly were the ones that contained new words he'd learned. When he came across one he didn't understand, he'd go get a dictionary from the reading room (One of the few books actually available at the orphanage, and one that had sat through many years of dusty disuse until Reynie had come along), looking it up and tracing the letters with his finger until he had fully absorbed the meaning.
One day, when he was sitting outside enjoying the pleasant weather while the other children ran around on the grass and played various games amongst themselves, he found himself cataloging their names. There was Susan Pennyworth, and Thomas Deerhart, and Jane Poll, and several others that moved about, swiftly engaging in a game of tag. A boy a few years older than Reynie himself walked up to where he was sitting under the ash tree. Vic Morgeroff, Reynie noted.
"What're you doing, Muldoon?" Vic asked in a bored way. Reynie wondered for a moment why he was asking, if he seemed so disinterested.
Quickly, he went through his list of new words, excited to try one out.
"I'm just enjoying the breeze under this large, deciduous ash tree, Vic. How are you doing today?"
Reynie hoped Vic would ask him what the word "deciduous" meant, as he himself had just learned earlier that day. Maybe he would even already know what it meant, since he was older than Reynie, and they could talk about it.
Vic's eyes sharpened as he listened to Reynie's response. "What did you just say, Muldoon? If that was a swear, I'm telling the director. Don't think just 'cause you're quiet and always hiding in one of your books you won't get in trouble."
"No, no," Reynie immediately jumped to correct him, "It's not a swear word, I promise. It's a word I learned this morning, it describes the tree, since it loses its leaves in the winter, as compared to an evergreen, which doesn't."
Somehow, this didn't seem to calm Vic.
"Oh? And what makes you think you can use that word, eh? Is it 'cause you're reading all the time? Think you'll impress someone? Knowing big words doesn't make you special, Muldoon. It- It just makes you a freak, who knows too much."
Apparently satisfied, Vic stalked off, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "Little weirdo, thinks he's better than everyone else."
Reynie watched him go, slightly stunned that his word had evoked such a violent outburst. After a few moments, he sighed, shoulders sagging as he shifted to lean against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. He started a new list. "Unpopular Words".
Months passed, and Reynie was summoned to the director's office.
Mr. Rutger was sitting behind his desk, tapping a pen on it when Reynie entered.
"Come in, come in." Mr. Rutger gestured with his free hand to the chair sitting across from him. Reynie sat down obediently, wondering what this was about. He hadn't caused any trouble lately, although his "Unpopular Words" list was beginning to get long enough that he'd had to start reciting it to himself in the mornings, so as to not forget any. He'd avoided Vic and his friends as much as he could, and continued to do well in all of his classes at the orphanage academy.
"Now, Reynard," Mr. Rutger set his pen down and steepled his hands together just below his face. "Do you know why I asked you to come have this little chat with me?"
Reynie shook his head. What strange thing adults do, he considered, to summon a child purposefully without telling them what is going on and then ask them what they think about it. How is the child supposed to respond?
Mr. Rutger frowned at him, as if that was the wrong answer.
"Well, Reynard, your teachers have reported to me that you've been asking about... opportunities." He said the word as though it was an oily worm that had slipped out of his mouth. "Opportunities to attend other schools. Now, why don't we talk about this? Here you're comfortable, you know how the system works. Your friends are here, and it wouldn't make sense to send you away. Besides, it's against policy for a student to be placed in an external education facility."
Reynie hadn't thought he was asking for "opportunities", he'd spoken to his teachers about taking extra classes only because he was nearing the end of the high school work books, and that was as far as the orphanage curriculum went. He was about to explain this to the director, and add that he didn't have any friends, but Mr. Rutger seemed to have decided that the conversation was over.
"There we are, Reynard." He clapped his hands together, leaning back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with his solution. "See? You'll be much happier here. Oh, and be a good lad and try to clean up that reading room you're always in; it's so dirty."
Reynie nodded, standing up and walking out of the office. He paused on the other side of the heavy doors, taking a deep breath before heading back to the room he shared with four other boys. He added "opportunities" to his list.
Not long after that, Reynie entered his first class of the day with the dull resignation to finish the last few pages of his geography workbook. He'd been trying to take as much time as possible and stretch out for as long as he could, since he knew that once this one was full he'd have to content himself with sitting in the back of the classroom and listening to the teacher go over material he had long since learned. However, upon wishing Mr. Green a good morning, he was told that he had been excused from his classes, and was to report to the main hall.
Reynie walked slowly on his way to the main part of the orphanage. He wasn't quite sure what had changed, but some part of him was hopeful that Mr. Rutget had changed his mind and would let him start taking classes somewhere else. He knew there was a local community college not too far, and he'd be happy to walk there if he could only get permission to attend.
His daydreams were shattered by the sudden image of the orphanage director's expression whenever he had approached him about... anything really. He'd asked, more than once, if they might be able to get a few more books for him to read, if the school kids might take a field trip to the museum, if there was any way that he could help pay for further education, he'd even offered to go through the orphanage's policies and Stonetown's bylaws himself to see if there was an exception or loophole that would allow him to attend the Boatwright Academy. All of these queries had ended with Mr. Rutger looking down at him, lips pursed in a sour pout. This had been going on for so long that Reynie noticed the same expression twisting Mr. Rutger's face every time he even entered the same room as Reynie.
He prepared himself to see that expression before opening the door to the main hall, but instead he found a woman. One he had never seen before and knew didn't work at the orphanage because she was wearing a lovely pink sweater over a floral patterned shirt. No one at the orphanage wore nice sweaters or bright colors. Everything there was drab, as if the color was leeched out of it upon crossing the threshold. This woman was certainly not drab, and smiled warmly at him as she rose from the table she was seated at.
Reynie smiled back at her shyly. He felt a slight, pleasant surprise at her seeming excitement to meet him. It had been a while since someone had smiled at seeing him.
"Hello, I'm Miss Perumal. I was told to wait here for a 'Reynard Muldoon'? Is that you?" The nice lady took a few steps toward him, smile faltering a bit as he hesitated.
"Oh," He started, shaking off his thoughts. "Yes, that's me. I'm Reynie." He hurried down the steps, stopping just in front of her. He paused, awkwardly trying to decide if he should shake her hand, or if she would find that "off-putting" and "too mature for a boy of his age", as his French teacher had once said.
Luckily, Miss Perumal stuck out her hand to him, her friendly smile returning in full force.
"Ah, I'm so glad. I was worried that you might have had somewhere else to be, and I was delaying you. As I said, my name is Miss Perumal, and I have been hired to be your new tutor. I am delighted to meet you Reynie. Do you prefer 'Reynie' to 'Reynard'? When I met the director he referred to you as 'Reynard', so I wanted to see what you'd like."
Reynie's mind was whirling with all that this woman said. She was "delighted" to meet him? And she wanted to know which name he preferred to be called, even after Mr. Rutger had spoken with her? He was stunned once again, and only pulled himself out of it when he realized that she was continuing to look at him, waiting for a response.
"Um, yeah. 'Reynie' is good, thank you, ma'am. You said you're my... tutor?"
Reynie wasn't entirely sure what a tutor was supposed to do. He had a vague concept of someone who is supposed to help students with their homework if they were struggling in school, because a teacher had once suggested he tutor his classmates, since he was so for ahead. It hadn't worked out, though, because only one student had approached him, and when Reynie had looked up in the middle of an excited explanation about the French Revolution, the boy had been staring at him in disgust, before abruptly pushing his chair back and leaving. Reynie had created a small mental note for himself, deciding that once he was able to think of the word without recalling that nightmarish, uncomfortable situation, he would find out exactly what the word "tutor" meant.
Miss Perumal nodded at him, her expression growing more serious.
"Yes, I am going to be your tutor. The word is often used to mean someone who will help students as a supplement to traditional teaching, but in our sense it is going to mean that I am a sort of private teacher, just for you."
Reynie appreciated that she had defined the word for him, but he was still a bit apprehensive about this strange woman. She seemed nice, but if she was just going to be a different kind of teacher, that likely meant that she would just hand him a new workbook and try to cover her surprise when he finished it in a few weeks. He didn't want her to be like that, she smiled at him and her eyes seemed kind, and he didn't want her to be just another adult who came to look at him with that distasteful expression that all of the other grown ups at the orphanage did.
But Miss Perumal wasn't finished yet.
"Now, Reynie, I understand that some students need a little bit of different help than most teachers can give them, but you aren't one of them. Mr. Rutger has shown me your transcripts, and you have excelled in every subject and class you've been placed in. You are a very gifted child, Reynie, and something tells me you haven't been given nearly enough opportunities."
She turned then, rummaging in the bag she carried over her shoulder, which Reynie had not noticed before. Producing a small book with a soft blue cloth cover, she handed it to Reynie.
"This," She explained, her smile back again, "Is for you. It's a book on Tamil, the language I grew up speaking. I really think that you'll enjoy learning it, and we might even be able to start having some conversations in it soon, if your record with the limited French available here is any indication."
Reynie accepted the book with a wondrous expression. This woman was willing to teach him, she gave him a book right after meeting him, she wanted to give him opportunities. He searched for a word to describe her, and he found so many good ones that he had to create a "Miss Perumal" list on the spot. She was glorious, she was exorbitantly compassionate, she was a paradigm he wished all adults followed, she was an assiduous researcher, and she was the antithesis to Mr. Rutger.
He took a deep breath, holding it in his chest next to the spark of hope he could feel glowing there. Running a hand over the book, he felt a smile growing on his own face. It had been a long time since he had smiled.
"Thank you, Miss Perumal. I would love to learn Tamil from you, as well as anything you'd want to teach me."
Miss Perumal looked excited, excited at the thought of teaching him. "Well, then, Reynie, I don't see any reason we shouldn't start right now." She gestured at the chair opposite the one she had been sitting in. "Why don't you begin reading through the introduction of that book, while I go over a few more of my papers. We can work on basic pronunciation once you're done."
Reynie sat down immediately, opening the book and still smiling to himself a little. He felt a lot less lonely as he began reading, and added "Friend?" to his Miss Perumal list.
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helennorvilles · 5 months
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admin that call a wet day timetable After the rain has actually stopped and then reverse it, not instantly but five minutes after the kids have been in the classroom so just enough time for them to have gotten stuff out to occupy themselves, deserve a particular place in hell
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plugnuts · 1 year
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Ok, unironialy, could you explain/resume to me the basics of homestuck??? I have NO CLUE what is it even about or even WHAT IT IS and I feel like I should know
Also much love ur like one of my favorite people on tumblr <3 🥺💕💕💗
Dnfnnfs yeah ofc! I’ll try to summarise it as best I can!
And thank you so much!! 🥺 dude I wanna hug you rn much love to you too <3 your presence on my dash is always a delight honestly! <3!!
The short and sweet official summary of it is: A tale of a boy and his friends and a game they play together
But if you would like a more detailed, but still summarised, explanation then look under the cut. But beware for it for it is long.
I haven’t read this webcomic in over a year so bear with me lol (I actually went and read a recap of it and. wow)
! Major Story Spoilers Ahead !
Okay so in as simplest terms I can manage is that four kids play a game that ends their world, but them and their homes are transported inside due to certain conditions that were met. They each get planets and if they die on a certain spot on these planets they become gods (aka ascending to god tier). There’s another race that played this game called trolls that also destroyed their world in order to enter, however only one of them became god tier. The trolls playing the game created the kids’ world (they didn’t do it right tho and that lead to one of the ‘npcs’ doing their own thing and.. ruining the course of the game.)
I forget where it happens but there’s an intermission that is super important. (Although it doesn’t appear to be lol it introduces the big bad and all his associates and whatnot)
A lot of shenanigans. We learn about the trolls, about the game and time shenanigans!! Some of the trolls help the kids, most of the trolls die bc they kill each other (and can’t resurrect bc they aren’t god tier). Key part of the killing is that one of the trolls, Vriska (the one god tier troll), is killed due to almost committing a timeline altering act. She doesn’t resurrect as her death was deemed Just. The only ways you can die permanently when god tier is when it’s deemed either Just (justified) or Heroic (being a hero).
(I’m missing a lot but it’s okay lol)
Anyway as the game is nearing its “end” and due to the trolls fucking up the kids’ session they’re forced to do a hard reset. Using their new god given powers they force this reset and the kids split up to escape their session, one group of two going with the trolls and the other two go off on their own together. This split lasts three years, by the way!
In the mean time due to this reset (or scratch as it’s named) the kids’ universe resets itself and basically…. Is reversed. So, instead of the kids we have their ancestors that are now… kids. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, during the shenanigans earlier one of our kids, John, basically made both him and his friends and his nanna and his friends’ guardians in a lab using shenanigans and sent them back in time so that everything can happen. Yeah. So, in this new session we have a new set of kids which I’ll refer to as the Alpha Kids, whereas our set of kids are the Beta Kids. So, we have the alphas now and we see their journey into the game. It’s to note that these kids can’t become god tier traditionally because of their Dream Selves dying beforehand (a needed self in order to become god tier).
So the alphas enter and are met with a dead game, basically. You could say their game is ‘infertile’ as it doesn’t have the means to create a new universe once it’s done. So it’s unwinnable. There’s nothing the alphas can do but wait. There’s some back and forth, we’re met with a new ‘troll’ and get to know her and her ruthless brother who wants to kill everyone his sister loves and stuff. Fun!
We get to know the betas more on their journey and wow one of them is depressed okay back to the alphas who. are high on sugar. Okay. Through their sugar high they get to their Quest Beds (ones that can grant them godhood without having a dream self but it’s buried deep within their planets (iirc)). So. They die on them and become god tier!
Oh yeah and during this we get to know one of the trolls’ dead ancestors called Meenah who works to build an army of the dead to tackle the big bad (Lord English) in the dream bubbles where those who die (either in this timeline or another) go to as a sort of afterlife.
The three years are up (only 6 months for our alphas) and everyone’s now in the alphas’ game. Jade (one of the betas) brings over everything from the Beta’s game so now the Alpha’s game is fertilised! Yippee! John sleeps and dreams and finds a treasure whilst everyone else uh. Suffers, basically. Once the betas arrived two of the kids (one alpha one beta) get possessed by Betty Crocker (one of the alphas’ mother but she’s an evil troll who can mind control). Jade (beta) and Jane (alpha) are now possessed.
A lot of stuff happens here. Best way I can explain it is that there’s a lot of glitches, death, and bad drawings. John also gains the power to rewrite canon (retcon), if you can believe it. The evil brother plays his game, kills his sis and gains way too much power for his own good. (Remember I might be getting things wrong here). Now, remember Meenah? Well from her group of trolls we have Aranea and she ruins everything. She brings herself back to life using what’s called the life ring and brings everyone to the same planet (except John who’s running from Jade). So. She fucks everything up, gets a lot of people killed (some people dying Justly and Heroically) and basically creates a GAME OVER timeline. Did I mention that when the betas came to the alphas they also brought along their own game’s bad guys? Yeah. Whilst GAME OVER was happening John was out there battling a kid version of the big bad. He teleports back into canon when everything’s already over.
So, now we’re in game over where basically everyone save for some are dead. Terezi, one of the trolls, tells John to fix it bc of his retcon ability. She gives him a list of what to do because of her own game given powers (she’s a Mind player but. yeah I won’t explain that sorry) and John goes and does it, using the keywords she gave him to find those specific points in time to change and fix. This leads to Vriska not dying when she was supposed to. A lot of shenanigans after this, basically everyone who was dead before is okay in this new timeline bc Vriska is here now. Yay? Anyway, they all go through their dramas and stuff, betas mingling with the alphas yada yada they all talk about defeating the bad guys.
Then there’s this whole animation about it!
Anyway that’s Homestuck as best as I can describe it without going into BIG detail. There’s a LOT of stuff I missed, but it’s very overwhelming lol.
TLDR; Kids play game. Time shenanigans. Death and destruction. Godhood. Vriska. Kids play game. Kids play game. Death. Big fight. They create a new universe where they can all live together and whatever have you. :)
I hope that clears SOME things up and if you have any more questions feel free to ask! Or you can read the webcomic but. I wouldn’t read it from the source bc it’s broken. I’ll tell you what to do if you Do want to read it but with over 9000 pages and god knows how many words….. it’s quite the task. But there is games you can play in it! And cool animations!! But some of it.. didn’t age well, let’s say. Anyway if you’re still reading then colour me impressed! I tried to summarise it as best I can but with limited memory and with so much plot it was difficult lol, ik you said the basics but also. Homestuck ain’t basic nfngnrksmnd sorry
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rustedleopard · 2 years
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I've seen a few posts floating around describing Duster as Lucas' adoptive father throughout the journey, and I'm afraid I'll have to politely disagree. While I can definitely see Duster taking on a fatherly role for Lucas throughout Mother 3, since Lucas already has a father (as rocky as their relationship is), I can't really see him looking at Duster and thinking of him as a dad.
What I'm basically getting at is unrequited found fatherhood.
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flappy007 · 1 year
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pink-anonymous-person · 3 months
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thank you for the 107 followers! 🩷
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i’m seriously grateful for every like, reblog, comment, and new follower! your support means the world to me, and i can't thank you enough ^^
i wanted to do a little celebration of sorts so feel free to drop an art request and i’ll do my best to draw it! i can do OCs , oc x canon , oc x oc! leave ur requests in my ask box 🩷✉️ 📪 (please keep it sfw because i don’t want to get shadowbanned again lol)
and also please know that, even i may be slow at posting due to irl and work i will still keep delivering and bringing you more drawings. so stay tuned!
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ghoulbats · 1 year
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Don't be rude to them, they're doing the best they can :< (in reference to ur needlessly self-bashing tags) also their blog is cool so. Shush!
can everyone stop being nice to me i’m trying not to get too attached to tumblr again and you’re all making it incredibly hard >:(
(also anon i was v confused reading the preview for this and thought i’d insulted your fav character in some tags and felt really bad and then i saw the whole message and !!! you mean me!! this is the first time someone’s used they/them pronouns for me and it’s just v cool and exciting so thank you!! <3)
i hate tumblr mobile (but ily anon)
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voguesriot · 2 months
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DON’T HURT YOURSELF ✹ luke castellan
( summary ) social media au where your boyfriend became the asshole everyone warned you he’d be and now you’re looking for revenge (& luke is a down bad loser w no game)
( pairings ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite counsellor!reader
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DIRECT MESSAGES
sarahdawson: hey girly ik we’re not like close or anything but something happened last night that i need to tell you about
sarahdawson: so i was getting strawberries yesterday and max was there and he was being really weird and like flirty and i’m so sorry i feel like such a horrible person even though i turned him down right away but he tried to kiss me and i hit him and then i went back to my cabin but i had to tell you
sarahdawson: i’m so sorry
yourusername: THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE I KNEW HE WASNT WORTH SHIT
yourusername: this is clarisse btw i took her phone
yourusername: (me again) thank you for telling me sarah it rlly means a lot 🫶
sarahdawson: if it makes any difference you’re way too hot for him and literally anything you need (even rigging archery lessons so the new kids take shots just as he’s walking by), i’m your girl x
♫ Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyoncé feat. Jack White
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♡ liked by silenabeauregard , connorstroll , and others
yourusername love god herself (love u mama) 💋
sarahdawson AHHH YOURE SO PRETTY
yourusername THANK YOU GORGEOUS 🥹🥹
clarisselarue too good for anyone 😮‍💨
silenabeauregard prettiest girl everrrr
chrisrodriguez pur girlie
yourusername what.
chrisrodriguez gods forbid a man expresses an ounce of girlish whimsy
yourusername nooo queen i appreciate you thank you
seaweedbrain you ate ‼️‼️‼️
seaweedbrain ate my dessert*
seaweedbrain it’s all fun and games until you end up stealing from the youth
seaweedbrain count your days miss counsellor
yourusername my girl sally should’ve kept you on a leash for a bit longer because you are rabid my love
seaweedbrain I WAS NEVER ON A LEASH WTF
racheledare STUNNA GIRL STUNNA GIRL I CHOOSE U BABY OVER A HUNDRED GIRLS
yourusername ME AND U 4EVERR 🙏🙏
lukecastellan nice dress!!
this comment was deleted.
clarisselarue lukecastellan i saw that.
lukecastellan why are you so ominous
clarisselarue why are you such a loser
lukecastellan have you ever been chill for a day in your life
clarisselarue have you ever known the loving touch of a woman
chrisrodriguez FOUL 😭😭😭
♫ Feather by Sabrina Carpenter
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♡ liked by drewtanaka , pipermclean , and others
[ tagged: yourusername , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean ]
sarahdawson girls night w my favs 💘
silenabeauregard APOLLO CABIN 🔛🔝
yourusername FORREALLL
yourusername best night i’ve had in a long time i love u all sm ☹️🫶 ( liked by sarahdawson , clarisselarue , silenabeauregard , drewtanaka , hazellevesque , pipermclean )
silenabeauregard MY GIRLSSSSS
wisegirll prettiest girls in the world 💕💕
clarisselarue sarah girl love ya but maybe leave the singing to ur siblings 🙏
sarahdawson RUDE
yourusername sarahdawson dw baby i loved our duet xx
sarahdawson we simply are destiny’s child
drewtanaka yk who is shaking in his boots
seaweedbrain oh yeah cool i didn’t even want an invite it’s totally chill
yourusername calm down lil guy maybe when you’re older
clarisselarue if zeus doesn’t smite his ass before he gets the chance 😭
seaweedbrain clarisselarue I BEAT YOUR DADS ASS HES LITERALLY A DEADBEAT DADDY
wisegirll too far
seaweedbrain sorry clarisse
lukecastellan yourusername we could hear you singing all the way in hermes ☠️
yourusername NO THATS SO EMBARRASSING WHICH SONG
lukecastellan i think it was never lose me or smth
clarisselarue bros acting like he hasn’t been thinking ab it nonstop
yourusername lukecastellan i’m so sorry for any pain i’ve caused
chrisrodriguez AYY BRO MAKING MOVES
groverunderwood you call those moves? 😭
chrisrodriguez baby steps are still steps let me celebrate my guy in peace 😔
♫ Heartless by The Weeknd
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♡ liked by connorstroll , and others
maxwalsh never been better
clarisselarue oh that’s not ☠️
lukecastellan this what you’ve been doing instead of coming to sparring?
maxwalsh it’s a better challenge
drewtanaka THE CLAWS ARE OUT MEOW
yourusername just posted to their story!
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DIRECT MESSAGES
lukecastellan: you look really pretty
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awearywritersworld · 10 months
Text
"do you like me?" "nope."
gojo satoru x reader summary: even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever w/c: 1.1k tags/warnings: ft. yuuji and megumi. fluff. super light angst. lots of banter. a lil mutual pining. yuuji and gojo being chaotic. gender neutral reader. a/n: not sure how this turned out, but it was fun to write! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here
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"(l/n)-sensei!!"
you're trying to relax and really, fifteen minutes is all you want, but these days that seems impossible.
you turn your head toward the sparring field just in time to see yuuji fly into a tree about 30 yards away. megumi is already on the ground struggling to get up.
meanwhile gojo is prancing, literally prancing, in the opposite direction. you walk toward the group with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment playing across your features, all your hope for some peace and quiet crushed.
"that was awesome!" the pink haired boy shouts from amid a mess of leaves and branches.
gojo gushes over the praise, his hands pressing against his cheeks. "thank you, yuuji! it's nice to know someone around here appreciates my unmatched strength."
"i don't remember offering to be a part of the demonstration," megumi grumbles, finally rising to his feet.
his demeanor is less than pleased and you glance at him sympathetically before turning to gojo. "you do know that you're an adult, right? like, as in, a fully grown man."
"(y/n)-chaaaaan, you're always so mean to me," he whines, grabbing your hands dramatically. "what have i done to deserve such cruel treatment?"
"today or in general?" you pretend to think for a second. "i seem to remember you waking me up at seven this morning so that you didn't have to go to your meeting with masamichi-san alone-"
"he was mad at me for skipping the last one i had!"
"-and then you hid my phone for almost an hour because i wouldn't give you my last candy bar-"
"i was starving, (y/n)-chan! it wasn't my fault, you know that!"
"-and then you destroyed that tree, which i really happened to like by the way."
his gaze flickers toward that direction, the splintered wood a sad remnant of what it used to be, then throws his arms in the air. "this is so unfair!"
"(l/n)-sensei! did you see?" yuuji calls out, already fully recovered and bounding toward you.
"i sure did." you chuckle at his tattered clothes and unfazed attitude.
"what'd ya think?"
you really can't bring yourself to scold him, not with all the excitement in his voice. "oh, it was certainly something."
"did you hear that, gojo-sensei?" yuuji lights up.
megumi disguises his laugh with a cough. "i don't think that was a compliment."
the boy visibly deflates so you ruffle his hair. "it was pretty cool, i just don't want you getting hurt." that earns a grin, to your relief.
"so i get yelled at, but you're nice to him?" gojo pouts indignantly.
"yes."
"ugh! this is killing me, (y/n)-chan!" he announces before promptly knocking you to the ground, the action something between a hug and a tackle.
"gojo, get off of me!" you yell, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.
"i can't! not until you forgive me!"
your giggles ring through the air, music to gojo's ears, and your hands push him away as he tries to tickle your sides. you look like two kids, rolling around in the grass and shouting at one another.
yuuji leans in toward megumi, his voice hushed as if he's about to reveal the world's biggest secret. "i'm starting to think there's something going on between those two."
his friend looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "you're just now noticing?"
~~~
you're making dinner in your apartment while gojo sits on the kitchen floor, his legs splayed out and taking up nearly half of the small room. his blindfold had been discarded at one point or another, something he made a habit of doing when it was just the two of you.
"what are we having tonight, chef?"
"me? i'm having braised chicken thighs. i'm not sure about you though," you tease.
you didn't invite him to dinner, he just kind of followed you back to your place after sparring practice. you don't really mind, you never do, not that you'd ever admit it out loud.
"you wouldn't give me your candy bar and now you won't have dinner with me either? today is the worst! is this still about the tree? i told you i was sorry-"
"geez i was just kidding!" you cut him off. "of course you can have some, but only if you get the flour off the top shelf for me."
"i guess that's a fair trade," he reasons, rising to his feet lazily.
the cabinet is just to your left, so his body presses into yours as he reaches up, the contact making your heart flutter.
"thanks," you exhale when he sets it down within your reach.
he doesn't return to his sitting position, just leans against the counter and watches you carefully stir the ingredients in the pan.
"do you like me?" he inquires suddenly.
"nope."
"hm, do you like like me?" he suggests, a small smirk playing at his lips.
"gojo, that's honestly defamatory."
he rolls his eyes playfully. "c'mon, be serious."
"you be serious," you challenge the usually facetious man.
"i am."
resting your spoon on the pan, you turn to face him, unsure if he's just messing with you like always. the room is silent, save for the faint popping of oil, as he waits for you to say something.
"why do you wanna know?"
"'cause i like you, why else?"
your hands gather the fabric of your apron nervously, crumpling it between your fingers while you avoid his gaze. his words strike you as entirely implausible. after all, he's gojo and you're, well, you.
"you... you shouldn't joke about stuff like that."
he laughs at you and it breaks your heart a little, but then you feel two lithe hands on either side of your face. "(y/n), look at me."
you do, albeit apprehensively, and his eyes bore into your own with an intensity you aren't familiar with. it makes your knees feel weak. a smile tugs at his lips before they capture your own, the movement slow and soft.
your fingers reach up to wrap around his wrist, an attempt to steady yourself against him, before one of his hands travels down to your hip and gives it a light squeeze.
you taste so sweet, feel so perfect in his hands, that gojo kicks himself for waiting so long to kiss you. his lips move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, then begin to work their way up your jaw. he hums against your skin, satisfied with the breathy noises he's pulling from your throat.
then, the smell of burning invades your senses and you pull away from each other with wide eyes, exclaiming in unison. "the food!"
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dollfacefantasy · 3 months
Note
hi! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you could write something with leon and a clingy reader? she just likes being held by him, and one day a make out session gets out of hand while he’s holding her so he just fucks her while standing up, not letting her get down. i don’t know if this makes sense but the thought won’t leave my head. hope you’re having a good day/night! <3
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: you're such a needy little thing. leon can't get enough of you, and when he finds out you like being held, he has to take advantage of that.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), standing sex, daddy kink
word count: 3.9k
a/n: thank you so much for the request! i FELT this one cause i also have a thing about being held hehe. i hope it's what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are really appreciated <3
tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi
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It only took Leon a couple weeks of dating to figure out that his girlfriend was exceptionally needy. He could tell you tried to suppress it to the best of your ability, control your yearning for physical contact, but it was still there. Honestly, it was obvious from the way you looked at him alone. Glossy, pleading eyes just calling out to him for some love.
At first, he was wary of this trait. He wasn’t good with affection normally. Didn’t like talking about his feelings. That stuff was just too much. He’s a busy guy already. He didn’t need extra worries in the form of a sweet thing like you rubbing your cheek against his neck, snaking your arms beneath his shirt, softly pleading “Leon, I wanna cuddle.”
But his problem was that he always gave into that stuff. Words like those hitting his ears, your pouty lips begging for his kisses, and grabby hands roaming around his body always got you what you wanted. He’d plant a smooch on your temple or forehead, grunt a quiet “c’mere then baby,” and pull you on top of him.
Time passed, and you grew on him like ivy climbing a stone wall. Your clingy nature took root somewhere inside him and drove him wild. It was addictive, feeling so needed. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone’s absolute first choice. It was nice living out his days with the subconscious idea that he was your favorite person. He could get a bit cocky about it sometimes but more than anything it made him all sappy. He couldn’t help it. He tried keeping up the cool, slick persona around you for a little while because impressing you was so important to him. But the way you looked at him made him feel like Superman. Your precious face tilted upwards to gaze at him like he was the only man you’d ever laid eyes on. It just made him wanna scoop you up and take off, soar far up into the clouds where it would just be the two of you.
So he ended up feeding into this kind of behavior one thousand percent, enabling you with no reservations. If you were sitting together, you were on his lap. Standing near each other? His arm was around you, keeping you tucked to his chest. The two of you would be lying in bed and simple cuddling just didn’t cut it anymore. No, instead, he’d be rubbing your back, nuzzling and kissing your neck, massaging your scalp. And the pet names were constant. Your actual name was only reserved for serious or special occasions. In ordinary conversations, it was always “my baby” with the intermittent “precious girl” or “princess” mixed in. 
Because, from his perspective, why wouldn’t he? You both deserved this. You craved the physical affection you’d never gotten enough of while he yearned for a sweet little thing to dote on and love between the brutal DSO missions that plagued most of his time. He didn’t give a fuck if someone wanted to say it was codependent or that he was whipped. You were his baby, and if sweet tender affection was what revved your engine, what kind of man would he be to deprive you of it?
Maybe he was whipped. He wouldn’t shy away from that label. He loved you undoubtedly. His heart ached to see you smiling and laughing. Each individual cell in his body cried out to be pressed against you. But in the same breath, he’d be a liar if he said that sex played no part in his urges to coddle you.
He’d never seen a girl get as cock drunk as you. He’d warm you up with his cooing and caresses, and then all he had to do was slide a few inches in you, and you were gone. Nothing had ever gotten him so hard. It’s like your brain shut off as soon as your sweet little pussy was filled up. Really, you went the whole nine yards; whining, babbling, drooling. Your gorgeous lashes would flutter as your eyes went hazy, and you always wanted to hold his hand. Well, more specifically, you wanted him to offer his hand to you. He’d simply murmur “Aw, is it too much, princess? Here, hold daddy’s hand. That’s my girl,” and you were already cumming.
Cause that was the other part of this whole thing. Shortly after he caught on to your intense need for physical affection, he discovered your penchant for the infamous d word. The first time you’d said it, he had you pinned down to the mattress, face shoved against your pillow, hips slightly elevated while he stuffed you full of cock. You just cried it out in the same way you’d yell for God or whine “fuck.” And he rolled with it. One little word wasn’t gonna get in the way of what he’d found with you.
Beyond calling him daddy, Leon tried to take note of all the things that got you going. Sure, you were fond of physical expressions of love, and you probably wouldn’t turn down an offer from him ever. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have favorites when it came to this stuff. Leon took pride in remembering what you liked. Over the months of your relationship, he made a point to remember the specific motion you liked him to do when he rubbed your back. He burned into his mind that you liked to kiss in a way that would definitely make those over-the-top smooching noises found in network dramas. What could he say? He just wanted to do everything right for you.
Possibly his favorite thing that he discovered about you though was your love for being held. Love probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Your affinity? Proclivity? Plain white hot need? Who fucking knows. All he knew was that you had a major thing for being wrapped up in his arms with your head on his shoulder.
The first hint he’d got at this part of you came by pure accident. He’d just arrived home from a mission, a long and taxing one at that. He’d missed you like crazy, felt as needy as you did on a daily basis, and you were practically vibrating with a longing for his touch. So when you came bounding down the hallway to meet him at the front door, he’d grabbed you by the waist, picked you up and spun you around like in an old cartoon when the prince and princess finally get their happily ever after.
Coming out of the short twirl, he’d brought you to his chest and held your body a little ways above the ground. He cradled your head to your shoulder and kept his grip tight to support you. And it wasn’t like you melted or had little hearts gleaming in your eyes, but something in your demeanor shifted.
“There’s my baby,” he muttered while smacking kisses on the side of your head.
You replied with how much you missed him, more than anything in the whole world. He laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and brought you over to the couch. You were all over him even more than normal which was really saying something. You couldn’t stop pecking his face or pushing up against him. Next thing he knew, you were tugging at his belt and taking his dick down your throat.
“Fuck, precious. don’t gotta choke yourself. It’s not goin’ anywhere,'' he hummed while tilting his head back against the couch. You weren’t normally so forward. You were always needy, but typically, you waited for him to initiate. It was much more your style to drop hints that you were in the mood and wait for him to pick up on your signals, but this time you just went for it.
He stroked the back of your head while you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time. Groans fell from his lips, and his hips jolted in small twitches. Your saliva seeped out over your soft lips and dribbled down to his balls. You had never lacked enthusiasm before, but now you were taking him like his cock was the best treat you’d ever had.
He could barely stand the sight of you in that moment. Cute eyes drooping while your cheeks hollowed. Once he heard the muted sound of you gagging, he was done for. Shot his load deep in your throat in what would have been an embarrassingly short amount of time if you were anyone else. But you swallowed it all without any complaints and then crawled into his lap to cuddle some more. As you curled up to his chest, he knew something he did struck a chord with you to get you so eager.
So naturally, he tried picking you up again a couple days later. He had to know if that was a fluke or if it really was a thing. This time it was much more intentional, but he still played it off as a teasing gesture. He scooped you up from behind while you were fidgeting with something in the kitchen, expecting a whiny chorus of “Leon!” and “Stop, put me down!” But you didn’t say either. You let out a soft squeak and a quiet “What are you doing?”
“Just giving you a hug, baby,” he teased and situated you in his embrace so your front was pressed to his.
Almost immediately, as if your skull was magnetized, your head fell to his shoulder. Your limbs tightened around him a little and you took a deep breath like you wanted to commit his scent to memory. You didn’t even complain about him pulling you away from whatever task had been occupying your attention.
“This isn’t a hug,” you’d said softly.
“Says who? Seems like a hug to me, got my arms around you,” he responded with a small kiss to your temple.
His hand rose to your head and cradled it against his shoulder as your legs locked around his waist. He stood there with you for a moment just taking in the embrace. It was as if he could feel you melt against his body.
“A hug is when we’re both standing,” you say quietly while slotting your face in the warm crook of his neck.
“Yeah? You look that up in the dictionary or something?” he mutters in return.
When he had a firm hold on you, he walked you through the living room, taking the long way up to the bedroom to give his little experiment some time to play out. You rested quietly in his grasp as he navigated past furniture. He ran his free hand up and down your back as he moved, his other one planted firmly on your thigh to support you.
After the two of you reached the bedroom, he set you down on the bed and climbed in after you. His fingers coasted across your cheek as he looked down into your eyes, studying you in a way. He was still curious about what was going through your head. Again, him holding you like that had led to some of the best sex the two of you’d had, but there was something deeper there too. This wasn’t just a cheat code to get you to drop your panties. There was an emotional part of this too. He could tell.
“So you like when I pick you up, hm?” he’d asked.
You looked up at him from your spot against his chest, glowing a bit as you came down from the high. “I guess,” you answered with a tiny shrug.
He’d chuckled at your attempt to be casual and just dropped the subject matter. Your reasons were probably sensitive to you. Located in a deep, private cavern of your heart that was too guarded for you to let even him in yet. And that was ok with him. For now, he’d just chalk it up to some desire on an instinctual level. It was just something that made you tick, and it became something he did for you from time to time when you needed that extra level of care.
This evening, the two of you had been watching some movie. To be honest, Leon didn’t even remember what it was called at this point because he didn’t really wanna watch it in the first place. He was much more interested in you. You had just started it up as he arrived home from running some errands though, so he didn’t want to be rude and ask you to shut it off just because he was horny. Instead, he flopped down next to you on the couch. 
A small laugh bubbles from your lips as he pulls you to him and kisses down the side of your face, murmuring for you to explain what’s going on in the thing you were watching. You ramble on about the story, telling him that it’s the end of the world and these guys are trapped in this house, and that one is friends with that one but hates the other one, and blah blah blah. He loved you to death, but he just couldn’t care less about that right now. He hums along with a stream alternating between  “mhm” and “oh yeah.”
Your laughter increases as his kisses become more distracting. He nips at the skin of your throat and litters your soft skin with love bites. His tongue laves at your neck as his nose coasts over your flesh. After a while, your own interest in the movie begins to dwindle. You turn your head and plant some smooches on his face, enticing him to tilt his head upwards. The two of you meet in the middle, connecting your lips.
Mouths move in sync, tongues brush each other, and soon enough, your seat’s been abandoned in favor of your true favorite spot. You’re parked on his lap, the lush flesh of your ass flush against his semi-hard bulge. His hand slithers up your back underneath your shirt to rub up and down your spine while pulling you closer. Your breathing gets heavier, and you’re practically panting when you two finally pull away for a break. Your lips are wet with spit and a little puffy from making out. He drags his thumb over your bottom one as he smirks at your glazed eyes.
“Think you’d be ok with finishing this later?” he asks.
To his pleasure, you’re quick to accept the offer with a nod. “Seen it before anyways,” you admit and lean back in for more kisses.
He chuckles into your mouth and boosts you up without even turning the tv off. He’s stumbling to the bedroom, and you’re latched onto him like a little spidermonkey or something. He knew well by now that being carried took your brain to that sweet spot of utter submission, but today you were on something else entirely. You were getting whiny between kisses. He was having to support you extra because your hands were trying to slide in between the two of you and get at his pants. He assumed it was cause he got you riled up before picking you up, but he didn’t lament about it too much. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now.
All your squirming around nearly made him trip and topple the both of you to the ground. He grunts and shifts you around, trying to get you to settle down at least till you reach the bedroom. You wouldn’t let up though, continuing on with your impatient hip rocking and greedy fingers. He’s sure he’s about to fall over and one of you is moments away from serious injury, so he totters a few steps over and secures you against the wall.
“Jesus, you’d think I’d just got back from a war or something,” he breathes.
You laugh, but keep up your neediness. “Just want you so bad. Missed my daddy all day,” you murmur.
“Yeah? I know it’s hard being away from me. Your little head’s just not cut out for all that thinking is it?” he coos condescendingly, “This is how you're meant to be, just attached to daddy, letting him take care of everything while you tag along.”
“Mhm,” you nod and kiss him again. He can feel you smiling against his lips.
“Yeah, so how bout you do me a favor then and stop wriggling around so much. You wanna get dropped on your head so thinking isn’t even an option anymore?” he teases.
“No. I just…” you whimper defensively. A smile spreads across your face as you hide your face at the base of his neck. “I just want you… really bad.”
That was a tone Leon knew well by now. That was the tone of the guessing game. It was the voice you used when you wanted something but were too shy to just ask for it. So Leon had to decipher your signals and figure out what that thing was. Luckily, this time around it was pretty simple.
“Really bad? Like pinned down in the middle of the hallway while I’m stuffing you full of cum bad?” he asks.
“Sorta…” you say.
With an amused shake of his head, he thinks a little more. The stuffed full of cum thing was a given. So what was off? He was thinking through this as if searching for a missing puzzle piece. He runs through different scenarios before it clicks. He laughs a little. It was kind of obvious once he had it.
“Oh, of course not. There’s no way you’d choose to be out of my arms. What was I thinking?” he says, exaggerating his cadence, “So you want it standing?”
You nod, and with the right answer, that little smile feels so much sweeter. He leans harder into you, keeping you by pressing you between him and the wall. Giving you a few messy kisses, he finally undoes his pants and pushes them down to his mid-thigh. He was fully hard now. You could feel it as he rolled his hips against your center.
“Lucky you’re wearing a skirt, nice and easy for me,” he hums.
He bunches up the fabric around your waist before dragging his fingers over your panties, feeling how they were damp. He smirks against your lips while applying more pressure, seeking out your swollen clit.
“Already so wet, baby,” he chides, “Is this how you get while I’m not with you? Can’t think of anything but daddy cause your pretty pussy’s just crying for some more attention.”
“Yeah, need you to make the ache go away,” you say in a breathy whimper.
“I know you do,” he coos.
It’s a bit difficult in this position, but Leon manages to remove the last barriers of cloth separating the two of you. He lines up his dick with your entrance and slides home. Now it’s his head that falls on your shoulder as he groans. His stance didn’t really allow him to ease in. He was balls deep in the first stroke. You let out a long satisfied moan.
Taking a moment to readjust, he gets his elbows hooked under the bends of your knees. You’re basically bent in half, his cock to your cervix. This angle felt even deeper too. Your walls pulse around him as you work to accommodate the length.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Every part of you clings to me,” he grunts before taking a step away from the wall.
Losing the stability behind your back had you rocking and shifting more, causing his tip to nudge against all those sweet spots. Your thighs quiver as Leon gets into a rhythm and figures out how to bounce you on his cock like his. The sound of your skin meeting floats down the hallway. You whine and whimper, your eyes roll back as your head tilts the same direction.
He could tell you were loving it. Your favorite place to be combined with your favorite feeling in the entire world. There was nothing his sweet girl loved more than being stuffed full of cock and held by him.
“Feeling good, princess? Is daddy fucking you just how you wanted?” he asks.
“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” you whimper and nod dumbly.
“Good,” he says. He focuses on working himself in and out of you. His mind is locked on the sensation of your slick coating his shaft and collecting at the base, dripping down to his balls. But more words fill his mind and rush to his mouth to be let out. “This is why you’re so needy, right baby? You just need some cock in you or you get so frustrated. Can’t even think straight without your fill, can you?”
You shake your head wildly. Your legs tense over his arms. His hands dig into your back to keep you supported. You see his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he uses his strength to hold you up. He rocks you on his cock, back and forth, sliding himself in and out. You’re gasping and trembling more noticeably now. He knows you’re approaching the peak.
“Doing so good for me, precious,” he murmurs, “Keep squeezing me like that so I can fill you up just how you need.”
Your noises become more desperate. It feels as though you get even tighter. Leon slams into you deeper than you could remember. But then again, in this state, your memory wasn’t worth much. Pumping in and out, he sees your eyes squeeze show, your mouth widening into that cute familiar shape it always made when you came.
“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for daddy,” he groans.
You do as he says, following your orders. You seize up and moan, long and loud. He tightens his grip and takes a step closer to the wall to ensure your high isn’t cut by falling. His hips don’t stop though. He feels that tensing in his belly. Gritting his teeth, he pounds you over and over until he has to stumble back to the wall.
You hit the surface with a thud, but he’s a little too busy to notice. He growls and whimpers into your neck, hips working at a more strained pace as he tries to grab that brief euphoria. A few thrusts later and release is washing over him. He fucks you full, going deep and staying true to his word about filling you up. He pumps every last drop in.
You slowly slide down in his arms till he lets go of your legs and your feet can touch the ground again. Looking up at him as he comes down, you watch his features melt into the relaxation of post-release. You lean up and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes open and look down at you. A lazy smile spreads on his face and moves in to return the gesture.
“So how’d I do?” he asks with that smug look you loved so much.
“Perfect like always,” you answer, genuine in contrast to his teasing. You step forward on wobbly legs, grabbing his hand to finish your trip to the bedroom together. He leans down and smacks a kiss on your neck.
“Clearly not perfect enough if you’re walking on your own now,” he purrs in your ear.
You smile and look down. “There’s still time to fix that,” you offer.
“Of course there is,” he agrees with a light swat to your ass. He pecks your lips once more before following you through the entryway to your shared room.
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