#*pops champagne* IT BEGINS

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[shy9-29]

Unfiltered | 이희승

idol 이희승 x idol yn

🍒 SOMAR𝒊O ─── Both you and Heeseung decide to go red. Later on, chaos is brought opon you two. 이희승 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 3.1k ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, death treats, etc 🔖 a/n. Thought about Heeseung and Giselle while writing this. Who else freaked at cochella?

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, a cozy hoodie draped over your frame, a bowl of popcorn nestled between you and Heeseung. His phone is in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket covering both your legs. The soft glow of the TV lights the room, but he’s not paying attention to the screen—his focus is all on the dozens of hair color inspo pics he’s scrolling through.

“Okay, hear me out,” Heeseung says, holding up his phone to show you a swipe of blonde cut. “This… for Cochella?”

You wrinkle your nose, tilting your head. “It’s cute, but didn’t you already go blonde?”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “That’s what I said! But Sunghoon said it would ‘bring out my eyes.’” He makes air quotes and a mock serious face that makes you giggle.

You lean in, tapping his screen. “What about this one?” A vibrant, fiery red catches your attention. “It’s bold. Different. You’d look hot.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Hot, huh?”

You bump his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky.”

But he’s already smiling at the idea, sitting up straighter. “Red’s kind of sick though. It could pop on stage, especially under the lights.”

You nod, brushing some popcorn salt off your fingers. “If you go red… I kinda want to, too. Not, like, matching-matching. Just… accidentally twinning.” You say it teasingly, but there’s a spark in your chest when he looks over at you with that playful glint in his eyes.

He shifts to face you fully, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. “Imagine the headlines,” he smirks. “‘Heeseung and Y/N cause chaos with matching red hair.’”

You laugh, not realizing just how close to the truth that prediction would soon be.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and warm, “red it is.”

You clink your popcorn bowls together like champagne glasses.

That night, under soft lights and between laughter, the two of you made a choice that seemed harmless—fun, even.

You had no idea it would become the beginning of everything.

The last couple of weeks have been nonstop—dance practices that go past midnight, vocal rehearsals, fittings, interviews, content shoots. Both your group g/n and Enhypen are in comeback season, which basically means “sleep is optional” and “personal time doesn’t exist.”

You and Heeseung had been texting here and there, sending each other exhausted selfies, complaining about sore muscles and choreo revisions. But meeting up? Impossible. Your schedules didn’t line up, and even when they almost did, something always came up.

It was late one night when you finally had a minute to breathe. You’d just finished another rehearsal, still in your practice clothes, hair tied up messily. You flopped onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly when a notification lit up your screen.

[HEESEUNG is live] — Weverse

You sat up instantly.

Tapping in, the screen loaded to Heeseung sitting on the floor of what looked like the dorm’s living room, hoodie on, a black beanie pulled low over his head. Like, really low. Only a few strands of dark hair peeked out, and he kept adjusting it like he was nervous it’d fall off.

You smirked.

He’s hiding it.

You already knew. A few days ago, his texts had been full of half-panicked, half-excited messages about finally going red. “Bro it’s SO RED, I actually might be insane for doing this” was one of your favorites.

But seeing him now, live, trying so hard to hide it from Engenes—it was cute. Every time he turned his head a little too far, a hint of bright red peeked out, and he’d scramble to pull the beanie back down.

Comments were flying.

enhajvke: DID I JUST SEE RED?

heeseungswiife: Be honest rn… did u dye ur hair?

engenevroom: LEE HEESEUNG EXPLAIN THE FLASH OF COLOR

You bit back a laugh, watching him try to play it cool.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he said with the most suspicious tone ever, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. “It’s just cold in here.”

Yeah, right.

You watched the rest of the live with your chin propped on your hand, amused and weirdly proud. He looked good—cozy, playful, teasing the fans just enough without giving it all away.

And in your camera roll, your own red hair was glowing under the bathroom light. You hadn’t shown the world yours yet either.

Not yet.

But soon.

You didn’t really plan to go live. It just kind of… happened.

You had a rare evening off—no practice, no interviews, no schedules—and it felt weird. Like your body didn’t know how to sit still. So you pulled your hair up, threw on a simple white tank top and joggers, and flopped onto the floor of your room, your phone in hand. No makeup, no filters, no styling.

Just you.

And the new red hair.

You hit “Start Live” on Bubble, not thinking twice.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted softly, adjusting the camera. The chat instantly blew up. You leaned closer, tucking a strand of bright red behind your ear as the comments exploded.

annibeth3: THE HAIR???

jmmstud: Y/N WENT RED?!

gnnofan: wait, didnt heeseung go red too or am I tweaking?

You smiled. “What, this?” you teased, twirling a strand. “I just wanted something different.”

Your heart thudded as you saw the messages piling up, but you kept your tone light, calm. After all, it was just a coincidence… right?

You stretched out a bit on your floor, resting your weight on your elbows, the neckline of your tank dipping just a little as you chatted about practice, comeback prep, and snacks you’d been craving lately. Just normal stuff.

But your phone buzzed behind the scenes.

Heeseung [9:47PM]:

you look way too good right now.

like i’m tryna be respectful but wtf.

I miss you so fucking much yn I’m gonna crash out. The tank top is killing me

Your lips twitched into a smirk, a flush rising to your cheeks. You glanced at the camera for a second, then off to the side, biting back a laugh.

He was watching. Of course he was.

And even if the fans hadn’t fully caught on yet, your phone lighting up with his name while your red hair shimmered under the light—it made everything feel more electric.

They hadn’t noticed.

Yet.

You ended the live not long after that—heart racing, cheeks a little too warm, trying to keep your cool as you read Heeseung’s texts still sitting at the top of your screen.

The moment you were off camera, you opened the chat.

You [9:53PM]:

you’re literally the one who told me to go red too… what did you expect?

also it’s just a tank top calm down

Heeseung [9:54PM]:

“just a tank top” she says like she didn’t just destroy my entire willpower in 15 minutes

i’m calling you after this don’t ignore me.

You smiled, setting your phone down with a little shake of your head. You didn’t even realize how much you missed him until now—until the teasing texts and his dumb comments made your stomach flip again.

Surprisingly, the internet didn’t explode—at least not right away.

Despite your live and the not-so-subtle matching hair colors, fans didn’t fully put the pieces together. A few curious comments here and there, a couple of tweets questioning the timing, but nothing serious. No dating rumors. No trending hashtags. Just… peace.

It was almost suspicious how quiet everything was.

Which is exactly why, when both your schedules finally aligned, you and Heeseung jumped at the chance to film something together. His new song Loose had just dropped, and he’d been dying to do a challenge with you—especially now that you both had that bold red hair. A perfect opportunity, right? Fun, harmless, and definitely not suspicious.

The idea was simple: you’d meet at the HYBE building during a short break in both your days, sneak into one of the practice rooms, and film it quick. No couple-y energy, no obvious glances. Just vibes.

The best part? Both companies were fine with it.

There were no raised eyebrows from staff, no warnings. Since fans hadn’t really caught on, no one was worried. It was just a mutual collab between two popular idols—great for views, great for engagement. Enhypen’s team even offered to film it and post it straight to their official TikTok.

“Look professional,” Heeseung had joked, nudging you with his elbow as the staff counted down to record.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. The camera rolled. Music blasted. You both hit every beat, in sync, smiling, red hair flying as you danced side by side. The chemistry was obvious, but you figured fans would chalk it up to stage presence. They always did.

After it was done, you both took a couple of selfies—just for memories, nothing for posting—and then went your separate ways, promising to catch up more once promotions calmed down.

Neither of you opened the internet that night. No doom-scrolling. No comments. No TikTok rabbit holes.

You went to bed thinking everything was fine.

But the next morning?

The internet was on fire.

You woke up to your phone vibrating non-stop on your nightstand.

At first, you thought maybe it was just your manager or your group’s group chat buzzing about schedules—until you saw the notifications.

Twitter. TikTok. Instagram. Mentions. Tags. Trending.

You rubbed your eyes and squinted at your screen.

“THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER”

“NO CAUSE THEY’RE IN LOVE”

“THERE’S NO WAY THIS IS JUST FRIENDSHIP”

Your heart skipped. You sat up fast, blanket falling off your shoulders as you clicked on one of the top tweets. It was a screenshot—mid-frame from the dance challenge. Heeseung was looking at you. Not just looking—staring. And not just staring—smiling.

It wasn’t even subtle.

His eyes were soft, focused on you like the camera didn’t even exist. You hadn’t noticed it in the moment. But now? Paused in HD and blasted across every social platform?

Yeah. It was obvious.

And the comments were wild.

“The way he looked at her when she smiled?? Bye I’m sobbing.”

“You’re telling me that’s not love? Be serious.”

“What is my hee doing with yn 💔.”

“They’re so synced it’s actually suspicious.”

Even clips of the video were slowed down and edited with soft music, hearts, sparkles—fan edits were already flooding your FYP. And somehow, it wasn’t just your red hair people were talking about anymore.

It was the way your hands brushed.

The way your laugh slipped out at the end.

The way he couldn’t stop looking at you when you weren’t watching.

You opened your texts to find one from Heeseung already waiting.

Heeseung [8:04AM]:

we’re trending.

i think we just accidentally confessed.

…it’s kinda cute though.

You let out a breathy laugh, heart pounding.

This was no longer just a dance challenge.

It was the start of chaos—and the world was officially watching.

Within hours, the chaos went from loud to explosive.

The original TikTok—the now-infamous Loose challenge featuring you and Heeseung—disappeared. Gone. No warning. No explanation. Just poof.

You hadn’t even known until fans started posting screen recordings, saying things like:

“Wait… why did they delete the challenge???”

“This is suspicious as hell now.”

“They just made it worse by deleting it.”

“Enhypen’s staff really fumbled this one.”

It was everywhere. The deletion only made people more convinced something was going on. What could’ve passed as a fun collab between two idols now looked like a cover-up. Some fans tried to keep things calm, tweeting things like:

“It’s just a dance challenge, don’t be weird.���

“They probably deleted it because people were overreacting.”

“Red hair doesn’t equal dating, omg.”

But the other side of the internet was spiraling.

Speculation threads popped up. Fan accounts were digging through past interactions, award show clips, music bank moments—anything that could “prove” you and Heeseung were together. Some fans even started pulling screenshots from lives, making timelines.

And then the hate started.

Under your posts. On your lives. In your DMs. Comments calling you “attention-seeking,” saying you were “ruining his image,” accusing you of “using him for clout.” Some even turned on him—saying he was being “reckless,” or “leading fans on.”

It stung. Even though you told yourself it came with the job, it still hurt.

You stayed quiet. So did Heeseung. The companies didn’t say anything either—not yet.

But behind the scenes, your phone was buzzing nonstop.

Heeseung [10:12AM]:

…they deleted it.

i didn’t know they were gonna do that.

are you okay?

You stared at his message, fingers hovering over your screen.

Were you okay?

You weren’t sure. You’d just wanted to dance. To match hair for fun. To be with someone you liked without setting the internet on fire.

But here you were—burning in it anyway.

It got worse. So much worse.

The deleted video didn’t just spark curiosity—it set off a wildfire. What had started as playful fan theories turned into full-blown obsession. And then, into something ugly.

You tried to stay off your phone. Tried to focus on your group’s comeback, the rehearsals, the endless days in the studio. But the comments found you anyway.

Under your recent posts. Flooding your lives. Drowning your mentions.

“It should’ve been me, not Y/N.”

“She doesn’t deserve him.”

“Y/N is ruining his career.”

“She’s not even that talented—she’s just lucky.”

“Break up before your fandom turns on you.”

“I swear if I see them together again—”

And then came the threats.

Disguised as jokes at first. Then full-on direct messages.

“Watch your back.”

“I could dox you at any moment.”

“Hope your company knows they can’t protect you forever.”

You didn’t cry, but your hands shook when you showed your manager. He took your phone without saying anything and made a call.

Later that night, Heeseung texted you.

Heeseung [11:28PM]:

i hate this.

i didn’t think it’d go this far.

you don’t deserve this.

Neither of you had expected it. The hate, the pressure, the firestorm just for dancing together. For matching hair. For being a little too obvious about feelings that weren’t meant to be a secret in the first place.

You wanted to tell him it was okay. That you were fine.

But you weren’t.

And apparently, your companies knew it too.

Because the next day, both HYBE and JYP released simultaneous statements.

Simple. Direct. Unapologetic.

“After confirming with the artists, it is true that Enhypen’s Heeseung and g/n’s Y/N are currently in a relationship.

We ask for your support and understanding. Please continue to respect both artists’ privacy moving forward.”

And just like that—the secret was out.

No more hiding.

No more dancing around rumors.

No more pretending red hair was a coincidence.

It was real. It was official. And the whole world knew it.

You were on set for a music show taping when the news dropped.

One second, you were touching up your lip gloss. The next, one of your members walked in holding her phone out with wide eyes.

“They did it,” she said. “It’s official.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

She tilted the screen toward you. There it was. Both companies, side by side, names bolded in black and white. Confirmation.

You let out a breath, sat back in the chair, and shrugged. “Huh. About time.”

No panic. No tears. Just… finally.

Your group’s stylists didn’t say anything. They just nodded and kept working. Honestly, everyone around you kind of expected it already. Nothing about it felt shocking. Even the staff had started side-eyeing the sudden hair changes and locked-door dance rehearsals weeks ago.

Meanwhile, Heeseung texted you mid-makeup.

Heeseung [3:11PM]:

well that’s one way to go public lol

guess we’re official official now huh

You [3:12PM]:

yup

they really waited until we couldn’t say anything back lmao

Heeseung [3:12PM]:

i kinda like it though

now i can look at you on camera without pretending you’re just my “idol friend” lol

You smiled, totally unbothered.

You’d both been through this industry long enough to know how it worked. The hate came and went. The rumors always found new targets. Right now it was you two—but give it a month and the internet would be busy with someone else’s business.

Until then?

You had red hair, a comeback stage, and a very official boyfriend who’d just sent you a selfie with a wink and the caption:

“Guess I’m your problem now.”

Once the news was out, the freedom hit immediately.

You didn’t even bother trying to be subtle anymore. Heeseung followed you on Instagram the same day the statements dropped—no sneaky burner accounts, no “oops I liked it by mistake.” Just straight-up, public, followed. And you followed him back within minutes.

The fans noticed, of course.

“Heeseung followed Y/N??”

“NO CAUSE THEY’RE BEING BOLD NOW.”

“this is highkey iconic behavior tbh”

A few hours later, Heeseung posted a story. A blurry pic of two iced americanos on a café table, one with red nail polish wrapped around the cup. No tags. No captions. Just vibes.

Then you posted a carousel that same evening. The fourth photo? A mirror selfie of you in a hoodie way too big to be yours—sleeves swallowing your hands, the drawstrings hanging low.

Fans put two and two together. Fast.

And you didn’t deny it.

Over the next few weeks, you shared more—still casual, still lowkey, but just enough to send fans into a frenzy every time.

A photo of matching sneakers outside a ramen shop.

A story of two sets of chopsticks over tteokbokki with a soft little “date night” caption.

A boomerang of your hand tugging down a familiar beanie (yeah, that beanie) with the words: “stealing again.”

Comments were mixed, but you both ignored the noise.

You were two idols in love, no longer hiding in dance studios or behind blurry livestreams. And honestly? It felt kind of fun to finally live it loud.

The months that followed were chaotic, hilarious, and—honestly—kinda fun.

Sure, the initial firestorm was loud. Fans debated, haters barked, and your DMs stayed unhinged for a while. But eventually, like all things in idol world, the noise dulled. The shock wore off. People moved on.

And you and Heeseung?

You kept living.

Performing your comebacks, doing variety shows, sneaking glances across music show stages that were no longer that sneaky. You posted what you wanted, shared what you liked, and smiled a little wider every time someone commented:

“They’re actually so cute together.”

“I was a hater at first but now I’m obsessed.”

“Red hair couple supremacy.”

By the time festival season rolled around, your hair was a different color. His too. But everyone still remembered that red era. The hair, the challenge, the way he looked at you like no one else existed.

From a couch conversation to a viral storm—who knew red dye and a beanie would spark all this?

But now, none of it had to be secret.

No sneaking around. No deleting videos. Just you, Heeseung, and whatever came next.

And if the world wasn’t ready?

Too bad. You were already in it. Together.

here to be added to permanent tag list - req open

[lorelune]

(michael kaiser x reader // 18+ MDNI // cws: yandere kaiser, stalking, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic behaviors // wc: 2.2k)

"so you really did it?"

"did what?" you ask, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke into the frigid air. your fingers are numb.

"break up with him!"

"kaiser?" you snort, taking another drag before speaking. "i guess? i called things off earlier today, but we weren't actually dating. so it's not like it's really a breakup."

"... sure."

your friend on the line hardly sounds convinced. but it is... true. you and michael kaiser never dated. you never had a label, never discussed any type of commitment or potential future together. though you had spent more than one weekend (try a dozen plus) at his apartment, oscillating between cuddling, fucking, and being in each other's presence's in a way that was distinctly not platonic—

you and michael kaiser were never dating. you were not together. (Regardless of him flying you out to one match in Vienna, and the another in Rome—) you weren't dating.

you never were.

you never expected to either. michael kaiser was transparently damaged, and handling it in an unproductive, destructive manner. you saw this from a mile away, but entertained your chemistry regardless. maybe it was the influence of a few drinks and a few heated arguments that got you in bed with him to begin with, despite clocking his toxic tendencies early on.

you fought a lot, for not being a couple.

care made kaiser squirrely and angry. kindness made him snap. aggression, biting and clawing— angry sex that metastasized into something carnal and closer to a fight resonated with him far more than little affections. you only saw moments of vulnerability from him when you were both fucked out and exhausted. or, when he thought you weren't looking. you felt him pet through your hair while he thought you were asleep, more than once.

you broke up with kaiser because you couldn't handle things as they were anymore.

maybe you wanted to be loved. maybe you wanted to be held, openly and tenderly. maybe, you wanted a partner and not a man with an ego problem who fucked like a god and treated you like invasive creature nine times out of ten when you showed him affectionate.

(you just want to be loved.)

the luxuries and innate chemistry of your relationship simply wasn't worth it.

so, you broke things off. over text, because it seemed the least messy.

[you]: hey, what we have isn't working for me anymore. i don't want to see you any longer. i care about you a lot, but what we have is not sustainable. i wish you all the best, michael.

(you try not to be too affectionate with your message, lest you rile him up. you want to be gentle, but not too... emotional. it's better this way.)

you block him after sending the text. clean breaks— it's kinder in the long run, isn't it? even if it hurts more in the moment.

you sigh into the receiver, tossing your cigarette butt to the side, "i mean it, we weren't ever serious."

"if you say so."

you kick at the snow beneath your feet. there's an inch or two of it on the ground, coating the cobblestones of the path you walk on. the river that cuts through your city runs, despite the cold. there's no one around, and it's peaceful beneath the amber-tinged street lights.

"you don't sound convinced."

"because i'm not." your friend pauses. "... have you seen his instagram story from today?"

"nope," you pop the word from your lips. "i blocked him."

"already?"

"immediately."

"damn. that's cold of you."

"you don't know kaiser like i do," you shake your head. it's better this way, to be cleaner.

(you have always been able to foresee the way that man would tear you apart, if you misstepped too grievously.)

"well regardless," a notification comes up on your phone. your friends has sent a screenshot of kaiser's story. "look. he flew out to your city."

your stomach drops. sure enough, the screenshot has a location stamp over a photo of kaiser's deft hands, twirling a flute of champagne from what is clearly a first class seat.

"... maybe he has a match."

(he doesn't. you know this; there's no league that plays in your city.)

"or, he's coming to see you!"

"that would be insane," you laugh. that bastard... wouldn't, would he? he is... was halfway across the world.

"it would be romantic."

"it would be insane," you repeat.

you turn on your heel, back the way your came through the parkway. your apartment is... about a mile away, maybe. it's dark and cold, but you can probably get back there quickly. you're not sure where this particular sense of haste comes from—

but it's a frantic sort of feeling.

your friend pouts, "you have no sense of romance then, i guess."

(and your friend doesn't know michael kaiser.)

anxiety pitches around between your stomach and lungs. you swallow, and it feels too dry.

"i promise i do," you shake your head. "that's the problem."

"sure. tell me more about it later, 'kay? i gotta get ready to go out. let me know if your man shows up!"

your stomach rolls. "gotcha."

"bye bye!"

the line goes dead. your drop your arm to the side, your phone like a deadweight in your hand. you take a few steadying breaths, looking out at the rush of the river. the roar of it is just far enough away to not be overstimulating. the rest of the night is blanketed in snow and stillness.

you nearly trip as you begin to walk again, panic unfurling in your chest with each step.

(there's no way michael came all the way to your city, on a fucking last minute flight no less, for you. there's no literally no fucking way.)

why would he anyway? to try and salvage your not relationship? that hardly logical. there has to be another reason— his team has had him in a few PR campaigns lately, maybe... maybe that's it.

(you know that you are lying to yourself.)

you slip, just for a step or two, on some ice that's beneath the layer of fluffy snow. barely, you keep yourself upright, your arms flying up to find your balance once more. you take a steadying breath, pressing a hand to your chest.

"you should be more careful."

the blood in your veins freezes, numb and chilled like the air around you. your head jerks up.

kaiser sits on a bench, about ten paces in from of you. his arms are spread out over the back of it. he regards you with a tilt of his head, almost playful.

he looks you up and down, voice full of poison, "you could have hurt yourself."

"why the fuck are you here?" your voice barely manages to stay steady.

"why wouldn't i be?" kaiser shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. the cadence of it makes you feel nothing but unease. "i've got a match in London. i'm just picking you up."

"what are you talking about?" you swallow, audibly. you know that he hears it.

"don't be obtuse." he stands up. your stomach fills with leaden dread.

"you don't be obtuse," you snap back. "we're done. this—" you point between the two of you, "— is over."

"that's a mutual decision." he steps toward you.

you step back. "no, it's not."

kaiser is faster than you, he's up against your front in a moment. it makes you stumble back, nearly falling on the same patch of ice as before.

deftly, he gets an arm around your waist. the force of it is immediately too much, too tight, too hard. you're pulled against him, chest-to-chest. you brace your hands on his shoulders, some attempt at distance, but he doesn't budge. he stares down at you, the cold heat of his own presence engulfing you effortlessly.

"i-it's not," you whisper, voice wobbling. "you need to leave."

"you're an idiot."

"please let go."

"now, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kaiser smiles, something acidic that you can almost taste.

he bends the two of you, so your back arches. you scramble against him for some purchase.

"there's nothing to 'let go'," his sneers. you hit your fist against his shoulder. "you're coming with me to London, and you'll stop throwing this tantrum now, or along the way."

"it's a not fucking tantrum!" you snap at him. your voice matches the roar of the river. you meet his gaze, angry slipping into your tone as it so often does with him. "we are done. i don't want anything to do with you, michael— especially now. i can't believe you hopped on a fucking plane to, what, harass me on my own turf?"

his palms circles your jaw in a swift, uncomfortably fast movement. the pressure of him is unyielding. you can't look anywhere other than him.

the way he looks at you scares you, now more than ever. the frigid blue of his eyes is haunting and as hollow as it is full of vitriol. anger. all directed at you.

"i 'hopped on a plane' to take you home," kaiser dips you further. if he wasn't holding you, you'd crash to the ground. "i should've done so earlier, but i didn't expect that you'd lose your shit so quickly."

you weren't—, "i’m not—"

his grip on your jaw grows tighter. from a distance, this may look romantic to an onlooker.

from your position, you are in the jaws of a beast that you thought you had escaped.

"you're mine—" he pats your cheek, hard, as he tells you. the angle is bad, given it's with the same hand that's holding your jaw. your brain rattles inside of your skull. "don't think you can run away just because you got a bit scared."

"that's not why i broke up with you—"

"but, it is."

you want to cry, run away, jump in that goddamn fucking river. "no—"

"i get it," kaiser noses into your cheek. he's just as cold as you are. his voice is too soft; it unnerves you. "it's scary, loving someone. i'm scared too"

"i—" you don't love him, you can't love him—

he pulls back just enough to dip your body as far as it can go, and look into your eyes, his own pupils blown.

"let's be scared together," he says, just above a whisper, before slotting his lips against yours.

you slam your fist on his shoulders, his chest, the back of his head— you don't fucking care. whatever you can reach. kaiser doesn't relent. instead, he licks into your mouth. kisses you filthy in a public park just because he can.

maybe his words seem romantic, if you were to recount them to someone else. maybe. maybe someone could read his plane ride to you as a grand, romantically-driven gesture.

but, as he holds your head squarely in place, and fucks your mouth with his tongue, stealing your words and breath in tandem— you know, so lucidly, that none of kaiser intent here is 'romantic'. not in a way that's normal, that's sane.

no, this is the only way a deeper connection can exist for him, you think. the hand on your jaw slips down to your throat, holding you there. it's a collar and kaiser's holding the leash.

you whimper; you feel so foolish. you feel so fucking stupid for thinking you could disentangle yourself from him so easily.

"do you get it now?" kaiser says against you lips.

all you can do is nod, it's all the action he allows you.

all of the fights and tension that made connection between you before so intoxicating— it evolved into this. it was always destined to. you've been ensnared since day one, but didn't have the foresight to see you.

kaiser did, though.

as he pulls away, you're light-headed. he rights you and steadies you at the waist. he pats your head and even coos at you.

"are you done now?" he begins to walk you with a hand at your lower back— back in the direction you came. probably toward the nice hotel in the center of town where he undoubtedly has a suite. where he'll fuck you stupid into the king mattress. "if you cry, i'll just make it worse."

'worse'.

you shake your head, hard and fast, and suck down any tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

he seems pleased. "good."

there's nothing you can do but walk by his side. this has always been his design, even if you couldn't see it. regardless of any attempts to sever things and run off, even cleanly, this is where you'll end up.

hip-to-hip, with his hand on your lower back. with the promise of pain and pleasure doled out to you in equal measure.

as you step through the doors of the, as expected, upscale hotel, a wave of warm, fragranced air hits you. and with it, some part of you sags, defeated so simply. crushed. you sniffle and rub at your eyes.

(you don't see kaiser smiling at your side. you don't see the way he slips the concierge a wad of bills with the understanding that he'll be given a room far away from others, and that you won't be disturbed.

he has work to do. you— were going to fucking leave him? he— he needs to make sure that you understand that that is not your choice to make.

and, as he sees you, stifling tears and shaking like a leaf, your little act shattered so seamlessly, he thinks you really are starting to get it.)

you are his.

[fastandcarlos]

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[defmaybe]

last night's mascara

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11, January 4th, 2025

Dreamcatcher’s Lee Gahyun x Male Reader

3.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

What a boring ass party.

It’s the thought that has been lingering inside your head for the last two hours. The decorations? Daft. The song choice? Lame. The conversations? Rote. So, there you are, one hand on your phone, the other fiddling with your fingers restlessly. Should’ve bought Balatro when it was on sale.

You scroll your Twitter feed aimlessly, pressing likes on the fan sites’ pictures of your favorite groups—fromis_9, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE. It’s the only way to escape this party without raising much suspicion.

Well, not until Gahyun notices you standing in the corner of your eyes.

“Not enjoying it?”

You almost drop your phone on the ground, good thing you can balance it with your hands.

“Shit, y–yeah,” you reply.

Gahyun giggles softly, covering her mouth with the glass of champagne in her hand. She’s in her red and white Christmas dress, one that shows off a lot—her shoulders, her legs, her ample cleavage. Fuck, she looks so tantalizing.

“So,” she says. She’s pulling you into a conversation. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“How was your day?” she asks, “Wait, oh my god, that was a terrible question. I’m sorry if it’s too plain for you.”

It’s over for you.

“No, no, it was–great. I’m fine,” you reply. “How are you?”

Gahyun chuckles. “A bit drunk, but still standing!” she says with a bright smile, twisting her foot coyly. God, she looks gorgeous.

You only shoot a smile back at her. You don’t know what more to say. It’s difficult for you to continue the conversation like this. You can’t do this.

“Hey,” she continues. You’re finished. “I can keep you company here if you want.”

She’s kind, but you’ll have to say no. You aren’t good enough to hold her right here. You don’t have anything to talk about!

“Ah, I–I appreciate that, but I don’t think you’d enjoy my company,” you decline, taking a sip of the champagne in your hand.

She giggles, and you fall victim to your own self-deprecation once again. You just can’t stop pushing people out, can you?

Fuck.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, come on!” she encourages. You’re taken aback by her enthusiasm to be with you. Is she really enjoying your company? Is it a dare? Is she just toying with you for her own entertainment?

“O–Okay, Gahyun,” you stammer.

The conversation begins at the expense of your solitude. It’s seemingly unending. You’re involuntarily dragged into an exchange with the talkative Lee Gahyun. However, you’re slowly dragged into her charismatic presence. You’re somehow not stuttering anymore? Goodness gracious! She’s a good talker. She’s a good listener. She’s genuinely comforting to be around.

“So–speaking of music, have you been listening to anyone recently? Well, outside of k-pop, it’ll be too boring,” Gahyun asks.

You contemplate a bit before you answer, “Well, I’ve been listening to Gracie Abrams a lot lately. Do you know her?”

“Gracie Abrams–hmm–is she the one who opened for Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah!” you happily answer. She’s really full of knowledge. “I started listening to her a few years ago. Quality can be choppy sometimes, but I still like her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” she says with a giggle. “That’s why you’re drawn to her.”

You can only chuckle at her warm words. God, she really knows how to reel you in. 

“What about you? Who have you been listening to?” you ask her the same question back. Normally, you’d be beating yourself up for not changing the question, but with Gahyun, it feels like you don’t have to worry about anything.

Gahyun laughs, cutely covering her mouth while doing so. “Well, mostly Billie Eilish, her new album. Have you heard it yet?”

“Oh, yeah! I love Birds of a Feather a lot. Wait, let me guess yours–uh–” you pause, trying to guess her favorite from the album.

Gahyun adoringly smiles, waiting for your guess. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the light, but, fuck, are you having a crush on her?

“Chihiro?”

“Aww~ that’s close! It’s actually my second favorite,” Gahyun says, pouting cutely. You can only awkwardly giggle along to cover the embarrassment from the mistake.

“I actually love Lunch the most, to be honest,” she says. “Makes me click my heels, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean–I also like Lunch, but–uh–it’s just not as sad as Birds of a Feather.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s definitely interesting!” Gahyun says. “So, you like sad songs? Do you like–uh–have any to recommend to me?”

You give her a few songs. She nods in acknowledgement. The exchange continues into the night. It flows so lively that you get lost in her charm, over and over again. You find out about her dog at home—Bae. You find out that she loves pineapples on pizzas. You find out that her favorite TV show is Goblin (yes, that Goblin).

As it goes on, you can’t help but steal glances at her body, even if you know how inappropriate that is. You’ll use the opportunity when she looks away to take in the view of her ample cleavage or her meaty thighs. She looks so good, so deli–

“Hey,” she derails your train of thoughts. “Did you just–stare at my tits?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long. Your hands tremble in fear of getting called out. You should say sorry, now!

“F–Fuck, I–I’m so s–sorry, Gah–”

“Zip it,” she cuts you off, putting her index finger on your lips. “I don’t want excuses.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. You’re being mentally cornered by Lee Gahyun, the company darling. God, you’re beyond fucked. Your whole life is being undone because of a slip. Fuck.

Then, she whispers into your ear.

“Meet me at the women’s bathroom in five minutes.”

You nod with your eyes closed slowly, before she departs from you, giving you the view of her hips swaying before disappearing into the crowd.

—

The women’s bathroom smells of air purifier, it’s taken care of well. It’s brightly lit. You find Gahyun standing in the middle of the room—arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s waiting for you.

“Come here, lock the door,” she orders, gesturing you to her. Her voice is much, much more stern than in the ballroom, but there’s also–something else. Is she mad at you, or is it something else?

The door clicks shut, leaving the bathroom only for you two. You slowly walk towards Gahyun, who’s looking at you expectantly.

The air thickens with anticipation. The silence is heavy. You’re stuck in the bathroom with Lee Gahyun. She doesn’t seem too pleased with your presence here, but why would she be calling you here, then?

“So,” she starts. You close your eyes shut in fear. “Anything to say before we start?”

You shake your head vigorously, hoping that the admission would lessen the punishment directed at you.

You hear a wicked laugh, as she starts to circle around you. Your body trembles in fear. Fuck, what is she going to do with you. Is she going to beat you up? Is she going to berate you?

“Are you sure that you’ve locked the door?” she asks from behind you. You can feel her breath on your neck. It’s terrifying.

“Y–Yes, Gahyun,” you stammer out.

“Good. Now, take off your pants,” she orders sternly. Wait, this isn’t going where you’ve expected.

“Wait, do you want me to–”

“Take off your pants, yes,” she finishes your sentence without any hesitation. Determination shines in her eyes.

“O–Okay?” you utter, before reluctantly unbuckling your belt. It’s so hard to come off when your hands are literally shaking like this. Your breathing becomes erratic with each second that passes by.

“Faster,” she sternly commands into your ear. Her warm breath touches your skin, eliciting goosebumps everywhere. Your hands quickly take off your trousers as she orders, leaving your lower body in your boxers. The outline of your erection becomes visible under them.

“Good,” she says, the warmth of your hand emanating into your firm ass. “Now, if you’d show me what you’ve been hiding under this–garment.

You immediately comply with her order, sliding down your tight boxers in a hasty motion. Your hard cock springs free from its confinement. It twitches in the anticipation of what’s to come. Gahyun presses into your body from the back, making your ass touch her warm crotch. Her perfume pervades your nostrils, making your legs wobble like jelly.

“Hmm, excited, aren’t we?” she coos. Her right hand reaches from the back to tease you. She leaves just a little space between her hand and your cock. You wish you could just grab her hand and make her touch your hardness right now, but that’s not how you play this game. You can only wonder how Gahyun can hide this side for so long—the side that dominates the shit out of you.

“Do you want me to touch it? Say it.” Her hot breath brushes against your ear, teasing you, pushing you towards the limit.

“Y–Yes, I want you to touch it, Gahyun,” you utter, mind going all haywire from the sheer intensity of her body warmth against your back.

You hear Gahyun giggle mischievously from the back, before her hand latches onto your cock firmly, making you groan in sheer ecstasy.

Slowly, she begins her dirty display on your cock. She lazily drags her hand up along your length, eliciting a shudder from you. When she’s at the top, she makes sure to take a swipe on the tip to make you moan. Your brain is now filled with nothing but her otherworldly handjob she’s giving. She feels so good.

You moan and whimper in her tight restraint, naked from below the waist. Her hands are slowly jerking you off with an unmatched mastery. Her smell is intense—her perfume, and something that’s explicitly her.

She slowly finds her rhythm, knowing when to pump, knowing when to swipe. She goes faster, eliciting guttural groans and whimpers out of you. 

Your cock is being fondled by the company darling, and that thought alone sends you into rapture. She’s the same woman you see every day. She’s the same woman you’ve talked to. She’s the same woman who everyone loves. Now, she’s jerking you off in the women’s bathroom, making you moan and whimper.

Maybe it’s the sheer intensity of the situation, you can feel your loins tightening. Your body becomes rigid. Your breathing becomes erratic. You’re going to cum in Lee Gahyun’s hand!

“You know, I’ve been told a lot that I have nice lips,” she says. Her hands remain a little too eager to finish you off. It’s becoming too irresistible to cum right now. You can feel the tension rising within your loins. You do want more than her hand, indeed. That pair of lips are a little too tantalizing for you to not be on your cock—so plump, so pouty.

“F–Fuck, Gahyun, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. Time is running low, and you have to make her stop before you blow a load all over the bathroom floor and get short-circuited for the rest of the night.

Gahyun lets out another wicked giggle. “Say please, then.” She’s not going to stop so easily, not before you profusely beg her to.

“Nghhn~ p–please, Gahyun,” you plead, voice already shaking in the intense sensation.

“Again, and I’ll lift my hand off,” she teases, jerking you off even faster. Your mind is all hazy from the sheer pleasure you’re getting from her hand. Your blinking becomes rapid. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Nghh~ please, G–Gahyun.”

Gahyun suddenly removes her hand from your cock, leaving it twitching in the air. You sigh, as the tension slowly drops back to normal. You’re happy not to cum before you get to take on her mouth.

“Close one,” she says, letting go of you from her warm embrace. You feel like you can fully breathe for the first time in years. She was suffocating, but you won’t deny the pleasure she gave you, of course.

Gahyun slowly walks back to your front, putting the highlight of her next act for you to see—her lips, those dick-sucking lips. You and the guys have talked about this behind her back (well, behind everyone’s back) about how good her lips would feel on your cocks, head bobbing up and down in a hypnotic motion, bringing intense pleasure to whoever gets their dick sucked. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Gahyun kneels, not without seductively swaying her wide hips as she goes down. Your cock twitches at the sight violently, so ready to be taken into her mouth.

“Say please, just like when I jerked you off,” she commands. She seems to know when to raise her voice and when to not.

“Please, Gahyun,” you utter, your voice all dry from the moaning and the internally burning desire.

The first contact is nothing short of divine. Gahyun starts slow. She starts by taking in just the mushroom tip into her mouth. She feels so warm, so tight, so right. Gahyun gives the underside of your cock a playful lick, making your body jolt in response.

She then begins her show, pushing herself further on your cock. It’s a lewd sight, really—the direct eye contact, the sound she’s making (it’s kind of a low, satisfied hum), the way she fondles your balls with her fingers. Pleasure just shoots through your body like a bullet. Without any restraints, you could just cum into her mouth right here and now. She pushes further and further, making you groan in pure bliss, until she starts to gag.

“Y–You don’t have to take it all, G–Gahyun.”

She says nothing, instead diving deeper onto your cock, all while using her tongue to play with the underside of your length. No woman has ever given you a blowjob as good as this—the deliberate movement, the will to gag, the pouty lips. Gahyun really has it all.

She keeps the eye contact intact, a reminder of her control. The gagging sounds she’s making don’t hinder her dominance by a little bit. She lets you know who’s in control here. It’s her and only her.

She finally pushes herself up to the hilt of your cock. She gags. She chokes. She sputters. Globs of spit leaks out of her mouth. Your head falls backwards from the pleasure. Her eyes are barely opening from the sheer size of your cock. You love this. You love the sounds she’s making. You love how she dominates the shit out of you. You love that she’s willing to suck you off like this (even if she’s the one in full control).

She stays there, gagging, choking, sputtering on your cock. She’s taking in the pungent scent of you, judging by the way she takes a deep breath through her nose. Her lips look so good on your cock like this. The base of your length becomes saturated by her red lipstick and spit. Streaks of black mascara run down her cheeks. You’re revelling in it. You’re revelling in the sight.

“G–God, G–Gahyun,” you utter.

With that, she slowly pulls back from your cock, leaving a trail of her rosy lipstick on it. Her eyes are fluttering violently with the thickness and length of you. She can barely breathe, and you’re loving it.

Instinctively, your right hand goes to the back of her head, tugging her hair to pull her out of the predicament called your cock. She gets to breathe again, and she quickly dislodges herself off you.

“Ah, y–you taste good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. The marks from the earlier act are evident.

You say nothing, letting Gahyun catch her breath again, waiting for the time she can take in your cock once more. She breathes in, she breathes out, and finally, she’s ready again.

“I’m not holding back this time, alright?” she says, determination sparks inside her eyes.

“S–Sure.”

She grabs onto your cock with her right hand, pulling you close, before she takes your cock into her mouth. This time, it’s more violent, more fervent. She catches her rhythm and doesn’t look back. She starts to bob her head back and forth on your cock, and doesn’t that make you whimper like a bitch?

“Nghhh~ s–so good,” you mewl.

Gahyun only replies with a giggle on your cock. Her grip is still firm. Her free hand fondles your balls gently, trying to coax cum out of you.

She catches her rhythm, moving her head in a hypnotic motion. She really wants you to cum under her influence like this. You hear her gag. You hear her choke. You hear her sputter.

The tension in your loins starts to rise again. You’re on the verge of cumming with the help of the earlier handjob, and she doesn’t seem to stop at all. That’s it. You’re unloading your cum inside of Lee Gahyun’s mouth, making her taste your white essence.

“G–Gonna cum,” you utter.

Gahyun responds by going as rapidly as she can on your throbbing cock. The sensation is electric. It shoots through you like a bullet. The knot tightens, and you can do nothing to stop it.

With the final stroke, you unload your pent-up lust into Lee Gahyun’s throat, making her taste your essence. Your body jerks forward in pure pleasure. You let out a low, guttural groan at your precipice, unable to make sense of the situation. She lets out a satisfied hum as she feels your white, hot cum hit the back of her throat. You’re probably salty, like the other women have said.

You slowly come down from your peak, finally catching your rhythm again. Your cock’s spurts turn into soft drizzles off the slit. Gahyun pulls off of your cock with a loud pop. What an obscene sight. Her face is a fucking mess—mascara, lipstick, it’s all wrong. You’re still too dazed to say a thing, though.

“You taste good,” she says, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out lewdly to show the emptiness of her wet cavern. She drank it all.

“I–I wanna do this again,” you involuntarily utter from the depths of your heart. “I want you to suck my cock again.”

Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of your words. Maybe it’s the wake of your climax. She bursts out a laugh, a genuine one. You watch her laugh awkwardly.

“Ask me–ha–properly,” she says. “Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Suck–”

“Suck my cock again?”

She lets out a chuckle, before answering, “Definitely, maybe.”

—

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Tis The Damn Season

♥ masterlist | request rules | 12 days of ficmas

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: lando’s certainly feeling the pressure of gift giving this holiday season. he wanted to give you something to show you he truly cares and turns to the grid for help.

♥ wc: 1.1k - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and fluffy fluff fluff !!!

♥ a/n: first day of ficmas with some platonic norstappen <3

Grill the Grid Secret Santa was a video all the fans looked forward to. It was a cute tradition—but everyone always ended up with a bunch of random crap they didn’t know what to do with. But after pulling your name this year, Lando had to make sure the gift was perfect

“I don’t see why you’re taking this so seriously,” Max laughed. “Charles cut out pictures of his own face for me a few years ago.”

“How romantic,” Lando replied, drawing an eye roll from Max. “I just don’t know what to get her.”

Max took a swig of beer, “And you think I do?”

Lando sighed, “I don’t know… I just—I don’t want to get her some random shit object that she’s gonna throw away. I want it to be important.”

“And when I asked you if you were into this girl you said no,” Max smirked.

“Shut up,” Lando said with a playful eye roll.

-

Lando

what the fuck do i actually get y/n for secret santa

Charles

You’re not supposed to tell us who you got :(

Carlos

Get her a jumper

Lando

I’m not getting her a lame ass jumper

Pierre

…i got carlos a jumper one year

Lando

I’m aware

-

Lando sighed and clicked off his phone, the only light source in his room. He switched on his bedside lamp and wandered around his bedroom looking for ideas.

He stepped towards a shelf, a few helmets and tchotchkes on display along with a framed picture of the two of you from your karting days. Sitting beside it was a few broken shards of china.

-2023 Hungarian Grand Prix-

Despite the cheering in the grand stands, you could hear the cracking of your first trophy as clear as day. The beautiful hand painted porcelain hit the ground hard, breaking in three different places after Lando popped the champagne.

It wasn't his fault of course. Accidents happen all the time. It was still a shame though. The first woman to win an F1 Grand Prix and her trophy breaks?

"This is misogyny, actually," your PR manager Morgan said, eliciting a laugh from you and a few drivers.

"I'm so sorry Y/n, I had no idea that would happen," Lando apologized profusely, a look of sincerity in his eyes.

"No, no, don't be sorry. It's okay," you promised.

"Congratulations, seriously. You had an amazing drive," Max praised you while wiping the sweat off the back of his neck.

You adjusted your cap, pulling your ponytail through the space between the clasp and fabric.

"'Thank you," you say breathlessly, gulping down a cold bottle of water.

"Alright, post race interviews for everyone and I'll find out about your new trophy Y/n," Morgan said, setting the broken pieces of porcelain on a table.

Your head spun with ideas what was going to happen to the broken ceramic. Whatever you had in mind never came close to what actually did happen with it.

Lando thought, "Maybe I could try finding the rest of the pieces and rebuild it?"

Absolutely not. Give her own fucking trophy to her as a gift? How lame.

He played with the jewelry on his veiny hands anxiously, caring way too much about the impression his future gift would give you.

Within seconds of this he was struck with the most perfect idea. He tucked the pieces of your trophy into his pocket and quickly made it out the front door, ready to begin a perfect Secret Santa.

-

“Alright,” an interviewer handed you a small box that was wrapped with colorful paper and a bow. “We need you to guess who this is from.”

You shook it carefully, noticing some rounded ridges that stuck out. You gently slipped the ribbon off with a single pull, used the tip of your nail to slice through some clear tape, and unwrapped the gift.

From the moment you pulled it out, everyone knew it was a ring box. The black velvet encapsulating it said everything.

“Wow am I getting proposed to on grill the grid?” you joked, stirring a laugh from the filming crew.

You opened the case to reveal a ring front and center. It wasn’t just any kind of ring though. There was gold rimming around the band and the purple-ish pink design that stood out perfectly on the white porcelain.

Along with that was a folded up picture of you and Lando. The one from karting. The same one he had in his bedroom.

Your heart completely melted, remembering the days where you two were so close.

“Well, this is clearly from Lando,” you smiled with a soft laugh, putting a hand over your heart.

“May I see the ring?” the woman interviewing you asked.

“Mhm,” you nodded, handing her over the glossy object.

She squinted to get a good look at the design.

“This looks like the hungary trophies you know,” she said, looking back up to you.

“It does,” a crew member agreed.

You held your hand out for the small object back and inspected it yourself. It couldn't possibly be...?

It was.

You placed the folded picture back into the box and kept the ring in your palm.

“Hang on,” you pulled out your phone and called Lando as the cameras kept rolling.

“Can you come over here? We’re by Ferrari hospitality.”

Within minutes Lando made his way to you alongside Max.

“Is this from my trophy in Hungary?” you held up the ring with two fingers.

“Yeah,” Lando nodded.

“Did you fucking steal my trophy?” you laughed.

“Only like a few pieces,” he held his hands up in surrender with a playful smile. “There were some on the floor that I stashed in my pocket to figure out what to do with later. Maybe ask an FIA person but we all know I didn't get around to that. What do you know? They were in my pockets at the end of the day and i just kept them on a shelf.”

“Well good thing you did,” you looked at the ring and slipped it on your finger. You walked over to him slowly and threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“It was one of the most, if not the most important moment in F1 history,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “I want you to always have a piece of that podium with you.”

You pulled away and wiped a tear from your eye with a laugh. With the memory of that day, the ring, and the picture of you and Lando as kids, all the emotions were starting to flood back.

“Fuck you for making me cry,” you laughed, using the sleeve on your sweater to wipe your face. You softly kissed his cheek and squeezed Lando’s hand before they cut the clip.

You’ll never live down that video. It’s mentioned probably a thousand times a day by fans alone shipping the two of you. But eventually, that first ring Lando ever gave you will sit on your finger right next to the wedding band he proposed to you with.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

taglist; @sainzzreputaticn @theseerbetweenus @yawn-zi

[dearru]

twelve grapes | o.miya

pairing: ts!miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: slight manga spoilers, alcohol, atsumu sucks and kita is here too, a lot of yearning and unresolved feelings, no use of yn | genre: hurt/comfort sorta but also idk just read it and you’ll see | wc: 3.3k (3330) | mlist

synopsis -> in attempting to follow an age-old tradition, you begin to confront some repressed feelings you have for your best friend.

TWENTY MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you’re buzzing with anticipation. Tonight was the annual New Year's party, and the air was alive with excitement. Laughter fills the room, and you navigate through the crowd, ignoring the feeling of sweaty partygoers pressing against your body. Normally, you’d hate pushing through a crowded group of people, but tonight, you’re on a mission. You need to find Kita– the reluctant host of this year’s party and your longtime friend. 

When you find him, you call out, bounding over to where he’s resigned to nursing a bottle of water on the couch, looking entirely overwhelmed by the festivities. You giggle at his current state as he lifts his head sluggishly, eyes half-lidded and fighting sleep. If he weren’t the host of this event, you’re sure he’d already be snuggled under his warm bedsheets, sleeping the Holiday away. 

He hums, sitting up to give you his full attention despite his exhaustion. 

“Do you have grapes?” you ask. 

“Grapes?” He tilts his head, “I have some in the kitchen.” And like the good host he is, he rises from the couch. It’s a half-hearted attempt but appreciated nonetheless. 

Shaking your head, you gesture for him to sit back down, “I can get them; it’s okay!” 

Nodding, he looks almost relieved as he points toward the kitchen. “Top shelf of the fridge.” He says, smiling appreciatively. 

Before you can go, you feel a hand grip your shoulder. Turning, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair and a mischievous grin staring back at you. 

Atsumu Miya– who is another one of your long-term friends, unfortunately. 

“Who’s goin’ to the kitchen?”  The setter slurs, cheeks flushed, “Get me another beer, yeah?” His eyes are glazed over, and the scent of what you presume to be the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed wafts off him. The odor is prominent and slightly bitter. You fight the urge to shake your head in knowing disappointment. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” Kita scolds, calm but firm. Atsumu puts a hand up in submission and mutters something under his breath, still holding onto you. 

Chuckling, you untangle yourself from his grasp, glancing toward the kitchen. “Couldn’t get you a beer even if I wanted,” You tease, “I’m gonna stay in the kitchen ‘til midnight.”  

Yawning loudly and plopping down on the sofa next to Kita, Atsumu peers at you curiously. “Midnight? ‘Samu gonna be there too?” He snickers, nudging his former teammate. Kita shoots him a warning glance and then shifts his gaze to you. It’s warm and empathetic. 

You stiffen. The sound of his name has your heart skipping a beat, and Atsumu’s question echoes loud in your ear like the pop of a champagne cork. Everyone’s been drinking tonight, so maybe it’s the liquor and crowd getting to you, but you suddenly feel aware of how your breath catches.

You and Osamu are friends– best friends, even– but recently, you’ve started to notice things about him that maybe best friends shouldn’t notice. Like the way his hair tousles in an annoyingly effortless way or how he rolls his sleeves up just enough for you to get a glimpse of his arms, toned and strong. You try your best to push the thoughts away because you two are friends, and it’s wrong to think of friends like that. 

Try as you might, it’s more difficult said than done. Especially when you two spend every free moment you have together. Even after spending long, laborious nights slaving away at Onigiri Miya, Osamu always stops by your apartment, doggy bag in hand. He tells you it’s just to make sure you’re eating, but you know the casual drop-ins are an excuse to have hour-long chats together in the dead of night. You never mind, but it makes you wonder if he thinks about you in the way you think about him. 

It’s wishful thinking, you tell yourself, He’s got better things to worry about than you. It’s best practice to not have false hope, and you’ve tried your best to not let all the inner turmoil affect the way you act.

When Atsumu mentions his brother, you feel a wave of discomfort that betrays how desperately unbothered you want to seem by him. You want to laugh it off, but the words don’t come out in the effortlessly cool way you imagined in your head. 

“Why would we be together at midnight?” You ask. The words are rushed, and you cringe at how the pitch of your voice raises. The weight of his accusatory gaze makes you feel like a dying animal being stalked by a vulture. He’s onto you, and you can’t do anything about it. 

Letting the silence hang in the air for a moment longer than what’s comfortable, Atsumu sighs, chuckling and leaning further into the cushions, “If yer not with ‘Samu, then what’re ya doin’ in the kitchen?” 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the change of topic. “I’m doing the twelve grapes tradition.” 

“Twelve grapes?” Kita asks.

You smile, confidence returning to you, “Yeah! I read about it online. You eat twelve grapes under a table, and it’s supposed to bring good luck for the New Year.” 

Snorting, Atsumu crosses his arms, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Biting your inner lip, your eyes narrow. You’re used to his blunt comments, but they still get under your skin sometimes. You try not to let it show. 

“Don’t be rude,” Kita sighs, then looks to you, voice softening, “Just don’t choke when you’re eating them, okay?” 

“I won’t.” You assure him while glaring at Atsumu, who’s still laughing under his breath. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you hear Atsumu call out, mockingly cheery, “Yer gonna look dumb bein’ all alone at Midnight!” 

You pause and then shake your head, continuing to the kitchen. What do you care if you’re alone? The one person you’d want to ring the New Year in with had probably left the party by now to get ready to open his restaurant in the morning, anyway. 

It’s not a big deal. 

TEN MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you feel stupid. 

In spite of Atsumu’s taunts, you’ve slipped away into the kitchen to escape the boisterous crowd that gathered around the living room. They’re all anxiously awaiting for 12:00 AM to strike together, and you’re by yourself. Bass from the loud music seeps through the thin walls and pulses through your head, amplifying your growing discomfort. You try to focus on how the quiet hum of the stove subtly masks the muffled sounds of laughter and the premature clinking of glasses from the other room. It would be nice, you think, to take a break from the party— if it weren’t for how alone you felt. 

This is silly.

Opening the fridge, you sigh as you feel the cool air hit your face, the chill sobering and harsh. You’re grateful for the obsessively organized way Kita stores his groceries; it makes it easy to find the grapes. They’re exactly where he said they’d be, tucked away on the top shelf. Grabbing the container, you set it down on the counter, gently plucking the fruit from the stem. As you place twelve into a bowl, the simple task is marred by a feeling of unbelievable doubt. You try to fight off the creeping sensation of dread overcoming you. 

Is this a dumb idea? 

You pause, thoughts wandering. You think about how this tradition is said to bring luck and success in all areas of life, it was exciting at first, but now it feels like an absurd notion. Why did you want to do this in the first place? 

As you continue to prepare the grapes, you try to settle the unease you feel. This tradition is supposed to be fun, but now you feel like it represents something more. Something bigger. 

Silently, you hope Atsumu will come and drag you away from this nonsense. It was always easier to ignore the thoughts when you were around others. 

But more than that, you wish for something else– Osamu. Looking down at the dish, you wish he would come and tell you how he feels. Reassure you there’s some merit in your thought. 

If that happened, you wouldn’t need the grapes anymore. It would prove that you had more than enough luck on your side. 

You really wish he was here. 

His lack of presence only emphasizes the emptiness of the room, and your heart lurches with the desire for him to be here with you. It’s pointless; though, you’re sure he’s gone home by now, and you’re still here with nothing but a bowl of fruit and unanswered questions.  

Running the sink, you wash the fruit, hoping it’ll help you calm down. But you realize that pushing down these thoughts is a futile task. You can’t keep pretending like you don’t feel this magnetic pull to him– you can’t keep acting like you don’t need him. 

You love him too much to ignore it anymore. 

FIVE MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and you wonder if you should forget your idea and return to celebrate with the others. 

You haven’t gotten under the table yet. Instead, you’re standing idly by the counter, staring at the grapes with more intensity than they’re worth. With the magnitude of your previous realization sitting heavy on your chest, you wonder if this tradition holds the key to anything. 

Could it help you learn to navigate your now undeniable feelings? 

The thought of grapes being the answer to all your problems is such a silly idea that you giggle to yourself. It takes some of the weight off your mind. 

And then, with comedic timing, you hear Osamu call your name. 

Snapping your head to the doorframe, you see his figure walking towards you, the door swinging closed in his wake. The clock in the room ticks steadily, but time seems to move slowly. Though a typically reserved person, his presence feels large and looms over you, causing your heart to pound with want. 

Clearing your throat, you pick the bowl up, holding it tight to your chest like a shield. 

“I thought you went home,” You say, face warm. 

It’s almost time now, but Osamu’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench in your plans. 

“Nah,” He waves his hand dismissively, “Just crashed on Kita’s bed for a bit. Shop was busy. Needed to recharge.” 

You hum mindlessly, finding it hard to focus. Adorning a fitted shirt and a simple pair of jeans, it makes you almost mad at how he doesn’t have to try, and he still looks good. 

You’re so screwed. 

“How’d you know I was here?”  You ask, tapping your fingers against the dish. The cool porcelain touches your fingertips and sends a rush down your spine. 

“‘Tsumu told me.” He explains, “ ‘S ‘cause he heard I was lookin’ for you.” 

Your heart stutters. “You were looking for me?” 

“‘Course I was,” He replies, amused. He says it like you’re silly for thinking otherwise. Lips turning into a slight grin, he shrugs, “‘S almost Midnight.” 

He steps closer, not seeming bothered at all. His gaze locks on yours, and you feel like it’s on purpose. When he tries to reach for a grape, you quickly jerk the dish out of reach. Osamu looks at you curiously. 

“What’re you doin’ here, anyways?” He asks, a playful glint in his eyes. There’s something else, too– but you can’t place it yet. 

You hold up the bowl, feeling a bit ridiculous having to explain yourself, “I’m— uh, gonna eat twelve of these under a table.” 

His gaze has your mind reeling. Tilting his head, he peers at you, “Why wouldn’t ya just eat ‘em right now? Grapes ‘re good.” 

You giggle at his simple nature. Of course he’d want to eat the snack as soon as possible. Trying to play it cool, you swat his hand away. His hand brushes against yours and makes you shiver. 

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes, “It’s ‘cause people say if you eat them under the table at midnight, you’ll gain success in all areas of life.” You pause before quickly adding, “Even romance.” 

You regret it as soon as you say it, but you can’t do anything about it now. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Ya want a boyfriend?” 

“It would be nice, I guess,” You stammer, embarrassed but relieved to say something truthful about your feelings for once.

“I didn’t know that,” He hums thoughtfully.

An agonizing silence hangs in the air. The only noise comes from the increasingly rowdy crowd in the other room. 

Osamu breaks the still before you can. 

“So why aren’t ya under a table yet?” He asks, looking down at his watch, “‘S almost time.” 

Smiling sheepishly, you look down at the floor, “Well, I was gonna do it, but now I’m insecure ‘cause Atsumu said I’d look dumb being all alone.” 

He scoffs, “Don’t listen to ‘Tsumu– he’s the dumb one.” 

You chuckle, “I guess, yeah, but still, I’d feel better if I could’ve found someone to do it with me. Kinda like a solidarity thing, y’know?”

“Yeah,” He agrees, then grabs the bowl without warning. You lunge to grab it back, but he holds it just out of reach when you get close. Looking around the room, he seems like he’s considering his options. You whine. 

“Samu! I need those!” 

“Ya wanna do it right there?” He asks, ignoring your plea and pointing at a cozy table hidden in the nook of Kita’s kitchen. His voice is low and laced with a teasing energy. 

Taken aback, you stop your efforts. You stare at him. 

Was he going to do the tradition with you?  

He starts to walk away, and you stand there, confused. He looks over his shoulder, still holding the bowl out of your reach, “Well,” He says, “Ya comin’?”

“I…” You swallow, heart filling with something hopeful, “You’re serious?”  

“Dead.” He quips. 

And because you could never say no to him– and you also really did want to do the tradition— you haphazardly scramble to grab more grapes from the counter since Osamu had stolen yours. 

Kita would just have to forgive you for eating all his food. 

ONE MINUTE UNTIL MIDNIGHT, and your body warms from being in such close proximity to Osamu. If it were anyone else, you’d laugh at how the two of you barely fit under the small table, your knees awkwardly bumping and arms pressed together. But because it’s him, the closeness hurts. Your hands are so close that you ache to reach out and touch him. Every small movement sends a jolt of electricity through you. The faint scent of his cologne– sandalwood, you think– clings to his person and makes your pulse quicken.

Everything feels so trivial with him next to you. This moment shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but you can’t help it. 

Looking at the grapes, you wonder why he’s doing this. Did he feel bad for you? Is that why he wasn’t somewhere else, celebrating with his brother and other friends?

It’s all too much. At this rate, you’ll die before the clock strikes twelve. 

You have to say something. 

“I didn’t know you believed in stuff like this.” You say, careful to keep your voice steady. 

He turns to you, and you can feel his breath on your face. The sudden nearness steals your own breath away. 

He’s so close. 

“I like eating grapes.” He shrugs, his voice as calm as you wish you were. Pausing, he parts his lips to speak, eyes glimmering with something unspoken, “And maybe I need a little luck too.” 

You’re too eager to know what he’s talking about to hide your embarrassingly shrill speech, “Luck? With what?” 

His gaze holds yours, and for a second, you feel like he’s about to say something important– but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he gives you a sly smile. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see if it works,” He says. It’s teasing, but there’s something else in his eyes. It makes your heart lurch. 

His words settle over you like the weight of the sky, crushing you with their ambiguity. It’s cruel, how vaguely he speaks. Doesn’t he know what he’s doing to you? How he makes you feel? All you can do is gape at him, the air filling with so much tension that you’re sure he can feel it too. 

The countdown starts in the other room and delays your inevitable spiral. Nodding at him, you look at the grapes in front of you, preparing yourself for the task you originally set out to do.

You’re so focused that you miss how Osamu’s still looking at you. 

ONE MINUTE PAST MIDNIGHT, and you’ve both finished your grapes. The faint echoes of drunken cheering filter in from the other room– a signal that it’s time to leave the kitchen and rejoin the celebration. Despite this, neither you or Osamu have moved from your places under the table. You’re still so close. The sound of your shaky breaths dance together, and the heat of his touch burns your skin. 

He hasn’t stopped looking at you. 

You try not to meet his gaze. It’s charged and entirely too intense for you to even begin to wrap your head around what it all means. Maybe you’re looking too deeply into things again. But you don’t think you are. 

Eyes darting around the room, you settle on looking at the clock. Its ticking has sped back up to a normal pace, and you focus on the calming rhythm. 

It’s useless, though. You can’t ignore him. Not for long. 

“What?” You breathe out, still not looking at him directly. 

“Nothin’,” He echoes, voice equally quiet. 

You swallow, finally allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of having his complete attention. Examining his face, your eyes widen. He’s really staring. You squirm from the intensity of the situation, accidentally bumping his side. You squeak out a “Sorry!” And he laughs. It’s full of warmth and affection, and it makes the hairs on your arm stand. 

Your breath hitches. Has he always acted like this with you? 

He says your name and smiles softly. Gaze pining you in place, dark eyes filled with intent, “Ya think we’ll both get what we want this year?” 

Your stomach flips.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. The closeness paired with the intensity of his stare is almost unbearable. You’re sure he can see your heart beating out of your chest if he hadn’t picked up on it already.

He shrugs, “Dunno.” Then he gets up from under the table, brushing dust off his knees. The ghost of his touch lingers on your skin, and you have half the mind to tell him to come back. Under the table, it felt like you two were in your own world, but now you’re worlds apart. 

His hand falls in front of your face to help you up, and you accept it just to feel him touch you again. 

It’s silent for a moment as you two stand next to each other. You’re still close, even though you don’t have to be. 

“Hey,” Osamu says softly, voice cutting through the tension, “Happy New Year.” 

You blink at him, chest tight, “Yeah, Happy New Year.” 

He hesitates, just for a moment, mouth opening like he wants to say something more, “I…” He starts but then shakes his head, “I think a lot’s gonna change this year.” 

You ache from everything left unspoken and what could be. An indescribable feeling settles over you, and your mind races with possibility. This year is a fresh slate– a chance for something new.

With luck on your side, maybe that something new could be with Osamu.

—a/n HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! This was supposed to be a 500 word drabble for a multi-character post, but I got a bit carried away…whoops! I hope you guys enjoyed regardless. I know longer fics don’t typically do well on tumblr, so If you read everything, I’m very grateful! I hope the Holiday season treated everyone who celebrate well :3.  

–a/n #2: according to mexican tradition, you’re supposed to match your underwear to what aligns with your desire for the new year. you and osamu both wore red aka the color of love. do with that what u will. (@cherrysurf gave me this idea!) 

[eroselless]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME 

Summary: You and Lando need to talk after what transpired on the car ride to the hotel. What will you both decide? [2.5k]

[lando norris x reader ]

MASTERLIST | Part 1 - LAY UR HANDS ON ME

Warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut, unprotected sex, oral, missionary

Note: Thank you all so much for the love, support and patience! I wanted it to be spicy but also a little soft, I hope it comes off that way. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 I hope it's alright that I tagged everyone who commented on part 1! Happy reading, love you all!

The tension in the air is palpable. It’s fog clinging to the morning air, waiting to dissipate. It’s a sink threatening to overflow, every passing moment teetering closer to the edge of chaos. It’s a champagne bottle, waiting for just the right push to pop. Lando stands with his back to the hotel door as you stand in front of your bed, fidgeting with your fingers. The silence in the elevator and the walk to the room is almost frightening. The adrenaline from the car ride had slowly faded as you stood, frozen in place. Your palms feel sweaty, your heart pounding in your chest. You both stand in the limbo of uncertainty’s clutch. 

“What if we just –”

“We can pret –”

Your words collide in the air, an awkward and strained laugh escaping the both of you. Doubt begins to gnaw at your mind, maybe he’s regretting it? You wonder. Maybe he was in need of some release and you happened to give it to him. 

“If you want,” you begin tentatively, voice barely above a whisper. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

Lando takes in a sharp breath, nodding. He shifts from foot to foot, bottom lip curled between his teeth as he nervously bites into it. He blinks, eyes watering. His chest begins to tighten up and he feels like he could break down then and there. Maybe in the spur of the moment, his lapse of judgment was the final straw that broke the camel's back and you’re eager to forget about the eventful ride over.  

“Is that what you want?” he asks, sitting down on his bed. His voice is quiet, barely audible as he twists his fingers in his hands. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes and stares down at your shoes. 

A heavy silence envelops the room, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, anticipation building in the man who sits before you. Blinking the tears that had snuck into your eyes, you shake your head. Your chest feels heavy as you answer him.

“No.”

The single word cuts through the air like a knife and hands there for a second. Time stands still for a moment as Lando’s head whips up to look at you. Time crashes down over you as he collides with you.

You weren’t quite sure of what you expected from your first kiss with Lando yet as his lips brushed with yours you couldn’t help but be struck by how perfect his lips felt on yours. His hands are cradling your cheeks, fingers pressing lightly into your skin as if he’s scared he’ll shatter you like fine porcelain. There is a delicate urgency in how his lips dance over yours. Years upon years of longing rising to the surface of your skin. His tongue slips past your lips, he can taste the remnants of the wine from earlier, a mixture of desire and indulgence. 

His hands move with a purpose, one gently placed at the joint of your jaw, a possessive gesture that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. The other rests firmly on the small of your back, pushing you closer with a quiet promise of ecstasy to come. He nudges your chin up with his hand, moving slowly and carefully. 

He pulls away, eyes droopy and half-lidded with desire. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You’re both heaving as you stand in the middle of the room, taking a moment to admire one another. The youthfulness and beauty of his face are so much more evident up close. It's nothing short of captivating. You had always thought he was handsome but now you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You can count the freckles scattered on his sun-kissed skin, the speckles of colour in his eyes are like shards of glass and his long lashes frame them beautifully. 

His hands fall from your face, sliding down and behind your shoulders. “Turn around,” he says. You comply, moving to face the other way. His hands move over the expanse of your back and you get a flashback to the moment you sat in his lap, just under 15 minutes ago.  His breath is fanning on your back, a familiar chill surging through your body again. 

His fingers land on the zipper of your dress, tugging on it as he asks for your permission to take it off. You nod, collecting your hair to one side. He pulls the zip down, fingers dragging lightly over the increasingly exposed skin. He presses his mouth tenderly to your spine, pulling a shaky breath from your lips. He pushes the straps of your dress off your shoulders, sending the fabric to the floor. It leaves you standing in your underwear, having foregone a bra. You turn around to face him, eyes scanning his face once again.

His lips find their way to your jaw, nipping lightly at it. You push his blazer from his shoulders, moving to unbutton his crisp white shirt. 

He shoves you lightly but with enough force to send you falling back onto the bed. He can’t help but admire you as you lay there. Your hair is out in a halo around your head and you're propping yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide as you gaze up at him.

He pulls his trousers off and you can see the shape of his cock through his boxers. Lowering himself on top of you, he litters kisses over your chest, lips coming to wrap around a pebbled nipple. You arch your back slightly at the feeling of his lips over the sensitive bud. Your hand goes to his hair, threading through it as he pushes his face further into the plushness of your tit. His other hand is snaking down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he moves down, sitting back on his knees. He pulls a leg up over his shoulder, beginning to trail kisses from your ankle to your knee. Your skin is soft and warm, goosebumps starting to bloom over it. 

You’re nervous as he makes his way up your thigh, teeth teasingly dipping into the soft skin. You let out a gasp as he does so, moving his lips to your other leg. In an instant, he’s back at the top of your leg, at the junction where they meet. He kisses the damp fabric of your underwear, eyes peering up at you. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks innocently. You hesitate, heart threatening to pop out of your chest. You nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His fingers hook around your underwear, pulling them down swiftly. Your knees come together on instinct.

He lets out a small chuckle, moving onto the floor in front of the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the crook of your knees, pressing a kiss to each one. 

“I want a taste.” He hums, only causing your heart to beat faster. His hands move up to take hold of your hips, pressing his cheek to your knees as if to ask are you ready? He waits until you’ve given him a small yet decisive yes before gently pulling your legs open. He goes straight to your sex, pressing his lips to your folds before spreading them open, making a v with his fingers. He teases you, letting out a single soft puff. His tongue darts out, dragging over the sensitive flesh but not over the part where you need him most. This causes your hips to buck up, aching for more of his touch. He continues, now plunging his tongue inside you.

“Fuck –” you moan out, body beginning to tremble with need as he shoves his face even closer. Your fingers pull harshly at his hair as he flicks his tongue expertly at your hole, his groan sending vibrations through your body. His fingers grip tight at your hips, grounding you in place. He sends a red-hot feeling through you as he fucks the muscle into you steadily. It pokes into a spongy, sensitive spot within you. He pulls away, blowing gently at the wet skin. 

“God, baby. You taste so fucking good.” 

He slips a finger in, thumb moving in careful circles over your clit, eliciting more moans from you. A smile is playing on his lips, as you feel yourself teetering towards the edge, a coil tightening in your gut. You cry out, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Your hips are bucking and your legs try to close around his head.

He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you, easing you down from your orgasm. Your chest heaves and you shake breathlessly. He pulls away, his face glistening with your juices. His eyes sparkle with lust as he presses his lips one more time to the skin of your thigh. It’s a look you’d only imagined in your mind. 

He stands over you, admiring how you look with your cheeks flushed and a light layer of sweat on your skin. Your chest is rising up and down quickly as you come down from your high. You’re staring up at him, eyes hazy and lips parted. You look ethereal, a piece of art hanging in a museum, the image of perfection. 

Regaining your breath, your hands work on Lando’s boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free. It taps lightly at his stomach, a bead of pre-cum on the red angry tip. You wrap a hand around it, thumb going to run over the crease of the head. Lando hisses and shakes his head at you begin to jerk your hand. His voice is strained as he tells you no.

“Not tonight,” he says, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Just need to be inside you.”

You nod, moving up the bed, into its centre. He crawls over you, showering your body with kisses as he does so. A kiss right over your pubic bone, one on your ribcage and the last one over the corner of your mouth. 

He stares into your eyes as he pushes in, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to keep him quiet. He fills you in a single movement, one powerful thrust. Your breath hitches as he does so, lips forming a tight o. You can feel his cock hit you just at the right spot, the pleasure making your eyes roll back. The squeeze of your cunt around his cock was better than Lando could have imagined. 

He’s pushing your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he starts a slow grind. He rolls into you, pushing deeper and deeper as he goes. He feels so good, it’s almost unbearable. You’re completely at his mercy, his touch spreading fires in you, wherever it goes. 

You're writhing beneath him as he kisses you. His tongue is darting into your mouth, stealing your breath away. 

“You’re so pretty like this, baby” he says over the sound of himself sliding in and out of you with ease. The sound is slick and wet, it’s filthy yet it only makes you fall deeper into pleasure’s embrace. Your body molds perfectly into him and you find yourself wondering how you’d never noticed that before. All those times when he held you, when you held him. There were so many signs and you were both oblivious to them. 

He pushes down on your lower tummy and it presses something deeper within you. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands find purchase on Lando’s shoulder, pulling him down so you’re almost chest to chest. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he mumbles, lips against the shell of your ear. You clench around him, the words only spurring you on. He continues to fuck you into the mattress, stroking your walls just right. 

“Lan, I –” you begin to say. The buildup is getting too much as you feel yourself swing closer to your climax. Lando can feel it too. The spasming of your body, the slight arch of your back. The air is knocked out of your chest as the moment hits, pleasure crashing over you. His name falls from your lips like a mantra and he only pushes faster. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you now. He thrusts into you one last time before he tips over the edge, losing himself then and there. 

You feel him let out a gasp as he collapses over you in a sweaty mess. His body is heavy laying on top of yours but it isn’t uncomfortable.  His skin is sticky and his breath fans over your neck. You’re both breathing heavily as the energy in the room begins to diminish. Your hand goes to thread through his unruly curls as he peppers light kisses to the column of your throat. 

He gets up after a few minutes, telling you to sit still as he does. He returns with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess you’ve made together. He tosses it away and crawls back towards you, pulling the cover over the top of your bodies. 

He stills against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mind only filled with thoughts of you. He can only really think of how flawlessly you fit together. Or the feeling of how delicious you feel pressed up against him. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make a move,” he says, peering up at you. You smile, shaking your head. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” 

You both carry on there for a second, his cheek now pressed to your chest. His eyes have begun to flutter close as the gentle sound of your breathing slowly lulls him to sleep. His fingers are softly tracing circles on your ribcage where he holds you. There are no words exchanged between the two of you but there’s so much said in the silence as you cling to each other. 

“Lan..” you whisper, voice soft. He hummed in response, squeezing you. You nibbled your lip nervously as the words waited in your mouth.

“I love you.” his fingers stop in their tracks. He let out a gentle, barely audible chuckle. You’re unsure of what his reaction is.  He rises to his elbows and bounces slightly on the mattress, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, voice husky. His fingers are now prodding at your side and you let out bouts of laughter as he does.

“I love you.” he nips at the soft skin of your neck, evoking a laugh out of you. His energy seems renewed as his lips continue their dance over your skin and he gradually makes his way up to your face.

“I love you too,” he says, his smile wide, pulling you on top of him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@shellybee456

@m4rt10ne

@roostersluvvr

@playboygeniusphilanthropist

@landoslutmeout

@mlfdcm

@landosmybf

@fortunatelychocolatefest

@katieschry1

@scopeiguess

@idontcare011

@mylifeislikecandycanes

[bullet-prooflove]

A Goddamn Miracle Worker: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

Jack’s stump is hurting.

It’s what happens when you use a prosthetic that’s outdated. The misalignment creates extra pressure upon the muscle, generating friction, reddening and agitating the skin.

His new one is still on order from the manufacturer in Germany. All this shit with the sanctions has created a backlog, one that’s taking it’s toll each and every single day on his body.

He’s been on his feet for over twelve hours by the time the two of you make it home and although he’s taken his painkillers, the constant ache, it’s agonizing. It had gotten so bad in that last hour that he’d handed you the keys because he couldn’t stand the thought of driving.

He doesn’t bother getting out of his coat when he steps through the door. He heads directly to the couch, rolling up the leg of his combat trousers, seeking out the rigid edges of the prosthetic.

When he hears that pop the relief is immense. He closes his eyes, sighing as he sags back into the cushions, leaving his prosthetic leg discarded on the floor.  When he opens them again you’re kneeling down in front of him, wrapping a hot damp towel around his knee and lower thigh. The heat begins to loosen the stiffness in his muscles, soothing the worst of the ache. You pick up the tube of moisturizing cream you’ve brought with you from the bedroom, decanting a liberal amount into your palm.

“Faye, you don’t have to-” He’s cut off by the sensation of your dexterous hands delving underneath the towel, your nimble fingers pressing into the muscle, kneading gently in small focused circles.

“Fuck…” He drawls his head tipping back as you work your magic.

Never in over a decade of having a prosthetic has anyone been able to relieve his pain like you do. You’re a god damn miracle worker, one intensely in tune with the rhythms of his body. He’s relaxed and pliant by the time you’ve finished with him, half asleep on the couch. You raise to your feet, unzipping his coat, helping him out of it. He mumbles grumpily in response at being disturbed, quieting as your lips brush over his temple. You guide him back down onto the couch, so that he’s lying along the length of it before you pick up the soft grey blanket and draping it over him.

“I’ll get up and make breakfast in a minute.” He murmurs as your fingers card lightly through his burnished silver curls.

“Of course you will handsome.” You whisper before picking up your phone and heading into the kitchen. You close the door behind you before you pull up a familiar contact, dialling their number.

“Jana.” You say softly so your voice doesn’t carry. “Any chance you can reach out to your friend at the prosthetics company? I’m not sure how much longer Jack can go on like this.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[yourstrqly]

★ . . . 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!interviewer!gf!reader

in which lando doesn't know when to stop with his flirty comments, unknowingly stepping in the footsteps of your lover

warnings: reader is pregnant, unrequited puppy crush on lando's part, mention drunk!seb

"Look at you, simply beautiful like every other day i see you. how are you doing, pretty?", lando exclaimed in excitement as he walked past the set-up of your team. you were in fact beautifully prepared for the upcoming interviews; there was no way you could look like a mess on live tv.

shaking your head at his flirty comment, you huffed while catching your co-workers eyes who simply laughed at your misfortune. "how many times do i have to tell you, lando, i'm too old for you."

"Age is nothing but a number", he grinned brightly at you, not caring for your unamused face. and prison is just a building, you thought.

alex, the grid's twenty-two, saw and heard the interaction with alpha tauri's daniel riccardo next to him, quietly laughing how badly his friend tried to rizz you up. "oi lando, leave the poor woman alone, she's not having it", he said, sensing the slight uneasiness escaping your body — daniel however took a different approach. "c'mon landinho, you'll get her sooner or later."

hearing the comment, you rolled your eyes, flipping the driver off. "danny, you're not helping — no wonder i prefer to interview alex over you at any given time", you said, causing the aussie to gasp dramatically, hand over his heart to show his true pain.

after a while the drivers went their merry way, having to absolve sim training or media duties, you sighed in relief; you liked working with them to bits but they could be too much to handle at times — especially cheeky, awkward lando. you first noticed his puppy crush on you while interviewing him back in his rookie days, most of time with the other two's george and alex. it was endearing for a few weeks but when you fell in love with another man, a driver at that, you grew slowly uncomfortable.

"when are you going to tell him that you're a taken woman who's pregnant? the lad keeps on thinking how to win you over", your coworker dina asked, curiously mirroring her features.

gently caressing your swollen belly, you smile at the words taken woman; you were a lovesick fool for your boyfriend with whom you agreed on taking a step back from work when the summer break begins — which was only two races from now.

"seb thinks its hilarious and i quote: can't wait to show the little one and you off when the break's over."

"he's a shithead y/n, can't believe you got yourself the wolf in sheep's clothing. if alonso is a war criminal, seb's a villain", she laughed out loud, "i'm still waiting for him to take another step and pop the question."

a giggle passed your lips. "remember in 2017 when he flirted at any given change with me, even jokingly proposed? the face was just chef kiss", you wheezed, picturing the memory before your eyes. it was the night after lewis hamilton was named formula one world champion and many drivers, their families and workers of the teams were at a grand party to celebrate the title winner; sebastian, being drunk on champagne, thought it was a fantastic idea to get down on his wobbly knee right in front of you, asking you to marry him. you, completely sober as you had promised to drive lewis and a mechanic of the merc team to the hotel later, starred wide eyes at him, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the people around you hollered.

saying no to the man wasn't a hard decision, more a weekly job to do, so it came to a great shook when he asked you out a week after and you said yes — and from there love blossomed. you'd be the one to propose after the baby anyways.

[mikayuumouse]

The past few chapters are giving me "too good to be true" vibes BUT THEN THEY'RE ACTUALLY REAL. THEY'RE CANON. THIS IS GENUINELY HAPPENING YOU GUYS

Earlier today I was walking to my room and then I remembered chapter 121.5 and how Atsushi died for Akutagawa and then repeated Akutagawa's dying words back to him and I actually almost walked into a wall

am I okay you ask

no I am not

The sskk development of 121.5—123 is making me scream (in a good way, as a sskk shipper I am currently having the time of my life and popping champagne bottles), like, Atsushi died for Akutagawa? Akutagawa's canonly possessive of Atsushi? Atsushi is Akutagawa's reason to live? Atsushi is Akutagawa's heart? Atsushi saw Akutagawa's past and understands him on a deeper level now? Atsushi dying gave Akutagawa his memories back and the first thing he remembered was himself dying for Atsushi? Akutagawa thought about Atsushi's and his sacrifice when he was contemplating what real strength was which means the strongest he's ever felt was when he died to protect and save Atsushi? Atsushi is Akutagawa's ordeal? Atsushi is Akutagawa's drive to act? Akutagawa sees Atsushi's face in his mind instead of Dazai's now? Akutagawa knows he's on the brink of death so he thinks about Atsushi because he wants the weretiger to be his last thought? Akutagawa demanded a literal god to bring Atsushi back? They both know they can't live without the other now? When Atsushi's with Akutagawa he truly doesn't feel alone anymore? Atsushi said in the beginning of the series that no one would ever care if he died and now Akutagawa is doing everything he can to get him back because Akutagawa cares?

My heart is melting

[juanarc-thethird]

Identity theft #1

Cinder: Okay, here's the plan: Neo will impersonate Pyrrha and enter her room to sabotage her weapons, so no one will know.

Emerald: Ok, but what would happen if her teammates show up?

Cinder: I wouldn’t worry about that. Nora and Ren are spending all day searching for the golden pancake, thanks to my amazing ingenuity.

Neo: "And what about the idiot?🤨?

Emerald: Yeah, what about Jaune? Is he busy too?

Cinder: Do you think that Dunce would question Pyrrha? Knowing him, he'd leave her alone while she "works on her weapons."

Neo: "But what if it does?🤔"

Cinder: So you deal with it, but under no circumstances should you throw away your cover, understood?!

Neo: "Yeah sure🙄"

Cinder: Good, now get to work.

Later that day.

"Pyrrha" enters Team JNPR's room, and begins searching through the closets for the real Pyrrha's weapons.

Pyrrha(Neo): (Which one is her closet?😒 I've only found bottles of maple syrup, tea herbs, and comic books. Don't tell me she doesn't have her…👀 Jackpot😎)

In the last closet, she finds Pyrrha's weapons, right at the bottom. She bends down to grab them but is surprised by a somewhat unusual touch.

Pyrrha(Neo): (Is someone touching my ass?!😡)

Jaune: Hello my love, did you hear that Nora and Ren won't be here all day?💕

Pyrrha(Neo): (Wait? They're a couple?! Wow... but I need to leave now. I'll just step aside and leave before anything else happe-AaaH~💕)

Neo feels Jaune's fingers slide inside her. His movements are slow and very stimulating.

Pyrrha(Neo): (God~, this is it, I need to get out of here before…😳!!!)

Suddenly she feels something hot and big between her ass cheeks. She looks back and sees a tremendous, well-endowed piece of meat looking at her directly.

Pyrrha(Neo): (Holy shit! Is fucking huge!😨)

Jaune: Sorry, I know you prefer it in bed, but you've made me so mad for you that I can't control myself. Is it okay if I put it inside you?

Neo can't stop looking at his member after he asked her that, and a silly idea popped into his head.

Pyrrha(Neo): (Well, Cinder did said to do whatever it takes to not blow our cover😏)

She looks at him and gives him a nod.

Meanwhile...

Cinder: Why is Neo taking so long?

Emerald: Maybe she stumbled upon something that can't get out yet?

Cinder: Maybe. Whatever it is, I hope it's a matter of life or death. Because if it isn't, she's going to get it.

Back to Neo...

Still wearing the "Pyrrha" disguise, Jaune has her on all fours, hitting her from behind with his tremendous meat stick, and choking her by the neck gently but firmly.

PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!PLAT!

Pyrrha(Neo): "💕😮‍💨💕🤤💕‼️"

Jaune: Oh god💕! You're tighter than usual! I think I'm gonna cum!

Pyrrha(Neo): (YEs!💕 Cum inside me!💕 I want to feel your delicious warm milk inside me!💕)

Jaune: Oh Fuck💕! Im close!

Pyrrha(Neo): (Do it! Make me yours!💕💕)

Jaune: Oh Pyrrha!!💕

At that moment she can't feel her insides filling with cum, so much that some of it comes out.

Pyrrha(Neo): ( FUuUCk YEeeEes!💕💕)

They both take a breath. Then Jaune pulls his cock out of her, and it all spurts out like a champagne bottle. Staining the floor with his creamy milk.

Jaune: Oh god, I didn't think I'd cum that much. Well, how about a shower and then we go work out a bit?

Pyrrha(Neo): *Nods back*

Jaune: Excellent, I'll wait for you inside.

He says and gets up to go straight to the bathroom. Neo looks at Pyrrha's weapons and thinks for a moment.

Pyrrha(Neo): (I guess this is my only chance to finish the job🫤)

She then hears the sound of the shower running.

Jaune: Pyrrha, come on. I need you to clean me very thoroughly~💕

Pyrrha(Neo): (Well, I can't say I didn't try☺️)

She gets up and heads towards the shower.

But in the midst of all this, she never realized that a person was watching them from the shadows, one very happy to see such an event.

??????: *Giggles* Interesting

To be continued…

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part One

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when he invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 5,580

Warnings: Jealousy, anxiety, and overthinking. No use of Y/N.

A/N: I've wanted to write for F1 for a while, and what better way to start than with my fave at the Aus GP! Thank you for reading and really hope you enjoy it, please let me know your thoughts!

“Get it together.”

You exhale, pretending to enjoy the tiny bubbles floating up the champagne flute in your hands and popping as they reach the surface. Everyone in the suite looks so at home, their designer clothes fitted to perfection and their laughs singing across the room. You were just trying to remember how to breathe.

Behind you, a duo mentions heading to Monaco like it’s a weekend plan. On the other side of the room, a group poses for a photo beneath the Ferrari team logo with their expensive smiles and curated outfits. You shift your weight and glance toward your right, where your friend Isabella is still deep in conversation with a couple of PR reps.

Isabella’s job involved many ties with the major PR agencies that handled Formula One, so you’d often find yourself swept away to race weekends and exclusive events. Over time, those trips had led to a growing familiarity with none other than Lewis Hamilton.

This familiarity had started with chatting casually at race weekends, then a friendly exchange of numbers which led to regular texting, sending each other memes, check-ins while he was on the road, and more recently, sharing TikToks. Soon, this turned into voice notes and FaceTime calls from across the globe, both at night and early hours of the morning. While they didn’t always last long, in the midst of it all, you felt yourself growing closer and a warm feeling made your heart skip a beat everytime his name appeared on your phone.

You hadn’t seen him for a few months while he’d been on the road, caught up in interviews and media for the beginning of his new journey at Ferrari. Though he still made time to send you photos and check on you occasionally in the quiet moments between his travels, he felt distant.

This only made it all the more nerve wracking when you’d received a text from him one afternoon inviting you to Melbourne for the season opener.

“We’ve got a few friends flying out for the weekend, it would mean a lot to have you there too.” 

You read his follow up text. 

“It’ll be like old times.”

Like old times. Like hours spent at a few post-race dinners in deep, almost flirtatious conversations. Like his warm smile and chocolate brown eyes captivating yours, listening intently to every word spilled from your lips. Like his clean, luxurious scent when he wrapped an arm around you in farewell for the night.

You said yes, of course. Then, the thought of seeing him again made your stomach turn, excitement and nervousness stirring together. 

Now, you were in Melbourne, starting the day off with some refreshments in Casa Ferrari, surrounded by celebrities, influencers, and millionaires alike. Lewis had invited his usual crew, but this time, there was one guest whose presence made your breath catch.

Raye. She was so beautiful, her glowing skin catching the light and her perfectly styled hair bobbing gently as she nodded in agreement while conversing with Anthony Hamilton. 

You’d heard about her being spotted out and about with Lewis recently, with photos emerging of them walking around New York together. Not that you kept up with all the gossip of course.  

Lewis had been seen with many stunning women, including Sofia Vergara and Shakira months prior. The world had its eyes on him, waiting with bated breath to see which lucky lady would finally take him off the market. 

A subtle wave of disappointment washed over your stomach each time, now more than ever. When the two of you spent time together, he made you feel as though you were the only girl in the room. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t hope that one day it would lead to something more. But each time there was a glimmer of hope, it was swiftly put out when the photos emerged of him with another beautiful woman.

This time, a battle crept between your heart and your mind. He could just be friends with them, even Raye. He did invite a number of friends to this race, so surely it wouldn't mean anything more. Could it? But then, would inviting you here also mean nothing? Maybe it was silly to even think there was a chance.

She moved like she belonged there, effortless like she always had. You told yourself not to watch her, not to let it get to you, but the tightness in your chest didn’t care for reason. It just wanted to be proven right.

That is, until the commotion in the room heightened and drew your eyes to the entrance.

There he was.

Lewis. Dressed in a bright, rich red Ferrari colour with his hair hiding beneath a red cap. His eyes sparkled with excitement and his face was flushed, a bright smile stretching across his handsome face. His undeniable aura filled the room as he made the rounds, hugs and handshakes all around the suite.

You felt a flutter in your stomach when his eyes made contact with yours every few moments, trying to make his way towards you through the crowd, but his attention was always drawn away by other guests wanting to greet him and congratulate him on his first race weekend with Ferrari.

You forced yourself to look away when he approached Raye, sharing a greeting kiss on the cheek as they gave a one armed hug. They looked stunning together, too stunning, excitedly discussing the events of the morning. 

Placing your drink on the table nearby, you sought to move to where Isabella stood, but you were interrupted by a flash of red as strong arms wrapped around you and that familiar fragrance filled your nose. 

“You made it!” Lewis breathed, releasing you from his grasp, his hand resting on your shoulder as he greeted you. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you replied, the initial shock leaving you immediately when you looked up to see his face.

His striking brown eyes locked onto yours, giving you his undivided attention like he always did. The warmth of his hand on your shoulder calmed your nerves, making you feel right at home in the suite. Despite feeling out of place earlier in the afternoon, his comforting touch reminded you that you were his guest. He invited you personally and wanted you there. 

“So, what do you think?” He beamed as he gestured towards his Ferrari gear, the red of the fabric complimenting the warmth of his tawny skin.

“You look amazing!” You complimented, drinking in his new look. It was as though he’d always belonged in these colours. “It really suits you, Lewis.”

You thought his smile couldn’t get any bigger, and yet it did at your words. “It feels unreal, you know? I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, so it’s crazy to finally be here.”

“I’m really happy for you.” You smiled back at him, his happiness was contagious and you couldn’t help but match his energy despite your earlier hesitation. 

Before you could speak another word, a voice from across the suite called Lewis’ name, snapping you out of the bubble in which only the two of you existed. Lewis glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging the person who had called him and turned his attention back to you with a subtle flicker of reluctance on his face.

“Hey, you’re coming to dinner tonight, yeah?” He took a step closer, his hand slowly sliding down your arm and sending shivers tickling up your skin.

The fluttering in your stomach grew at the closeness. You could almost feel the warmth of his body, your mind slipping for a moment into thoughts of what it might feel like to be pressed against him with his mouth against yours. 

You almost forgot the question. Your lips parted to answer hesitantly, your eyes darting away from him for a split second in thought.

“I want to catch up with you. It’s been a minute.” He added softly, catching your hesitation as his fingers made their way past your wrist and caught your hand.

It was a group dinner, and while Lewis always made the time to talk to you, the size of this gathering was larger, which meant there was no guarantee there would be a chance to get some time with him. Yet, something in his tone tugged at your chest, and so you responded before you could think too much further on it.

“I’ll be there.” You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. 

He squeezed your hand in return, satisfied with your answer before he slipped back into the crowd to the voice who had called for him. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding as he disappeared, leaving an emptiness in his wake. 

Before you had a second to dwell on the moment with Lewis, the sound of your name being called by a familiar voice broke you from your thoughts.

“That looked…interesting,” Isabella chimed with a sly grin across her lips, slipping her arm through yours.

You gave a casual shrug, shaking your head at her comment as though it was nothing, but your flushed face had already betrayed you.

Isabella raised her eyebrows knowingly, then nodded towards the exit. “Come on, let’s get to the garage. It’s nearly time.”

You let her tug you away, your mind reeling with thoughts of your interaction with Lewis and the feeling of being so close to him again. 

The Ferrari garage was buzzing with energy, guests lined up along the railings watching the qualifying laps along with the Ferrari team. Engines roared as the cars made their way across the track at incredible speed, the scent of asphalt and burning tyres filling the garage. Guests chatted amongst themselves, pointing to the screens and nodding along, adding to the excitement in the garage.

Isabella snapped a few photos and videos around the garage, capturing as much content as possible for her marketing social media posts. You found yourself standing next to Raye and Miles, with your cherry red Ferrari headset on as you listened to the radio comms.

You had your eyes trained on the screens above, flicking between the live track feeds and Lewis’ onboard camera. It was always thrilling watching the way he darted around the track with precision, but an element of danger always lingered when the weather conditions would change or the way a single minor mistake could lead to a devastating collision. 

Raye leaned towards you slightly in your peripheral vision, drawing your attention to her for a moment.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” she asked casually, nodding back towards the screen where Lewis had just set an especially fast lap. 

You followed her gaze to the screen, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight of him in his element. He was always captivating, leaving everyone around him in awe of his talent and focus. Of course she would notice it too, there was something magnetic about the way he commanded the track.

“He really is,” you replied softly, a smile spreading across your lips as his onboard camera appeared on the screen. ��He makes it look so easy.”

“Right? I panic just merging onto the motorway and he’s out here doing over 200 like it’s nothing!” Raye scoffed with a laugh.

You couldn’t help but laugh along, the conversation warming up the atmosphere in the garage. “Honestly, I hit 100 once and I felt like I was in a Fast and Furious movie.”

“Exactly!” She grinned, elbowing you lightly to your right. “These guys are doing so much at once while going at speeds I don’t even think exist in my car.”

“My brain would just shut down. At those speeds I’d be lucky if I could even remember to blink.” You replied with a snort, adjusting your headset so that you could hear each other better. 

“I don’t know how he does it and manages to stay so calm,” Raye shook her head, eyes returning back to the screens above.

“And still looks perfect when he gets out of the car,” you agreed under your breath before you could think your words over. “That’s Lewis for you.”

You catch her sly smirk as she side-eyes you playfully, gently knocking your shoulder with her own. It was clear you both found him a little too impressive for comfort.

The two of you continued chatting, with Miles and Isabella adding themselves to the mix soon after to discuss the results and the upcoming dinner. 

Evening came quickly, the day flying by with the energy from the Paddock still buzzing in your veins as qualifying day came to a close. City lights were beginning to flicker on as you and Isabella made your way to dinner, her heels clicking rhythmically against the stairs as you stepped into the restaurant together. You welcomed the warmth inside, regretting that you hadn’t grabbed your jacket on your way out.

The restaurant overlooked the Yarra River, its glass walls catching the shimmer of city lights. The inside was softly lit, with dark wooden tables and flickering candlelight, conversation gently filling the air. A long table stretched across the middle of a private room, already half-full of familiar faces by the time you had arrived. A well dressed server guided you towards the group, following Isabella as she offered a breezy wave and greeted everyone. 

On your side, Miles and Spinz, were seated towards the right end of the table, facing Lewis and Raye. Another guest you weren’t yet familiar with sat to Raye’s right, and it looked like a couple more people were to be expected. It didn’t seem likely that the catch-up Lewis had mentioned would be happening tonight.

Everyone greeted you politely from the table, but Lewis rose to his feet and immediately manoeuvred around the table. His arms opened casually, leaning in to hug Isabella with a warm greeting, before turning to you. With you, his embrace lingered just a little longer, not enough to draw attention from the others, but just enough for you to notice his cologne and the warmth of his chest where he’d pulled you in.

“I’m glad you came,” he told you for the second time today, low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave him a small nod, forcing a smile as your pulse fluttered unevenly. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

His lips curved in that warm, charming smile, before he gestured towards the table, inviting you to sit down. You followed Isabella to the table and took the seat next to Miles while she sat to your right, not wanting to be separated. Lewis returned to his seat on the other side of the table, next to Raye.

Your gaze dropped to the napkin in front of you, suddenly aware of the tightness in your chest. Shit. You tried not to overthink it, inhaling slowly, trying to shake the feeling off. You came here to enjoy yourself, you reminded yourself. Don't spiral. It's just dinner. Smile, breathe, have some good food.

A glass clinked gently in front of you, drawing your attention. Miles had leaned forward and poured you and Isabella some water, offering a small grin as he set the bottle down. You thanked him, reaching for your glass.

“Have you ladies tried this place before?” he asked, his tattooed hand sliding across the table as he settled back into his seat.

“No, first time. How about you?” You welcomed the distraction, taking a sip of your water to soothe the tightness in your throat.

“Nah, first time too,” Miles shook his head, bringing his drink to his lips, his rings glittering in the candlelight. “I’ve heard the scallops here are damn good though. Definitely gonna have some of those coming around.”

“Did I hear scallops?” Isabella leaned in, picking up the menu to find said dish. “Sold.”

You gave a light chuckle, flicking through your own menu to decide what you’d like to eat for the night, the knot in your chest easing just a little. Hearing Raye’s laugh over the conversation at the table, you couldn’t resist looking over to the other side for a split second.

Lewis caught your eye for a moment, glancing your way mid-laugh, where he lingered for a second too long before moving back towards Spinz across from him. 

It happened again a few minutes later, when the waiter came by to explain the specials. Your eyes met briefly, and your breath caught slightly before you quickly looked down again, distracted by the sensation of heat creeping up the back of your neck.

You kept your focus on the menu, nodding absently as Isabella pointed something out, but part of your mind remained tethered to those fleeting moments. 

The conversation continued to flow easily around you as the night went on and more guests arrived, a steady rhythm of laughter, clinking glasses, and casual teasing ensued. Isabella would lean in occasionally to whisper a quick remark, and you nodded along, grateful for her presence. Still, it was hard to keep your attention entirely on the table.

Every so often, your eyes strayed down the table, where Lewis sat, just far enough away to feel out of reach. Raye had turned slightly toward him, her posture open, the two of them deep in conversation. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you didn’t need to. The way she laughed at something he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, stirred something sour in your stomach.

She was so lovely and friendly to you, you couldn’t bring yourself to dislike her or to deny the fact that they looked stunning together. Yet, an unshakable feeling laid heavy on your shoulders, and you wished deep in your heart that it was you next to him, chatting the night away.

You forced another smile when Miles asked if you'd ever tried kangaroo meat, laughing politely at the incredulous look he gave you. But your gaze flicked back to Lewis again, just in time to catch him looking at you once more. He didn’t smile this time. Just held your gaze for a beat too long, his expression unreadable, before returning to his drink.

The voices at the table began to blur in your ears, replaced by a quiet thudding and light strain above your brows. The lighting felt warmer than it should’ve, the air heavier. You reached for your water but found your hand slightly shaky. You felt strangely out of place at the table, like you were watching from behind glass.

Had you misunderstood what this whole thing had been? Mistaken a handful of soft smiles and kind gestures for something more? Maybe it had always just been friendliness, nothing more than politeness wrapped in charm. Why would it be anything else, when someone like him could have anyone he wanted at the snap of his fingers? He sat only a few seats away, laughing with a woman who was stunning, talented, and easy in her confidence. Of course he’d want someone like that.

You couldn’t bring yourself to remain in your seat, being unintentionally taunted for hours by the man you’d spent days replaying memories of. His voice in your ear, his hand on your waist, the way he’d looked at you like you were the only one in the room. Tonight, it was as though you barely existed. 

The pressure in your head continued to build, a dull ache tightening at your temples and your stomach curled in a slow, unsettled way. It was all suddenly too much to bear, the clattering of silver cutlery, voices crossing over in conversation, and the heat from the candlelight around you blending together to make you want to crawl back into your bed and hide for the rest of the weekend. You had to get away from it all.

“I’m gonna step out for a second,” you murmured to Isabella before you could talk yourself out of it. 

“You okay?” She turned to you with concern in her eyes, gently rubbing your back.

“Yeah. Just a bit of a headache, I just need to get some air,” you said a little too quickly, rising from your seat.

You noticed Isabella grabbing the napkin off her lap, ready to stand up and leave with you, but you just wanted to be alone and weren’t looking to ruin her night.

“It’s okay, you stay. Really, I just need a quick breather.” You reassured her with a strained smile. 

Isabella looked hesitant, but nodded, not wanting to press you any further. “Text me if you need anything, okay?” 

You regarded her gratefully before quietly excusing yourself from the table. No one really noticed you leave besides Isabella, at least, you told yourself they didn’t.

The night air was colder than you expected, wrapping around you like a balm. It was cool and quiet compared to the noise inside the restaurant. The wind was laced with salt and the distant sound of water lapping against the harbour walls. You leaned against the railing near the restaurant doors, watching the faint ripple of lights on the water like fractured gold, focusing on the breath in your lungs and the faint sounds of traffic down the road.

But standing there, away from it all, brought to mind everything you’d tried to ignore. The way Lewis laughed with Raye, the effortless comfort they had with each other, like something they had done many times before. Like something more. You tried so hard not to read into it, tried to reason with your thoughts, tried not to care, but it was hard not to when you couldn’t even get a moment alone with him.

Maybe it had always been this unbalanced. Maybe you were the only one holding onto this, imagining something that had never been real.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there in the cold whether it had been seconds or minutes. The headache had dulled but not completely vanished yet, your thoughts still spinning too fast. You told yourself you just needed a moment. Just one.

The sound of footsteps closing in behind you made your heart stutter. You didn’t turn right away, not until you heard him call your name. 

His voice was low, almost careful. You glanced over your shoulder to see Lewis standing a few steps behind you with concern written behind his eyes.

“You okay?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a beat, unreadable as he took another step forward. “Isabella said you weren’t feeling well.”

This caught you slightly off guard. He had cared enough to ask, cared enough to notice, despite how swept up he’d been with all the chatter across the table. 

“It’s nothing. Just a headache.” You gave a small shrug, keeping your sentences short as you were reminded of the discomfort you felt in the restaurant.

“I would’ve checked on you sooner if I’d known.” Lewis made his way to your side, his luxurious fragrance blowing gently towards you with the breeze.

You struggled to meet his eyes at that moment, forcing a half smile across your lips. Before you could think, the words slipped from your mouth. “It’s fine. You were busy… entertaining.”

It had come out sharper than you meant, almost harsh, but you didn’t take them back. You couldn’t now.

His eyebrows twitched, upwards then closer together as he took your words in. “Is that what you think?”

You dropped your gaze to the concrete beneath your feet, shifting uncomfortably as you searched your mind for a response. You weren’t prepared to have this conversation just yet.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s none of my business.” Was all you could say. 

You couldn’t stomach the thought of him saying the words. That he might be seeing her. That maybe what you had thought was growing between you was all a misunderstanding, a tiny sliver of hope that you had clung onto. It felt so…embarrassing. 

“It matters to me,” he spoke quietly after a pause, tilting his head to capture your attention back.

Your breath caught in your throat, lifting your head to face him, but before you could respond, he looked away, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as if deciding what not to say.

“She’s a friend,” he added, eventually, as if reading your mind. “I didn’t invite her to complicate things. It’s the first race with the new team. Thought it might be good to have a few familiar faces around.”

“It’s okay, Lewis.” The words rushed out of your mouth. “It’s not a big deal. You don’t need to explain anything. We’re not-” You broke off, biting down on the rest. “It’s fine. I should probably just head back to the hotel and rest.”

Lewis didn’t move at first, as if he was waiting for you to finish that sentence. But when the silence lingered, when you didn’t add anything more, he took a slow step closer. Not insistent, just careful. Like he understood that this wasn’t the moment to untangle everything.

The cool breeze in the air picked up, brushing across your skin and raising goosebumps. You folded your arms together, drawing yourself in for warmth in the silence. Without missing a beat, Lewis slid his jacket off and draped it over your shoulders, the movement easy, almost instinctive. It smelled like him. Clean and woody, wrapping you in his warmth. 

“I’ll walk you back.” He adjusted the jacket around you to protect you from the cold.

Guilt swirled in your belly, no matter how much you wanted more alone time with him. “Thank you, but you should probably get back to your dinner. I’m sure they’re all waiting for you,” you murmured.

“You’re more important.” He shook his head, reaching gingerly to tuck loose strands of your hair back as the wind swept them into your face.

His words weren’t dramatic, weren’t meant to knock you off balance, yet they still landed there. Soft. Reassuring. And maybe that was worse, because it made you want to believe that you were truly more important to him than all of this.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you stayed silent, looking down at the pavement and letting the quiet settle again. 

Lewis didn’t speak either. He moved to your side, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. Not possessive, just steady, guiding you along as you began walking back to the hotel.

You let yourself fall into step beside him, slipping into the rhythm of the city around you. Streetlights blurred in puddles along the curb, and the buzz of conversation floated from nearby restaurants, laughter trailing behind couples strolling by. It wasn’t raining yet, but the air was thick with the promise of it, cool against your skin.

He’d dropped his hand from your back, but his fingers hung beside yours as you walked, just far enough that the occasional brush felt like an accident. Just close enough that neither of you corrected it.

Your hands touched once, then again. A soft, glancing touch. His rings brushing against your skin sent your pulse tripping. You thought about saying something, about starting a conversation, but the words never made it to your lips.

You glanced up at him once, just a quick look, careful not to linger for too long.

The light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the quiet focus in his expression, and you felt that small tug again, the one that made your heart fold in on itself. It was unfair how handsome he was when he wasn’t even trying. You wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and kiss you senseless in the middle of the street. You looked away before he noticed your thoughts getting the better of you, heat burning at your cheeks even in the cool air.

The silence between you remained, but it wasn’t awkward. It had edges, sure, things left unsaid and things you both might never say, but it also had a kind of safety to it. Like you were both clinging to the stillness because words might ruin whatever this peaceful walk was.

The hotel came into view sooner than you’d have liked, its warm-lit entryway spilling golden light onto the sidewalk. You slowed instinctively, not quite ready to step away from the quiet closeness of the walk, of him. Lewis stopped with you at the stairs leading into the door.

You turned to face each other, meaning to say goodnight, or thank you, but the words were trapped behind your lips. He didn’t speak either, just looked at you with thoughtful eyes. 

“Thank you for walking me,” you managed to say, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Lewis’ eyes searched yours, steady, gentle, with a softened expression. Instead of words, he opened his arms, inviting you in. 

You stepped forward, melting into the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped around you, an arm around your back and a hand cradling the back of your neck, holding you close. Your hands clutched lightly at the back of his shirt, feeling his chest against your own as your heart began to steady itself. You’d hugged each other before, but you’d never been this close. He felt like home.

“I hope you feel better.” His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he pulled back, releasing you from his arms.

“Thank you.” You gave a small nod in return to his sincere smile, which filled your stomach with flutters.

He gave you one last look before stepping back, and you stood there for a moment, as you tried to make sense of everything unspoken that had just happened. You stepped into the hotel lobby and turned back to give Lewis one last glance. He was still standing just outside, waiting for you to head in safely.

“Goodnight,” you called out from the doorway, only loud enough so that he could hear you.

“Sleep well.” He raised a hand to give you a small wave, the curve across his lips growing into a gentle grin.

You offered a smile in return, before stepping inside. 

The warmth of the hallway engulfed you, but you kept his jacket on, fingers curled into the sleeves as you made your way to the elevator. It felt as though you were still wrapped in his arms, the way his scent lingered on the jacket with a whisper of something metallic underneath, like the track still clung to him somehow. You didn’t take it off even after you reached your room.

Lewis always made sure to take care of you, booking only the finest rooms despite your insistence to pay for your own. The suite was still warm and had been cleaned since the mild mess you’d made rushing to get ready to head to qualifying.

You sat at the edge of your bed for a moment, collecting your thoughts, then finally lay back, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself. You couldn’t help but replay it all in your head. The dinner, the walk, the way your hands had brushed and neither of you pulled away, the silence that wasn’t empty. You closed your eyes and let it all wash over you.

Sleep found you without trying for a short moment.

When you blinked awake again, the room was dim, bathed in the soft golden light from the bedside lamp you’d never turned off. Disoriented for a beat, you reached for your phone.

Two new messages popped up in your notifications. One from Isabella checking on you and offering to bring you some pain relief, the other, from Lewis.

How are you feeling? 

I hope you feel better in the morning, I’d love to see you at the race. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

Your heart twisted in that annoyingly familiar way. It was just a text. A simple, sweet text message, but now, you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d sent something similar to the others  tonight, or just to you.

Did he tell Raye he hoped to see her tomorrow too?

You hated how much it mattered to you. How easily one line, one gesture from him could unravel you, and make you second-guess every look, every silence. He’d walked you home, given you his jacket, and that hug. Maybe he was just being gentlemanly, as always, but then there’d also been Raye and that lingering feeling that maybe you’d misread it all.

He said she was a friend, maybe that’s all you were too, but he’d also said the same about the others. The other stunning singers, models, and actresses you’d heard about, which you were sure had shared his bed at least once. 

Your mind circled it like it always did, trying to decode meaning in the spaces between his words and his actions. The one thing you were sure of, is that you wanted there to be more. Whether he felt that way or not, was almost impossible to figure out when you barely got to spend time together, alone.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, tracing around his contact photo as you considered your reply.

Maybe tomorrow would give you some answers, or maybe it would just tangle things even more.

Either way, you already knew you'd go.

[duskidolsmut]

The Frenzy of the Celestial Dawn

Kazuha boards the luxury cruise ship Aurora Celestial, hoping to cement her fame among Asian industry VIPs. What begins as a glamorous opportunity quickly turns into an erotic nightmare when she is cornered by a group of powerful men led by Kang Dae-ho. Trapped in a mirrored room, Kazuha is subjected to a wild "show" of domination and pleasure, where her nymphomaniac personality emerges, transforming her from victim to active participant.

T: Gangbang, BDSM, Domination, Submission, Nymphomania, anal, urine and more Words: 5.911

It was on a sultry spring day that the LE SSERAFIM agency summoned the girls to an urgent meeting. The manager, a man in an impeccable suit and a calculated smile, announced a “special opportunity”: an invitation to a luxury cruise on the Aurora Celestial, a monumental ship known as the floating playground of the Asian elite. The event promised to bring together VIPs from the entertainment industry - producers, record label CEOs, broadcasters - all eager to meet the stars of the moment. For Kazuha, it was more than a trip: it was a chance to solidify her fame and open doors that would take her beyond K-pop, perhaps even into international cinema or fashion. She imagined sophisticated conversations in crystal halls, exchanging business cards and compliments on her impeccable performance.

The Aurora Celestial was a spectacle in itself. Anchored in the port of Busan, the ship rose like a palace over the water, its ten floors of opulence glistening in the sun. Glass towers reflected the sky and golden lights surrounded each deck, promising glamorous evenings. Kazuha boarded alongside her LE SSERAFIM colleagues, all excited at the prospect of a well-deserved rest after months of intense promotions. Dressed in an elegant ensemble of long skirt and silk blouse, Kazuha walked the catwalk with the poise of a queen, the salty sea wind playing with her hair.

The first night was a dream. The main hall, decorated with crystal chandeliers and marble walls, echoed with laughter and the clink of champagne glasses. Kazuha and LE SSERAFIM gave an incredible performance and the audience of men in suits and women covered in jewels applauded enthusiastically. She exchanged glances with a Japanese producer who promised to introduce her to a famous director and smiled at a Chinese tycoon who praised her “unique aura”. Everything seemed perfect - until the lights went out.

A sudden silence filled the hall, followed by the dry click of doors being locked. The LE SSERAFIM manager who had accompanied them disappeared without explanation. When the lights came back on, dimmer and tinged with red, Kazuha realized that the other girls had been separated from her, taken away by assistants with impassive faces. A tall man in a black suit with eyes as cold as steel approached. He introduced himself as Kang Dae-ho, the owner of a rival record label that had been trying to monopolize the K-pop market for years. With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he held out his hand and said: “Kazuha, you're the highlight of the evening. We have something special planned for you.”

The invitation to a “private meeting” on the upper deck sounded like a promise of power, but Dae-ho's tone carried something viscous, something that made Kazuha's instincts scream. Still, driven by ambition and the belief that she could control the situation, she accepted. She climbed the marble stairs to a secluded suite, the sound of her heels echoing in the empty corridor. As she opened the door, the air changed. It wasn't just Dae-ho waiting for her, but a circle of men - faces she recognized from industry meetings, all with hungry looks and predatory smiles. The door closed behind her with a final slam, and Kazuha realized, too late, that the Aurora Celestial was not a stage for her rise, but a trap for her fall.

The suite at the top of the Aurora Celestial was a world apart, a sanctuary of twisted luxury. Kazuha was led down a narrow corridor into a circular room, its walls covered in mirrors that reflected every angle of her slender body. Golden chains hung from the ceiling like macabre ornaments, tinkling softly in the artificial breeze that circulated in the room. The sound of the ocean waves, which had once been a constant murmur, now seemed muffled, suffocated by low moans echoing from somewhere unseen - perhaps recordings, perhaps other victims. The air carried a sweet, intoxicating perfume, mixed with the metallic smell of the chains and the anticipatory sweat of the men around her.

Kang Dae-ho, the leader of the group, was in the center of the room, reclining in a black leather armchair that looked more like a throne. His eyes devoured her as she entered, the other men - five in all, each a figure of power in the industry - formed a semicircle behind him. Dae-ho was a middle-aged man, but with an imposing presence: gray hair combed back, impeccable suit open at the chest. He held a glass of red wine, swirling the liquid with long, deliberate fingers.

“Welcome, Kazuha,” he began, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You're probably wondering why you're here. I'll be blunt: K-pop is a game of appearances, but the real power lies in the shadows. This cruise is our annual tradition - a place where the kings of the industry choose their muses and shape them as they wish. You, my dear, are tonight's prize.”

He stood up, walking slowly over to her, the sound of his shoes echoing on the marble floor. “Your group, LE SSERAFIM, has potential, but it depends on us to get to the top. That's the price. Today, you're going to entertain us - not with your voice or your dance moves, but with something more... primal. We're going to take off that perfect idol mask and reveal what's underneath. And if you play it right, your career will shine like never before.”

The other men laughed low, a guttural sound that made the hairs on the back of Kazuha's neck stand on end. One of them, a Japanese producer with an angular face, stepped forward, holding a folded cloth. Without ceremony, he opened it, revealing a costume that was a perversion of her LE SSERAFIM stage uniform: a very short skirt made of transparent fabric, a top that barely covered her breasts, adorned with golden chains that jingled with every movement. It was a garment designed to humiliate, to expose, but also to seduce.

“Put that on,” Dae-ho ordered, sitting back down with a satisfied smile. “I want to see you transform yourself into something more... accessible.”

Kazuha was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the costume. Her heart was beating fast, a mixture of fear and anger pulsing through her veins. But then something changed. A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes, and a slow, almost feline smile curved her lips. She took the costume from the producer's hands, her fingers brushing against his deliberately, and began to undress right there, without hesitation. The silk blouse fell to the floor, followed by the long skirt, revealing the black lingerie she wore underneath - a stark contrast to the angelic image she sold to the public.

“Do you think you can mold me?” she said, her voice low and hoarse, as she put on her new outfit. The chains jingled against her skin, and she spun her body with the grace of a ballerina, letting the men watch every curve. “Maybe I'm already more than you realize. Maybe I like it that way.”

Dae-ho raised an eyebrow in surprise as the others exchanged uncertain glances. Kazuha walked to the center of the room, the ceiling chains brushing against her shoulders, and leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the leader. “You want a show? Then tell me how it starts. I'm not just a victim - I know how to play this game better than you think.”

It was partly a bluff, an attempt to take control, but there was truth in it. Kazuha has always had a hidden side, a hunger that ballet and K-pop have never satisfied. Behind the scenes of her idol life, she fantasized about the forbidden, the loss of control, the ecstasy that came from surrendering to chaos. Now, cornered, that nymphomaniac side emerged like a weapon. She took a step forward, her hips undulating subtly, and whispered: “Who's going to be the first to teach me how to be... accessible?”

The room fell silent for a moment, the men caught off guard by the change in tone. Dae-ho laughed, a deep, satisfied sound, clapping his hands slowly. “Well, well, she's got claws... and an appetite. Let's see how far that gets you, Kazuha. The show's yours - for now.”

The air in the mirrored room seemed denser now, charged with an electricity that made Kazuha's hair stand on end. Kang Dae-ho leaned forward in his armchair, his eyes shining with a mixture of surprise and delight as he watched the idol's transformation. The semi-circle of men around him stirred, their heavy breaths echoing in the enclosed space, mingling with the clinking of the golden chains that hung above. The perverted costume Kazuha wore - the transparent top that barely contained her breasts, the short skirt that revealed the curve of her thighs, the chains that caressed her skin with every movement - seemed less an imposition now and more an extension of her own desire. Sweat was already beginning to glisten on her collarbone, and the mirrors captured the way her body subtly trembled, not from fear, but from raw anticipation.

She took a step forward, the sound of her heels against the marble cutting through the silence like a hypnotic drumbeat. “You want a show,” she repeated, her voice low and mellifluous, laden with a provocation that made the men stir uneasily. “Then show me how it starts. I didn't come here to be just a doll - I want to feel.” Her eyes sparkled, and she licked her lips slowly, a gesture that made the Japanese producer swallow dry and the tattooed Korean adjust his pants with a low grunt.

Dae-ho laughed again, but there was a tone of raw excitement in his voice now. “You're a hungry slut, aren't you? All right, we'll fill you up until you beg.” He gestured with his hand, and two of the men stepped forward - the Japanese producer, slim but with quick snake-like fingers, and the burly Korean, whose dragon tattoos ran up his neck and were lost under his ajar shirt. They grabbed her by the arms, not violently, but with a firmness that sent a shiver down her spine. Kazuha didn't resist; instead, she tilted her head back, letting her hair fall like a curtain, exposing her long, pale neck. “Is that all?” she whispered, her lips parted in a defiant smile. “I thought you were real men.”

The Japanese producer snorted, irritated by the provocation, and grabbed one of the golden chains from the ceiling, pulling it tightly around her wrists. He tied her loosely, her arms raised above her head, her body exposed like a living canvas in the mirrors. “You'll swallow those words, you arrogant little bitch,” he growled, his voice laden with a cutting accent as his hands slid under her transparent top, his fingers finding her already hard nipples. He squeezed them hard, twisting them between his thumb and forefinger, and Kazuha let out a loud moan, her hips writhing against the air. “Yes, moan for me,” he said, his eyes shining with sadism. “I want to hear that sound again.”

Meanwhile, the Korean knelt in front of her, his large, calloused hands running up her soft thighs, his thumbs sinking into her flesh until they left red marks. He spread her legs with a rough jerk, her skirt riding up to reveal the soaked black lingerie that barely covered her. “Look at that wet pussy,” he grunted, his deep tone reverberating in the room. ”You're dripping, you slut. I bet you're already imagining all of us fucking you at the same time.” He rubbed his fingers over the fabric, pressing hard enough to make Kazuha arch her back and let out a ragged sigh, the chains clinking above her.

Dae-ho stood up at last, the king on his throne now ready to claim his prize. He walked over to her, stopping a few centimeters away, the warmth of his body mingling with hers. His eyes traveled up and down her body, lingering on her breasts that rose and fell with quickened breathing, on her spread legs, on the way she vibrated under the touch of others. He reached out and took a firm hold of her chin, forcing her to face him. “You like that, don't you? Being wanted like this, being touched by all of us. We're going to push you to the limit, Kazuha - and then beyond.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, his hot breath sending a shock down her spine. “I want to hear you scream my name as I tear you in half.”

Kazuha laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the room, her eyes sparking with a desire that wasn't feigned. “Then tear it, Dae-ho,” she retorted, pulling the chains above her head until the metal bit into her wrists, the cold contrasting with the heat burning between her legs. “But it doesn't stop there. I want you all to fuck me until I can't stand it. Let's see who breaks first.” She threw her head back, offering her neck, and Dae-ho couldn't resist - his teeth sank into the soft skin, leaving a red mark as he sucked hard, eliciting another moan from her.

The Japanese producer, still behind her, pulled her top aside, completely exposing her breasts to the mirrors. “These breasts are perfect for squeezing,” he murmured, his hands covering them and squeezing with a pressure that made her shudder. “I bet you want a cock right here in the middle of them, don't you, you bitch?” He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, each touch sending waves of pleasure that made her knees go weak.

The Korean, in turn, tore at her lingerie with a savage yank, the sound of the fabric ripping echoing in the room. “Look at that hungry pussy,” he said, his thick fingers sliding between her soaked lips, unceremoniously opening her up. “It's all wet for us. Do you want me to tongue fuck you first or do you already want to feel my cock stretching you?” He pressed one finger inside her, then two, pumping slowly while Kazuha moaned loudly, her hips thrusting against his hand. “Speak up, you slut, what do you want?”

“I want everything,” she replied, her voice hoarse with arousal, her eyes squinted as she stared at Dae-ho. “His tongue, his fingers, someone's cock - give it all to me at once. I'm not one to settle for little.” She licked her lips again, her teeth biting into the bottom one as the other three men approached, their pants already open, their belts falling to the floor with a metallic clang.

One of them, a Chinese man with a slicked-back hairdo and a crooked smile, grabbed one of the loose chains and wrapped it around her neck like a makeshift necklace, pulling back until she gagged slightly. "You're going to choke on more than this, girl," he said, his voice full of dirty promises as his free hand slid to his already hard cock, rubbing it against her thigh. "Open your mouth for me, let's see how much you can take." 

Another, a dark-skinned Thai man with hungry eyes, stood nearby, his hands exploring her breasts through the chains. "Those little titties are going to be red when I'm done with them," he murmured, tugging on the chains to rub the cool metal against her sensitive nipples. "I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll feel it in your throat." 

Kazuha was at the center of a whirlwind of touches, breaths, and obscene dialogue that set her on fire. Her moans mingled with their grunts, the mirrors reflecting a scene of sensual chaos: legs entwined, hands that squeezed and pulled, mouths that left red marks on her skin. She pulled at the chains, not to free herself, but to feel more, to give in to the frenzy that fueled the fire that had always burned inside her. “Harder,” she demanded, her voice broken by gasps. “Make me come until I can’t remember my own name.”

The first man, the angular-faced Japanese producer, grabbed Kazuha by the hair with one firm hand, his fingers tangling in the damp strands as he unbuttoned his pants with the other. The sound of the zipper echoed like a harbinger, and then his cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He wasted no time—he yanked her head forward with a grunt, thrusting deep into her mouth without warning. The salty, bitter taste of him flooded her tongue, mixed with the sweat dripping from his groin, and the thick tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, making her gag violently. 

Kazuha writhed, her arms still bound by the golden chains above, the cold metal biting into her wrists as she fought the urge to vomit. Her eyes watered, but there was a savage glint in them, an arousal that pulsed stronger with each rough thrust of his. “Swallow it all, you little whore,” the Japanese man growled, his hips slamming into her face hard, the wet sound of her throat being invaded filling the room. Drool dripped from her lips, dripping down her chin and onto the marble floor, but she didn’t pull back—instead, she forced her tongue against him, sucking with a voracity that made him groan loudly. 

Suddenly, he twisted her head to the side, ripping her off his cock with a wet pop. Kazuha gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but she didn't have time to recover. The tattooed Korean, with a feral grin, was already ready, his cock thick and heavy in his hand. He grabbed her face with calloused fingers and thrust into her mouth with one wild thrust, the muscles in his abdomen contracting as he began to fuck her throat. "Suck it deeper, you slut," he growled, his voice husky with lust. "I want to feel that tight throat swallowing me whole." The feeling of all the other men's hungry eyes on her naked, exposed, vulnerable body as she gagged and drooled on his cock sent a wave of heat straight to her pussy. She could feel the liquid running down between her thighs, her arousal dripping onto the floor as they took turns passing her from one to the other like a toy. 

The other men gathered around her, a circle of hungry predators, their heavy breathing mingling with the sound of her muffled moans. Sweat beaded on her skin, running down her back and mixing with the drool dripping from her chin and the tears staining her face. Her arousal was palpable, a glistening puddle collecting on the marble beneath her, and the musky scent of her desire filled the air, further arousing the men. “Look at this bitch in heat,” the Chinese man with the combed hair said, laughing as he rubbed his cock against her thigh. “She’s wetting the floor just by sucking.”

Without warning, they ripped her from her chains, her wrists marked red, and threw her on all fours on the cold floor. Multiple hands began to spank and slap, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing like an obscene symphony. The dark-skinned Thai man slapped her ass hard, his palm leaving a red mark that burned deliciously, before he rubbed the hot flesh with his fingers. He slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers dipping into her soaking wet cunt, and laughed out loud. “That pussy is so fucking wet!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to show the others, his fingers glistening with her juices. “That bitch is begging to be fucked.”

Sangwoo, the tattooed Korean, leaned over her, pulling Kazuha’s face toward him as he rubbed his hard cock against her cheek. “Cussy or ass?” he asked, his voice thick. Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he laughed and repeated louder: “Do you want it in your pussy or your ass, you dumb bitch?” He slapped her face lightly, just to reinforce his question. 

Kazuha licked her lips, the taste of saliva and sweat still fresh, and glared at him defiantly, even on her knees. “Just my pussy, for now,” she replied, her voice husky but firm, a crooked smile curving her lips. “I want to feel you tear me up there first.” 

Sangwoo growled, satisfied, and slapped her ass hard, the sound echoing as the flesh trembled beneath his hand. “Good bitch,” he said, his eyes shining with a mixture of cruelty and desire. "I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll feel my cock in your womb." He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly, his nails digging into her skin as he lined his cock up to her slippery entrance. "Spread those legs wider, you whore," he ordered, giving her another slap before thrusting hard, burying himself deep in a single movement that made Kazuha scream, a sound that was half pain, half ecstasy.

The Japanese man, not wanting to be left out, grabbed her hair again, pulling her head up. "Open that mouth again," he said, rubbing his still-hard cock against her lips. "You're going to suck me while he fucks you. I want to see that slutty face crying into my cock." He forced his way in, his hips slamming against her face as Sangwoo sped up behind her, each thrust making her body rock and the chains on her costume jingle in a frenetic rhythm.

The Chinese man knelt beside her, his hands squeezing her breasts tightly, his thumbs rubbing her nipples until they were red. "Those tits are mine now," he murmured, sucking one of them with a wet suction that left Kazuha moaning around the cock in her mouth. "I'm going to cum on them after I watch you scream." 

The Thai man, still rubbing her ass, stuck two fingers into her tight entrance as Sangwoo fucked her, stretching her even further. "You're enjoying this, huh, you dirty bitch?" he teased, his fingers pumping in a different rhythm. "I bet you want all of us at once, filling every hole until you pass out." 

Kazuha could barely respond, her mouth full, her throat being invaded, her pussy throbbing around Sangwoo as the others touched and marked her. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mixing with her tears and drool, and her arousal dripped onto the floor, a testament to her insatiable desire. She pulled against the hands that held her, not to escape, but to feel more, to lose herself in that chaos of pleasure and pain. "More," she managed to mumble between gasps, her eyes half-closed staring at Dae-ho, who watched everything with a satisfied smile. "Make me cum, you sons of bitches." 

Dae-ho laughed, the deep sound cutting through the air. "You heard the bitch," he told the others, slowly unbuttoning his own pants. "Give her what she wants. Let's see how long this whore can take before she begs for me." 

Suddenly, Kazuha felt a searing pain tear through her ass as Sangwoo forced his thick cock inside her, ignoring her earlier request for "just her pussy." Her tight asshole resisted for a moment before giving in, and she cried out, her voice echoing in the mirrored room, a hoarse sound of pain mixed with a visceral pleasure she couldn’t contain. Before she could recover, Takeshi, the angular-faced Japanese producer, had grabbed her hair tightly and shoved his hard cock into her mouth, thrusting until her nose bumped against his groin, the musky scent of sweat and sex filling her nostrils. She gagged, her throat tightening around him, her eyes watering as he began to fuck her mouth with rough thrusts. “Suck it properly, you slut,” Takeshi growled, pulling her hair harder. “I want to feel that tongue working.”

Sangwoo, behind her, picked up the pace, his cock stretching Kazuha’s asshole painfully as he pounded her ass hard, his large hands leaving red marks on her pale skin. “Fuck, that’s such a tight ass,” he groaned, sweat running down his tattooed chest and dripping onto her back. Each thrust sent her body rocking, her breasts bouncing beneath her torn costume, her chains clanking in an obscene chorus. Takeshi gripped a fistful of her hair, his hips slamming into her face, salty pre-cum dripping onto her tongue as he thrust deeper. Kazuha went wild with pleasure, the heat between her legs growing despite the pain, arousal dripping down her thighs and staining the floor.

His grip on her hair tightened, and with one last savage thrust, Takeshi held her head against the base of his cock, his cock pulsing as he filled her mouth with hot, sticky cum. "Swallow it, you bitch," he ordered, his voice sharp, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Kazuha swallowed it all in one go, the bitter taste going down her throat as she gasped, drool and tears streaming down her chin. Sangwoo, still fucking her ass hard, grabbed her hair as soon as Takeshi released her, pulling her head back and exposing her neck as his hands gripped her waist tightly. She struggled to catch her breath, a scream escaping her lips—but Boonsong, the dark-skinned Thai, was quick, filling her mouth with his thick cock again, silencing her as he began to fuck her throat like it was a pussy. 

“Choke on that cock, you little slut,” Boonsong growled, his fingers digging into her scalp as he thrust hard, the taste of sweat mixed with Takeshi’s cum flooding his tongue. Sangwoo’s thrusts behind her became more erratic, his moans louder, his cock throbbing as he came, the heat of his cum filling her asshole in hot spurts. He held his cock there for a moment, panting heavily, before pulling out with a wet sound. “Fuck, that’s one tight little ass,” Sangwoo said, catching his breath, giving her ass one last slap as his cum slowly began to leak between her cheeks, running down her thighs. 

Boonsong pulled his cock from Kazuha’s mouth and, in one rough motion, rolled her onto her back on the cold marble floor. She was shocked by the sticky sensation of his cum dripping from her, but her eyes were bright with insatiable desire. “Who’s next?” she teased, her voice husky and defiant, her lips swollen and red. “Come on, you sons of bitches, fill me up again.” 

Jin, the Chinese man with the combed hair, laughed loudly and grabbed her from the floor, his hands firmly on her hips as he slammed his hard cock into her pussy in one motion. “Holy shit, this fucking meat is wet!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with lust as he felt her muscles clench around him. A long moan escaped Kazuha’s lips, pleasure exploding through her body as he began to thrust hard. Without thinking, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her heels digging into his back. “Fuck me harder,” she demanded, her eyes half-lidded, sweat dripping down her neck. 

“I’ll take her ass,” Tae said, a man with tanned skin and defined muscles, positioning himself behind her. He thrust his cock into her already cum-filled asshole, sliding in easily thanks to Sangwoo’s warm liquid, and Kazuha moaned loudly, the sound reverberating off the mirrors. “Fuck, it’s slippery in here,” Tae laughed, his hands gripping the flesh of her ass as he began to thrust at a savage pace. Both men fucked her fast, Jin in her pussy and Tae in her ass, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her, their bodies colliding with hers in a sweaty frenzy. 

Kazuha could feel the sweat of the men she was trapped between, their hot breath against her skin, the weight of being so full pushing her over the edge. Suddenly, an orgasm ripped through her, the muscles of her pussy and ass contracting around the cocks inside her, amplifying each thrust. She tightened her legs around Jin and shuddered, crying out as the waves of pleasure washed over her, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Fuck, that's it!" escaped her lips, her voice cracking with ecstasy. The men, driven mad by her moans, fucked her harder, Tae's fingers digging into her hips as Jin's thrusts became erratic. 

Boonsong, who had been watching with his cock in his hand, moved closer again, but it was Jin who came first, his cock throbbing as he filled her pussy with hot cum. "Oh, shit," Kazuha moaned, losing herself completely in the pleasure, her eyes rolling back as Tae pulled his cock from her ass, cum dripping in a chaotic mix. Jin sped up, thrusting faster as he came, the pulsing of his cock and the sensation of the hot liquid pushing Kazuha into another orgasm. She cried out loud, her muscles contracting again, her body arching against the floor as pleasure overtook her. 

Jin lifted her off his cock and set her down on the floor, cum leaking from her pussy and ass in a sticky puddle. Kazuha panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but before she could regain her composure, Kang Dae-ho, the leader, grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees. He prodded her mouth with his hard cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. “Open wide, you thirsty slut,” he snapped, his voice thick with authority and lust.

Without thinking, Kazuha opened her mouth, her eyes fixed on his, defiant even after everything. Dae-ho held the tip of his cock between her lower lip and, instead of cumming, he urinated, the warm, salty stream hitting her tongue. The bitter, strong taste filled her mouth, but she kept her lips open, swallowing it all as he watched her with a cruel smile. "Drink it, you filthy whore," he ordered, the stream running down her chin and dripping onto her exposed breasts. Kazuha swallowed, her body shaking with a mixture of humiliation and arousal, her gaze still defiant as Dae-ho laughed, satisfied.

"That's my girl," he said, slapping her lightly across the face.

The air in the mirrored room was heavy, saturated with the smell of sweat, cum, and urine, a visceral mix that enveloped Kazuha like a second skin. Kang Dae-ho, the leader, stepped back after marking her with his hot spurt, his still-hard cock swinging before her as he laughed, his eyes shining with sadistic delight. Kazuha, on her knees, panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body covered in red marks, scratches, and fluids running down her pale skin. Sangwoo, Jin, and Tae's sperm slowly leaked from her ass and pussy, dripping onto the marble floor in a glistening puddle, while the bitter taste of Dae-ho's urine still lingered on her tongue. She trembled, not from weakness, but from an ecstasy that consumed her completely.

"Now, who wants the next round with this insatiable slut?" Dae-ho asked, his sharp voice echoing in the room, an invitation that made the other men stir, their cocks already hardening again despite their fatigue. Takeshi, the Japanese man with the angular face, stepped forward, rubbing his cock with one hand while the other still held a fistful of her black hair. "I want that mouth again," he said, his tone full of cruelty. "Let's see if she can last another round without passing out." Boonsong, the Thai man, chuckled from beside her, already positioning himself behind her. "I'll take that ass again—it's all sticky, perfect for me." 

But before they could move forward, Kazuha looked up, her brown eyes sparkling with a mixture of exhaustion and fire. "Do you think you're done with me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse but firm, a crooked smile curving her swollen lips. "I told you I can take it all—so come on, you sons of bitches. Break me if you can." She opened her mouth provocatively and rocked her hips slightly, the movement making the cum flow faster, an obscene invitation that made the men groan with lust. 

Dae-ho laughed loudly, throwing his head back before grabbing her chin, forcing her to face him. “You’re a perfect whore, Kazuha,” he said, his fingers digging into her skin. “But the show ends when I say it ends.” He turned to the others, his commanding tone cutting through the air. “All at once—let’s fill her until she begs us to stop.” It was the final command, the climax of the night, and the men obeyed like hungry predators.

Takeshi thrust his cock into her mouth again, his hips slamming hard as Boonsong took her ass, sliding easily into her already slippery hole. Jin went back to her pussy, his hands gripping her thighs to spread them even wider, while Tae and Sangwoo took turns rubbing their cocks over her breasts and legs, marking her with more precum and sweat. Kazuha moaned loudly, her sounds muffled by Takeshi's cock, her body rocking between them like a broken doll, but her eyes—those eyes—gleamed with a madness that dared them to go deeper, harder.

The thrusts were an uncoordinated chaos, each man seeking his own pleasure as they used her. Sweat ran down in rivers, mixing with the cum that was already covering the floor, and their moans mingled with her screams, a wild chorus that reverberated in the mirrors. She felt another orgasm approaching, her muscles contracting around Jin and Boonsong, her body shaking as the pleasure tore through her once more. "Fuck, fill me!" she gasped, her words barely intelligible, and the men obeyed. One by one, they came, Takeshi filling her mouth, Boonsong and Jin pulsing inside her, Tae and Sangwoo marking her skin with hot jets that dripped onto her chest and belly.

When the last of them finished, Kazuha collapsed to the floor, her body exhausted, her breathing ragged, the marble floor now a mirror of her destruction—covered in cum, urine, and sweat. Dae-ho came closer, the only one who hadn’t come yet, and knelt beside her. He rubbed his hard cock against her face, smearing her with his pre-cum before standing up and, with one last gesture of dominance, cumming all over her, the hot jets hitting her face and hair. “That’s what you are now,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. “Our perfect toy.”

Kazuha didn’t respond, her eyes closed, her body still except for the slow rise and fall of her chest. The men pulled away, panting, laughing among themselves as they adjusted their clothes, the sound of zippers and belts filling the silence that followed the frenzy. The Celestial Dawn continued its journey through the dark waters, the sound of the waves becoming audible again now that the chaos had ceased.

But then, when Dae-ho turned his back, thinking he had broken her, Kazuha’s eyes opened. A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. She was exhausted, scarred, used—but not broken. In her mind, a flame burned, a silent promise: she had survived this night, and with every touch, every humiliation, she had learned something about power. They thought they owned her, but she knew she had manipulated them with her desire, weaponizing submission.

The cruise ship would pull into port at dawn, and Kazuha would step off that ship a different person—no longer just an idol, but a force no one could tame. The video they had recorded, hidden in the cameras in the room, would be her insurance, her trump card for the future. They had fucked her to the limit, but she would fuck them back—in the shadows, where the real game began.

[imhappierthanever]

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Your lipstick clung to her lips, and her cheek, and down her neck leaving a trail of your love down her body. It was Valentine’s Day, and you made plans. Of course you did. Somewhere sat in a restaurant were two glasses of champagne, two chairs at a table waiting for two lovers to come dine in. To share their love in a beautiful, public setting. But you didn’t make it there.

Not when she saw you wearing what you knew got to her the most. You didn’t do it too often, just during special times. But since tonight was special enough, you decided a red lip for Billie was the way to go. You never quite understood what it was that drove her so crazy when you wore it, but you loved what it did to her. The way she would always want to stay home and cancel everything and have you all to herself. But you never let her.

But tonight she would finally get her way. When her fingers danced along your barely there black lace dress, exploring as much of you as she could before letting it fall to the floor. Before she revealed your matching red strapless bra and panties. She could hardly contain herself.

“Get on the bed, Angel.” She growled in your ear. “You’re fucking killing me tonight. Need you so bad.” She said almost pushing you down, straddling your body. She discarded her own clothing along the way not even giving you a chance to comment on how incredible she happened to look.

The last article of her clothing made its way on the floor, leaving her completely opened to you as her body met yours yet again. Her warm skin collided with yours as her kisses begin their journey on your neck, down to the valley of your breasts, freeing some part of you but never taking your bra off completely. She let her tongue swirl around your sensitive nub, teeth grazing, sucking before releasing it with a pop. Her other hand rolled the other between the pads of her soft fingers. You moaned, pulling her head against you, melting from all the love she had been showing you.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now she said straddling your thigh as she pressed her own between your legs. Her bare clit was rubbing directly on your thigh, letting you feel exactly what you had been doing to her as she marveled at the sight of you coming undone beneath her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You don’t even know. Such a pretty girl. My girl.” Billie said running her fingers along your lacy red panties, brushing against you, collecting your wetness on her fingers before she invited herself in, pulling the fabric to the side.

Your hands danced along her skin, pulling her into you. You needed her just as badly. You couldn’t think of anything else. Just you and her and the moment you were in. The way her lips tasted so sweet, and how needy she was as she kissed you so passionately, letting your tongues dance. Her fingers trailing fire, her love beginning its way down your leg ever so slightly before she shifted her body, tangling her legs with yours and letting your pussies connect.

Immediately your hands landed on her hips, pushing her down further against you, wanting to feel it all. Everything she had to offer. Wanting to be even closer to her somehow, even if it wasn’t possible at this point.

You watched the way she moved as she hovered above you. So beautiful and focused on your bodies. So focused on pleasing you and being in the moment with you. You bit your lip as whimpers fell from hers. You just knew this was a sight you could never tire of. Her gorgeous hooded blue eyes staring deeply into yours, her plump pink bitten lips now swollen but looking even more kissable somehow. Her gorgeous skin being coated in a thin layer of sweat making her glisten, the way her breasts moved as she grinded on you. Everything was almost too much to handle. The sounds of the wetness between you and the way she was making you feel sent your mind into complete overdrive.

You closed your eyes for only one second before her thumb made its way to your clit, rubbing circles, forcing your eyes opened and back to hers.

“Every time you even think about putting that red lipstick on.. I want you to remember this. I want you to think about how I fuck you..” she said leaning down to whisper in your ear and connect your bodies. I want you to think about what it feels like to be with me. Only me.”

Billie continued to rock her body against yours, her wet hand moving up from her home to your neck, wrapping her hand around it.

“Only you.” You managed to choke out as you felt your body start to shake. “Billie. I’m-“ you began feeling that tight feeling inside you ready to snap at any given second. “Can I?”

“Do you think you’ve been a good girl?” She asked tightening her hand, increasing her pace making it even harder for you. “Mmm so good Bils. Only wanted to make you happy please. You feel s- so good. I can’t-“

“Go ahead, baby. Let go. Give me everything.” She said pulling you into her arms, letting your bodies be closer to feel it all. To feel bodies trembling and releasing, pussies throbbing and the what remained of your red lipstick fading finally. You released together, moaning and screaming, riding out the moment together before your back hit the bed again.

Billie fell onto your body, resting her head on your chest. “Fuck.” She breathed, kissing anywhere her lips landed. You chuckled letting your fingers trace her curves.

“Well Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, my love!” You said kissing her head, smiling. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to dinner tonight. I don’t even know if I can walk properly.” You joked

“Let’s just lay here for a little more. I just want to be close to you.” Billie said. Still coming down from her high. You smiled running your fingers through her now tangly hair, helping her come down.

“Well I can’t say no to that!” You said giving her a little squeeze before kissing her head. She laughed a little, snuggling herself further into your body. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. You’re everything.”

“And you’re even more my darling.” You said wiping one of your red lipstick stains off of her cheek, knowing you wouldn’t be leaving your room anytime soon.

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine. 

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her. 

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.” 

Yes, you’re aware. 

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake. 

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue. 

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day. 

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you. 

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat. 

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety. 

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it. 

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top. 

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine. 

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer. 

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down. 

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin. 

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way. 

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face. 

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things. 

It was killing you. 

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical. 

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors. 

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo. 

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know? 

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face. 

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras. 

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you. 

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades. 

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes. 

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get. 

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign. 

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books. 

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them. 

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them. 

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for. 

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you. 

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago. 

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet. 

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all. 

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses. 

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully. 

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention. 

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others. 

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent. 

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras. 

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go. 

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash. 

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.  

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first. 

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully. 

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode. 

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended. 

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone. 

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out. 

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic. 

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks. 

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh. 

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around  and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids. 

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart. 

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one. 

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away. 

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something. 

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them. 

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down. 

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet. 

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together? 

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you. 

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another. 

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it. 

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you. 

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode. 

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them. 

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them. 

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head. 

They all bow politely when you join the group. 

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event. 

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you. 

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier. 

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high. 

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments. 

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks. 

Well, if they already said they were fans… 

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board. 

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes. 

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly. 

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away. 

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically. 

Especially that beautiful nose of his. 

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away. 

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean. 

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly. 

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile. 

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA. 

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck. 

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly. 

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything. 

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too. 

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone. 

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it. 

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming. 

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview. 

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you. 

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly. 

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium. 

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you. 

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table. 

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you. 

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet. 

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily. 

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way. 

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat. 

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair. 

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back. 

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off. 

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair. 

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table. 

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you. 

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right. 

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!” 

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand. 

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him. 

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.” 

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin. 

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around. 

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes. 

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again. 

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all. 

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling. 

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin. 

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs. 

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you. 

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted. 

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow. 

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down. 

You thank him and he takes his leave. 

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear. 

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top. 

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit. 

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table. 

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage. 

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions. 

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions. 

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver. 

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone. 

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath. 

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks. 

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…” 

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables. 

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them. 

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath. 

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well. 

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely. 

No one was next to you to hold your knee. 

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up. 

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage. 

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands. 

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd. 

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly. 

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people. 

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!” 

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed. 

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here. 

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point. 

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you. 

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing. 

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft. 

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp. 

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display. 

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.” 

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing. 

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin. 

The hand around yours twitches and tightens. 

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away. 

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back. 

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours. 

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years. 

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel. 

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out. 

Hell, you might pass out now. 

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own. 

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression. 

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time. 

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur. 

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach. 

His hand on your back pulls you even closer. 

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso. 

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious. 

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise. 

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate. 

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut. 

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches. 

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips. 

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips. 

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment. 

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them. 

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss. 

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours. 

Both of your eyes shut. 

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress. 

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back. 

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it. 

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you. 

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses. 

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours. 

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer. 

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours. 

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull. 

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure. 

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips. 

“Chan,” you moan out. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip. 

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale. 

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after. 

Oh, that cocky motherfucker. 

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair. 

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy. 

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check. 

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you. 

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else. 

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place. 

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground. 

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance. 

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white. 

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no? 

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure. 

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way. 

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement. 

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch. 

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them. 

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder. 

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder. 

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it. 

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer. 

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side. 

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out. 

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey. 

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”