#and feel like they stepped into a musical or something

[bsturnzmtts]

Drunk temptations - Matt Sturniolo

Re-upload!

Paring: bsf!Matt x drunk! Reader

Contains/warinings: reader is a virgin, dry humping, no p in v, mentions of alcohol and loss of virginity, maybe more stuff...

Summary: You and your best friend Matt are going to a party. You get extremely drunk, and despite your bratty resistance, Matt insists on taking you home. Somehow, you end up on your best friend's lap, kissing him and confessing that you want to lose your virginity to him...

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You and Matt have been best friends for many years now. You’re also friends with his brothers Nick and Chris. Tonight you guys are going to a party. Matt went to pick you up.

Knocks on the door

You quickly went downstairs to open the door with your hair and makeup ready but still in your pijamas.

Laughing, he raises an eyebrow at my pajamas “You’re not ready yet?”

“Sorryyyyy, I just need to get changed and we can go” you explain.

He chuckles. “Alright, but make it quick.”

“Okay okay, come in, I promise.” You say laughing a bit as you two go upstairs to your room. You get in the bathroom and Matt sits down on your bed waiting for you.

He leans back on the bed, looking quite at home in your room as he waits. His eyes roam around, taking in the posters on the walls and the messy piles of clothes scattered about.

You quickly change onto a black mini skirt, a red tight and a little revealing top, some jewelry and a ton of perfume. You take one last glance in the mirror and exit the bathroom. “I’m ready!”

He looks up from where he was lounging on your bed, a slow smile spreading across his face “Whoa, you look amazing tonight.”

You smile at his compliment. “Thank youuu! It’s a new outfit, I bought it today.”

"Oh yeah? I can tell. It looks really good on you." He stands up and walks over, taking a closer look at the outfit. "Hey, is that a new perfume too?" He asks, leaning in to sniff at my neck.

You feel something fluttering in your stomach as he leans in, his hot breath hitting your neck. “What?… oh yeah it’s a new perfume.” You feel your face growing hot and you’re also feeling nervous. But you quickly throw those feelings away, reminding yourself that he’s your best friend.

He pulls back and flashes a grin at your flushed face, noting your reaction yet deciding not to comment on it. Instead, he gestures towards the door. “Shall we, m’lady?” He teases, offering you his arm like a gentleman.

You laugh at his tone and actions. “Always a gentleman, right?” You tease and take his arm.

"Only for you, my lady," Matt replies with a playful smirk. He leads you out of the room and down the hallway, his hand gently patting at yours on his arm.

You laugh and roll your eyes jokingly as you nudge him with your shoulder.

He chuckles and nudges you back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. As you guys head down the hallway, Matt can't help but steal glances at you, admiring the way the dim lighting highlights your features and makes the colors of your outfit pop. As you step out into the night air, the cool breeze rustling your hair, Matt can't help but appreciate the way the city lights reflect off the curves of your body. He opens the car door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“Ooohhh, opening the door and everything.” You say teasingly.

He chuckles and gives a mock bow, "Anything for my queen," he says with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he waits for you to get in the car.

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Ohh shut upppp.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he closes the car door. As he walks around to the driver's side, he can't help but grin at your teasing.

As we drive to the party, the music is playing softly in the background, and Matt can't help but tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. He glances over at you, a sly grin spreading across his face. "So, are you ready to party tonight?"

“Oh I'm definitely ready to get drunk.” You say with a chuckle.

He laughs and shakes his head, "Well, let's make sure you don't do anything too crazy, yeah? I don't want to have to carry you home over my shoulder."

“I won't, don't worry. I just want to have a little fun.” You say.

"Alright, alright, I trust you," he says, still grinning as he pulls up to the party venue. "We’re here."

As you guys walk into the party, you can feel the energy and excitement in the air. The music is loud, and people are dancing and mingling all around. You guys go to say hi to Matt’s brothers Nick and Chris.

After a while you see some of your friends. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friends.” You tell Matt.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll catch up with you later." He says as he watches you walk away, his gaze following you until you disappear into the crowd.

You approach your friends and greet them. Then you all decide to get drinks and dance.

While you're busy having fun, Matt is talking with his brothers and some of their old friends catching up. He occasionally glances over at you, letting out a small chuckle as he sees you dancing and having fun.

As the night goes by you keep ordering more and more drinks, getting yourself drunk.

Matt notices you stumbling around and laughing loudly, and his expression turns from amusement to concern. He excuses himself from his conversation and starts making his way towards you. "I think that's enough drinks for you." he says, as he approaches you.

“Maaatt! Hiii I've missed youuu.” You say slurring your words as you hug him.

He chuckles and hugs you back, holding you steady as you sway slightly. "I've missed you too," he says, his voice low and gentle. "I think you've had a few too many drinks," He says with a chuckle, trying to keep you steady on your feet. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Whaaat? Whyyy? I'm having fun.” You whine.

He sighs and wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you towards the exit. "You're slurring your words, stumbling around, and you're not making any sense," he says firmly but gently.

“Noooo I want to stayyy.” You pout.

He gently but firmly continues guiding you towards the exit, his grip steady on your waist. "I know you're having fun, but it's getting late and you're too drunk to handle yourself."

“You’re so boringgg.” You slur out.

He laughs softly and unlocks his car door for you. "I'm not boring, I'm just responsible," he says, helping you into the passenger seat.

“Yeah yeah, same thing.” You say.

He gets in the driver's side and starts the car, keeping a watchful eye on you as he drives. "You know, you're going to regret this hangover in the morning," he says with a smirk, but his tone is soft with concern.

“I had sooo much funnn” you start laughing.

He chuckles and gives you a knowing look. "I can tell," he says.

He pulls into your driveway and turns off the engine, turning to face you with a gentle smile. "We're here," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Time to get you inside and into bed."

“Noooo I don’t wanna go to bed.” You whine.

He laughs softly and shakes his head. "Come on, you'll thank me when you're not suffering with a hangover tomorrow," he says as he carefully gets out of the car and walks around to your side, opening your door and offering his hand to help you out.

He sighs and helps you out of the car anyway, wrapping his arm around your waist to support you as you stumble a bit on the driveway. "Let's get you inside and settled, okay?" he says, leading you towards your front door with a gentle but firm grip.

“Fineeee” you slur out as you roll your eyes.

He chuckles and shakes his head, helping you up the steps and to the front door. "You're going to be a lot of fun to deal with in the morning," he says with a teasing tone, digging out your keys from your purse and unlocking the door. He opens the door and ushers you inside, switching on the light and helping you stumble into the living room. "Sit down," he says, guiding you onto the couch. "I'll get you some water."

He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. "Drink up," he says, waiting for you to take a few sips before setting the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. He then plops down beside you on the couch, watching you with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Thank youu” you say as you lean back.

He smiles and leans back with you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. "No problem," he says.

You start laughing a little bit remembering things that happened at the party. “I had so much fun tonight, best party ever.” You say, still slurring your words.

He chuckles and pulls you closer, his arm tightening around your shoulders. "Glad you had a good time," he says, his voice low and gentle.

You turn to look at him and realize how close your faces are.

He grins then, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the room. "Yeah, it was a good party," he says, his voice dropping even lower, almost to a whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips before darting back up to your eyes. He swallows thickly and the room suddenly becomes much quieter and more intimate.

You don’t know if it's the alcohol taking over your mind but you want to kiss him really bad. You know it isn’t right because you’re drunk and you guys are best friends, but you can’t stop thinking about it. ‘Fuck it’ your mind says, you lean in and kiss him.

His eyes widen in surprise for a split second, but he doesn't pull back, instead, his lips move against yours, soft and gentle at first, but then deepening into a more passionate kiss. His arm around your shoulders tightens, pulling you closer to him as he angles his head to fit your lips together perfectly.

You keep kissing him, your mouth opening just a nudge letting his tongue in. He responds eagerly to the invitation, his tongue slipping into your mouth tasting the alcohol in your system and tangling with yours in a sinfully good way.

As you get more into the kiss you start to kiss more sloppily and drunkenly. You’re body now controlled by the alcohol and lust moves to sit on his lap straddling him.

He groans into the kiss as you shift to straddle him, his hands immediately moving to grip your hips to steady you. The feel of your heat pressing against him, even through the layers of clothing, sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin. He breaks the kiss long enough to breathe. "God, you're killing me," he mutters, his voice low and husky, his eyes burning with intensity. "Fuck, we shouldn't be doing this," he says, his voice rough with need, even as his hands continue to hold you tight against him.

“Why?” You ask.

Matt's eyes search yours, a mix of conflict and longing evident in their dark depths. "Because this isn't right, not like this," he says, his breath coming in short gasps as he fights to maintain control. "You're drunk off your ass, and I shouldn't take advantage of that." He hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours before he admits, "And we're best friends, and this could change everything between us." His grip on you tightens as if he's trying to hold onto the friendship despite the heat building between you two.

“But I want to.” You say kissing him again and ignoring his words.

He groans into the kiss, his resolve crumbling under your persistence and the intoxicating effect of your body pressed so intimately against his. "Fuck, you're making this hard," he pulls back. “We can’t do this.”

“Please.” You whine as you start to kiss his neck.

His hands grip your hips, his breath hitching as you trail kisses along his neck. "Fuck," he swears, his grip tightening as he resists the temptation you present. "You're killing me, Y/n."

“Please Matt, I- I want you to be my first.” You whisper.

His whole body stiffens at your words, his hands gripping you harder for a moment before releasing you, he looks at you with eyes full of surprise and a mix of emotions. "Shit, y/n," he mutters. His hands move to cup your face, making you look at him.

“Please Matt, take my virginity away. I'm ready.” You look at him with doe eyes filled with lust and a little red from the alcohol.

"No, y/n, you're drunk and I don't want to take advantage of that," he says, his voice strained. He looks at you with a mix of desire and guilt, his hands still cupping your face gently. "We've been friends for so long, and this could change everything.

“You’re the person I trust the most, I want it to be you.”

"God, y/n, you're killing me. I want this, I want you so bad, but I can't just take your virginity while you're in this state," he says, his voice rough with need. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

You ignore his words and start kissing him again.

He hesitates for a moment, then relents, his hands moving from your face to your hips as he deepens the kiss. But after a few moments, he pulls back again, trying to break the kiss. "Y/n, we can't do this."

“mmh please Matt” you whimper and kiss him again.

He groans, his resolve weakening as he feels you pressing against him. "Y/n, no," he says, but his voice is weaker this time, and it's clear that he's struggling to resist.

You continue kissing him but this time your hips start to grind against him. “Mmh” you moan.

He hisses through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet your grinding motions. "Fuck, y/n, stop," he growls, but his words lack conviction. His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him as he rocks his own hips up in response to yours.

“Mmh Matt feels so good” you whimper against his lips.

He lets out a tortured groan, his body trembling with restraint as he tries to hold back. "Y/n, please...I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

“Matt I need you” you let out as you keep kissing and grinding him. Your hands move to remove your top, revealing your lace black bra.

His eyes widen at the sight of your bra, and he swears under his breath as he tries to fight his growing arousal. "Y/n, we can't," he repeats, his voice hoarse with desire.

You start kissing his neck again.

He groans, tilting his head to give you better access to his neck as his hands move up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. "Fuck... You're killing me,"

You grab his hands and lead them to your back where the clip for your bra is.

“Stop this," he says firmly, though there's a strained edge to his voice. His hands remain frozen on your back, the clip of your bra still untouched. "Y/n, no. We can't. You're too drunk, I won't take your virginity like this." He pushes his hands away from the clasp of her bra, his own breathing heavy and ragged as he struggles to maintain his composure. “This has already gone too far.”

"No buts, y/n. We can't do this right now. It's not right." He says firmly, still holding onto his composure even as his body is begging for release from the arousal coursing through him. "I care about you too much to take advantage of you in this state.” He takes a deep breath and stands up, pulling away from you completely.

"Y/n, let's... let's get you to bed," he says, his voice calm but strained. He offers you a hand to help you up, his eyes never leaving yours as if gauging your reaction.

You don't say anything, just take his hand and follow him to your room.

He watches out for you as you move to your room, ensuring you don't stumble and hurt yourself in your inebriated state. Once inside, he guides you to the bed, sitting you down gently on the edge.

He gives you a big t -shirt big enough to cover up your knees. So you put it on and take your skirt off and sit on the bed again. He kneels down in front of you, pulling off your heels and placing them beside the bed.

"There, that's better, right?" He says, looking up at you with concern etched into his features. He really cares about you, more than he wants to admit. He gently pushes you back onto the bed, helping you lay down, making sure you're covered up before he stands back up.

“Good night” you slur out and quickly doze off.

He watches you for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he sees the exhaustion and alcohol finally catch up to you. He nods to himself, satisfied that you're safe and comfortable, before turning to leave the room. He quietly closes your bedroom door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence of the house. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm the storm of emotions and desire that still rages within him. He knows he did the right thing, protecting you from a mistake you wouldn't remember.

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Part 2 tomorrow!!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws

@sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03

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@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog

@mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

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@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0

[p0orbaby]

Could you go an request for Leah Williamson x Reader.

Leah has a crush on reader, no one knows except for Alessia who caught her watching edits of reader. The team are in the gym, doing pulls up, weights all that stuff. And Leah can’t keep her eyes off you. Getting turned on by the movements and flex muscles. Alessia seeing this teases her through-out the whole time.

-

The gym reeks of dedication, effort, and that specific brand of post-workout musk that no amount of designer deodorant can hide. It’s all heavy bass music, the metallic clang of weights, and the occasional grunt from someone pretending this is their 15th rep, not their fourth. You’re mid-pull-up, arms flexing in a way that looks almost unfair to the human eye. Leah, meanwhile, is failing miserably at playing it cool.

She’s not even trying, really. She’s perched on a bench with a dumbbell that’s more decorative than functional, staring at you like you’re the last goal in stoppage time. Her gaze keeps flicking from your biceps to your shoulders, her jaw tightening whenever you move.

“Subtle,” Alessia whispers from the treadmill beside her, not even pretending to hide her smirk. She’s seen this before—caught Leah at 11 p.m., huddled over her phone, watching a fan-made TikTok edit of you scoring last season. Leah had looked up, panicked, and slammed her phone down like a teenager caught watching something decidedly not safe for work. Alessia hasn’t let it go since.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leah hisses, trying and failing to keep her eyes on her dumbbell. She gives it a half-hearted curl, immediately setting it down because apparently, five kilos is suddenly too heavy.

“Right,” Alessia drawls, upping the treadmill incline just to feel something. “You’re just admiring the… technique?”

“Exactly”

Your laugh cuts through the gym noise, and Leah flinches, like she’s been caught red-handed. You’re joking with Katie McCabe, something about the pull-up bar being too high for her. Leah swears she’s never been jealous of metal equipment before, but here she is, wishing she were that bar.

“Look at her,” Alessia says, low enough for only Leah to hear. “Flexing, laughing, being all… sweaty”

Leah glares. “Stop”

“Stop what? Observing?” Alessia bats her lashes. “Honestly, it’s inspiring. You should go tell her she’s doing great. Maybe offer to spot her?”

Leah shakes her head, panic flashing across her face. “I’m not that obvious”

Alessia’s grin widens. “Mate, you’re a blinking neon sign. I half expect you to start holding up a banner that says, Please notice me, Reader”

Leah clenches her jaw, staring fixedly at the ground like it’s personally offended her. You’ve moved on to the bench press now, lying back, the muscles in your arms and chest taut as you push the barbell up. Leah makes the mistake of glancing up.

“Christ,” she mutters under her breath, her ears turning red.

“Christ can’t help you,” Alessia quips, leaning forward on the treadmill handles. “You’re done for”

You finish your set, sitting up and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt, inadvertently flashing just the tiniest sliver of toned stomach. Leah, already fighting a losing battle, looks like she might combust.

“Alright, that’s it,” Alessia announces, stepping off the treadmill and grabbing a water bottle. “I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore. Either talk to her, or I’m telling the entire team you’ve got a crush the size of Wembley on her.”

Leah’s eyes widen, and she grabs Alessia’s arm in a death grip. “You wouldn’t”

Alessia just raises an eyebrow. “Try me”

Before Leah can argue, you saunter over, a casual smile on your lips and a towel slung around your neck.

“Hey,” you say, glancing between the two of them. “What’s all this about?”

Leah’s brain short-circuits. Alessia, unbothered and enjoying herself far too much, grins. “Leah was just saying how impressed she is with your form. Weren’t you, Leah?”

Leah stammers something incoherent, her face flaming, and you tilt your head, amused.

“Well,” you say, smirking just enough to make Leah’s pulse spike, “I’m more than happy to book you in for a one-on-one to show you the ropes, if you’d like?”

You walk away before Leah can respond, leaving Alessia in stitches and Leah questioning every decision that led her to this moment.

[requiemforthepoets]

broadway darling 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x sainz!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando never met each other in person despite him being best friends with your brother, but when carlos had dragged him to your opening night, he hated to admit it but he was charmed by you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n in the narrations, photo do not belong to me and all photos are taken from pinterest, inconsistencies of photos, use of y/n on the smau, not proofread, magui, profanities, mean comments, and typos

WORD COUNT: 696

FACE CLAIMS: taken from pinterest

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i missed writing for lando 😭 i made this one shot/smau to appease my broadway x f1 racer agenda in my mind, and since i’m a big fan of les miz and hamilton. though let me know if you want part 2 lol i hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it! this one’s for all the theatre girlies out there (i hope i did you justice 🥹)

It was an unspoken rule that opening nights were sacred in your family. The excitement, nerves, and anticipation of the curtain rising for the first time in Melbourne—it was all part of the magic you had fallen in love with since your broadway debut at sixteen. Tonight was no different, the backstage bustle surrounded you, but you remained calm, dressed in your costume for Fantine, the tragic heroine of Les Misérables.

The makeup team finished their final touches, ensuring every detail conveyed the pain and hope of the character. You took a deep breath, whispering a quiet prayer as the stage manager gave the fifteen-minute warning.

In the plush velvet seats of the packed theater, your family had taken their places. Carlos was flanked by your parents on one side and, to your surprise, his best friend, Lando Norris, by his side. You had heard of Lando countless times through Carlos’ stories, seen him in the occasional instagram post or race weekend interview, but never met him in person. Lando was not exactly the type you imagined sitting through a three-hour musical, but there he was, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, looking slightly out of place but undeniably intrigued.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me with you.” Lando murmured to Carlos as they flipped through the program.

“Because you need culture in your life,” Carlos teased, his voice low to avoid drawing attention. “Besides, it’s my sister. I’m always there to support her.”

Lando just nodded, unsure what to really expect. He had heard of you, of course, Carlos never stopped talking about his little sister’s accomplishments, but he had never seen you perform. Lando wasn’t even sure how someone who belted out ballads for a living would compare to the thrill of racing, but as the curtains rose and you stepped onto the stage, he felt something shift.

When you sang I Dreamed a Dream, the theatre fell silent, and Lando forgot to breathe. He didn’t know much about broadways and musicals, but even he could tell this was something special. There was a rawness in your voice, an honesty that made him feel like you were baring your soul to every person in the audience, him included.

“You good?” Carlos asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Lando blinked and sat up straighter. “She's…really good.”

“Told you,” Carlos smirked, “she’s a broadway darling for a reason.”

Lando did not respond, his eyes fixed on you as you poured your heart into the performance, and by the time the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, he was on his feet, clapping so hard his palms stung. Carlos laughed as he nudged him.

“I think you liked it more than me, mate.” Carlos chuckled.

“She’s, uh, really talented.” Lando flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Backstage, you were surrounded by castmates and well-wishers when Carlos arrived, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“You killed it out there!” He said, pulling you into a bear hug. “Mamá and Papá are so proud, they couldn’t even stop crying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wiping a bit of makeup from your cheek. “It felt good tonight.” You admitted, though your eyes flicked curiously to the familiar figure a few steps behind Carlos.

Carlos caught your glance and stepped aside. “Oh, right, this is Lando. You know him, my best friend.”

“Hello.” You said warmly, extending a hand.

Lando stared at you for a second too long before quickly shaking your hand. “Hey, uh, you were amazing. Like, really amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at his slightly awkward demeanor. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I never pegged you for a theatre type.”

Carlos snorted. “Oh, he’s not. He didn’t even know who Fantine was before tonight.”

“Hey, I know now.” Lando muttered as he shot Carlos a look, which made you laugh.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Lando,” you said. “Thank you for coming.”

As you turned your attention back to Carlos to discuss dinner plans, Lando just stood there, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, feeling like he had just been hit by a train.

ynsainz

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, lesmizofficial, iamrebeccad, landonorris and 456,736 others

tagged: lesmizofficial

ynsainz do you hear the people sing? 🇫🇷❤️

opening night of les misérables in melbourne was nothing short of magical. i’m so grateful for the chance to bring fantine’s story to life again and share it with the people i love the most. a night that i’ll never forget! ❤️✨

view 78,837 comments below

carlossainz55 incredible, hermanita! Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it ❤️

ynsainz AAAAAHHH LOVE YOU 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad you.are.amazing! GIRL THOSE PIPES YOU HAVE!!

ynsainz rebeccaaa, thank you so much!! i’m glad that you were able to come 🥺❤️

iamrebeccad of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!!! 🥰

landonorris amazing show last night! first theatre experience and definitely won’t be the last 👏🏻🙌🏻

ynsainz thank you lando! glad that les miz was your first theatre experience. well, hoping to see you again soon! 😆

lesmizofficial opening night couldn’t have been more better, it was unforgettable! you’ve brought fantine to life in a way that will resonate for years to come. the team couldn’t be prouder of you! ❤️

ynsainz thank you, les misérables! 🥺❤️

username1 PERFECTION PERFECTION PERFECTION

username2 carlos wasn’t lying when he said he’s sister a star 🥹 i came for the sainz connection and left absolutely blown away by your TALENT!!!!

username3 an icon, a legend, a queen!!!!!!

username4 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT I WATCHED YOU LIVE 😭😭😭😭

username4 I NEED TO SEE YOU ON LES MIZ TOUR I CANT LET THIS PASS BY 😭😭😭

username5 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

username6 THEATRE KIDS UNITE!!!

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f1gossip

liked by username1, username2, username3, username4 and 20,837 others

tagged: ynsainz, carlossainz55, landonorris

f1gossip is there something more than just racing between lando norris and the sainz family?

spotted: lando norris attending the opening night of les miserables in melbourne with none other than carlos sainz and his family just days before the aussie grand prix weekend.

the mclaren driver, who’s usually more focused on the track than the theatre, seemed to be all flirty and smiles as he mingled with carlos’ little sister, ynsainz—the broadway darling herself! rumors have been swirling around ever since lando was seen front and center at the opening night, and now, it’s got us wondering…is there something between the two off-track?

while lando’s always kept his private life under the wraps, this cozy night with the sainz fam is raising some eyebrows. could les miserables be just the beginning? are we seeing a new f1 power couple in the making?

drop your thoughts below! ❤️

view all 18,636 comments below

username7 okay, but if lando is really into her, can we talk about what an upgrade this is from his usual dating rumors? she’s a literal goddess. broadway, west end, and disney??? ma’am.

username8 so lando’s in attendance at les miz in melbourne? okay, that’s cool, but is it bad that i care more about her perfomance than this so-called gossip? priorities, people!

username9 not at all!! everyone here in the comsec acting like they personally know lando or y/n lmao what a bunch of losers

username10 this is a bit of stretch, don’t you guys think? maybe he’s genuinely wanted to be there for support. he’s literally best friends with carlos and close with the sainz, is it now bad to support a best friend’s family member? not every guy and girl showing support or hanging out equates to dating.

username9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH!!!

username1 finally, someone saying relevant here for once!!!

username11 can we please stop making everything a love story? maybe she’s just being nice and lando’s just being lando

username12 oh you are so sick for tagging the people involved in your nonsense gossip!!! leave them alone!!!!

username13 now why us, broadway fans, suddenly being dragged into an f1 drama? can we just stay away from this and focus on supporting her and appreciating her talent? we don’t need this kind of drama

username14 lol lando is just tagging along with carlos like they usually do! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE A SHIP NOR A DATING RUMOR!

username15 she’s just probably using him for clout lmfao

username16 i don’t ship it, but if carlos approves, i guess it’s fine

username2 ????? weirdo

username17 she’s been killing it on broadway since she was young. why do people always have to reduce talented women to ‘who they’re dating/involved’ with? do better people, you all are really embarrassing

username18 honestly, i don’t really care who she’s dating. just give me tickets to see her next performance 😭

username3 oh you’re so really for this

username4 why do broadway tickets have to be so expensive 😭😭😭

username5 bank heist plan meeting at my house at 8pm, pull up

username6 time to sell feet pics 😔💔

username19 she’s just gonna use lando for fame just like *coughs* magui *coughs* and besides, she wouldn’t be famous if it weren’t for carlos LMAO what a nepo baby

username7 DON’T YOU EVER COMPARED THAT VILE AND WRETCHED WOMAN TO Y/N! THE BLANTANT DISRESPECT. SHES BEEN SELLING OUT THEATRE BEFORE YOU COULD SPELL BROADWAY. CARLOS MAY BE HER BROTHER BUT HER TALENT GOT WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW. SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON THAT COUGH OF YOURS.

username8 username7 SLAYED, ATE, DEVOURED, LEFT NO CRUMBS

username20 yeah, i don’t really trust her. she’s probs only interested in lando bc of the clout that comes with being an f1 wag

username9 you DISGUST me. clout? clout??? mary, she’s the one with standing ovations every night. meanwhile, you’re hating from your couch. maybe try again.

username21 LANDO IN SPECS 😭😭😭 HES SO DREAMY 🥺🥺🥺

username10 people out here are tearing each other apart and so close in inciting civil war, while you’re out here commenting lando looks good in specs is so REAL 😭😭😭

username11 the vibe i bring to the function:

username22 the whole comsec got me laughing my ass off 😭 y’all are really bursting your nerves over this gossip that is completely baseless 😭😭😭 it’s NORMAL for him to hang out with carlos’ family and show support to carlos’ family member. like what the other commenter said, not everything has to be a dating rumor 😭😭😭

username12 EXACTLY.

username22 these people need to unclench their asshole. like omfg relax, brenda!

username23 if this is true, i don’t like it. lando needs someone who understands his world, not some theatre diva who’s only there for the spotlight

username13 ???? theatre diva ???? she’s literally been called the voice of this generation, a generational talent. she DOESNT need lando or his world, she has her own. stay bitter, though

username24 why are people so mean? she’s insanely talented and gorgeous.

username14 some people are just really fucking opinionated, like they know lando personally and that their opinions would matter. well news flash, lando wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at you nor date you all. fucking weirdos

username25 welp, this isn’t the comment section that i was expecting at all 🧍🏻‍♀️

username26 is this a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans? 😭😭😭😭

username27 vroom vroom kids vs. theatre kids

username28 this post alone had incited a civil war between f1 stans and broadway stans 😭

[capquinn]

I can’t find the inspiration pic at the moment so I apologize! It’s drunk Quinny and he’s in a blue jacket outside with a can in his hand and he’s flexing!!

Bf Quinn taking you out for a date night after he’s been away for a week that ends with you two going to a bar not wanting the night to end and he’s opened up so much with you. So giggly and talkative because he’s so comfortable around you. You two are drunk and waiting for the Uber just messing around laughing and taking silly pics just living in the happy moment. With you he knows he’s just bf Quinn and the stress of being captain disappears when he’s with you

i know just the picture, i've got you babe <3

Quinn had barely stepped through the door when your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him into a hug that neither of you seemed in any rush to end. His bags were forgotten at his feet, the quiet hum of the room filling with his low chuckle as you mumbled something about how long those two weeks felt. He kissed your temple, his hands settling at your waist as though they belonged there, and with a grin, suggested, “let’s go out.”

Dinner had been easy, the kind of date that didn’t need a special occasion to feel special. The restaurant was cozy, the warm glow of candlelight casting soft shadows across his face as you sat across from him. Your hands brushed occasionally on the table, small, fleeting touches that felt natural, like you were both making up for lost time. Beneath the table, his legs pressed gently against yours, the quiet pressure keeping you close, as though even that small distance was too much.

After dinner, the two of you wandered through the wet streets, Quinn’s arm draped over your shoulders, keeping you close as your steps fell in sync. The glow of streetlights shimmered on the pavement, and when a light drizzle began, he guided you toward a nearby bar, its red neon sign flickering faintly. Inside, it was dim and intimate, the kind of place that made time slip away. You sat together in a corner booth, side by side, his knee brushing yours under the table, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. Conversation flowed easily, laughter spilling between you as though the weeks apart had never happened.

Eventually, the two of you stepped back out into the night, the air cool against your cheeks as the muffled hum of music and chatter faded behind you. Quinn’s hand found yours instinctively, like it always did, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as the two of you lingered on the sidewalk. A small smile tugged at his lips as he turned to look at you, the faint glow of the streetlights catching in his eyes.

“You’re glowing,” he said, his voice warm, laced with a teasing edge that didn’t quite hide the softness in his eyes. His thumb brushed tenderly across your cheek, his hand cradling your face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed, the sound light as you leaned into his touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “That’s just the wine,” you said, a playful lilt in your voice.

“Not a chance,” Quinn countered, a grin tugging at his lips as he gently pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders with an ease that spoke of how perfectly you fit there. His touch was steady, grounding, the kind that made everything else fall away. “It’s because I’m back, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “My life is so dull without you here to keep things interesting.”

Quinn smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arm still snug around your shoulders. “Someone’s gotta make you smile,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though his eyes were softer than his tone. “Might as well be me.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up as you reached for his hand resting on your shoulder, taking it in your own. Without thinking, you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles, a simple, familiar gesture, like second nature. 

“Lucky me, huh?” you said, your voice light and teasing, though the warmth in your eyes gave you away.

“Yeah, lucky you,” he quipped, pulling you a little closer. “You’re dating a guy who can make you laugh and destroy you in Mario Kart.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You haven’t beaten me in weeks, and you know it.”

“Excuse me, I was on the road for two weeks,” he shot back, his voice full of mock indignation, though his grin didn’t falter. “Kinda hard to win when I’m stuck with hotel Wi-Fi.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you have that excuse this time.”

Quinn’s chuckle softened, his hand brushing over yours in a way that made the world around you blur for a moment. His tone shifted, quiet and warm.

“I missed this,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered. “Just being with you. Talking and laughing.”

His words melted away the playful edge between you, leaving something softer in its place. You felt the warmth of his voice settle deep in your chest, filling the space his absence had left.

“I missed it too,” you said softly, your teasing gone as you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. 

The past couple of weeks without him had passed like they always did—moments of missing him softened by the rhythm you’d learned to live with. It was part of the deal, part of loving him. But even with the phone calls, the messages, and all the little ways you tried to bridge the distance, it still felt long. Nothing could compare to the warmth of his touch, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, or the way his smile stretched just a little wider when he caught your eye.

Now, being here with him again, under the soft glow of the streetlights, his hand in yours and his laughter still echoing in your ears, you didn’t want this night to end. His fingers traced gentle patterns over your knuckles, and the warmth between you felt like its own kind of magic, wrapping around you in the cool night air. Moments like this, so simple yet so full of him, made every stretch apart worth it.

Quinn was talking about something — a story from the road, maybe, or a ridiculous conversation with Jack — but you weren’t really listening. Instead, your focus drifted, caught entirely on him.

The way the golden light from the street lamps caught in his hair, messy in a way that suited him perfectly. The way his eyes sparkled, his expression animated as he gestured lightly with his free hand. The faint flush on his cheeks from the drinks and the easy happiness of the night. 

You couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t just how handsome he looked — though he absolutely did — it was the comfort he radiated, the way his laugh carried through the night air and made everything else feel distant, unimportant. You missed this. Missed him.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts, his tone half teasing but warm, too.

You blinked, caught, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Quinn glanced down at you, his own smile spreading into something tender, quiet. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held your gaze like he could read every unspoken thought in your head. Then, with a slight shrug and a squeeze of your hand, he turned his attention back to whatever story he’d been telling, picking it up right where he left off, as if you hadn’t just laid your heart bare in three words.

As Quinn’s story trailed on, his voice lilting with the playful exaggeration he used when he wanted to make you laugh, you couldn’t stop watching him. The way his lips curved when he grinned, the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he got too into his own joke — it was all so distinctly him.

The two of you walked past a storefront with a vibrant red trim, its window illuminated under the light of the streetlamp. It cast a warm hue on the sidewalk, making everything feel cosier than it should on a cool night like this. You stopped abruptly, tugging lightly on his hand.

“Wait,” you said, a grin already tugging at your lips.

Quinn turned to you, his expression curious as you gestured to the spot in front of the window. “What’s up?”

“Stand there for a second,” you said, already fishing your phone out of your bag.

Quinn stepped into place without hesitation, his brow lifting slightly as he watched you hold up your phone. He didn’t ask why, didn’t question the sudden request, just followed your lead with the quiet ease that came so naturally to him. His hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket, his posture relaxed as his gaze stayed fixed on you, waiting for whatever came next.

You stepped back, angling your phone to frame him just right, the soft glow of the storefront behind him casting the perfect light. He tilted his head slightly, curious but patient, before breaking the silence.

“What’s this about?” he asked, his voice warm and low, though his lips were already twitching into a smile.

“I want a picture,” you said simply, your grin widening as you gestured for him to stay still.

He let out a soft chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly. But he didn’t argue, didn’t move — just stayed right there, waiting for your next instruction like he couldn’t help but indulge you.

“Say ‘cheese,’” you instructed, tilting your head as you focused the shot, full of affection.

Quinn’s lips quirked into an easy grin, and he gave you his best boyish grin, his dimples peeking through just enough to make your chest feel too full. And as you pressed the shutter, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even realised just how captivating he looked in moments like this.

“Perfect,” you said, biting back a smile as you lowered the phone to look at him. Then, with a playful tilt of your head, you added, “Now… do something fun.”

Quinn blinked, his eyebrows lifting in mild confusion before his smirk slowly returned. “Something fun?” he echoed, his tone teasing.

“Yes, fun,” you said, gesturing dramatically with your hand like a director calling the shots. “Come on, make it a good one.”

He stood there for a moment, staring at you as if debating whether he should go big or bigger, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained laughter. Then, without warning, he squared his shoulders, planted his feet, and threw both arms into an absurdly exaggerated bodybuilder pose. He flexed with mock intensity, his head tilting back as though he were soaking in the roar of an imaginary crowd, and then, to top it off, a boyish giggle bubbled out of him — unrestrained, carefree, and completely contagious.

The sheer ridiculousness of it sent you into hysterics, your laughter spilling out so hard and fast you could barely keep hold of your phone. He held the pose a beat longer, grinning like he’d just nailed the performance of a lifetime, his giggles mixing with yours.

“Oh my God, Quinn!” you gasped, laughter tumbling out of you uncontrollably. 

It was the kind of laugh that stole your breath, leaving your stomach aching and your cheeks flushed from the sheer joy of it. You doubled over slightly, one hand braced on your knee, the other clutching your phone as you struggled to catch even a shred of composure.

Quinn’s own laughter echoed yours as he crossed the space between you in just a few easy strides. 

“You’re completely gone,” he teased, his voice low and warm, but his expression was nothing short of radiant, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered delight.

He slid his arms around your waist, drawing you into him as the last of your laughter spilled out in breathless, silent waves. Your face was flushed from the sheer joy of the moment, your chest still shaking faintly with the remnants of giddiness. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, his eyes shining with an affection so easy and warm it made you dizzy.

His forehead dipped to yours, brushing softly, and the curve of his mouth pressed to yours in the gentlest touch — quick, fleeting, like a secret passed between you. It wasn’t meant to last, and it didn’t; the moment dissolved into fresh laughter, both of you giggling like kids, noses bumping as his hands pressed firmly against the small of your back, keeping you steady even as you leaned into him.

“Ridiculous,” he murmured against your cheek, his voice low and shaking with amusement. But there was something in the way he said it — so full of fondness and unspoken adoration — that it made your chest ache in the best way.

You turned your face into him, your mouth brushing over his in a barely-there motion before deepening, slower and softer, the shift between you easy and seamless. His hands slid upward, fingers tangling gently in your hair, his touch steady and deliberate, holding you as if to tell you he wasn’t going anywhere. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands resting against his shoulders before sliding up, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck as you pulled him closer.

There was no rush, no frantic urgency — just the quiet, natural rhythm of your lips meeting his, the faint hum of his contented sigh brushing against your mouth. His shoulders eased beneath your touch, the tension melting away as though your closeness was the only thing keeping him grounded. And still, even in the tenderness of the moment, the faint trace of a smile lingered at the edges of his mouth, something you could feel as much as you could sense.

You melted into him, the rest of the world fading into the soft glow of the streetlights overhead. The night seemed to hold its breath around you, wrapping the two of you in a stillness that felt sacred, like this moment was meant to exist outside of time. Everything about it — his touch, his warmth, the way his arms held you like you were the only thing that mattered — felt quiet and perfect, a kind of magic that only belonged to you both.

[sheloveschai]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ no longer a jinx

alternate universe! powder x fem! reader

nothing but pure unadulterated fluff slight arcane act III spoilers

act III of arcane made me sick to my stomach arcane writers when i catch you..

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

music bumped loudly against the walls of the building. dancing bodies- lovers, friends, and strangers alike- intertwined with one another as laughter and cheers filled the air. a song, though in another language, communicates its truth of two lovers. despite the hardships of the lives they were given and toxicity within themselves, they cannot be separated.

a lover herself, you, roam the dance floor- a drink clasped tightly between clammy hands as you search for something throughout the crowd- for someone. beginning to gnaw at your lower lip as you pause amongst the partygoers; you stretch your neck to try to get a look over the zaunites.

it is nothing more than a sea of your fellow people adorned in their best suits and dresses- a continuous wave of colors, bright smiles, and shared joy. when balloons suddenly erupt from the open work ceiling above with the push of a lever, cheers boom from the crowd as the people are rained on by an array of colored confetti.

though, no shade of the floating pieces of paper quite compared to the vivid, glistening, baby blue eyes of a girl finally making her approach through the crowd.

it’s as though time itself had somehow slowed down and the existence of others fade out as she came closer. the metallic workings of her boots reflects the colors of the fallen confetti now laid to waste on the floor; her cream colored dress that is trimmed with the most delicate, intricate pattern of lace intertwines between her knobby knees as she walks- it contradicts the worn, but well-loved black leather of her cropped jacket.

but her eyes, adorned with the colorful workings of carefully placed, glittering eyeshadow, practically gleamed in jubilation as she comes to a stop in front of your skittish form.

“thought i’d never find you, space girl” the zaunite, powder, teases. she takes a quick glance at the cup between your hands before swiping it out of your grasp. ignoring your protested ‘hey!’ she downs the rest of what was in the cup and sets it on the counter behind you as her face grimaces.

you practically watch in disbelief as she straightens back out in front of you- wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. “eugh! i do not know how you can drink that stuff” she says, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if to rid it of the flavor.

you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head. “sorry that not all of us want our drinks to just be maraschino cherries” you taunt, as your eyes roam her outfit- a giddy smile gracing your face at a familiar article of clothing. “don’t i know that dress from somewhere?”

the blue-haired girl smiles almost sickeningly sweet as she twists her torso causing the dress to flow gracefully side-to-side. “i may have had to take a detour through your closet” she says with a tilt to her voice, not a true feeling of guilt found anywhere in her body. “can i make it up to you with a dance?”

you’re given no time to respond as she pulls your fiddling hands apart and drags you out to the middle of the dance floor. music still thumps throughout the building and powder takes a few steps back, leaving an empty space between the two of you.

she takes initiative and lets the music control her body. she spins and floats around the floor- twirling like the confetti pieces around her. you watch in awe as she closes her eyes and feels the beat, and almost hypnotized by her movements, you let your body be dragged alongside her.

giggles bubble out of the both your chests as powder grabs one of your hands and twirls herself around with it- her hair bounding around her face. you twist and spin around one another with smiles so big it feels as though your faces may split. she snatches you by the waist and a hand, and spins you around with her- her eyes softening as she watches intently as your head fall back with a laugh.

her dress brushes between your calves as she twirls once more before pushing her back to your chest; both of your hands intertwined with hers as she pulls them to rest above her fast beating heart; gentle thumbs brushing over your knuckles. your laughter begins to dissipate as a wave of surrealness overswepts you two- allowing you to float amongst the riptide surrounding.

powder rests the back of her head on your shoulder and tilts her gaze to look longingly at your face. the look of love as vander like to say. ‘it’s the same way your mother looked at your old man’ he would explain after catching her staring at you doing even the most minut of tasks.

“you know; you’re starting to freak me out with the starin-”

“i love you” she interrupts, her gaze unwavering. “i just- i just thought i should remind you” she explains impassively watching as you finally look at her. a gentle grin spreads across your face; the kind where the apples of your cheeks push up against your lower lids and the points of your canines just barely peaking through- powder’s favorite kind of smile on you.

“i know” you whisper, almost scared to break the quiet moment. “how could i ever forget?”

“and so you better not” she quickly retorts before she pulls away from you, but rather than fully leaving your embrace, she turns around to face you and laces her arms behind your head.

your arms immediately loop around her waist and your bodies are once more pressed against one another. heartbeats becoming one, bodies merging into one another; this is undoubtedly the feeling of fate. of two souls who were meant to find one another. and powder, she too must’ve felt the same with the way she was looking at you. as if you were the one who so gratefully hung the stars and moon themselves. as if you were the one who traveled through the galaxy just to get to her.

you didn’t need any other confirmation of this when she has so sweetly brought a hand up to cradle the side of your face, thumb dragging over a smear of glitter under your eye.

your fingertips drag up her spine over the dress until they disappear under her jacket. it’s a slow intimate move and that’s all she needs before she’s pulling you in, and pressing your parted lips to hers.

an exhale of pleasure, or be it relief, escapes your nose as the two of you practically melt into one another’s embrace- breathing in each others air.

it’s a constant push and pull- tide against the shore as your lips dance across one another. not a battle of dominance of who can overpower the other, but a confession; a whisper of affection between two lovers.

a thank you to the universe for bringing them together- at least in this timeline.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

i’ve never written before and if that’s obvious do not tell me or i will cry 😋

[thef1diary]

omg dirtbag!daniel is so good I can’t stop thinking about it! also your writing style is to die for. Was wondering if there was any more fuel in the tank for more dirtbag!daniel?

thank you, nonnie! I always have more dirtbag!daniel thoughts 🤭 this is what’s been on my mind lately: spit kink, marking + a bit of bratty reader. it turned out longer than I initially intended. drop some thoughts and I’d love to chat

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

Dirtbag!Daniel doesn’t own you. He never asked to, he never pretended to. But that didn’t stop him from treating you like you belonged to him, like your body existed solely for his amusement. Maybe it does, because no matter how filthy, how degrading his words get, you let him. You always come back for more.

Perhaps that’s why you were weaving your way through a packed bar, the dim lights flickering overhead and the bass of the music reverberating through your chest. The air is thick with humidity, the cloying scent of sweat and spilled beer clinging to every surface. It’s the kind of place where anonymity thrives—a place where you could disappear into the crowd if you wanted to.

But you didn’t come to disappear, no, you came because he called, and you were too far gone to resist.

You spot him almost immediately, leaning against the bar like he owned the place. One elbow rested lazily on the counter, a drink in his hand, his fingers curled loosely around the class. His head is tilted slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, but there’s no mistaking the moment he sees you.

A smirk spreads across his face, slow and smug, and you feel the pull of it like a hook in your chest. It’s infuriating, that smirk. It always is. It’s the way he tells you—without words—he’s two steps ahead, already planning how to leave his mark on you, both physically and mentally.

The bar is too crowded for you to think clearly, the press of bodies around you amplifying your nerves. But as you approach him, the rest of the room blurs into the background. All you see is him, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shirt clings to his frame, and the glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Daniel drawled, leaning in to speak to you over the din. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every inch of your body. It’s not fair, the way he makes you feel exposed without even touching you. Like he’s already imagined all the ways he’s going to break you tonight.

You force yourself to shrug, to play it cool. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a clink. “Figured you had more self-respect,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut.

The grin that followed is demeaning, the kind that made your stomach twist in equal parts anger and want. “Guess not,” he added.

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, the sharp edge of his insult cut deep—but not in the way they should. His insult only added to the simmering heat in your stomach, a twisted, shameful thrill curling low in your belly.

You hated how much you craved it—his mocking tone, the way he could peel you apart with a single look. But you won’t admit it. You opened your mouth to snap back, to tell him that you did have self-respect, thank you very much.

“I—”

But Daniel didn’t even give you the chance.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, interrupting without hesitation, his voice dripping with mockery. His fingers brushed against your arm as he leaned in closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. “I wasn’t looking for an argument, sweetheart. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Your breath hitched, and you hated the way his presence overwhelmed you, how his tone left no room for you to gain the upper hand. His smirk widened as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement, like this was all a game to him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t craving something,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And we both know exactly what that is.”

Daniel didn’t even wait for you to respond, his smirk widening before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer. Before you could catch your breath, his mouth was on yours, the kiss filthy and unapologetic. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue parting your lips with ease.

You melted into him, your resistance crumbling the moment he pulled you against his chest. The sheer force of his presence made your knees weak, and you hated how easily you gave in, how much you wanted this.

He almost chuckled into the kiss, the vibrations teasing against your lips, but he didn’t pull away. No, Daniel kissed you like he had something to prove, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue hot and insistent. It was consuming, like he wanted to claim every part of you here and now, and he didn’t give a damn who saw it.

You dimly registered the press of bodies around you, the muffled gasps and sidelong glances from strangers who couldn’t help but notice the spectacle he was making of you. But Daniel didn’t care, not even a little. If anything, the idea of an audience seemed to spur him on, his hand gripping your hip possessively, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead brushing against yours as he smirked down at you, his breath fanning over your lips. His gaze was molten, full of arrogance and something darker, something that made your stomach flip.

“See? You’re too easy,” he muttered, his tone low and mocking, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he loved every second of it. His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, smearing the remnants of his own claim on you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny.

Daniel looked back, the smirk on his face growing as he signaled the bartender with two fingers. “Whiskey for me,” he said, his tone relaxed, almost bored, before his gaze slid back to you. “And for her…” He looked you up and down like he was appraising you, his lip curling slightly. “Something sweet. She needs it.”

You bristled at the condescension in his tone, but the bartender was already nodding, turning to make the drinks. Daniel’s attention shifted back to you, and he leaned his hip against the bar, his stance casual but his gaze piercing.

The drinks arrived moments later, and he slid it toward you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it over. “Go on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, the words laced with challenge. “Show me just how good you are at taking what I give you.”

Your fingers closed around the glass, but your grip faltered as his words sank in, their double meaning curling around your chest and tightening like a vice.

“I don’t take orders from you, Daniel,” you managed to bite out. Daniel raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “don’t you?”

His eyes dropped to the drink in your hand, then back to your face, challenging you. “C’mon, I know you can be good for me.”

Your grip tightened around the glass as you raised it to your lips, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away. Daniel’s gaze stayed fixed on you, intense and unwavering, his smirk deepening as if he could feel the fire burning under your skin.

The drink was just as he’d ordered—sweet and cloying, the kind of thing that lingered too long on your tongue. His eyes flickered to your throat as you tipped the glass back, watching the subtle motion of you finishing the drink. The heat in his gaze made your skin prickle, and your breath hitched as you placed the empty glass on the bar with deliberate finality.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice like silk, but there was a dangerous edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without another word, he picked up his whiskey and downed it in a single smooth motion, the glass hitting the bar with a quiet clink. His hand found yours before you could react, his fingers firm but not rough as he tugged you from the bar.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You followed as he guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. He maneuvered you effortlessly, weaving through the bodies pressed close together until you reached a dark corner of the bar. The music was quieter here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that seemed to swallow you both whole.

Daniel turned to face you, his smirk growing as he backed you up against a wall. His eyes raked over you, dark and predatory, and for a moment, you felt like a cornered animal under his unrelenting gaze.

“Drop the act,” he murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it over the muffled thrum of the music. “We both know why you’re here.”

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” His eyes dragged over you, taking in every detail—the way your dress clung to your frame, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His gaze lingered, unapologetic and ravenous, and you felt the heat of it searing into you. “Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and cutting. “All dolled up, hoping I’d notice. Hoping I’d take one look at you and decide to ruin you.”

Your breath caught as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing, like he could see right through you

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he went on, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “The second I called, you came running, didn’t you? Like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Danny…” you murmured, the plea barely audible, your voice trembling under the weight of his words. Your cheeks burned, humiliation mingling with the thrill that coursed through you, leaving you lightheaded.

He simply chuckled, watching you squirm in place as he had you exactly where he wanted you. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing down just enough to part your lips. “Ah, ah,” he chided, his voice a mockery of sweetness. “Don’t get shy on me now. You wanted this. You wanted me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, desperately, the act slipping away as soon as he called you his slut—which was exactly what you were, what you’d always be for him.

“There it is,” he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His smirk widened, his thumb tracing the edge of your lip before dragging it down your chin, a slow, deliberate motion that made you shiver. “I can see it, you know. The way you’re squirming, the way your eyes keep flicking to my mouth like you’re imagining all the filthy things I could do to you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you, tightening the coil of tension low in your belly.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dipping even lower, the edge of his accent sharpening his words. “Say you came here for me. Say you came here to let me ruin you.”

Your lips parted, the heat of his gaze pulling the words from you before you could stop them. “I did,” you whispered, voice trembling as your cheeks burned under his scrutiny. “I came here for you. I want you to ruin me.”

His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “That’s my obedient little slut,” he murmured, a grin breaking out on his face.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick further—his kiss earlier already having ruined it—leaving a streak of red across your skin. His grin widened as his eyes followed the smear. “Such a pretty mess already. Let’s make it worse.”

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Stick out your tongue.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you obeyed, parting your lips and letting your tongue peek out, feeling utterly exposed under his watchful, predatory stare.

He tilted his head, letting a slow stream of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you held still, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Close,” he instructed, and you did, your lips sealing around the weight of his demand.

“Swallow,” he said next, his voice sharp and deliberate, the edge of his accent making it sound even filthier.

You swallowed, the act leaving a warmth in your belly that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. His smirk grew, impossibly smug, as his thumb returned to your jaw, tilting your face further toward him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “You take orders so well, don’t you? Makes me wonder what else that filthy mouth of yours is good for.”

You whimpered under the weight of his words, your knees threatening to give out as his free hand slid down to your shoulder, then lower, fingers toying with the strap of your dress. He tugged it down slightly, just enough to bare your skin to him—revealing a few more marks he left behind a couple days ago.

“Mine,” he muttered under his breath, leaning in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, biting down gently, then harder, until you gasped. He pulled back to admire the mark blooming on your skin—a deep red imprint of his teeth.

“You look so much better when you’re marked up,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Everyone who sees these will know exactly who you belong to.”

His hand wandered back up, fingers brushing the column of your throat before tightening just enough to send a wave of heat coursing through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch. “Being claimed, being ruined. You’ve been craving this all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned into his touch. “Please, Danny. I want more.”

His grin turned almost cruel as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Oh, you’ll get more, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Perhaps you did belong to him, but the realization wasn’t as terrifying as you’d expected. In fact, it felt strangely natural, even comforting, as you found yourself agreeing with him without hesitation. Not that you ever had the strength to resist him in the first place. You were already a goner from the first time he degraded you like no other.

taglist: @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @evasmlp @mycenterfold @uhhvictoria @kaorisakamotofan @alice-went-away @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lilorose25

[sphvm]

a whole new world — sophia laforteza

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

tags: hate sex, fingering, semi-public sex, sophia’s mean, lil bit of praise, begging

masterlist

MEN AND MINORS DNI

the lights of the school hallways flickered above, students chattering excitedly about the upcoming auditions for aladdin. you had waited weeks for this moment, rehearsing your lines and brushing up on your vocal exercises. this time, you were determined to get the lead role of jasmine, and nothing would stand in your way. well, almost nothing.

sophia was the star of the school’s drama club. everyone knew it. with her outgoing personality and striking voice, she was practically born for the spotlight. last year's musical saw her take on the leading role as rapunzel in tangled, a performance that earned her applause and admiration from both students and teachers. it was basically undeniable that she would get the lead role again, but you believed in yourself and refused to let her reputation intimidate you.

after school, sophia had asked you to meet her in the auditorium. her tone had been sweet, almost rehearsed, as though she were putting on another performance. you couldn’t ignore the insinuation behind her invitation, you knew she wanted to size you up, to remind you of her status before the auditions even began. as the heavy double doors swung open, the dim light of the empty auditorium enveloped you, amplifying the anticipation in your chest.

she was already there, standing center stage with an elegance that was unmistakably her own. "hey! you made it," she said, flashing a bright smile, but there was something calculating in her eyes.

"yeah, i wouldn't miss it," you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm.

but the small talk quickly faded into tension. "so... i heard you’re really going for jasmine this year. brave choice," she said, tilting her head slightly, her smile turning sly.

you could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you. "i think i have a chance. i can sing the part, and i’m ready to take on the challenge."

she chuckled lightly, but it sounded more like a sharp intake of breath. "you know, it’s cute that you think you can steal the spotlight. it’s just—you’ve seen the past performances, right? i mean, come on," sophia said, her voice turning cold, a tinge of annoyance creeping in.

"and? am i supposed to just step aside because you’re the star?" you shot back, feeling brave. you’d practiced long enough, and you weren’t about to back down now.

"you don’t get it. i’m always the lead. that’s how this works," she argued, stepping closer, her confidence radiating like a spotlight beneath the stage lights.

"and that’s exactly why i’m going to fight you for it," you replied, meeting her gaze. the tension swirled around you, a blend of frustration and determination.

she took a step closer, looking down at you, making you feel a little smaller. “fight me for it? that’s a joke.”

strangely exhilarated by the confrontation, you felt yourself become more aggressive, your eyes narrowing as you pushed back. "i’m not scared of stealing it from you just because you’ve a brat that always gets your way."

“acting like you’d ever be better than me, all you are is a little girl with dreams that will never come true, wake up!”

in a rush of anger, you slapped her across the cheek. the sound echoed sharply through the empty auditorium. sophia’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then a fierceness took hold of her features. her eyebrows furrowed and an ugly scowl plastered her face.

without a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward, closing the distance between you. she grabbed you tightly, shoving you against the walls of the stage. she crashed her lips against yours, a shocking mixture of anger and something deeper igniting between you.

you kissed her back instinctively, your heart pounding, all that existed was a mix of rivalry and something undefinable. she gripped your waist harder, her lips moving at a fast pace you couldn’t keep up with. you moaned into her mouth as your hands went up to tangle themselves in her hair. she tasted like strawberries.

she pulled away and when you opened your eyes, she looked even angrier than before. “you just fucking hit me.” your words were stuck in your throat, all you could do was stare wide eyed, your gaze moving from her lips to her eyes.

“god you’re a whore.” a low whimper escaped your throat.

her lips crashing against yours once again. her hands moved to your hair, pulling at the roots as she deepened the kiss. you moaned, your hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer to you. she ground her hips against yours, her fingers dropping to your waist, working to unzip your pants. you gasp as she slipped a hand inside, her fingers sliding up your slit.

"you’re so fucking wet," she whispered in your ear, her fingers moving in slow circles around your clit. you whimpered in her ear, your hips bucking against her hand. "do you like that, baby?" she asked, her voice low. “you like that i’m doing this?”

you nodded, unable to speak. she smirked, her fingers moving faster. "tell me you want it," she demanded, her fingers pressing harder against your clit.

"i-i want it," you breathed, your hips moving faster against her hand.

"beg me for it," she said, her fingers moving even faster.

"please, sophia, please.”

her lips found your neck as she pressed open mouthed kisses along it. “you won’t get the lead baby, so why don’t you show me what other noises that pretty voice can make?”

your hips moved frantically against her hand, as she slowed her ministrations down to a teasing pace.

"please," you begged brokenly, your body trembling, feeling the sweat drop down your back. "sophia..."

she chuckled darkly, her fingers stilled. "please what?" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I want to hear it from that pretty mouth."

"please fuck me," you whimpered, your hands fisting in her hair. "please, just do it. fuck me, use me." she tsked, her fingers starting a slow circle. “i-i won’t audition for the—fuck!” her fingers suddenly entered your core, crying out at the sudden impact, your nails digging crescents into her shoulders as she impaled you on her fingers.

"fuck, you're fucking tight," she cursed, moving with a desperate frenzy. "you like that? want it rough?"

your only response was a muffled cry, your face buried in the crook of her neck. she took your mouth in a searing kiss, all thought fleeing as the sensations overtook you. all that remained was the two of you, your bodies slick with a sheen of sweat.

"god, yes..." you breathed against her lips, your words punctuated by moans of pleasure. "harder. fuck me harder..."

“you don’t make the decisions here.” she spoke, recapturing your lips, but nonetheless she obliged. her fingers slammed inside you with a newfound aggression. the sound of your slick was echoing in the otherwise silent room. it was just the two of you, but the thought that anyone could come in and find her fucking you dumb was exhilarating

there was only the slap of her fingers thrusting into you, the sound of your shared panting, and the taste of sweat on your tongue. you could feel your stomach tightening. and focusing on the way her tongue was sliding against yours wasn’t helping.

"please," you gasped out, your voice hoarse and raw. "please, don't stop..."

her lips left your mouth, her eyes were lidded and it felt like she was staring straight into your soul. “come for me, be as loud as you can. be my good girl, right?” she moved impossibly faster, adding a third finger and her thumb finding your clit. “you keep your eyes on me while you come,” she rubbed faster and faster circles until your body tensed and time stopped. waves and waves of pleasure drowned your body as you slumped against the wall. her fingers were still inside you as you finally came to.

she smiled sickenly sweet at you. “good girl.” she rubbed your cheek with her spare hand and kissed you, breaking apart with a click. “good luck trying to sing now.”

she pulled her hand away, licking the three fingers that were covered in your come, dripping down her wrist. you tried to argue back but found you couldn’t. you lost your voice.

[harryssyndrome]

Kiwi baby! | h.s 🥝

Summery: Harry’s wife surprises him during Kiwi with the best news ever.

Word count: 3.2k || Masterlist 🍉🍓❤️

The gif and the ai image are both mine! Don’t you dare steal it! I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE EITHER OF THEM OR STEAL MY WORK!!!

On a kind note, I hope you enjoy reading!!! I love this one-shot sm <333 I couldn’t wait to write it the whole night ever since I got the idea. This is probably my most favorite piece of work ever. I guess I’ll make this a part of ‘Our Little World: Documentary series’. REQUEST ARE OPEN! 🌊

Posted on: November 24th, 2024. (IST)

Tag-list: @angeldavis777 @fruity-harry || TAGLIST OPEN 💌

The evening sky above the stadium was painted in deep shades of purple, and the crowd beneath it surged with energy, every soul gathered to see him perform. Harry Styles was in his element, bathed in bright lights, his smile as wide as the stage itself, his voice carrying through the open air. The music was loud, vibrant, and electric—Kiwi blasting through the speakers as Harry moved across the stage, every step laced with the confidence and excitement that only live performances could stir.

His outfit tonight was nothing short of breathtaking—a red and black Gucci harlequin-patterned suit that shimmered under the lights, accentuating his every movement. The slickness of his hair, now a little longer than usual, fell just enough to brush his forehead as he swung his body to the rhythm of the song. Fans were ecstatic, their voices harmonizing with his in perfect unity, shouting the words to Kiwi as if their very existence depended on it.

The crowd threw water at him, a playful and typical reaction to the intense heat of the show. Harry, ever the entertainer, caught one of the bottles and used it to douse them back with a mischievous grin. The energy was alive in a way only concerts could make him feel. He laughed along with his fans, feeling that familiar thrill that had kept him addicted to this life—the adoration of strangers, the pulse of the music, and the sheer joy of performing.

But amidst the buzz of lights, the sweat dripping from his skin, and the joy in the air, there was a quiet thought that kept tugging at him. YN. His wife. She wasn’t in the VIP stand like usual. He could always rely on her to be there, her smile always radiating at him from the crowd, her presence a constant comfort. But tonight, the spot where she always stood was empty. The concern he tried to shake off kept creeping into his mind, distracting him in the back of his head, even as his heart continued to race with excitement from the show.

He couldn’t help but glance over to the section where she usually sat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, knowing it would soothe the small, gnawing worry he felt. But the space remained empty.

His foot tapped the beat of the song beneath him, trying to focus on the crowd once more. He tossed the water bottle at the fans, his fingers brushing the cold plastic. The adrenaline kept him high, kept him in the moment, but his gaze drifted again.

Where was she?

YN had been a little quieter than usual in the past few days. He hadn’t pushed for any answers, but now he found himself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Maybe she just wanted to have a quiet night in. Still, the thought of not seeing her there tonight gnawed at him.

His voice still rang out with the words of the song, but his mind was divided between the stage and the empty stand. He kept looking—one eye on the crowd, the other scanning for her. And just as his next verse was coming up, he saw it.

There she was.

Right in the front row—so close to the barricade, she was almost on the stage.

His breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t in the VIP section. No, she was right there. In the heart of the crowd. The waves of people parted like the Red Sea for her, and there she stood—holding a sign. Her figure illuminated by the stage lights, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a look of pure joy and love in her eyes.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the music, the fans, the lights—all of it was distant. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her. The sign she held was simple, but to him, it was everything.

“I’m having your baby” it read, scrawled across a bright poster board in bold, handwritten letters.

He froze. His heart nearly stopped.

She’s pregnant.

He blinked, thinking he must be imagining it, but no—she was smiling at him now, holding up the sign for him to see, her eyes locked on his. There was no mistaking it. YN—his wife—was carrying their baby.

Harry’s pulse raced as the flood of emotions hit him. His heart thudded against his chest like it wanted to burst free. The happiness, the disbelief, the excitement—it all rushed through him like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

He had wanted this. He had dreamed of this. Of being a father. Of having a child with YN. They had talked about it before, casually, in quiet moments after dinner, while walking through the park, in bed at night. But it had never been a “right now” kind of conversation. They had agreed that when it happened, it happened. And now… it had happened.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and his throat tightened. The emotions, overwhelming and beautiful, blurred his vision, but all he could do was stand there on the stage, dumbstruck by the sight of his wife, her belly now holding the future they had always dreamed of.

In a rush of pure joy, Harry stumbled forward, intent on reaching her, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her. But as he took a step toward her, he didn’t see the puddle of water gathering at the edge of the stage, a result of the fans tossing their bottles earlier.

And then, it happened.

His foot slipped.

There was a split second of disbelief before Harry lost his footing completely, crashing down to the stage in an ungraceful heap. The crowd gasped collectively, their moment of joy paused in shock. But Harry, ever the professional, couldn’t help but laugh at himself. His laughter echoed through the microphone as he quickly scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, still chuckling as he shook off the fall. The fans laughed along with him, the tension breaking as they cheered even louder, impressed by his quick recovery. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his balance and composure. He grabbed the microphone again, still laughing, and gave the crowd a playful wink.

“You okay, Harry?” someone from the crew called out, teasing him from the side.

“Yeah, I’m good! Just a little slippery, that’s all!” Harry replied, still grinning.

His gaze immediately returned to YN. She was still standing at the barricade, her sign still held high, her face alight with joy, her smile as radiant as the sun. It was in that moment that Harry realized he couldn’t wait any longer. The song was still playing behind him, the familiar rhythm pulsing through his body, but he couldn’t focus on the lyrics anymore. Not with the overwhelming emotions flooding his heart.

He took a step forward, slowly walking toward the edge of the stage, his eyes still locked on YN, who was holding his gaze with the same intensity. With each step, his heart pounded harder in his chest.

And before he even knew it, his knees buckled beneath him, and Harry collapsed to the stage once more, but this time, it was with pure emotion.

He covered his face with his hands, unable to contain the tears that had begun to fall freely down his cheeks. After a few moments, Harry wiped his eyes, clearing the tears away as he stood up once more. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke into the mic, his words trembling with happiness:

“My wife is having my baby!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “It’s all my business!”

The crowd erupted in pure, ecstatic noise, the roar of the fans filling the stadium as Harry remained on his knees, the overwhelming weight of the moment too much to bear. His chest was heaving, his body shaking as the reality of the news consumed him.

“Is that real?” a fan shouted.

“Yes, it’s real!” Harry replied, laughing through his tears. “I’m going to be a dad! A dad!” He repeated the words as if he needed to hear them again, the joy overwhelming every part of him.

The fans roared in approval, the noise a chaotic symphony of celebration. But Harry didn’t care about any of that now. He didn’t care about the performance or the crowd or the cameras recording every moment. All he could think about was YN.

His mind was consumed by thoughts of the future—the life they would build together, the family they would raise. He quickly stood to his feet, wiping his eyes, and glanced once more at YN.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Harry dropped the mic to the stage and sprinted toward the barricade, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Harry could feel the heat of the stage lights burning against his skin, but they didn’t matter. The noise of the crowd was deafening, but it was like a distant hum. His heart was the loudest thing he could hear, thrumming in his chest, pumping through his veins with an almost frantic rhythm. His legs carried him toward YN like they had a mind of their own. He was driven by a force he couldn’t describe, propelled by the overwhelming joy of the moment.

Fans parted for him as he made his way to the front of the stage, their cheers rising to a fever pitch as they realized what was happening. Harry didn’t hear their excitement—he only heard the steady beat of his heart, louder now than the music, than anything else in the world.

YN. His wife. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

As he approached the barricades, YN’s smile never wavered. She was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes shining with excitement, her hand placed lovingly over her flat belly. As soon as Harry reached her, he lifted her into his arms, spinning her around in a joyous embrace, laughing like a child. The crowd cheered even louder, their love for Harry and YN growing with every passing second.

She had always known that he wanted this more than anything. They both had. But now it was real. She was carrying their baby, and everything about their lives was about to change.

“YNN…” Harry’s voice caught in his throat as he reached her. He placed her back on the ground, eyes never leaving hers. She was glowing—absolutely radiant in the soft light of the stage, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his arms reached out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The crowd cheered louder, but Harry only had eyes for YN, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

“I love you,” Harry whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

YN pulled back slightly to look at him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under her fingers. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her smile wide and full of joy, matching his own. “I know. I can’t believe it either,” she whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “I wanted to tell you in the cutest way possible, but you’ve already made it the most unforgettable moment of my life.”

Harry’s breath caught again, a lump forming in his throat as he looked down at her belly, still so small but already holding the life they had created together. His hands rested gently on her sides as he crouched down slightly, his eyes never leaving her. He placed his lips softly on her stomach, his kiss a promise—a vow. The fans around them cheered again, but this time, it was just background noise to Harry.

“I’m going to be the best dad for you,” Harry muttered against her belly, his voice filled with awe. “I promise.”

YN’s fingers threaded through his hair as she smiled down at him, her heart swelling with love. “I know you will be. I’ve always known,” she whispered, her voice full of faith and affection.

“You’re going to be the best dad our baby could ever ask for.”

As Harry pulled back from the kiss, he stood to his full height and stared at YN, his hands still resting on her waist, his expression filled with wonder. His lips curled into a grin, and he couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before meeting her eyes once more.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words didn’t fully make sense to him yet. But the more he said them, the more real it became. “You and me. We’re going to have a little baby.”

YN’s eyes sparkled, the tears now freely falling down her cheeks. She looked at him with a mix of love, gratitude, and joy. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing gently against the stubble on his jaw. “It’s happening, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s happening.”

Harry smiled wider, and without thinking, he reached down, cupping her face with both hands. He kissed her then—slow, gentle, tender—a kiss that held all of his joy, his love, his gratitude, his hope for their future. This was more than a kiss; it was a promise, a symbol of everything they were about to become. Harry pulled away slowly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.

“I can’t wait,” Harry murmured, his lips still grazing hers as he spoke. “I can’t wait to hold our baby. To be there for you. For everything.”

The love in his voice was enough to make YN’s heart swell to bursting. He kissed her again, softer this time, and then looked back at the crowd.

Harry wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around again as he laughed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

YN laughed, her fingers threading through his damp curls. “I love you too. Always.”

Harry set her down gently, his hands never leaving her as he looked into her eyes. “You’re my everything, YNN. You and this baby—you’re everything.”

Tears slid down YN’s cheeks, and she nodded, her heart full. “And you’re ours.”

Harry dropped to his knees once more, pressing his lips to her stomach in a gesture so tender it made YN’s breath catch.

“Thank you for making my life so much beautiful,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll love this baby with everything I’ve got. And I’ll love you even more.”

YN’s hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers squeezing gently. “You already are, Harry.”

The evening continued around them, but for Harry and YN, time seemed to slow. The music had become a distant hum, the chatter of the fans a soft murmur in the background. All that mattered was each other.

As they stood at the barricades, Harry reached up to take YN’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss to her lips, soft and slow, as if savoring every moment, every sensation. His heart felt full to bursting. He had everything he had ever wanted—YN, their love, and now, the promise of their baby.

He felt as if his entire life had led up to this point—this single, beautiful moment. The rush of emotions from earlier hadn’t yet subsided, but now there was a calmness in him, a peace. He smiled as he looked down at YN’s hand in his, then back into her eyes.

“I know we’ve been through so much already,” Harry said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “But I feel like the best part of our journey is just beginning.”

YN nodded, her smile soft and full of love. “I feel the same way.”

Harry squeezed her hand once more, then stepped back slightly, turning his attention back to the crowd. “I’m going to be a dad,” he said out loud, his voice full of awe and happiness. He turned to face the audience, the microphone still lying on the stage. “Everyone, this is the best moment of my life,” he said, his voice carrying the emotion of the words. “My wife, YN, is having my baby.”

The moment was surreal. The fans were still screaming, the cameras still rolling, but none of it mattered. For Harry, nothing would ever top this moment. It wasn’t just another performance or another stage—it was the night his greatest dream began to come true.

As they stood there together, the crowd began to chant, “Baby Styles! Baby Styles!”

Harry threw his head back in laughter, turning to wave at the audience. “You lot are mad!” he called out, but his face said it all—he was over the moon.

The crowd continued on cheering wildly, but Harry’s focus was on the woman in front of him. She was glowing, every inch of her radiating love and joy, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive.

He leaned in to kiss her once more, this time a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. He felt everything he had ever hoped for in that kiss—his future, his family, and the love of his life, all wrapped up in one perfect moment.

As the kiss ended, he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” YN whispered back.

They stood there for a moment longer, the world around them continuing on, but nothing mattered now but each other, and the new life they were about to bring into the world. Together.

The fans’ cheers faded into the background as Harry held YN’s hand tightly, the two of them standing side by side, facing the future with all the love and hope that their hearts could hold.

Harry stood up and kissed her again, his heart still racing, his mind still in a daze, but in the best way possible. His dream of being a dad was coming true, and no matter what came next, he knew he had everything he ever needed right here, in this moment. He knew one thing for sure: their love was only just beginning

And with that, Harry Styles was no longer just a rock star on stage—he was going to be a dad, and that was the greatest role he’d ever play.

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[moomine]

backwash III | daisuke

author's note: thank you to literally everyone who’s reading this! you guys are so so sweet and i love you all <3 if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) Sleep is increasingly hard to find on the Tulpar. At night the reader spends her time in the cockpit, thinking about home. When she feels the whim to sleep, she ventures back to the sleeping quarters, only to bump into Daisuke. Instead, she joins him for a midnight snack and some conversation in the lounge.

word count: 2,372

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Dave Bixby - "Morning Sun"

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EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 034—

There was this movie I watched once when I was a kid, about a little girl who falls from the sky. Although I can’t remember the title of it now. I do remember that she was a part of another world, a part of something bigger. She was important. I don’t think you have us write these to talk about movies, do you? I’m sure you’d rather hear about the operations on board, or the technical difficulties, or if there’s been any damage to the cargo. You know, the “important stuff”.  Everything is running smoothly so far. Is that good?

I want to be a part of something bigger one day. Hopefully this experience will help me. I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DAY THIRTY-THREE—

Pony Express allowed a maximum of five hours of sleep to their employees on haul. During those five hours, the Tulpar was shadowed by a veil of utter stillness. A silence not too dissimilar to that of a library, or that painful pause in awkward conversation. It was too quiet, which led you to stare at the ceiling until the fatigue of work or boredom got the better of you. Even when you could fall asleep, it was far from restful. Over the past month you had gotten the worst sleep of your entire life thus far. Worse than when you lived in those co-ed dorms with unruly neighbors and argumentative hallways. Worse than those nights thunder cracked down from the darkened sky and you clutched stuffed animals in your chubby, child hands. After a certain point, you had given up on finding sleep at all.

The computer screens within the cockpit would beep on occasion, the sound barely audible over the soft plucking of guitar strings in your headphones. The coords of some old folk song filled your ears instead. You sat in the captain's chair, curling in on yourself with your knees to your chest and arms around your person. Your head snuggled into the dip in your legs, cheek pressed your knee cap as you stared at the sea of glowing green.

Curly had given you permission not too long ago to sit in the cockpit at night. Within the first month of your apprenticeship, you had grown on him quite a bit. The captain had always been a kindhearted person. He was a people pleaser to his core, a man simply happy to help. Curly saw a lot of himself in you, and he knew what it was like to feel, well, restless.

“As long as you promise not to touch anything,” he had said, prefacing his next words with a comforting smile, “you have my permission to use your clearance to the cockpit at night. But if word gets to the higher ups, they’ll have my head, understood? We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Normally, you tried to pay attention to how long you had been sitting there, keeping track of each song that played to count the minutes as they passed, but tonight you hadn’t. With a sigh, you reluctantly stood from Curly’s chair, deciding to give sleep another try. You slipped your Walkman into the pocket of your pajama pants and left the cockpit. Each step you took was quiet, almost imperceivable, as you walked down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. You didn’t want to disturb the others, although you had a feeling nobody else was sleeping all that well either. The rusted, trusty pipes groaned as you passed, their settling moans somehow bypassing the volume of your music. It made you feel uneasy. You reached into your pocket and turned the music up a bit in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Rounding the corner, you finally reached the door to the sleeping quarters. Just as you reached for the door handle, it slid open seemingly on its own, causing you to flinch. Standing there—holding a flashlight in one hand and with the other placed against his chest—was Daisuke, looking far more caught off guard than you felt. You winced as he shined the light directly into your eyes.

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You straight up scared the hell out of me. What are you doing walking around in the dark?” Daisuke adjusted his aim and shot the beam at the ceiling instead, creating enough light for the two of you to see each other a little better.

With a soft laugh, you pulled your headphones from your ears, allowing them to hang around the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You too?” Daisuke questioned.

“I’m surprised anyone can sleep on this thing,” you whispered. “Where are you going?”

His eyes dropped in embarrassment as he used his free hand to rub nervous circles against the side of his neck. “I’m… I’m grabbing a snack from the lounge. You wanna come?”

“Yeah, if you want me to.” You didn’t hesitate. Anything sounded better than tossing and turning. You stepped to the side, permitting him enough space to walk out of the doorway then alongside you.

Daisuke breathed a chuckle at your response. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Then I guess I’m coming,” you said in a hushed, playful tone.

Daisuke looked at you with a smile and nodded, shining his flashlight down the hall as the two of you began to walk in silence. In the quiet of the hall, the door to the lounge seemed to open with a deafening wheeze. Deep, royal blue illuminated the large room. The night-time window screen displayed a starry sky with wisp-like clouds, bathing the room with an otherworldly glow. It reminded you of going to the aquarium as a kid, surrounded by water and the smell of saltwater. You half expected to look up and see sharks and fish swimming overhead, but you knew all there would be was a dull, blank ceiling and slumbering lights.

Daisuke stuck his head through the doorway, peeking to see if anyone was already inside. When he determined that the coast was clear—although it wouldn’t have mattered anyway considering the noise of the door, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

“Hell yeah! The place is ours,” Daisuke celebrated, speaking louder once the door closed behind you two. He walked toward the vending machines with long, intentional strides. You tread on his heels, gaze fixed on him in amusement as he looked over the different options. 

You pulled your Walkman from your pocket, then leaned against the bar, palms pressed to the countertop as you pushed yourself up, and took a seat on the cool, brown laminate. “Is there normally someone else here?”

“Hmm?” He barely heard you, too fixated on what he was going to eat. As he processed what you had said, the words loading behind his eyes in a turning spiral, he ordered a pack of freeze-dried fruit and tore into the package. “Oh, nah. Not usually. I mean, I’ve seen Anya in here once or twice, but she’s always coming from medical bay. Getting coffee for those late nights, I guess.”

“She works too much,” you noted. “I wish she wouldn’t push herself like that.”

“You two seem close.” Daisuke approached, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah. You could say that.” A tender smile graced your lips at the thought of you and Anya being close.

There was a pause, a brief lull in the otherwise newborn conversation. A series of crunches sounded from your right where Daisuke stood as he popped piece after piece into his mouth. You glanced over at him, the tenderness of your smile warping into something more entertained. He glanced over at you in turn, his mouth full of apple as he mustered a lopsided smile.

“Hey, it’s your Walkman,” he exclaimed after a swallow, pointing at the dated tech in your lap. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Oh,” you peeped with a suddenly flustered look on your face. “It’s a mix my mom made for me. Just a bunch of old folk stuff she used to play for me when I was little.”

“Can I listen?” he asked, shoving another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“S-Sure, yeah.” You unplugged your headphones and played the tape. It crackled, the old speaker not what it used to be. Or what it ever was, truthfully.

Maybe the quality of the sound would have bothered somebody else, but not Daisuke. As your small corner of the lounge filled with the sound of guitar—the stories of rural towns, first loves, and early mornings, Daisuke set his snack on the counter and listened intently. It was far from what he’d normally like, but something about listening to it here, with you made it sound perfect.

“It’s funny, actually. I never used to like this stuff back on Earth, but lately this is the only one I want to listen to,” you said over the music.

“You must really miss her.” Daisuke inched closer, standing less than a foot away from you as he leaned against the counter. His gaze flickered up to your face, quietly admiring the curves and arches of your profile. Under the blue light of the night time window screen, any blemish or imperfection on your face seemed to vanish. Not that he had ever noticed any imperfections on you. Matter of fact, for some reason, he couldn’t imagine seeing any part of you as imperfect. Even if he tried. There was a somber look in your expression as he spoke, one that made his stomach twist in knots.

“So much. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from home.” Your voice was just above a whisper now. You felt your eyes begin to burn, the familiar sensation of tears welling in the corners as you tried to suppress the ebbing flow. With the shake of your head, you let out a quick laugh, feeling the tension gradually lifted from your shoulders. “What kind of music do you like?”

Daisuke didn’t blink or care about the change in discussion. He didn’t care about what the two of you talked about, and he wasn’t going to pry either. He knew that you would open when you felt comfortable enough to do so, and he was happy to wait however long that would take.

“A bit of everything, I guess. It kinda pisses me off when people say that and, like, they don’t actually mean it.” He slid his snack off of the bar and extended it to you, shaking it as the pieces inside rattled against each other. “I have a pretty impressive vinyl collection back home. Got everything from Etta James to Duster. You should see it sometime.”

Weakly, you smiled and took a piece of the fruit from the package. “Maybe when all of this is said and done. After the haul?”

“I’d love that,” Daisuke responded quickly, eyes trailing over your face. After another moment of silence, a brief break in conversation, he shifted on his heels and looked away. “So, you uh… you got anyone waiting for you back home? Y’know, like friends? A boyfriend? Or uh, a girlfriend? If you, like, swing that way or whatever. Which would be totally cool, obviously. I’ve got a bunch of gay friends-”

“Daisuke,” you said with a hint of that ever familiar amusement in your voice. “Relax, okay?”

He looked back at you and nodded. “Right, yeah… So, do you?”

“Friends? Yeah, a bunch. I miss them too. But a partner, not so much…” You felt your cheeks light up, a soft pink flush dusting the peaks of your cheekbones and the ridge of your nose.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he responded, bumping shoulders with you and trying not to sound too happy about your response. “Me neither. I mean, like I said, I’ve got loads of friends. Just not the whole girlfriend boyfriend thing.”

“Look at us,” you mused. “One in the same.”

“Yup, one in the same.” Daisuke glanced back at you hopefully, then looked away. He downed the rest of his dried fruit and crumpled up the package, tossing it in the direction of a nearby trashcan and missing by a couple feet. He winced, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You gonna go get that?” you asked jokingly, pushed yourself from the countertop, and landed on your feet, securely tucking your Walkman back into your pocket as the music stopped.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the trash before picking it up and disposing of it properly. “It’s on the way out anyway. In fact, I meant to do that.”

You trailed after him, following close behind as the two of you approached the exit to the lounge. “Totally,” you teased, smiling up at him.

Yet again, the door slid open with that deafening screech as Daisuke and you left the lounge. Together, you walked back to the sleeping quarters. At the door, Daisuke turned to you and stopped. His brown eyes trailed over your features once more in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the flashlight in his hands. Even in the blackness of the hallway, his smile was bright. His gap-toothed grin seemed almost bright enough to flood the entire hallway with light.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he spoke quietly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you responded.

Daisuke opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words he wanted to say seemed caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded and displayed that same smile. Your brows furrowed questioningly, an expression that made his heart skip a bit. Before you could say anything, he opened the door to the sleeping quarters and ushered you inside.

“Goodnight, [Name]. See ya in the morning.” He bit his lip, walking backward toward his room and nearly stumbling when he reached the door.

“Sweet dreams, Daisuke.” 

With that, you slipped into your room with a strange feeling in your chest. A tightness you hadn’t felt since high school, since hallway crushes and etching names into wooden picnic tables. An ache at the loss of his presence. How strange.

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pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[sturn777]

fb!chris meeting dealer!reader for the first time . | ( female!reader ) wc 0.7k ( library ) + ( request )

꒰ა " you got me high, you got me high, and i ain't coming down . " ໒꒱

the bass thumps so loud you can feel it in your chest, rattling your ribcage like a warning. the frat house reeks of stale beer, weed, and cheap cologne, the air thick with sweat and bad decisions. you weave through the crowd, the thin material of your top brushing against sticky red solo cups and the occasional wandering hand. you don’t stop, don’t even look back, just give them a sharp elbow or a glare over your shoulder. they get the message — you’re here on business, not pleasure.

chris notices you the second you walk in.

he’s leaned up against the kitchen counter, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, looking like sin in a backwards cap and a hoodie. he’s laughing at something nate said, the sound low and careless, like he owns the world and everything in it. and maybe he does. at least, this world—the frat house, the party, the girls who keep brushing against him, pretending it’s an accident.

but then his eyes land on you, and the smirk slips just a little.

you don’t notice him at first. or maybe you do, but you don’t care. you’re too busy scanning the room, looking for your buyer, the weight of the little baggies in your pocket pressing against your thigh. it’s not until you hear his voice, lazy and dripping with confidence, that you turn around.

"yo, yeah— you. y'gonna sell me sum stuff or nah?"

he’s closer now, standing right in front of you, and you have to tilt your chin up slightly to meet his gaze. his usually icy blue eyes are dark, hooded, like he’s already bored with whatever game he’s about to start.

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “depends. you got cash, or are you just here to waste my time?”

his smirk returns, sharper now, like he wasn’t expecting you to bite back. most girls don’t. “damn. y’got some bite, huh?” he steps closer, crowding into your space, testing the waters. you don’t move, don’t flinch, just hold his gaze with a steady calm that throws him off. “i don’t bite unless i’m paid extra.”

he huffs a laugh, low and rough, taking a slow sip of his beer while his eyes rake over you. “yeah, a'ight. let’s see what you got.”

you don’t break eye contact as you pull a small baggie out of your jacket pocket, holding it up between two manicured fingers. the overhead light catches on the powder, making it shimmer like something expensive.

he leans in, close enough that you can smell the beer and weed on his breath, the faint trace of something minty. “this the good shit, or you tryna scam me?” you tilt your head, a challenge sparking in your eyes. “best around. can y'handle it?”

his jaw tightens, just for a second, before the smirk’s back in full force. “y'cold, ain't ya?" he mutters, shaking his head like he’s impressed. you shrug, slipping the baggie back into your pocket.

for a moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. then he steps back, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “how much?”

you name your price, and he doesn’t even blink, just tosses a couple of bills onto the counter like it’s nothing. you hand over the baggie, your fingers brushing for half a second before you pull away. “pleasure doin’ business,” you say, already turning to leave.

but his voice stops you, cutting through the haze of music and voices like a blade. “what’s your name?” he calls out. you glance over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “why? planning on writing me a love letter?”

he laughs, the sound warmer than it should be, and for a second, you almost believe it’s real. “nah. just wanna know who i’m gonna be thinkin’ 'bout later.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head as you walk away. but you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers, following you through the crowd like a promise.

[taintandviolent]

Bliss ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: After trying a new drug at a nightclub, you lose your friend and run into someone else.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.5K | female reader, canon divergence (this kind of warps the events of episode 3 a teensy bit and uhhhh sorry about that, it's all in the name of spice), drug mention (fictional Bliss), technically mild dub con cos reader is hiiiiiiigh as shit but she's very into Oz, grinding, hook-ups, mentions of arousal (both parties), semi-public oral sex, blowjobs.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my last oz fic!! wahooo!!!! here's another, because i'm still obsessed with him! not beta-read or anything... just had to get this out. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“Open your mouth, honey…” 

You extend your tongue, obediently. The nameless (but very pretty) woman puts a triangle of translucent red candy on the meat of your tongue, and you draw it back in, sucking on it. It’s slightly sweet and melts straight away, leaving a slimy, almost syrupy finish on your tongue. You swallow it down, and look over at your friend, who had taken the Bliss before you had. 

It only takes a few minutes for it to hit and when it does, your entire body feels like it’s floating, your nervous system is buzzing happily while your friend’s eyes are glazed over, a delighted smile on her face. Everything seems to sparkle like the glitter that you’d dusted your eyelids in. “Holy shit…” 

“Yeah,” you echo, equally as shocked as she is. The feeling is indescribable, and you immediately understand why it’s called Bliss. You can’t recall the last time you’d felt this… elated. You’d smoked, you’d done ecstasy, but this… this was something else entirely. 

The two of you collide, crushing your bodies against each other as the music throbs in your ears, thumping in your bones. Your hands explore each other’s exposed skin, tasting it with your fingertips. You’re dancing with her, your ass in the crook of her hips… and then you aren’t. The presence is suddenly gone from behind you. You spin around, searching for her face in the crowd. You spot it as she turns to wave at you.

“I’ll be back!” She shouts, nodding excitedly as she disappears into the sea of people. “I’m going upstairs!” 

Even though you’re still riding the high, you don’t particularly like the concept of being alone. You try to chase after her, turning left and right to avoid the shoulders of other patrons. As you pass them, you see other people indulging in the same drug that is coursing through your system. It’s a collective high, you think to yourself, smiling. How cute. 

Finally, after meandering through the crowds for a few minutes, you spot a small staircase and make a beeline towards it. Your limbs feel jello-y, and you nearly stumble as you take the stairs one at a time. Just as your foot hits the last step, you hear a stern voice calling out to you. 

“Hey-hey, sweetheart.” A man gets to his feet, limping slightly as he takes a step towards you. His voice was heavy, commanding. Even in your intoxicated state, you could tell you were interrupting something. Fuck. Your head sweeps from side to side as you search for your friend. 

Oz takes another step towards you, watching you closely. You were a cute little thing, all dolled up and pretty, just how he liked ‘em… but you didn’t belong here. 

“This ain't an open invitation. You lost?” He nods his head, his scarred lips turning into a frown. 

“I…” You slurred, blinking slowly, a dreamy smile on your face. “I lost my friend… she said she was going upstairs… is this not… is this not upstairs?” 

He heaves a sigh, and seems to mutter an expletive under his breath. “Nah, doll, this ain’t upstairs.” 

You blinked again, pressing the back of your palm against your lips. You pause to shift your small purse back up onto your shoulder. “Shit…” 

Your eyes unfocus and focus again. The man in front of you is big in every way describable. Broad, tall, and his aura… it swallows you whole. He looks rich, dressed well. Dark hair peeks out from over his slightly unbuttoned shirt. You hum. You’d like to blame it on the drugs but you’ve always had a penchant for older men. Especially ones that looked dangerous… and he looked dangerous. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” A girlish giggle tumbled out of your throat. “I’m… oh god, I feel so good, I’m sssso sorry to interrupt your…” 

“You take somethin’?” He narrowed his eyes and nodded once. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking into his dark eyes. “That red candy… you got any more of that?” You perk up at the idea of prolonging this feeling.  Oz smiled at that, his gold teeth glinting in the light. An example had fallen right into their fuckin’ laps, and Zhao could see it firsthand. Your tongue jutted out at the corner of your mouth, and swept along your top lip, euphorically. He couldn’t help but stare, feeling the heat of arousal grip his loins.

“Gentlemen,” he said, diverting his attention before he stared too fuckin’ hard at you, his accent heavy. “As I was sayin’, Bliss is the new craze. The second it hits the streets, they’ll be bustin’ down the doors for it.” 

He steps out from behind the table and ambles his way over to you. Standing next to you, he’s even taller. You tilt your head back slightly to look – no, to gaze up at him. His face is aged, and deeply scarred – the biggest one disfiguring his top lip – but it’s hot. This guy’s been in a few, and you’re sure he’s got some stories. 

You giggle again, an absolutely delirious sound, and press your hand on the breast of his suit jacket, tracing tiny little circles on the fabric. “Hi…” 

He smirks, feelin’ like that cat that got the canary. A pretty little thing, whacked out on Bliss, fawning over him in front of Zhao and his gang? Priceless. Oz turns his head, nodding to one of the guys sitting at the table. 

“You think on our deal, and I’m gonna’ take care uh’ this one, huh?” 

You visibly preen at the fact that he’s leaving his meeting to ‘take care’ of you… whatever that entails. He could’ve just told you to fuck off, but instead he takes you by the shoulders, steering you back towards the stairs from whence you came in true gentlemanly fashion. As he guides you down the steps carefully, you look behind you at the booth to see the men, all solemn, watching you as you go. Just as they disappear over the wall, you see one of them lean over to discuss something with the others. 

God, his hands are fucking big on your shoulders.   

“Sweetheart – where’s your friend at? You can’t be wanderin’ ‘round this club like this. It ain’t–” 

“I’m safe now…” You lazily murmur, pressing your body against him. He’s wide and warm and you want to press yourself into him until you disappear. “What’s your name, big guy?” 

He swallows a lump in his throat. Your tinier body pressed against his has him feelin’ things he shouldn’t be feelin’, especially seein’ as he’s in the middle of one of the most important deals of his career. The crowd is undulating around the two of you, dozens of hands outstretched towards the ceiling as though it were heaven, sweaty bodies smearing against other bodies, washed in a bright red light. The song swells in your ears, its heavy beat forcing your hips to grind against the man in front of you. 

“We should dance. C’moooon. What’s your name?”

“Oz,” he says plainly, steering you around a corner, through the throngs of people. He’s in the middle of a deal, he has to keep reminding himself of that. This ain’t the time to pick up a new dame.

You repeat his name, drawing it out like a moan, hoping it sounds as good as it feels on your tongue. Another giggle, and you reach up to stroke the side of his face. “C’mon…. Dance….. With me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him pitch back slightly, stiffening against you. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad neck, pressing your breasts flush against him. The warmth of his body immediately penetrates the thin fabric of your satin dress, seeping into your clammy, sweat-streaked body. It doesn’t occur to you that he’s not much of a dancer. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” He looks over your shoulder, prayin’ that your friend will show up. You’re making it harder and harder to focus. “Where’s your friend at? Huh? ” He’s persistent. You try to frown, but your smile is too strong. 

“I don’t know, silly… I said I lost her. That’s how I found you…” Your hands are still wrapped around his neck, tugging as you let some of your body weight fall, sliding against the front of him. He has no choice but to put his hands on your hips, to hold you up slightly. The touch has you reeling. “What’s she look like?” 

You ignore his question. Besides it’s not like describing her in a sea of people who match the description will help him locate her. 

“Don’t you wanna’ touch me, Oz…?” 

That hits him and he looks down at you with a glimmer in his eye that wasn’t there before. Fuck. Guy like him? Doesn’t get this kind of attention all too often. So yeah, of course he fuckin’ does. And he is touchin’ you, with his large hands still planted on your soft, satin-clad hips, but that’s not in the way he wants. He licks his lips. It probably ain’t you talkin’, it’s the Bliss.

The music swells again, and you spin around in his grasp, pressing your back against the curve of his stomach. He makes a fist in front of your dress, gathering up the fabric just enough so that his fingers can graze the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s so soft… feels so fuckin’ good underneath his hand. Immediately, like a child that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he lets go, and shifts himself against your body again. God damn. 

You whine at the sensation, open-mouthed and dizzy. Every ounce of Bliss that was coursing through your system had you feeling better than you’ve ever remembered… and you were grinding on some hot older guy? Win-win. 

Your hips continue to sweep back and forth across his body, dipping your hips back to grind against his groin. You feel movement against your ass, and he eases himself into your soft, plush cheeks, forcing more friction. 

“You ain’t thinkin’ straight, doll.” He says into your ear and his hand moves back to your hips, adjusting you. He thinks about movin’ his hand between your legs, fingers teasing at the mound of flesh there. Your soft panties are hardly there to begin with, so the contact would have you both reeling. He knows could feel the outline of her, and you could feel the warmth of his fingers. 

But he doesn’t, it ain’t right and for all he knows, you could sober up and be horrified by your choice. It wouldn’t surprise him any. 

The warmth of his body is enough to arouse you, and you draw the side of your lip into your mouth and bite down, feeling a blush start down your neck. People are grinding on each other all around you, measly amounts of fabric impeding any actual fucking – what’s another pair?

“What? About you?” you say, looking out into the crowd, watching as others are doing the same. You lean back, pressing the side of your head against his chest, and close your eyes, letting the music take you wherever it needed to.

He mutters a yeah; you feel it vibrate in his throat. 

You spin back around and the action puts Oz’s hands on the meat of your ass cheeks. He doesn’t move them, despite his previous thoughts. You snort, dismissing his insecurity. He says nothing, only looks at you, studying the features of your face. 

“Ohhh, I get it.” You nod slowly, closing your eyes slightly. Your finger taps his chest a few times, punctuating your disapproving revelation. “I get it, you think I’m too fucked up to know what I’m doing, is that it?” 

One of Oz’s hands leaves your body to come up and grip your chin, his thumb pressing into your bottom lip just enough to expose your teeth. You lean into his grasp, reveling in the feeling of his hand on your face.  He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. It’s plush and waxy underneath the pad of his thumb, which leaves a glittering streak of lip gloss on your cheek.

“Nnooo…. It’s cute that you care… but no, the red candy –”

“Bliss,” he interjects, making sure you remember it. The more people that know it by name, the better. 

“ – Bliss, okay, yeah. I’d hit on you without it.”

Oz considers that, his tongue darting out to lick his lips again. He squints at you, assessing your sincerity with a hint of intrigue. 

That second of consideration is all you need apparently. You’re craning your neck towards him, your heavy-lidded gaze dropping to his scarred lips. You bite your own, and inch closer – close enough that you can smell the scotch on his breath. You tilt your head to wordlessly indicate to him where you’re headed, and he looks at your ever-approaching mouth with a restrained sort of longing. His hands are still on your waist, which you take note of. 

“Hey! There you are!”

Hearing your friend’s voice, you immediately pull away from him, though he’s a little slower to let go of you. He seems less concerned with being caught; probably a by-product of his lifestyle. You turn to your friend, smiling sheepishly. She eyes the man behind you, quirking a single, defined brow. The apprehension is visible on her face. 

“Heeey. One sec,” you say, before spinning back to Oz. “Give me your phone.” 

You expectantly hold your hand out in front of him, opening and closing your palm a few times. 

“Oh, c’mon, I know you’ve got a phone. You’re not that old.” 

With a slightly perturbed sigh, he leans to the side, his hand slipping into his pocket. He retrieves the phone and holds it out to you, almost guiltily. 

Hastily, you create a new contact before returning the phone to him. 

“Text me if you don’t believe me. Or text me if you do believe me and are curious.” You lean up onto the toes of your heels, and whisper in his ear. “Just text me.” 

With that, you reach behind you, grabbing at the air until your friend’s fingers intertwine with yours. She grips your hand tight and yanks you away from Oz, pulling you into the undulating crowd until you can’t see him anymore. She wastes no time, and immediately drags you back to the dance floor, finding the same woman who gave you Bliss the last time. You both dish out more cash and suck down the crimson shard before both of you are consumed by the drug and the need to dance. 

You run your fingers through your hair, lifting it off your shoulders. “Fuck, I feel amazing….” 

Only an hour passes before your phone vibrates in your bag. Licking your lips, you pull it out. It’s from an unknown number… Gotham City area code… but you know exactly who it is. A pleased smirk curves its way around your glossy lips. 

It reads: You still here?

Yea lol. Are you? Your hips continue swaying back and forth to the beat. 

Yes

You suck on your bottom lip for a moment, mulling over what you want to do. You’re apparently taking too long, because the typing bubble pops up again. You smirk to yourself and run your free hand through your hair, touseling it. You quickly thumb out a string of messages; you’re much faster than him.

Meet me at the bathrooms in 10 

Mens

There always too many girls in ours 

Oz doesn’t reply. 

“Girl, I’ll be back!” You shout over the music. Your friend’s attention snaps to you, looking perplexed.

“Where are you going!?” 

“I just gotta’ meet up with someone!” 

The realization dawns on her and her eyes widen. “Shut up…! Is it that guy from earlier?!” 

You nod. 

“Are you serious?!”

You nod, looking proud. Your friend screws up her face, not withholding how she felt about him. 

Sandwiching her face between your hands, you pull her head down for a loving forehead kiss. “You need to broaden your horizons, baby doll!”  

And with that, you plunge yourself into the crowd, gripping your phone in your hand. A neon sign in an archway guides you to your destination. By the time you get to a vantage point where you can see the bathrooms, you spot Oz; already there, his scarred face illuminated by the glow of his phone. He looks worried, like you aren’t going to show up. After slipping your phone into your purse, you close in the distance. With a smirk, you move your hand towards him, reaching out to touch his forearm. 

“You missed me, huh? Tell me you missed me…” 

“What is this, a fuckin’ – “ 

“It took you a fucking hour to text me, baby. You were thinkin’ about me, weren’t you?” 

“Maybe I was.” 

Oz flattens his palm against the door, giving it a hard push until it opens. You duck underneath his arm and after casually checking your makeup in the line of mirrors to your left, fling yourself into the first open stall. Oz follows, lumbering in after you. It’s a tight fit, but you’re about to give him some breathing room. 

You drop your purse to the ground, and promptly get to your knees, the cold tile floor chilling them as you do. Oz stands tall in front of you, his chest heaving with each breath. His head drops to his chest, leaning forward slightly to look at you over his stomach and he chuckles breathily, looking almost embarrassed.

“Hoh shit… you ain’t fuckin’ around, are ya?” 

You shake your head as your fingers crawl up his thighs, step by step, until you get to his waist band. You unlatch the closure and reach inside the folds of fabric, finding the small zipper with your fingers. A slow, teasing tug pulls it down and you look up at him, a wanton grin on your lips. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his bottom jaw hangs slack, his brown eyes watching you with an intensity that reveals something deeper. 

“You don’t do this very often, huh?” 

He doesn’t answer, but his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Shit, sweetheart… you do though, dontcha’?”  “Enough to know what I’m doing.” Your reply is sharp, and you punctuate it with a curt nod, swiping the pads of your fingers across his underwear to tease his quickly hardening dick. You palm the outline, rubbing it softly. Your thumb finds the tip, teasing it through the layer of fabric. Above you, Oz is still watching you intently, committing all of this to memory. You chuckle through your nose, and lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the hardness. 

“Lemme’ see what I’m working with…” you murmur, before reaching up to the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down harshly underneath his balls and freeing his cock. Framed by a thatch of black hair, it bobs heavily in front of your face, clear beads of pre-cum already leaking from the slit. You breathe hotly, causing it to twitch slightly. He pitches forward, bumping the tip into your lips and leaving a string of pre-cum stretching from your bottom lip to his dick. You lean back, just out of reach and laugh, watching as his expression contorts. You beam, pleased. The smile is mischievous; you love giving head because of the power it gives you, quite literally holding it in your hand. 

You bring your hand up to his dick, wrapping your fingers just underneath the tip. The girth is impressive, even here. With a smirk, you tighten your grip and drag your thumb over the head, bringing some of that luscious pre-cum down onto his shaft. You drag your fist away from your face, watching as the skin slickens underneath your fingers. With a clang of metal against metal, Oz grips the side of the stall tight to steady himself. You haven’t even put your mouth on his dick yet, and he’s already acting like he’s going to topple over. 

“Easy, Oz…” 

Your tongue stretches out past your teeth, flattening over your bottom lip. Taking hold of his cock hastily like a toy, you slap it wetly against your tongue a few times to rile him up. It works; his breath hitches in his throat and he drops his head back against his broad shoulders. His body temperature is rising, even you can feel it rolling off of him. It’s a nice contrast to the chill of the bathroom. 

You swallow once, relaxing your throat before leaning forward to wrap your lips around the cockhead. Your tongue, still flat, massages the underside of his cock as you push your head down onto him, not stopping until your nose reaches his pubic hair. Oz can’t help the sounds that tumble from his mouth; low, tight groans and a string of expletives as you deep throat his cock. His free hand comes down to the back of your head, caressing your tresses and he lets out a deep sigh, adjusting to the warmth of your mouth. You feel the tension in his grip and know that he’s fighting the urge to grip your hair, controlling the speed at which your mouth pleasures him. Your blood is buzzing in your ears, hazy with arousal. 

You pull back and he inhales sharply as you open your mouth wider before diving back down, letting the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag and your eyes snap shut, tears welling at the corners. 

“That feels so fuckin’ good. Shit, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks cave as you suck him off, bobbing your head back and forth. 

“God damn, that mouth uh’ yours…”

You pull off his cock with a wet slurp and look up at him, dizzy with lust, before reaching up behind your head. Your smaller hand closes around his large hand, forcing him to make a fist in the soft strands before trailing over his wrist, fingers catching on the metal of his gold bracelet. “It’s okay, Oz. You can pull my hair.”  Your tongue darts over your swollen bottom lip, lapping up the taste of him. “Pull it, baby. You’re doing so good…” 

The comment is both a reprieve from his fat cock bullying your throat and a genuine statement. You see those dark brown eyes of his disappear under his lids as they roll back in his head, incapacitated by lust. He growls deep in his throat. Having been given direction and permission, he meticulously begins gathering it up into a ponytail, scooping all the tresses into the curve of his palm. While he does, you lazily lick at the sensitive, reddened head, teasing him further. The action practically makes his hands shake, but Oz manages to grip your hair tight and takes it upon himself to jerk his hips back against your face, sliding himself back into the warm, suctioned confines of your mouth. You nod against his cock, your nose brushing against the hair that greets you. 

You want to tell him that he can fuck your face, but he’s already found a rhythm of bucking his hips into your mouth, so instead of words, the bathroom is filled with the muffled music from outside and the sloppy, wet sounds currently coming from your throat. You walk your knees out a little farther, giving yourself room to slip your hand between your thighs, and into the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties. 

You feel every part of his body tense. He’s close. You know it, he knows it. You push yourself further onto his cock, until your gag reflex activates again, and Oz immediately pulls you off, backing his hips away from your mouth. Your eyes fall to his cock; the tip is glossy and reddened, almost purple, and is leaking profusely. It twitches once and you reach forward to stroke the length of it with your middle finger. 

“You gonna’ swallow that load, sweetheart?” 

With your throat sticky with his arousal, you swallow before speaking. “You wouldn’t ruin my makeup, would you?” 

He grins and chuckles, shaking his head softly. “Nah, doll. I wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it. Open up.” 

You do. You open your mouth wide, and let him ease his cock back inside until it hits the back of your throat again, relaxing the muscles as best you can. Your finger moves from circling your own sensitive, swollen clit to delve into your wet cunt. You let out a little moan around his cock.  Closing  your lips around the shaft, you begin bobbing your head again, waiting for him to take control. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the hand that’s tangled in your hair goes slack, letting the strands fall back against your neck. This close to an orgasm and he doesn’t absolutely wreck your mouth? He’s got a whole suitcase full of kinks you’d like to unpack, but now’s not the time. With a crooked smile, you bring your free hand up to the base of his dick, stroking into your mouth while your tongue lets the tip grind against it. As he groans and grunts above you, you continue fucking yourself on your own fingers, pumping them in and out of your slick, dripping cunt. It doesn’t take you long to feel that first warning clench.

“That’s it, don’t fuckin’ stop, don’t fuckin’ stop–”

One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder, gripping it tight. His thick cock twitches in your hands and you brace for the oncoming orgasm. A few more languid pumps, and he groans loud enough for it to echo against the tile walls. His grip tightens on your shoulder as spurts of hot, white cum decorate your tongue and the back of your throat. As promised, you swallow. And swallow again, and again. The heady taste of his cum brings you to the edge, and the heat reaches its peak between your legs, which snap shut at the sensation. Your cunt flutters around your fingers, arousal leaking out onto them. 

You pull off his cock, swallow again and collapse slightly against his groin. His hand finds your head again, petting your hair tenderly. As you both come down off the high, there’s nothing but the distant sound of music and your ragged breaths.

Finally, you slip your arm into the handle of your purse, and albeit somewhat awkwardly, you pull one foot underneath you and push up, getting to your feet. Once Oz sees this, he helps you, lifting you carefully. Once you’re standing in front of him, you reach between your legs again, and gather your finishing with two fingers.  

“Open up.” You repeat, in an almost mocking tone. Though his expression paints a story of confusion, he parts his lips slightly, just enough for you to slide two of your fingers inside. You swipe the slickened fingers over his tongue, back and forth until the slick has coated the muscle. Finally, you withdraw your fingers, watching wordlessly as Oz sucks the intoxicating taste of your orgasm down his throat.

“Thanks for that, Oz.”

“Feelin’s mutual, doll. Feelin’ is fuckin’ mutual.” 

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous— next!

what do college kids like to do on a saturday night? obviously get fucked up at parties. and tonight, the place to be was the delta pi gamma house, where yeri’s birthday bash was in full swing.

the bass hits you before you even step inside, vibrating in your chest. people are talking, laughing, and obviously drinking in this oh-so-crowded sorority house. the music is so loud that it nearly drowns out your thoughts.

these are the types of parties where the drinks are endless, the music is bumping, and everyone is just having a good ol’ time. you’re so ready for that— ready to dance the night away, enjoy the chaos, and put the week’s stress behind you.

as you stand outside the house, you can hear the bass bouncing off the floor. colored lights flash from the windows, spilling out onto the front yard, and the sound of laughter and music drifts through the night air. 

“well, we made it,” karina straightens out her black dress with a grin. “miss yeri’s iconic birthday party. are we ready to party tonight or what?”

you glance at the rest of the group, seeing their eager expressions. ningning’s practically bouncing, eyes sparkling with excitement. “i’m soooooo ready!” she exclaims, her voice full of enthusiasm. “i’ve been waiting all week for this. free alcohol? good music? zero responsibility? don’t have to ask me twice!” 

renjun chuckles, shaking his head. “i’m pretty sure you’re just here for the alcohol—“ 

she points her finger guns at him, her eyes gleam with mischief as she winks, a smug smile on her lips. “damn right i’m here for the alcohol!” 

he rolls his eyes, laughing despite himself. “not surprised at all… typical nings,” he mutters, though the amusement is clear in his voice.

“well… what are we waiting for? let’s gooooo!” chenle exclaims, his voice full of excitement as he throws his hands up and charges ahead.

before anyone can react, he’s halfway up the steps. with a roll of your eyes, you follow, and the others are right behind you, laughing at his infectious enthusiasm.

the moment you step inside, the beat of the music hits you like a wave. the air was thick with booze, different flavored nicotine devices, and weed all in full force. the party is in full swing, and it’s immediately clear: this is going to be one hell of a night.

as you step into the house, the warm, pulsing beat of music surrounds you, and the energy of the party hits you. this place was packed— you can hear laughter and multiple conversations going all at once at the same time. you glance around, taking it all in, when suddenly a blur of pink and glitter comes rushing toward you.

“y/n!” yeri squeals, her face lighting up as she spots you across the crowded kitchen. her flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes was something you can’t miss. without waiting for a response, she grabs your hand, her grip firm as she pulls you toward her, a tipsy grin plastered on her face.

“come on, come on! you guys are late! shots are waiting!”

your friends follow close behind, their laughter blending with the party noise as the birthday girl grabs a tray full of shot glasses.

“better be ready," she winks. "this birthday isn’t gonna remember itself!"

you can’t help but chuckle, feeling the contagious energy of the party already. you take the shot glass she hands you, raising it in the air.

“to yeri!” you all cheer in unison, clinking your glasses together before tossing them back. the alcohol burns but it does quite the job of warming you up. 

the blonde, already glowing from the shots, grins wide. "alright, i’ll be right back! drink more, there's plenty of alcohol—help yourselves!"

she spins on her heel and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and your friends to check out the spread. you glance over at the kitchen counter, which is lined with bottles, mixers, and a variety of different types of alcohol. the setup looks like something straight out of a party supply store—tequila, vodka, rum, and some unfamiliar liqueurs all begging for attention.

ningning’s eyes immediately lock onto the tequila, a grin spreading across her face as she grabs the bottle. "don’t mind if i do~” 

karina chuckles and picks up her shot glass from earlier, handing it to the brunette beside her. "pour it up!”

"we can’t have tequila without lime and salt guys.” renjun sets down the tray of sliced lime wedges beside the salt shaker in front of them. 

chenle watches with a playful grin, grabbing the salt shaker from the counter before sprinkling a tiny amount of salt behind his hand. “tequila for the fucking win y’all.” 

the five of them happily clink their shot glasses, each one licking the salt from their hands before throwing back the tequila and biting into the limes immediately right after.

"by the way, i’m tapping out here because i’m driving us home," chenle says, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“thank you, lele~ what would we do without you!” you cooed, planting a small kiss against the side of his face. this leads to all of them, including renjun, to pepper him in kisses. 

as he’s left there with multiple lipstick marks from the girls, he whips out his smartphone to tap on the camera icon, examining his face with a sigh. “how am i supposed to pull girls NOW?” 

the group bursts into laughter, pouring another round of shots dedicated to their “designated driver”. the mood has this light, carefree feel to it but we all know it’s going to turn into complete chaos in a couple of hours.

the party buzzes with anticipation as mark, nu chi theta’s resident dj, steps up to the booth. his figure stands tall, a confident smile plastered on his face as he preps for his set. 

he adjusts his black headphones, his finger gliding down the trackpad on his laptop to cue the first track. with a flick of his wrist, he twists a knob on the deck, and the opening notes of a no pole remix by don toliver flood the room. the crowd’s cheers echoed throughout the building, multiple bodies rushing towards the living room to see mark’s set. 

you exchange looks with your friends and without a second thought, you all follow the crowd towards the chaotic center of the house. you brush past the crowd, catching a glimpse of mark at the makeshift booth, his head nodding to the rhythm. he was definitely putting in work, his hands working the deck, transitioning into the next couple of songs effortlessly. the boy’s smile widens as he glances up from his laptop, taking in the sight of the crowd, eyes wandering around before landing on you. it was a quick interaction, nothing crazy.

karina and ningning are already front and center, getting into the groove, laughing, and dancing as if they’ve been waiting for this moment all night. on the other hand, both renjun and chenle are socializing with some people they know. you can’t deny the energy in the room is magnetic. 

you sway your body to the music, your arms lifting above your head along with the beat, hips swerving and moving with a rhythm that feels like second nature. the lights flash bright around you, all the colors blending together in a kaleidoscope of color. 

the crowd around you is a blur of faces, all caught up in their own worlds as the beat carries them away. your mind feels hazy from the heft amount of shots from earlier, the alcohol giving you a warm buzz as you dance, every movement a little more fluid than usual.

one of your favorite songs starts to play.

♪ you got me spinnin’

you let yourself go, spinning, feeling the energy of the night embrace you, but then a presence shifts behind you. you don’t notice at first because you were too caught up in the music and the heat of the moment, but you feel the change in the air when he steps closer.

it’s haechan.

his steps show confidence and purpose like he knows exactly what he's doing as he slides up next to you, his body brushing against yours just as the beat drops. you glance over, catching that mischievous grin on his face, his eyes glinting with a playful glimmer. he's clearly tipsy, his energy buzzing off him in waves as he takes in your every move.

♪ think about you all the timeday and night, you're on my mindalways want you by my side (side, side, side, side)

his hands settle on your hips without a word, fingers splayed out to hold you gently but firmly. his touch feels warm against your skin, and you can't help but lean back into him, letting the proximity fuel the heat that already lingers between you.

♪ babe, come home, what's up tonight?i could be your alibialways want you by my side

"you're looking good tonight," haechan teases, his voice smooth and flirtatious, just loud enough to be heard over the music. there's a hint of danger in the way he speaks, the kind of confidence that only comes when the drinks flow a little too freely.

you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a knowing smirk, feeling the alcohol giving you that little boost to be bold tonight. 

"you know, i could say the same about you.”

♪ you got me spinnin' in your atmosphereit feels so good, i wanna stay right herealways want you by my side

he chuckles, the sound low and inviting, as his grip on your waist tightens just slightly, tugging you closer. his movements match the rhythm of the music, his body pressing up against yours with every beat, guiding you through the dance with a sensual, deliberate pace.

"you think you can keep up, hm?" his lips slightly brushes against the shell of your ear, the heat of his words sending a shiver down your spine.

♪ it feels so good, i wanna stay right hereyou got me spinnin' in your atmosphereit feels so good, i wanna-

your body moves against his almost instinctively, the chemistry between you two undeniable as the space between you closes. with the music surrounding you and the buzz of alcohol blurring the lines, all you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, the way your bodies move together, in sync, and the lingering sexual tension in the air.

♪ tell me what you're thinking 'boutsomething you can't live withoutgot my head stuck in a cloud (side, side, side, side)

you don't say anything at first—just let the rhythm take over. but then, a little daring, you tilt your head back, brushing your lips dangerously close to his ear.

“try me.”

and with that, the rest of the world fades away. it’s just you, him, and the heat of the night, building between your bodies with every movement. the music seems too faint, the pounding bass nothing more than a distant hum as the tension thickens. your heart is racing, matching the rhythm of your bodies, a fire igniting in your chest.

♪ call me up, i’ll come aroundgravity can’t bring me downgot my head stuck in a cloud

his hands remain steady on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, his touch sending sparks through your skin. the air feels charged, your breaths coming quicker as the space between you shrinks. his gaze flickers down to your glossy lips, then back to your hooded eyes, and without another word, he swings you around to face him.

for a moment, you’re both still, the beat of the music the only sound in the space between you. his eyes lock onto yours—dark, intense, filled with that same playful challenge. 

he presses his lips on yours before you can even blink twice. it’s not gentle—no, it’s hungry, impatient, as though the tension that’s been building between you finally exploded. his hands glide to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, the kiss deepening as he nips at your lower lip. you can taste the alcohol on his tongue, but it only adds to the intoxicating mix of him— hot, bold, and irresistible. 

your body melts into his, arms encircling around his neck, drawing him closer as you lose yourself in the kiss. it felt like the world outside the two of you suddenly disappeared. there’s only the heat of his touch, the rhythm of his kiss, the sensation of his body pressed against yours, as if you were meant to fit together this way.

when he pulls away, breathless, his forehead rests against yours. you’re both gasping for air, the electricity between you still crackling, your heart pounding in your chest. but neither of you moves away. instead, you stay there, locked in a moment where time seems to stand still, the night unfolding around you.

wc: 2.2k.... wtf omg.

notes: y/n girl..... stand up!!!!! just kidding i would fold too! <3 please listen to fisher's atmosphere while reading this bc this chapter is based on that song!! im slowly recovering from the flu!!! im still coughing but im less congested and no more migraines. thank u to everyone who sent get well soon msgs :( my heart was so full

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @jaehyunando @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @ldh0000 @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @nctjunie @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin

[almostempty]

FYBF (javier x f!reader)

(javier x f!reader) | wc: 4.8k | other fics |

javier takes you home to prove that he can fuck you better than your boyfriend

this pwp was inspired by me having FYBF stuck in my head and the line "I prolly wouldn't treat you better, but I'd do you better"

tags/warnings: 18+ gratuitous smut, infidelity!, no condom, no editing, no y/n, no plot

🎤 i just wanna say that this one goes out to a special baddie and i hope she likes it when she reads it (happy belated bday @gothcsz this for u)

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Every time the lights flash, illuminating your glowy skin and the fluid roll of your hips to the music, he tries to see everything all at once. Tries to map your body, plan exactly how he’d make you sing for him. 

You’re a vision. Feminine and fierce in a way that calls to him. The balance to his masculinity and the tenderness that he wears on his sleeve. 

You aren’t alone. Your friends are gorgeous too. The two of them surround you, smiling, twirling, and mirroring your rhythm. The three of you dance like the rest of the room is watching; like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. 

You’re a playful trio, a dangerous trio. Grinding against each other. Bouncing between each other easily. Maybe you’re more than friends, he wonders, as you tease each other, tangling limbs, and winding your sweating bodies together. You all have magnetic energy. A gravity. The rest of the room orbits around the three of you. 

But, Javier is drawn to you. You’re graceful, yet powerful. Devastatingly sensual. He leans against the bar, shifting his weight on his feet, and wetting his lips. He surveys the rest of the club but always comes back to you. It’s dark, loud, and hot with all of the bodies in the building. 

He knows it’s a slim chance–interrupting the three of you–maybe this is your girl’s night out or something. But then, the song changes to something more melodic. You thread your arms over your head, accentuating the lines of your body, exposing your smooth skin and your curves.

You might as well have a spotlight on you like it’s your revenge dance in a romance film.

Javier’s fingers are itching to touch you. He can feel the weight of your tits in his palms, taste the soft spot at the hinge of your jaw on his tongue, and feel the swell of your ass rubbing against —

Yeah, his dick can feel it, too. Twitching in his jeans. Javier tightens the fist at his side and he slams down the last of his drink. Discarding it on the bar without a glance backward. He can’t turn away from you; he refuses to lose sight of you. 

Your dress ripples, shining when the light hits you as you shift. It looks like it would be soft and slippery to the touch. Just like the rest of you. As your eyes shut and you sway, he decides you’re a fucking killer. You could take him apart moving just like that—but on his lap. You could end him with a look, fuck, he wants to see for himself. 

He’s on the move now. Compelled. You see him, running your eyes over his body. It’s like a rose-colored path pulls him closer with every step. Javier knows it’s his chance to strike. 

He’s on you in a second, slipping in front of you with a compliment and asking, like a gentleman, if you’d give him a song. He doesn’t miss the way you run your eyes down his body and back to meet his gaze. You like what you see, baby? It hangs on his tongue and crooked grin. 

“Sorry,” you murmur into his ear, not slowing down the roll of your body. “I’ve got a boyfriend.” You grip the back of his head tightly, fingers woven into his hair. As if the strength of your grip is the only thing keeping your lips from finding each other. As if sharing the same breath with your noses nearly brushing each other isn’t intimate. 

“A boyfriend,” he repeats, not backing off. The club is dark, loud, and filled with hot, sweaty bodies. But when he dips closer and his lips brush your ear, you can hear every ounce of lust and challenge behind his next words. “If you really want him, why are you apologizing?” His rich voice makes your veins buzz. 

“Seems like you’re wanting me,” you retort in a silky voice, “I can’t be what you need.” He runs his wide hands down your sides, wrapping around your waist. It’s all too much, but fuck, you can’t stop. Proving your point, he guides you, and you’re pliant for him. He turns you, pulling your hips towards his until the swell of your ass rubs along the hard line of his cock. “Fuck,” you breathe out, imperceptibly. 

“Just once,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making your skin prickle and your resolve falter. “Just tonight.” You almost laugh, almost scoff, but his hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements like he’s already claimed you. The thrill of it, of how badly he wants you, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just once,” you repeat, but it doesn’t come out sharp or mocking. It sounds like surrender.

He tilts your head back, making you meet his eyes. His gaze is molten, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk that’s too knowing. “When you want more, we’ll figure it out,” he says, so confident, so sure, it makes your chest tighten.

The nerve. The arrogance. You should roll your eyes, but instead, you find yourself staring at his lips, imagining how they’d feel.

“You think you can treat me better?” you ask, your voice sharp, deflecting, desperate to push him away before you actually fall into him.

“Nah,” he admits with a small shake of his head, his honesty so casual it catches you off guard. It shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does, softly, a sound that feels dangerously like complicity.

“But I’ll fuck you better,” he adds, dead serious, the weight of his words crashing down on you.

Your breath hitches. Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly feeling devastatingly empty. Your body answers him before your mind can catch up. Rubbing against him, searching for more. 

Your silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like a test. Javier’s smirk deepens as if he already knows how this is going to end. His thumb brushes over your jawline, a featherlight touch that juxtaposes the ferocity in his gaze.

“You know it’s true,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with amusement. “Your boyfriend,” he pauses, letting the word linger like an insult, “doesn’t even know how to make you look like this.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re thinking about how fast you can get me alone,” he says, cocky and unrelenting. Javier’s fingers slide lower, skimming across your waist. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You don’t. You can’t.

“You think you’re irresistible?” you fire back, your voice sharp, trying to cut through the haze he’s wrapping around you.

“I think you want to find out,” he murmurs, his lips hovering near yours. “I think you’ll let me prove it.”

The heat in your stomach coils tighter. You want to push him away, but your body betrays you, pressing closer instead. His scent—spicy and rich—wraps around you like a trap. The club feels suffocating, the music distant. All you can focus on is him.

“Quit playing,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction. “You’re not that good.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression equal parts amused and predatory. “Let me show you.”

Before you can answer, or argue, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. His grip is firm but not forceful, the silent question in his eyes daring you to say no.

The rational part of you screams to stop this. But the rest of you? The part that’s been craving something more? That part wants to find out if he really is as good as he claims.

You part from him briefly, giving your friends a flimsy excuse. Then, turning back without a word, you let him lead you out of the club. 

The car ride is quiet but electric. His hand stays on your thigh the entire time, the pressure just enough to keep your pulse racing. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to. The smug tilt of his mouth says it all: he knows he’s won. 

When you get to his place, he steps aside to let you in first. The door closes with a soft click, sealing the tension between you.

“You want this?” he asks, leaning casually against the wall, like he’s giving you a choice but fully expecting your answer.

You should leave. Go him to your empty apartment. Call your boyfriend. But instead, you turn to Javier, arching a brow. “Your mouth only good for talking?”

His grin sharpens, all teeth and promise. "Oh, I’m gonna ruin you." He pushes off the wall, arms unfolding and drawing you right toward his broad frame. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his body like a slow-moving tide, pulling you under.

Before you can fire back, he’s on you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, and a shiver runs through you at the contact. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every inch of you hyperaware of him, of the weight of his hands on your skin, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. 

His lips find your neck first, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. Your pulse quickens. His touch is so deliberate. Knowing. His hands are everywhere—spanning your waist, sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him, holding you like he can’t get enough.

You feel the desire flooding through you, the way your body melts into his with such ease. You should stop. You should push him away, tell him you don’t need this. But then his fingers dig into you, and your body responds before your brain can catch up. His grip on you is possessive, like he owns you already. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to fight it. 

He walks you backward until you’re leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but you feel weak. And then, he drops to his knees in front of you and you think you might actually combust.

“You look good up there,” he teases, his voice husky, low. God, it does something to you when he speaks like that. His hands push up your skirt, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away. You don’t. You won’t. He pulls your panties down and you’re on fire, aching for him. “But you’re gonna look better after you come for me.”

The words make your cunt throb. Before you can think to respond, his mouth is on you. His tongue glides against you, the first slow, deliberate swipe making your knees buckle. You gasp, an involuntary sound that escapes your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He works you over, teasing and tasting, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Every stroke of his tongue feels like a sin, a slow burn that builds in the pit of your stomach.

His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your flesh, and you realize he’s holding you steady, keeping you in place. His hands feel so sure, so confident, pulling you deeper into him, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t. Javier never rushes. He seems determined to take his time, to savor every moment, like he’s proving a point. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his teasing strokes making you dizzy and needy.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice pulling you in deeper. His breath fans across your skin, setting you alight, as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. Maddeningly confident, lips glistening from how wet he’s had you all night, his smirk is predatory. A warning. A promise. 

A sight you know you won’t forget. 

“Already forgetting how to talk?”

You steady yourself against the wall, trying to summon some strength, some defiance, but your body is already betraying you. The heat in your core is almost unbearable now, and every flick of his tongue only makes it worse. You bite your lip, your eyes meeting his, willing yourself not to give in completely. 

“You think this is enough to ruin me? That you proved anything just by getting on your knees?” you challenge, your voice surprisingly steady, though your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t want to admit it, that you’re already close, that you’ll be getting off to the memory of his lips wrapped around your clit for weeks. 

His eyes darken, a predatory glint flashing in them. He doesn’t say a word, just grins. Slow, knowing, and dangerous the curve of his lips has you swallowing hard. He presses in closer, his body a wall of heat against yours. “Oh, no,” he says, his voice low and dark with promise. “This is just the beginning.”

You’d roll your eyes at him for being cliche, but he dips his head back down and you know that he’s right. You’re already lost, and it’s too late to turn back now.

His tongue and lips work with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He alternates between broad, sweeping strokes and more focused attention that sends lightning through your veins. The slick heat of his mouth is overwhelming, and every time you think you’ve hit your limit, he finds a new way to drag you closer to the edge.

Your hands find his hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you like you’d collapse if he stopped. “Fuck,” you breathe, your voice breaking as his teeth graze you lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Easy,” he chides, pulling back just enough to flash that debased smirk. His face is flushed with exertion and the sight alone nearly undoes you. “Stay with me.”

You manage a shaky laugh, tugging at his hair in retaliation. “Still right here,” you bite out, your voice laced with defiance.

His tongue works you in slow, torturous circles. He moans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and the sheer pleasure of it has you arching into him, chasing the friction he’s so generously giving.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you impossibly closer. “I could stay here all night.”

The thought makes your knees threaten to give out, and he notices, of course he does. His hands shift, one sliding up to steady you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, the sound muffled against you. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

And true to his word, he doesn’t let up, working you over with a skill and focus that makes you dizzy. Every flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, every hot, open-mouthed kiss drives you higher and higher until you’re trembling. He adds his fingers, increasing the pressure, and multiplying the intensity. He uses them expertly, fucking into you with them and working in tandem with his mouth to flood your senses. 

When you hit a peak that makes your muscles spasm, and euphoric waves radiate through you, it’s not quiet. It’s a gasping, desperate sound that echoes in the room, and the satisfaction in his eyes as he watches only makes it ring deeper in your ears.

Before you can catch your breath, he rises to his feet, his lips curling into that same cocky smirk that got you here in the first place. “Told you,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s savoring every second.

“Not bad,” you manage, though your voice wavers as you lean back against the wall for support.

“Not bad?” he repeats, his grin turning wolfish. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours. 

Javier doesn’t let you recover. He brings you to his bed, stripping clothes off in such a frenzy you don’t get the chance to really admire him. He’s urgent. On a mission. Pulling you on top of him and hooking his hands under your thighs. 

 “Come here,” he orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I’m not done.”

You start to protest, but he’s already moving, guiding you down onto him as he lies back against the mattress. He looks up at you, with clear desire, his hands gripping your hips like he owns you.

“Ride my face,” he murmurs, his voice so dark it’s a weapon. “Don’t get shy now.”

The challenge in his eyes leaves no room for hesitation. You settle over him, your thighs wobbly as his mouth finds you again. This time, there’s nothing gentle about it, he’s relentless. Encouraging you to move, to use him, to drown him underneath you. 

The sheer intensity of it makes your head fall back, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The way he groans against you sends vibrations through your core until you’re barely able to hold yourself upright.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your voice raw and desperate.

That spurs him on. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements, and when you finally break, it’s hot, overwhelming, and all-consuming. You collapse forward, panting, as he slowly eases you down from the high, his lips and tongue still working gently, reverently.

When you manage to lift your head, his grin is smug, his lips shining as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “How was that?” he asks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Am I still all talk?”

You glare weakly at him, but the fire in your chest betrays you. “Shut up,” you mutter, collapsing beside him on the bed.

But Javier isn’t done. He shifts above you, his body covering yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that makes you feel deliciously trapped. His hands roam your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He presses kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, murmuring soft, filthy praises between each one.

He notices how sensitive you are and you can hear the delight in his discovery. “You like that,” he declares. You can only hum in agreement as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. He takes his time, testing the ways you respond to his fingers, tongue, and teeth. He’s quick, learning exactly what makes you gasp and whine. 

Repeatedly working you up with soft swirls of his tongue over your hard nipples and rough pinches that make you squirm. He uses his teeth sparingly, but with finesse, keeping you on edge. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, his voice rough with awe.

Your breath stutters, his words striking something deep, but before you can respond, his mouth is on yours. His kiss is a slow burn, deliberate, his tongue darting out to taste yours.

“Not perfect,” you whisper.

Javier lifts his head, his dark eyes piercing. “Wrong,” he purrs, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “You’re perfect for me. I’ll make you believe it.”

Without another word, he’s back down between your legs, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thighs. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you with ruthless efficiency.

He groans against you and your back arches off the mattress, a helpless cry spilling from your lips. “There she is,” Javier murmurs, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. “Let me hear it.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you greedily. He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. “Please, what?”

You need him to get over his oral fixation and fuck you already, but you can’t find the words and your hands can’t seem to let go. He’s relentless and tapped into some sort of self-restraint and stamina you couldn’t fathom. You strain your neck, tipping your chin to your chest to watch him work.

You can’t tell if he’s this set on getting you off on his tongue to prove his merit to you, or if it’s more for him at this point. He uses everything. Nose, lips, tongue, chin. Inundating you with all of him. With one wide, heavy hand splayed across your lower stomach, he keeps you in place. His other hand keeps your thigh spread wide for him. 

What does ruin you–that you would never admit to him–has nothing to do with his mouth or his hands. It’s when you prop yourself up on your elbows, and you can see his hips rutting slowly into the mattress. It makes your eyes roll back. It confirms how badly he wants you in a way that feels more raw and vulnerable than any words he could say. 

That knowledge obliterates you. Stealing your breath, and any control you have over your own muscles. You sink, body rolling and contracting with relief and satisfaction. Javier doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, his tongue and lips coaxing aftershocks that leave you breathless and whimpering.

You relax, your hazy, pleasure-drunk mind is quiet and empty for a moment. He takes advantage of your pause, his fingers stroking over your sensitive skin, making you jolt, gasping his name.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers slick and knowing as they stroke over the spot that has you gasping, your resolve crumbling with every second. “Javier,” you choke out, louder this time, your back arching off the bed.

“I know,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from his voice. The sound sends a thrill through you. He kneels between your legs, his body so broad and overwhelming as his hands grip your hips, positioning you just right. His cock presses against you, teasing, demanding, too much, too soon, yet it feels like the only thing your body craves. 

He shifts his hips slightly, and the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. Your breath hitches. You feel the heat of him, the weight, the promise of how he intends to ruin you.

“Going to make sure you don’t forget me,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, and your body responds to the dominance in his words, buzzing for what’s next. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch. His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense, watching you as if he can see straight into your soul.

Holy fuck. The stretch is overwhelming but it feels so right, so perfect. Every nerve is on fire, each sensation magnified as he moves deeper. God, he feels good. Sinking in so slowly, you can’t breathe, can’t think. Just the feeling of him inside you, claiming you completely.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through you. “I want you to remember every second of this. Every inch of me.”

You try to hold on, but it’s impossible. His voice is lethal. The heat of his body against yours, the way his cock fills you completely—it’s all you can do to stay lucid, but you want more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back as he reaches the end of you, as deep inside of you as he can get. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

Javier groans, the sound almost painful. Hungry. His hands grip your hips like he’s holding himself back, the tension in his body taut, coiled, ready to snap. He’s holding back? The thought is enough to make you moan again.

“Perfect for me. Just like I knew you would be.”

The words make your walls clench and flutter around him. He’d use that against you if he wasn’t trying desperately to keep it together now that he knows what it feels like to be inside of you. There’s nowhere to look to steady himself. Your face glows, drunk from the orgasms and his praise, your tits glisten with sweat and his saliva–he slams his eyes shut only to see every detail of you just the same. Another deep breath and he presses on. 

His pace is slow at first. Sawing into you with torturous precision. Each thrust designed to make you feel all of him. 

It doesn’t stay slow for long. His pace picks up, a steady rhythm that makes you writhe. You want to beg, but you don’t know what it is you need. He gives it to you hard, hips snapping as he grunts from the effort. Knocking all of the guilt you’d been smothering right out of your mind.

His force overwhelms you, destroying you with bliss and a floaty time-warping joy. Altering your future, distantly you know you’ll be forever changed because of him. 

He doesn’t stop. Oblivious to the seismic impact he’s having on your pussy and future. 

He shifts his position, pulling you upright with effortless strength. Just like in the club as he rolled against you, you fit together so perfectly it’s obscene. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, mindless as he fills you with his cock again, deeper at this new angle. You’re at his mercy. Intoxicated by the way his length tortures every nerve inside of you. 

His face is still steeped in concentration and satisfaction, but there’s something else that makes you study his eyes. The more of a mess you are the more his pride swells, but it’s not about proving his point to you. It’s about proving something to himself. A whisper of vulnerability hides behind his words. You’re too out of it to understand what it means. Just aware there’s something more. 

“You feel that?” he growls, using his deliciously bruising grip to give you the support to bounce along his cock. His lips brush your ear as you flicker between the sensory overload and the clawing, hot need to come again. “This is what you’ve been missing. What you’ll be thinking about when you’re with him.”

You know he’s right. You can only nod your head, chanting yes in rhythm with his hips snapping into you. 

You bury your face in his neck, your breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, the sweet torture of him driving you wild. His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing, and you break again, your body shattering, surrendering to him.

Your nails rake down his back, desperate for release, as you bounce against his slick, toned body. 

But he’s not done. On a warpath. If he only gets one night, he’s going to make it a guarantee. 

He lays you back down with a shift of his body, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips, angling you perfectly. The new position sends you into another realm, your body is his and all he wants to do is wring out every last ounce of pleasure within you. Over and over again.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low, rough, and dangerous. You force your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, dark and hungry, and in that moment, you know there’s no turning back.

“I want to see your face when you come for me.”

Each word will be etched into your mind forever. When you dream of him, when you touch yourself, every time you close your eyes. 

His thumb presses against your clit again; it’s rapturous. You come undone beneath him, your body trembling violently, your voice hoarse as you call out his name and a string of curses. 

He follows seconds later with a broken groan. He buries himself deep, giving himself over to you, his cock pulsing with the same urgency to fill you as your cunt clenches in desperation to milk him dry. 

He collapses onto his forearms above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as you both come down, the room heavy with the sound of your ragged breathing.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Breathe.”

The affection and tenderness soothe something deep within you, and for a moment, all you can do is bask in the connection and the depth of something you can’t name. Until it shifts. 

The haze begins to clear, reality creeps back in.

His laugh is low and dangerous, a sound of pure victory. 

Javier shifts beside you, his hand sliding possessively over your hip, but your mind is already racing.

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you sit up, reaching for your clothes. Javier watches you with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by your sudden urgency.

“You don’t want to stay?” he teases, his voice lazy and smug.

You shoot him a sharp look, your hands trembling as you smooth down your dress. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but he sees through you.

“Maybe,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze raking over you with dark amusement. “But you’ll still think about me when you see him.”

His words hit like a gut punch, and you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him. 

“See you Monday?” he says, his tone deceptively casual, but the smirk on his face is anything but.

Your stomach flips at the reminder. Monday. At work. Where Javier works. Where your boyfriend works.

General tags in case y'all want some javi smut too 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[k0mmari]

Okay people, I need to talk about IDOL!Shen Yuan AU before I explode (aka slight Aggretsuko inspired office au…..)

I’ll try to make this short for once jdvfhbjdhbvdf, but basically SY has been (forcefully) made to work for his brother(SJ) in the family company, after SJ decided enough was enough, and SY was going to do something with his life besides rotting away in his bed whether he liked it or not. The thing is, he wasn’t (just) rotting in bed reading atrocious novels, but he also took some time to experiment with music as a hobby, and over time, he grew a small following.

Though, after he was dragged to work at SJ’s side, the ever boring of dealing with paperwork and staring at white walls was eating at him. It’s not like he struggled doing his job, in fact, he was quite good at it, but he wasted no effort to make it very clear that he did not like that he was there in the first place. So, in an act of rebellion and to just do SOMETHING other than feel every passing second of the day in a cubicle, he decided to work even harder in his music hobby. It eventually led to SJ finding out and sparing no words to say that SY needed to focus on his real job, which only made SY brat out even harder, even managing to find an alternative music club and booking a few performances.

It went great! More people showed up than he expected, and all went great, but since his health was still not the best, after that he basically spent a whole month crashed out, not being able to do any more performances and barely able to go to the office once a week.

Anyways, it all led to SY thinking he had proved SJ right that he couldn’t continue this life style, and even thinking about quitting it, but one day while he was scrolling on the comments on one of his MVs (aka a Fancy Lyric Video), one of the comments mentioned that SY was one of the most important influences for that person, and that it inspired them to start pursuing music. It was the first time he had received a comment of that nature, and it lit the fire of his motivation back up.

Some 2 years passed, SJ still kept SY at the office, but SY had reached a nice balance on his online music work and performances on that club, and as his popularity grew, his performances at that one club had almost turned into a whole event for his most dedicated fans. So, enter Luo Binghe:

He was that comment that SY had read, and he did want to try music after being a fan of SY’s for almost three years now, but due to his financial situation he desperately needed some other source of income first. Now, at his last year of college, he managed to get an internship onto the Shen family’s company, which was a huge step forward towards his dreams, unfortunately he just had to go under SJ, which as we all know, was never kind to Binghe, instead acting as if the boy should just give up the internship entirely. And Binghe did think about it, but it seemed as if the stars had aligned for Binghe at least once, and SJ, after getting a sudden influx of work, delegated Binghe to SY.

They got on quite well, and Binghe even grew to have a little crush on SY, but it was all going fine and great until one fateful day. The office was as boring as ever, and after SY let Binghe know they wouldn’t have to entertain any clients for the day, Binghe decided to work on his part while listening to some music of his favorite artist.

Binghe has an awful habit of listening to music worryingly loud, so when SY went to get him to explain his new task, he ended up listening to what Binghe was hearing: his own music, in fact, his newest song. He pondered telling Binghe about the coincidence, but decided that maybe would be overstepping some professional boundary, and instead told Binghe about his one music club SY had heard about…

Binghe, excited to get to know more places around the area (and maybe understanding what SY did in his free time), decided to go to the club the next week after work, and did not even think about checking who would be performing in the day he would visit. Imagine his surprise when he gets to the door of the music club and hears some awfully famíliar music, and after rushing to be as close to the stage as possible, besides being blinded by his favorite artist’s greatness, also noticed that, hey, the artist looked an awful lot like a certain coworker of his….

Anyways, shenanigans ensue, Binghe starts his own investigation on SY possibly being the artist, SY juggling his office life, music career, and SJ perhaps coming to accept his brother’s career, and even maybe revealing a bit about his own past with music performances.

That’s all I had for today, just wanted to release this into the world! If anyone wants to expand on this, or try their on take on it, feel more than free to! Here are some more doodles of the usual day at the office :)