#he was so ready to fuck that guitar

[nitunio]

Adam Grahn

source: youtube ( freakshow / lovecop )

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

I fucking love these fools so much

(edited from multiple videos from IG: (Limpbizkitjapan, Limpbizkitbrasil, Fred_Durst_Reflections)

[leeloooonfire]

Steve Harrington only wears a bra.

Well, not, only, he's also wearing bright orange swim shorts and a cap backward, too.

The top part, however? Hairy man boobs are prettily covered by a black lace bra with a sparkling strass stone in the middle.

Eddie might be a teeny tiny bit drunk (2 beers after months of abstinence and medication does that to a man), but not drunk enought to imagine Steve Harrington in a bra.

'Uh-', he says eloquently and tries not to stare too much at the other man sitting on what must be Buckley's bed. 'Am I interrupting something?'

Steve, face almost as pink as Erica's favourite shoes, opens his mouth to reply, but Robin, sitting crosslegged in front of him, is faster, 'Oh its just you. Close the door, Eds.'

Eddie isn't sure if she means 'close the door and leave, never talk to us about whatever weird kinky little thing we're doing right now' or 'come in, close the door and shut up'. He hesitates for a moment, studying Steve's pretty flushed face and Robin’s wiggling eyebrows before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

His hand is still on the door knob when he turns and finds Robin leaning against Steve’s hairy chest, one of her arms behind his back. She's fumbling with something, frustrated noises escape her closed lips while Steve simply sits still - like a statue. An Adonis statue wearing a bra.

'Fuck', Robin groans loudly, her forehead knocking against Steve's clavicle, his hand patting her head in condolence.

'Not to be judgmental', Eddie starts slowly as he leans against the book case right next to the door, 'But what are you guys doing?'

(Eddie thought Robin's a friend of Dorothy, so why is Steve fucking Harrington sitting dolled up in a delicate bra on her bed and they look like they're ready to make out?!)

When both Steve and Robin send him evil twin looks, he holds both his hands up in surrender, 'Like I said, not gonna judge you, whatever floats your boat or whatever, but what, exactly, is it that you're trying to do here?'

'Practice', Robin grumbles against Steve's chest, tugging behind his back again.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and goofy, 'She's trying to open the bra with one hand.'

'It's just so much easier on myself,' she says, and now that Eddie knows what's happening, he can make out her hand tugging and fumbling with the hooks behind Steve's back.

'Ah,' Eddie says, again, rather eloquently. 'I should probably leave you to it, then.'

Before he can turn and go, however, Steve says, 'I heard that you're pretty good with your hands, Munson. Bet you can get it off me in no time.'

'Pfff- ' Robin makes, rolling her eyes, 'I wouldn't be so sure he's ever had a bra in his hands.'

And while Robin has flocked him as a raging homosexual as it seems, Eddie heard the rumours about him too: fingers dancing over his guitar, rolling the perfect joints, Eddie the freak Munson knows how to work his fingers. he doesn't hate this rumour at all. It's kind of nice - for his ego and all.

Yes, he hasn't opened a bra before, but he's met this hot goth dude in a corset before, and that's basically a bra with dozens of hooks. He is fairly sure he can open it with one hand and without looking. What he probably shouldn't do is coming too close to Steve Harrington, the man he's had a crush on since they survived the Upside Down together. Not with his naked skin and hairy chest and dark brown nipple peaking through the black lace of the undergarment.

But both Robin and Steve stare at him and Eddie doesn't run anymore - a challenge is a challenge.

'No problem,' he says far more confident than he actually feels and steps closer, one knee on the bed before Robin's even all out of the way.

'No looking,' she says as if she's explaining the rules to a game, 'chest to chest or face in his neck, but you can only use one hand and your eyes have to stay either closed or on him. Seriously no peeking.'

She shuffles out the way to make room for Eddie between Steve's long, also very naked, legs and Eddie swallows quietly before leaning closer.

Steve smells like sunscreen and grass, a bit like the pineapple they ate earlier before the kids left, and sweat. He smells devine and before Eddie can think clearly, he presses his face into Steve's neck. He feels Steve shudder when his damp lips accidentally meet his sun kissed skin and Eddie feels like he's going crazy. What is he doing? Why is he doing it? Even the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. God, he's gone so bad for Steve Harrington.

'Ready?' Robin asks, apparently unaware of Eddie's dilemma or the way Steve's pulse is fluttering like a hummingbird right against Eddie's nose. 'Go!'

He sneaks his right arm around Steve, who jumps slightly the moment Eddie's fingertips brush against his shoulder blades. To keep him still, Eddie's left hand reaches for Steve's waist almost automatically. He doesn't try to focus too much on the way goosebumps spread under his fingers and the way Steve literally whines into Eddie's ear. His right hand follows the scratchy lace, nails lightly scratching Steve's skin, until he finds the hooks.

Thumb under the fabric and pointer and middle finger pressing against it, he feels the first hook opening after less than a heartbeat. For a moment, Eddie doesn't want to open the other two and therefore lose any reason to be so close to Steve.

Steve, who has his nose pressed against Eddie's hair and hand curled into Eddie's shirt, slightly tugging as if .... Well, as if to ask for permission to take it off. Eddie doesn't even know when he had the time to grab for the shirt in the first place.

Eddie moves his hand and the second hook opens. He turns his face, brings a bit more space between them to look at Steve. His cheeks are scarlet, lips shiney with spit and when he opens his eyes after mere seconds of Eddie staring at him, he can see that Steve's pupils are dilated, eyes dark with want.

The last hook springs free and without turning his eyes away, Eddie gently brushes the strap off Steve's broad shoulder. Steve quietly whimpers and pushes harder against Eddie's shirt as if to tear it off his body.

'Eddie', he whispers, licking his lips and Eddie just wants everything Steve is ready to offer.

'Ohhh okay, I think I'll leave you two alone', he hears the slightly panicked voice of Robin and then a door opening and closing.

And Eddie leans in...

[matchingbatbites]

No Upside Down AU where Dustin says fuck it and invites his favorite band to his wedding.

Corroded Coffin shot to popularity when he was 17, and even now, eight years later, they're still his favorite band, his favorite music to put on whenever he's working late on one project or another. Him and the boys have been to a handful of concerts over the years, and it's some of the best memories he's created with his friends.

After he proposes to Suzie and they're working on the invitation list, he jokingly proposes the idea of inviting the band. To his surprise, Suzie encourages it, telling him that he has nothing to lose.

So when they mail out the invitations six months before the wedding, there's one in the stack addressed to the Corroded Coffin PO box, along with a short but heartfelt letter.

In the midst of planning and working and everything else, he forgets about it. The day of his wedding, Mike comes stumbling back into the room where Dustin is getting ready, stammering about "Band- it's the- they-!"

It takes a moment for the three of them - Dustin, Lucas, and Will - to decipher what he's saying, but when they realize-

Dustin sees them once he's up at the church altar, a few rows back on the groom's side. All four members of Corroded Coffin plus a woman Dustin in pretty sure is their manager. He's vibrating as the ceremony starts, and the thing that pulls his attention from the surprise guests is Suzie, absolutely fucking radiant as she walks down the aisle towards him.

It's a bit of a blur after that, and Dustin doesn't get the chance to talk to the band until the reception, after the first dances when he actually has a chance to mingle.

The group is genuinely delighted to meet him and Suzie, says that they've had people ask them to perform at their weddings before, but they'd never just been invited. So they made sure to add it to their schedule, and even brought them a wedding gift.

(Yes, Dustin loses his entire mind over the signed guitar. The chunk of money meant to go towards their honeymoon is also nice, he guesses.)

They happily give autographs and take photos with anyone who asks, and Dustin gets to have a dream conversation about D&D with Eddie, the lead guitarist. It makes an already amazing day all that more special, especially when Eddie gives Dustin his personal number and tells him to call whenever he wants to chat.

(And later on, if Dustin catches Eddie making eyes at Steve, his babysitter-turned-older brother figure, and he also happens to see Steve flirting back, well. You can't blame him for encouraging it.)

[sturnsdarling]

'you look like this song'

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader is getting ready in fratboy!Matts room whilst listening to Nirvana, and he can't keep his eyes, or hands, off of her.

vibe check: fluffy smut with no real plot, everyone's (my) fave

2k words

A/N: This is for the anon who's having a shitty month, i hope you love it and i hope it makes your september a little better. I had this idea after Matt was listening to nirvana on stream, i need to sit in his room and listen to music whilst i get ready on his floor and i need it NOW.

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on Matts bedroom floor, wearing nothing but a black lingerie set and a pair of fishnet tights with the crotch ripped out, a gift from you to Matt from a previous bathroom hookup. Your legs were crossed underneath you as you did your makeup in the body length mirror that you had found on the street, and claimed as your makeup mirror in Matts room.

You tugged at your eye slightly, smoking out the black liner you had just applied, effortlessly achieving that 'slightly fucked out but still hot' look that had become your signature style. Your playlist was on a loop, always hooking your phone up to Matts speakers regardless of whether or not he was there or not. 'Smells like teen spirit' by Nirvana began to play, the steady drums making the floor vibrate slightly.

The door clicked open, and Matt walked in the room, looking at his phone and bopping his backward cap clad head along to the music before turning his attention to you. You looked to him in the reflection from your spot on the floor and, of course, he was already looking at you. You shot him a small smile before returning to your makeup, moving onto applying a dark burgundy lip with a slightly open mouth.

Matt came to stand behind you, caressing your slightly tangled hair with a large hand. His hand came down to the side of your face and slid down your jaw, watching you intently in the mirror. Your focus didn't waver, still focused on your makeup as you patted and rubbed your plump, dark lips together.

Matt felt as if his mouth had began to water at the sight of you, his hand coming down to your jaw as the song continued to play in the background. He tugged at the bottom of your jaw, moving your head so you were looking up at him from your perched position on the floor, him towering behind you.

"hey, tough girl" Matt smirked, his hand snaking its way up and down your neck with soft fingers.

You smiled in return, batting your lashes at him like a cat, "hi, Matthew"

"you look sexy as fuck right now, you know that?" He said, his words rolling off his tongue like honey.

You chuckled slightly, rolling your eyes and attempting to return to doing your makeup, Matt tutted at your slight attitude with faux anger, pulling your head back up to face him as he leaned down on bent knees, capturing your neck in his hand and kissing you roughly.

The force he kissed you with sent you backwards, Matt catching you in his lap as he met you on the floor. Your head was cradled in his legs, your view of him upside down. Kurt Cobain was shredding on the guitar, the sound giving your face a whole new beauty that Matt was lost in.

"you look like this song" Matt muttered, in awe of how completely beautiful you were.

You couldn't help but laugh, lifting yourself up and turning round to face him, your legs tucked under you like a baby deer, "what?" you said with a smile.

Matt brought a hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your smudged lipstick, knowing it was probably stained on his mouth too,

"y'know how this song makes you feel when you listen to it? like you're vibrating, you can feel every cell in your body and your heart thumpin' in your chest so hard it could break a rib" Matt said, quoting you the first time you played this song in his presence.

"yeah?" You smirked with furrowed brows, letting Matt poke and prod at your puffy bottom lip.

"thats how you make me feel, when I look at you" Matt finally brought his eyes to yours.

Matts words made you feel warm all over, you couldn't even muster up a reply, the only thing in your mind being how not only was that easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but how all you wanted to do in that moment was pin matt to the floor and ride in him into oblivion for remembering your exact words about one of your favourite songs of all time.

His eyes were pouring into yours, your breathing got slightly heavier and your mouth parted. The song was coming to end, steady drums and repeated 'hellos' being the only sound in the room as you attempted to form a sentence in reply to Matt.

Nothing you could think to say was coherent, or appropriate for the time frame in which you'd known each other so, you did the one thing you knew Matt would understand.

You threw yourself into him, capturing your lips in his with feverish passion, pressing your tongue against his almost immediately. Matt welcomed your attack, kissing you back with matched desperation. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him and raking your hands through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his hat off to give you better access to his soft brown hair.

Matts hands were on your waist, pulling you down into him as he lowered you both onto the floor, his back pressing against the hard wood. His hands snuck up your nearly bare back, the feeling of his skin against yours sending you into a frenzy. Every press of his finger tips felt like hot wax as you quietly moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips against his, trying to chase any friction you could.

Matt tensed at your movements, hips rutting up into yours involuntarily as you pushed your barely clothed pussy down on his growing bulge.

"need it, now" you whimpered into the kiss, your words demanding but your tone desperate.

Matt chuckled, "right now, angel? thought you were gettin' ready?" he muttered into your mouth, chasing your lips.

"right now" you replied, speaking in two word sentences, unable to shake the fever that had overcome you.

Matt smirked and slid his hands down your back and over your fishnet covered ass, pulling apart your cheeks slightly, making you arch above him like a cat. Your hands left his hair and dipped in between the two of you, you fiddled with the button of his jeans, snaking your cold hand into his jeans.

Matt let out a short hiss, and you captured his mouth in yours once more, pumping him as best you could under the restriction of his jeans. Matt moaned into your mouth, and brought his hand down to your ass, smacking it in encouragement. You used your other hand to fumble with the top of his jeans, pushing them down with needy whines and whimpers into the messy kiss.

Once you had managed to free Matt of his jeans, him doing nothing to help, enjoying watching you be so desperate for his cock, you sat up, still pumping him in your hand as you did. Matt watched in awe, with your lipstick smudged over your face and your eyes fluttering with needy ache, you'd never looked more beautiful.

Matt came up slightly to rest on his elbows, eyes still trained on yours. You brought your free hand to his mouth and swiped your middle and index over his stained lips, Matt knew what you wanted, and took your hand in his, opening it into a small bowl in front of his mouth. He held eye contact with you, and collected his saliva on his tongue, spitting it into your palm. You smiled, taking your now wet hand and replacing the hand on his cock with it.

The feeling of your sticky hand against his cock made his head roll back on its hinge, eyes fluttering as a low groan left his mouth. You shifted your hand up and down his length, rubbing his spit all over his throbbing shaft and over his leaking pink head. Shifting slightly, you lifted yourself up, pulling your underwear to the side and lining Matts tip up with your aching hole.

You lowered down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you up as you sunk down inciting a breathless moan from you, nudging your puffy clit against the scattering of hair at the base of his cock as you let him nestle into you completely.

Matts mouth was opened wide, his head snapping back up to watch as you sucked him into your tight walls completely, brows burrowed at the sensation of you clenching around him.

You began to move, resting your hands against his chest as leverage as you moved to place the bottoms of your feet against the floor, squatting on top of him.

The new angle made your pussy grip Matts cock in a way he'd never experienced before,

"oh fuck" Matt said through gritted teeth as you began to bounce on him.

You were lost in it, his earlier words playing on repeat in your mind as you moved up and down his veiny cock, relishing in the sting of him stretching out your unprepared pussy. Despite the lack of foreplay, you were soaked, and you could feel yourself leaking sticky juices against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out side of you.

Whimpering, desperate moans left your throat as you fucked him, taking him as deep as you could, milking him with every bounce. Matt couldn't keep his eyes off where the two of you met, watching as you rose up and down on his length, his whole body tingling at the feeling of your tight pussy coupled with the slight sting of your nails digging into your chest.

"m'gonna cum if you keep riding me like this, angel" Matt said, breathlessly as he reluctantly tore his eyes from your skin slapping against his and met your eye line.

"s'what I want, cum inside me, please" you mumbled, begging as you relentlessly milked his cock.

"you - fuck - you know the rules, angel, you -" Matt cut himself off with a moan, "you cum first" his eyes flit back to the sight of your perfect pussy taking him, and he brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing it inside and laying it against your warm tongue.

You pushed your tongue against his digit, wrapping your lips around his lowest knuckle with a small hum. Matt pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking his free hand and using it to push you up slightly, giving him better access to your clit and the perfect opportunity to wrap his hand round your throat.

Matt laid back completely onto the floor, with one hand on your throat, and the other working your clit, he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to control your contorting face as he worked a relentless pace on your sensitive nub. You picked up your speed, ignoring the ache in your thighs as you desperately worked to get Matt to cum.

"tell m-" you stuttered, "tell me again"

Matt smirked, the events of the last few minutes adding up in his mind, you liked it when he told you how he felt about you, without actually telling you.

"you look like a Nirvana song, angel, so pretty n' so messy, all for me" He cooed, trying his best to make his words clear despite his fucked out, wavering tone.

"mphm" your brows knit together, you shifted your position, straddling him once more to grind your hips back and forth against his.

The drag of your pussy against his base, along with the wet, sticky pace Matt was setting on your clit and his perfect words made you see stars, and you came all over his cock, vision going blurry as you reached your high.

You moaned out his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth as you shook above him, legs tensing around his hips and nails digging little crescent moons into his chest.

"fuck, pretty girl, you look s'good when you cum all over my cock" Matt said, bringing a hand to hold your hip, grinding you down onto him faster as you started to get lightheaded.

"y'want me to fill you up, angel? soak your perfect pussy in my cum whilst your favourite songs play in the background?" Matt mumbled, slowing his pace on your clit and moving his other hand to your hip.

"please" you whimpered

Matt didn't need any more permission, he lifted you up slightly, the movement making you flop forward onto him, catching yourself with a hand round his jaw. Without warning, he began to pound into you, using his grip on your hips as leverage to mercilessly fuck your weeping pussy.

You let out a broken moan, trying to capture his lips in yours but failing, trailing wet, sloppy pecks on his mouth as he thrust into you at a feverish pace, grunting and groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

"so fuckin' needy for me, tough girl, all because I told you somthin' nice" Matt said though gritted teeth, "you feel as good as you look, y'know that?"

You couldn't even begin to muster a reply, only moans spilling from your mouth as Matts relentless pace into your pussy made you completely cock dumb. With a few hard, long thrusts, Matt buried himself inside you completely, dick twitching in your walls as he coated them with his cum, moaning your name as he went limp beneath you.

You breathed into each others mouths, foreheads rested against each others as your body weight relaxed down onto him.

"you gonna keep getting ready, angel?" Matt mumbled, pulling out of you.

"mhm" you nodded breathlessly, "just need a minute"

Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around you as you caught your breath on top of him. "okay tough girl" He said, just before pressing a long kiss into the side of your head.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 2.2k | first meetings | ao3

“What did you say the name of the band is again?” Steve asks. He has to raise his voice above the sound of the music playing before the concert and the hundreds of conversations around him.

“Corroded Coffin” Dustin says, probably for the hundredth time, or that’s what his tone suggests.

“It’s written on the drums.” Mike adds with his constant bitchy petulant tone.

Steve turns around and fair enough, the name is written there in the drums. They are also right there as they had queued for hours to be at the front (they are not in the centre but there’s no one standing in front of them), and apparently the band and place are small enough that there is no security line in front of the stage. Steve has been leaning against it with a drink in his hand while they wait for the concert to start. And that’s his excuse. He was leaning against the stage, so the drums were to his back, he couldn’t have read them.

“C’mon Steve, even I learned the name of the band in the eternity we have been here” Robin says which, rude, but she had agreed to come keep him company at a metal concert without asking for anything in return, so he will let it pass.

The kids (not quite kids anymore, but close enough) had needed an adult to get into the 18+ venue the concert was held at, and of course that adult had to be Steve because “we are not going to bring one of our parents into a metal concert Steve” and “Nancy and Jonathan are not even in the state and you said you were fun, didn’t you?” and he is fun, so he had to agree. And drag Robin with him, of course.

“Well I would remember the name if it wasn’t a stupid name” he says, a bit too loud if the looks he receives from some of the people around them are anything to go by.

“If you are so annoyed why don’t you go hang out at the bar and leave us alone?” Dustin asks.

“If I’m at a concert I’m getting the full experience, I’ve not queued for hours to stay at the bar. And I have to make sure you don’t get squished to death or accept drinks from strangers.”

“We are sixteen, you already drank when you were sixteen.”

“But I didn’t have a wristband telling everyone I was a minor.” He emphasizes this by hooking his forefinger on said wristband around Dustin’s wrist. The boy takes his hand away with a huff, but whatever he was going to say gets interrupted by a loud cheer as the lights of the venue dim. All eyes turn to the stage, and Steve forgets everything about the little shits around him.

They play the first two songs without interruption, back to back, and they are much better than Steve had expected them to be when the kids had pitched the idea of going to a concert of ‘a super cool band’ they had found on tiktok of all places. Steve is very quick to understand their raising popularity on social media the moment his eyes land on the frontman. He is not even wearing anything scandalous, just black jeans, some graphic tee and a leather jacket, but fuck if he isn’t attractive. His big eyes, teasing smile and wild hair are very much deserving of the screams they awake in the audience.

When the second song finishes, they don’t start a new one, the frontman takes the microphone from the stand.

“Are you ready for the best night of your life?” he shouts, and the audience answers with shouts of their own. Steve finds himself whooping, and answers with a smile and a shrug to Robin’s amused silent question as both of them clap. “We are Corroded Coffin,” more yelling, and the frontman stars walking around with a smile on his lips while he looks at the ground, clearly enjoying the attention. “And these aaaaaare…” he prolongs the last word, building a dramatic effect. “Gareth!” he shouts, pointing to the back dramatically. There are yells, the boy at the drums doing a short solo before he stands up to wave at the audience. “Jeff!” more yells, a guitar solo. “Our favourite Freak!” laughs from band and audience alike, more yells, and the boy with the bass trying to hit the frontman with said bass. “And I’m Eddie.”

‘Eddie’ Steve mouths the name.

There are yells as the frontman finishes, a small bashful smile on his lips back on his face after the laughing as he plays with the microphone stand with the hand that is not currently holding the microphone. He looks up at the audience when the yells don’t stop, gives a small dramatic bow and smirks when the yells grow louder once again.

“EDDIE MARRY ME” a voice yells from somewhere in the audience.

“Oh? Without going on a date first?” Eddie asks, he has his gaze set somewhere on the audience, and Steve is a bit impressed at how easily he has spot the person in the sea of bodies.

“I’M FREE WHENEVER.” The same voice yells again, it makes Eddie laugh.

“I’m honoured, my fair lady, but I’ll have to decline. I’m looking for my knight in shining armour myself.” There are ooohs from the audience but Steve’s gut makes a traitorous interested twist. “And speaking of knights,” he says, putting his hands back on his guitar, “I think you may know this one.” One note, and the audience is going crazy. Dustin is jumping up and down while he holds onto Steve’s arm, and Steve can’t help but laugh at him.

It's when that third song is finishing that it happens. The guitarist is starting a solo, and Eddie looks down to the base of the microphone stand, pulls a confused face, and then looks around. He must not see whatever he was looking for because he has a confused furrow in his brow when he does a second sweep around the stage and beyond, and he catches Steve's eyes. He maintains the eye contact for a second, two, five, and then looks down to Steve’s hands and back up again. There is a smirk in his face Steve is not entirely sure he likes the implications of as he walks towards him while he keeps playing.

Steve can hear Dustin screaming “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” right next to his ear as Eddie comes closer until he is standing right in front of them.

The musician is still looking at Steve as he leans forward and asks “give me a sip?” as he looks down at Steve’s hands for a second. (Or at least that’s what Steve guesses he says, the noise too loud for him to really hear him without his mic.)

Steve lifts his drink, and the frontman leans forward and down with a smile. He opens his mouth and Steve pours his drink in it. When he finishes, he winks at Steve before he walks away in time to start singing again. The kids around him are screaming, Robin is surely going to make him partially deaf and is shaking him so hard he almost drops the rest of his drink. It takes until the next song starts for the bunch to calm down a bit and focus on the show again.

The thing is, that is not the last time it happens. Eddie comes back to steal sips from his drink every few verses, and when Steve’s drink is finished and he goes to get a beer, he is miraculously let back to the front by the audience. Eddie, of course, also wants to have his share of the beer. So they share it.

It is, if Steve is honest, the weirdest experience he has ever had in a concert. But he is having too much fun and would not change it for anything. A hot singer and guitarist coming to him every few minutes and bending down so Steve can pour drink into his mouth? The best thing that has happened to him all month. It only gets better when Eddie ditches his leather jacket – Steve was starting to wonder when that was going to happen because it’s much too hot in the venue for it and he is sure that a big reason Eddie needs to drink so much is because he is sweating it all and dehydrating – and reveals that the tee he was wearing underneath has the sleeves cut off very freely. Steve can see most of the man’s torso and that is a SIGHT. There are tattoos on his arms and ribcage that Steve immediately wants to see complete, and his waist is slim where the shirt is tucked into the jeans. It makes Steve bite his lip in want.

He is about to pour the last of their third beer in Eddie’s mouth when a small hand stops him. He looks to the side with confusion, sure that none of the kids or Robin would stop him at this point and is met with the smile of a small blonde girl.

“Give him this please” she says, handing him a bottle of an electrolyte drink. Steve looks back at Eddie just in time to see him groaning. “No more beer.” She adds, pointing to Eddie as if he was a misbehaving dog, he is surely giving the look, with his big brown eyes and sad look. She turns back to Steve, “and sorry about that, any new drinks you get are on us.”

She is gone with that. Steve looks at Eddie, at the new drink in his hand. Eddie shrugs, defeated, and leans forward. Steve quickly empties the rest of the beer in his mouth before he opens the new bottle and starts pouring from it. Eddie doesn’t drink much, too busy trying not to choke on the beer and his laughter.

Eddie ditches his guitar towards the end of the concert for a ‘calmer’ song. He walks around the stage as he sings to a boy involved in him that tries to deny the depth of their relationship and tries to date girls, and how in the future he is going to regret not staying with him. He has great stage presence, he has been flirting with the audience between songs, dramatic and charismatic, a bit over the top. Maybe the fastest crush Steve has ever developed, happy to enjoy his part in the show, even when he knows it’s not going to lead anywhere.

Steve feels his heart accelerating as Eddie walks towards him, which is ridiculous, they have been doing this all night. But this time Eddie shakes his head when Steve gets the drink ready, and he can only look as he kneels on the edge of he stage right in front of him as he sings the bridge. They are holding eye contact now, and it’s the closest they have been. Eddie’s eyes are captivating, Steve can only stop looking at them to glance down at his lips. It seems he was caught, because the next second Eddie is speaking.

“Are we about to kiss right now?” he asks, and Steve looks back up to his eyes. He lifts his eyebrows, trying to convey ‘bring it on’ as best as he can as he licks his lips, Eddie’s eyes glancing at them. It must work, because the next second Eddie is leaning forward, and now Steve’s hand is on his nape, and their lips are pressing against each other.

It’s probably the filthiest kiss Steve has participated on. At least with an audience. It’s not long, Eddie has to keep singing after all, but they make up for it in tongue action. The audience goes crazy around them, but Steve doesn’t pay attention to them at all, only focused on Eddie. He at least must be paying some attention to their surroundings because he pulls off in time to keep singing and stands up to move around the stage.

There are a couple of songs more, and then Eddie is introducing the band again before he starts listing all the members of the staff that have made the concert possible.

“We also wouldn’t have made it here without our precious manager Chrissy,” he adds, “even when she worries too much sometimes. Three beers are not enough to get me drunk, especially not shared ones. And that reminds me! I can’t forget to thank my knight in shining armour, my perfect drink partner…” he trails off.

“STEVE!” Robin shouts next to him.

“Steve” Eddie repeats with a smile. “Thank you for the drinks. Don’t go running off now too fast now, alright? Stay for a bit after the concert, I owe you a couple of beers.” He finishes with a wink.

The kids and Robin are screaming again, and Steve is sure he is going to have bruises tomorrow from their grabbing, but he doesn’t stray his gaze from Eddie. At least not until the last song finishes, the lights from the stage turn off, and the rest of the lights of the venue turn on. Then, and only then, Steve turns towards the others.

“How did you say you were going to get back home again?”

Part two

Now with art

[sceletaflores]

he’s a good time, cowboy casanova!

pair: cowboy!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 9.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, alternate universe/no powers, swearing, drinking, smoking, probably some inaccuracies about ranch life idk i haven't been around a horse in like two years, logan working a lasso yes god, age gap (Logan is mid-40s, reader is early-20s), THE COWBOY HAT RULE RAAAHHH, nasty dirty talk, i was so horny for kissing when i was writing this jesus, p in v, unprotected sex (do as sex ed tells you, not as i write), semi-public sex, riding, creampie, some emotional constipation cause it’s me, porn with a little too much plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: another purely self indulgent work...i just fucking love cowboys what can i say. it's practically ingrained in me by this point. logan would never dance but like who cares he's my barbie i can make him do whatever i want! kisses <3

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

a cowboy and the governor’s daughter walk into a barn...

The ranch is alive like you've never seen before, almost every acre lit up in celebration of your father's recent inauguration.

Twinkling lights strung around the barn's ceiling cast a warm orange glow all around you, flickering like fireflies on a summer night.

People are everywhere—laughing, mingling, drinking. Their faces both familiar and new, dressed in everything from head-to-toe denim to their Sunday best.

The lively music from the band floats through the space, couples on the makeshift dance floor twirling to the familiar twang of an acoustic guitar.

You take it all in from your spot against the wall, drink in hand as your eyes scan the room.

You did your share of mingling earlier in the evening, greeting the higher-up’s in your city with hugs and thanks.

You posed for pictures that’ll be splashed across the front pages of Monday’s paper, listened to your father’s speech as you stood by his side with a smile.

This is the first moment you've gotten to yourself since the ball started, one you've spent in content silence while enjoying the perks of an open bar.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by your lonesome?"

The honeyed rasp of a voice filtering in from your left paired with the jingling sound of spurs against the soft ground grabs your attention.

At first, you turn ready to greet a stray boutique or feedstore owner you may have missed earlier. You’re pleasantly surprised to see Marie sauntering towards you instead, a bright grin on her face that makes you smile right back.

Marie was one of the first people you met after moving to Texas at the beginning of your father's campaign, and you've only gotten closer since she started as a ranch hand down at Blackbird.

Her unruly red curls spill out from under her Stetson, the bouncy strands swinging in time with the white fringe of her show-shirt as she opens her arms.

"Thought you might have gotten lost in all the fancy folk," she teases, nearly crushing you with the strength of her hug.

You laugh as you hug her back, the warmth of her embrace a welcome interruption to your moment of peace and quiet. Her scent wraps around you, the familiar dust and lavender that's seeped into her clothes.

"Definitely not lost," you say, stepping back to meet her gaze. "Just taking it all in."

Marie smirks, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside you, crossing her arms as she watches the crowd.

"Sure is a good night for it," she says, glancing over at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lookin' for anyone in particular? A nice night cap?"

You snort, taking another sip of your drink. Marie has always been more invested in your love life than you, hand picking guys from around town she deems worthy enough of your attention.

You know she means well, and it's almost as endearing as it is pesky, so you let her play matchmaker from time to time.

“I don’t need a night cap,” you laugh, shaking your head sluggishly. "I’m perfectly fine spending tonight alone."

Before Marie can respond, a stir from outside filters in. Loud cheers and hollers, hooves beating against dirt, the distinct whistle of a lasso slicing through the air.

Marie practically squeals, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she peers through the barn doors. “It’s starting!”

You don’t have time to ask what ‘it’ is before she’s snatching up your wrist and turning to haul you outside.

"Marie! Where the hell are we going?" You practically trip over your own feet trying to keep up with her, your drink splashing up against the rim of your glass precariously.

Marie laughs as she pulls you out into the cool evening air, her boots crunching on the gravel as she drags you toward the commotion. “You’ll see!”

You weave through the crowd forming around the training ring, Marie’s grip still tight around your wrist as she pushes toward the front until you’re right up against the railing. 

You peer over it, eyes adjusting to the floodlights surrounding the ring, illuminating the clouds of dust kicked up by the different ranch hands perched on horses.

A few riders take turns showing off their skills, each of them in the same show-shirt as Marie, expertly swinging lassos and wrangling cattle with practiced ease.

The energy is contagious, and you find yourself smiling, soaking in the excitement pulsing through the crowd.

Marie leans closer, her voice low and laced with something knowing. “Just wait for it, honey. It’s about to get good.”

You give her a puzzled look, but she’s already grinning ear to ear, her attention fully focused on a new rider that chargers into the ring.

You follow her gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

He rides in like he owns the place, his coal black horse cutting through the fog of dirt like a shadow, sleek and powerful beneath him.

A black Stetson sits low over his face, casting shadows that only add to the rugged allure of his jawline, a jawline that could cut glass. 

As he leans forward to grab the rope tossed at him by one of the other riders, his muscles flex, a kind of strength that isn’t there for show, but for real work.

His show-shirt is stretched over the width of his chest, over broad shoulders that look like they were carved from stone, made for lifting hay bales and hundred pound feed bags.

The sleeves rolled up to expose forearms dusted with dark hair and more than a few scars. His gloved hands rest on the reins with an ease that tells you he’s more than familiar on a saddle.

He’s not the flashiest rider, but there’s something commanding in his presence as he races his horse towards the steer, lasso circling high above his head.

He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to put on a show—he is the show.

Marie’s grip on your wrist tightens, and she leans in again, her voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

“That’s Logan,” she says, practically glowing with pride. ”He’s the foreman down at Blackbird, might just be the best damn cowboy in the whole state.”

You blink, hardly able to tear your gaze away from Logan, who’s riding like he’s part of the horse, one seamless, commanding figure cutting through the chaos in the ring. 

His focus is sharp, and as his lasso snaps through the air, catching the steers back leg in a clean loop, the crowd erupts in applause.

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement flashing beneath the shadow of his hat.

Marie nudges you, her grin widening as she catches the look on your face. “Told you he was worth watching,” she teases, winking. “And he’s got a bit of a reputation for bein’ hard to impress—one of those strong, silent types, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster as Logan turns his horse, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before it lands on you.

Your cheeks warm under his stare, trying to subtly make out the different features of his face from this far. His head tilts just slightly, as if he’s sizing you up from across the ring.

For a second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones there. The cheers from the audience dulling into white noise all around you, everything in your peripheral blurring together—everything but him.

“He’s good…” Your voice has gone light, airy as you watch Logan turn his horse back to lead the steer into the ring's stall with all the others. 

Marie's grin only widens as she leans against the post, clever eyes trained on the side of your face. "You still 'perfectly find spendin' the night alone'?"

You don't respond, too busy watching the strong muscle of Logan's back ripple under his shirt as he rides out of the ring—to your complete dismay—almost as fast as he rode in.

You're only snapped out of your trance when you can't make out his silhouette any longer. The crowd around you dissipates, filtering back into the barn while you're stuck to the fence straining your eyes for broad shoulders and a black cowboy hat.

“Show’s over, sugar.” Marie says with a snort, gently tugging you away from the post. “Come on, let’s get you another drink.”

You lost your company ten minutes ago, but you knew you didn’t stand a chance when Remy found the two of you huddled at the bar.

Sheepishly coming up to Marie with his hat in his hand, pressing it to his chest as he asked her for a dance.

You waved them off with a smile, assuring Marie you'd be fine on your own for a couple songs.

It gave you a chance to step out for some fresh air, to lean against the side of the barn and sneak a cigarette while your father was busy dancing with the town's best real estate agent money can buy.

You take a slow drag, eyes peering up at the stars so you can trace the constellations. You think that this might just be your favorite part of the move. 

Nevada has never been known for its clear skies, you can count the times you’d been able to see the stars on one hand.

You still remember the first night after you settled into your new house, the stress of the move and your fathers inauguration weighed on you enough that sleep was hard to come by. 

You finally crept out of bed around three, climbing over your balcony to perch yourself on the roof, carton of cigarettes and a lighter shoved in the waistband of your shorts.

The first time you looked out over the horizon was like stepping into a whole new world.

The stars had never felt so close, hung through the air like diamonds. So bright against the vast nothingness that stretched out beyond the too-big ranch house on the too-many acres the state appointed you and your father. 

It was like you could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from the sky like fruit off a tree.

You’d been used to the city lights, the constant hum of noise that swallowed up the stars, but here? It was different. 

The air smelled of dust and rainwater, and the silence was louder than anything you’d ever known.

You remember the deep, quiet hum of the night, almost like it was waiting for you to catch up, to adjust to the new rhythm of the world you were suddenly a part of.

It was a moment of peace, a brief stillness from the mess crowding your head, and you found comfort in that isolation.

You take another long drag, letting the smoke curl around your fingers, the orange embers glowing bright against the darkness.

As the faint scent of tobacco mixes with the cool air, you find that same sense of peace returning, the same stillness settling over your chest.

You tilt your head back to rest on the barn, eyes fluttering shut as you let the crisp breeze lull you into its serenity.

"Those'll kill you, y'know."

A voice comes from just over your shoulder, warm and low. A smooth drawl ringing out from the shadows.

You slip your eyes open, expecting to see one of the older ranch hands or maybe even a city official looking to lecture the governor's kid. 

It takes you a second, but the black Stetson and squared shoulders register quickly enough—Logan. 

You nearly swallow your tongue, eyes widening as you take in the way he leans against the barn a few feet away from you. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching you. 

The moonlight dances across his face, highlighting the rough line of his jaw and the confident tilt of his smirk.

“I didn’t think cowboys were one’s for giving lectures.” You’re shocked at the stillness of your voice, the beat of your heart picking up the tiniest bit.

Logan’s smirk only widens as he pushes off the wall, gravel crunching under his boots as he makes his way over to you, slow and deliberate. He’s still dressed in the same outfit from before, a lasso still coiled in one hand.

He comes to a stop next to you, leaning his shoulder just inches from yours. "Not usually. But when I see a pretty girl puffin' away on somethin' that's bound to ruin her, I make an exception."

You smirk, lifting the cigarette to your lips again just to make a point, even as your pulse jumps a little under his gaze. "Guess we all have our vices.” You say, blowing out the smoke slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks its lazy drift.

Logan’s eyes trail back to yours, and you can see the color of them now that he’s closer. A mix of different greens and browns fading together, like a forest in the thick of summer.

The lightest dusting of freckles decorate the bridge of his nose, trailing along his cheeks until they disappear under his beard, a product of being out in the sun so often.

You’re struck by how pretty he is, all long lashes and red lips.

Well, pretty for a cowboy anyway.

“You plan on sharin’?”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, brow raising skeptically. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan just shrugs, a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I reckon’ it’s rude to let a lady smoke alone.”

You huff lightly, reaching into the pocket of your dress. You flick the top of your Marlboros open, slipping a cigarette out and offering it to Logan silently. 

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours enough to send a spark through you. It travels up your arm and all around your shoulders to seep down through your entire body, resting in your stomach to swirl through the heat simmering there.

“Got a light?” He asks, words muffled around the filter.

You roll your eyes, but reach back into your pocket regardless. Logan leans closer as you flip your zippo open, taking his hat off to cover the side of his face, blocking the flame from the lazy breeze.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he nears closer. You didn’t expect he’d want you to light it for him. You will your hand to steady as you raise the flame to the tip, holding it close enough that the small light illuminates his face.

The intoxicating mix of leather and musk invades your senses. You fight the urge to lean into it entirely, to close the gap.

When the flame flickers and catches the end of his cigarette, Logan pulls back, taking a languid drag, the embers glowing between his lips.

His eyes don't leave yours as he exhales deeply, the smoke curling from his lips in slow tendrils. You can’t tell if it’s the nicotine or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head spin.

You break eye contact, feeling the flush creeping up your neck, and lean back against the barn to cool yourself off. Logan leans beside you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you, just the soft crackling of cigarettes and distant music filling the space between.

Logan puts his hat back on, his voice breaking through the quiet as he does. “You’re Governor Wright’s daughter, ain't you?”

You nod slowly, exhaling another long plume of smoke. It’s still weird hearing it out loud. “I am.”

Logan hums, turning his head to face you again. The silver moonlight catching the glint in his eye.

“Saw your picture in the paper.” His gaze rakes from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your boots. “Looked real nice.”

The air feels heavier as Logan’s eyes travel over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, before meeting your gaze again. His eyes hold a hint of amusement, the green of them darker than before. The heat swims through you faster, stronger.

“Congratulations.” He adds, almost like an afterthought. A quick pivot to take some attention away from how his eyes swept over your body so shamelessly.

You snort before you can stop yourself. If you had a dollar for every time you’ve heard that over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” you say, kicking at some rocks near your feet. “Thank you.”

You can see the way Logan’s brow raises out of the corner of your eye, his gaze burning a hole along your profile.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he comments, exhaling lazily. “That why you’re hidin’ out here?”

You shrug, leaning back against the barn and tapping your cigarette to shake off some ash. “Maybe I just like the quiet,” you say. “Or maybe I’m avoiding another round of ‘how proud are you of your daddy’ small talk.”

Logan stays quiet, and you feel the overwhelming need to explain yourself. A need to fill the silence, like he’s some kind of magnet that soothes the truth from people.

You sigh, turning your eyes to the dark sky again. “I’m happy for my dad, of course I am but…” You trail off, searching for the right words. “It’s just a lot.”

He chuckles lightly, a low rumble that feels more real than the sounds of laughter from inside the barn. “Hell, I don’t blame you,” he says, his eyes flicking up to the stars too. “Nothin’ wrong with takin' a breather now and then.”

You both stand there in comfortable silence, the night stretching out around you, as vast and open as the sky above. You let yourself study Logan out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems at ease, like he’s as much a part of this land as the grass and stars.

Finally, he looks over, and you feel that sharp gaze settle on you again. “You keep starin’ like that,” he says, a teasing note creeping into his voice, “I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re more interested in somethin' other than the stars.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, heat rushing to your ears as you search for something to say.

Logan’s smirk widens as he catches the way your breath stutters, and for a moment, the silence is thick, the air between you charged. 

You force a laugh, trying to play it off, but it’s weak, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck again. "I—"

Back inside the barn, the band switches songs, saving you from your embarrassment. A softer melody floats through the air, slow and sweet as molasses. It’s muffled enough that it sounds almost hazy, like a soundtrack to the most wonderful dreams.

Logan turns to watch the shadows move in the light spilling through the open doors. Couples pairing off, taking to the dancefloor. All warm embraces and slow moving circles, swaying to the gentle beat.

He turns back to you, running his thumb over the coarse lasso in his hand. “Care for a dance?”

You raise your brow, skepticism written all over your face. “I don’t really do that.”

Logan doesn’t back down, tilting his head with an easy grin. “Seems like a waste not dancin’ in a dress like that.”

You can’t fight the smile that tugs your lips up, shaking your head with a quiet laugh as you peer down at the nice floral fabric of your sundress. The wind makes it swish along your sides, the flowy fabric swaying over the knee of your boots.

“Maybe another time, Logan.” You try to ignore how good his name feels rolling off your tongue.

He takes one last drag off his cigarette before he’s stubbing it out on the worn leather of his belt and slipping the butt in his jean pocket. It’s both the strangest and most endearing thing you’ve ever seen—a cowboy that refuses to litter.

“Well I’m gonna have to insist.” He crosses his arms over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, a dare.

“Oh, you’re insisting, are you?” You repeat doubtfully, lolling your head to the side languidly, your hair flowing with it. ”And how are you gonna do that?”

Logan doesn’t answer with words, just raises his arm to start twirling his lasso through the air with a smug grin. He circles once, twice, three times before a deft flick of his wrist sends the rope across the way to you. 

It slips over your shoulders, sliding down to catch on the curve of your hips.

You raise a brow, reluctant smile still playing on your lips. “Do you carry this thing with you everywhere you go?”

Logan cocks a brow, tugging on his end of the rope so it tightens around you, forcing you a step closer.

You stumble forward with a soft laugh, eyes darting up to meet Logan's. The lasso feels snug, but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s in control, and the thought sends a spark straight down to your core.

“You sure you don’t dance?” He tugs you a few steps closer, his smirk only deepening as he effortlessly reels you in.

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, shaking your head. “You sure are persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Logan doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, instead taking that final step forward. His grip tightens slightly on the lasso, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. 

You can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

“Some would say it’s my best quality,” he teases quietly, voice dropping to something lower, like gravel and velvet. “Now, you gonna fight me the whole way through, or are we gonna dance?”

You glance up at him, your chest fluttering in spite of yourself. A thousand lame excuses run through your mind, but all you can manage is a breathless laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and nerves.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you murmur, hands tentatively coming to rest on his shoulders. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan’s smile softens, his hand slinking around your hips to loosen the lasso, letting it slip down your legs so you can step out of it.

Big hands settle on your waist, brushing the soft fabric of your dress, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, guiding you effortlessly into an easy sway.

The moment you fall into the rhythm of the music, your body moves naturally against Logan’s, and you can feel the charge between you intensify with each step.

His boots scrape against the dirt as he leads you in a slow, almost languid circle. Your feet match his without thinking, the sound of your boots in sync with the soft country tune playing from the barn.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” His voice is low, a soft whisper against the backdrop of the music.

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. The rough scrape of his jeans against your bare legs sends a delicious shiver skittering up your spine.

“Not so bad,” you agree, your voice quieter now, the playful edge slipping away as something deeper stirs between you.

You tilt your head up, breath catching in your chest when you find him already looking down at you. His lips quirk up slightly, but there’s a new intensity there now, something sharper than the teasing glimmer from before.

"Logan," you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost to the night air.

His free hand slides up the length of your spine, trailing along your neck until he’s cupping the side of your face. His thumb grazes your cheekbone with a gentleness you never thought men like him to be capable of.

The space between you shrinks even more as Logan dips his head, his nose brushing against yours in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine

“You gonna tell me to stop?” He murmurs, his lips so close now you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your throat works to form words, but they’re gone, stolen by the way his hands slide a fraction lower on your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

Your breath hitches again, and without thinking, you close the space, lips pressing against his, soft at first, unsure. Logan deepens it almost immediately, tugging you impossibly closer.

It’s tender–achingly so. Logan’s lips are surprisingly soft, he tastes like top-shelf whiskey and your Marlboro Golds. They mold to yours with a gentle pressure, warm and inviting. His hand on your face tilts your head slightly, angling you just right as his thumb continues to trace soft circles over your cheek.

The warmth of it spreads through you, settling low in your stomach, and you think you could stay like this the whole night, wrapped in the quiet safety of him.

All too soon, Logan’s pulling away. You whine pathetically, lips chasing his own. You’d be embarrassed if it wasn't for the pure need coursing through you.

“You were right,” he mutters lowly, running his thumb along the slick expanse of your bottom lip. “This is a hell of a lot better than dancin’.”

“Shut up.” You drag him back down by the fistfuls of his shirt, your own lips hungrily seeking out his again.

This kiss is different, something filthier, something messier. It’s like a dam breaking to let a rush of water break free, all the tension unraveling itself as you meet again.

The gentle tilt of Logan’s head changes, and when his teeth catch your bottom lip with just enough pressure, your knees feel dangerously close to buckling.

His hand slides down from your cheek, skimming your jawline before tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and the taste of whiskey and smoke is heady, stronger, dizzying.

Logan’s mouth moves against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that only spurs him on, the hand in your hair tightening as he presses you back against the rough wood of the barn.

It digs into your body harshly, scratching at the bare skin of your shoulders and backs of your thighs. You hardly care.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off so you can tug him closer as your tongues slide together lewdly. Logan groans into your mouth at the sting of his scalp, you can feel the rumble of it in your bones. 

His beard scratches against your chin and cheeks so deliciously that you can’t help but imagine where else it might rub your skin red and raw. The thought alone has a shudder running through you, your hips arching off the barn unconsciously.

The subtle grind when your hips slot together is enough to have Logan’s grip tightening around your hips. His fingers flexing where they’re still tangled in your hair. You moan softly at the hard length tenting his jeans, pressing insistently against your lower stomach, big even trapped in the rough denim.

Your body reacts to the thick plane of heat almost viscerally, your pussy aching with the need to be filled.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because neither of you can breathe.

Logan pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths that match your own. His pupils are blown wide, dark and intense. You dazedly think back to the sleek coat of his horse, black as ink and shining under the rings lights. 

His lips are an angry red and slightly swollen, glistening in the pale moonlight, and the sight of him—disheveled and wanting—sends another wave of heat blooming through your core to leak wet and sticky in your panties.

“Your daddy would shoot me between the eyes if he caught us like this, darlin’.”

You hide your pleased smile in the crook of his neck, trailing soft kisses from his jaw to his ear. “Then we should find somewhere a little more private, shouldn’t we?”

Logan groans, hands bunching the fabric of your dress in tight fists as your lips brush against the lobe of his ear with every word, teasing. “I reckon’ we should.”

You step back, fingers trailing down to toy with the shiny belt buckle sitting pretty on his waist. “Lead the way.”

Logan smirks, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

He bends to grab his hat from where it lays at his feet, pushing his hair away from his eyes before dropping it back on his head. His hand finds the small of your back, turning to lead you away from the barn.

You try not to notice how well it fits. 

Turns out, ‘somewhere a little more private’ is just another barn. This one filled with stray mountains of hay and empty horse stalls instead of the watchful eyes of partygoers.

You can’t bring yourself to care, not when Logan’s got you pressed to the closed door, his hands roaming down your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip. 

“Christ, you’re somethin’ else,” Logan mutters, his voice thick with want as his lips ghost along the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your knees shake.

His breath is hot against your ear when he adds, “Bet you’re soaked for me already, aren’t you, darlin’?”

The rough pads of his fingers drag along your bare thighs as he hikes your dress higher, the fabric bunching at your waist. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between your legs as his palms knead the soft flesh. 

You bite your lip to stifle the embarrassing moan that threatens to escape, but he catches the sound anyway, pressing a cocky grin to the side of your cheek.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now.” His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. 

The low groan that escapes him when he feels how wet you are is pure sin, vibrating against your neck as his fingers trace over the damp cotton. “Fuck, barely touched you and you’re already drippin’ for me.”

“Logan—” You start, but your words dissolve into a sharp gasp as he hooks a finger beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side.

The first drag of his finger through your slick folds has your head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. A high moan falls from your parted lips, embarrassing and needy as your thighs clench around his wrist.

Logan just hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your slack mouth. “Is she hurtin’ real bad, baby?” he asks softly, his thumb pressed over your pulsing clit. “Just gotta give you some sweet kisses and she gets all worked up, huh?”

Your only response is a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for stability as he teases you with slow, torturous circles around your clit.

His thick pointer finger slides through the slick seam of your pussy, catching on your dripping entrance before it’s sinking to the knuckle in one slow thrust. 

You arch into him, your hips rocking instinctively to take him deeper, desperate for more. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze locks onto yours. 

The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, your breath hitching as he watches every little expression cross your face.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he coaxes, sliding his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Look at you, so fuckin’ beautiful. Takin’ my fingers so good, baby.”

“Please,” you gasp, the need in your voice making his smirk widen.

“Please what?” he teases, curling his finger inside you and grinning when you nearly sob at the sensation. “Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as you manage to stutter out, “Kiss…kiss me.”

Logan groans, brows twitching up like that wasn’t what he was expecting to fall from your slick, kiss bitten lips. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning in to capture your mouth with his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperate and bruising. 

His lips part against yours, tongue sliding in to meet yours, hot and eager, as he sinks a second finger inside your clenching hole. 

The kiss deepens, becoming a rhythm of its own, each stroke of his tongue matching the languid thrust of his fingers.

Logan's lips move hungrily against yours, his pace never faltering even as his fingers curl inside you, searching, teasing, until—there.

The moment he brushes against that spot, your back arches off the barn wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. He grins against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, “There she is.”

The slick sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the quiet barn, mingling with your soft, breathy whimpers. His thumb circles your clit with devastating precision, each pass of his fingers inside you coaxing your body closer to the edge.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, honey,” he groans, his voice rough and dripping with praise. “Can feel how close you are. Bet you’re gonna fall apart for me so pretty, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head, your breath coming in soft pants. “No.” Your hand snakes down to his wrist, halting his movements. “Wanna finish with you inside me.”

Logan stills, his breath catching as your words hang heavy in the air. His fingers stay buried inside you, the slight curl of them making your thighs quake as his eyes search yours.

The fire there burns hotter now, feral and barely restrained. 

“Yeah?” The raw hunger in his voice makes your pulse spike. “You want me inside you, huh? Wanna feel me stretch you open, baby?”

You nod eagerly, your chest heaving as his words fan the flames of your desire. 

“Alright,” he mutters darkly, voice gone low and smoky. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Logan slips his fingers from the warm grip of your pussy, the sudden emptiness stealing all the air from your lungs. You miss the stretch almost immediately, clenching around nothing with a soft moan.

He lifts his hand between you, his fingers glistening with your wetness in the dim light. “Look at that,” he says softly, almost in awe, before slipping his fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cheeks burning at the sight. 

Logan catches your gaze, a wicked smirk spreading across his face as he leans in close. “C’mon,” he whispers softly against the skin of your neck, hands slipping around the backs of your thighs and squeezing gently. “Up.”

You hitch your legs up around his waist, a soft breath escaping you at the way he lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing.

You can’t help but run your hands over the thick muscle of his biceps as he walks you further into the barn, lips trailing wet kisses along where his shirt’s top button popped open, exposing more of his tan skin to your greedy eyes.

Logan falls back against a knocked over bale of hay, you feel the hot length of his hard cock grinding over the slick fabric of your panties as he positions you over his lap.

You waste no time, stray pieces of hay digging into your knees as your trembling hands reach for his buckle. Your fingers brush over the cool metal as you fumble sliding the worn leather through his belt loops.

Logan just watches you, leaning back on his forearms with a smirk—cool as ever.

Once his belt is undone and his zipper dragged down, you shove at his jeans, watching with a mix of anticipation and desire as his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking for you. 

You’ve heard the expression ‘hung like a horse’ countless times. You always thought it was a gross exaggeration, until now.

Logan’s hand glides down his stomach to start stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving yours. “Been hard since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. Could barely keep my hands to myself, watchin’ you all dolled up like that. Drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your mouth waters with the need to taste, eyes tracking the thick line of pre-come leaking from his flushed tip. 

The phantom ache in your jaw almost has you dropping to your stomach right there, but you know that your time here is limited, and you need Logan inside of you more than anything.

You lean back, lifting your legs so you can shimmy your soaked panties down and off, tossing them behind you haphazardly the same way you tossed his belt.

His eyes are locked onto yours as you crawl back towards him, situating yourself over his lap all over again. You take a steadying breath as you reach for his cock, nearly moaning at the heft of it in your hand, at the near scalding touch of his silky skin against your palm.

“Hang on, baby.” Logan’s hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. “You wanna ride, you gotta look the part.”

He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. It’s enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled.

“Got the boots,” he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. “Just need the hat.”

Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours.

You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own.

It’s too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Logan’s gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping it back just enough to frame your face.

“Much better,” he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. “Alright cowgirl, give it to me good.”

The words shoot straight to your core, igniting something wild and reckless inside you.

You bite your lip, spurred on by the way his hands knead the meat of your hips. Not forcing or pushing, just two steady weights as you slowly start to sink down.

It's nearly torturous, but in the best way possible. The stretch of each inch a pleasant burn as your hips slot against his after what feels like an eternity.

“Fuck.” Logan grits out, his hands tightening on your hips as you settle, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness. 

Your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowly begin to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

Logan’s eyes track every movement, darkened with need, a quiet groan slipping from him as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, urging you to pick up the pace.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Takin’ it all so good.”

His praise only encourages you, and you lift yourself up before sinking back down, your hands gripping the scratchy fabric of his shirt for leverage.

The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you with every downward movement, makes your head swim, the pressure building in your core.

The barn is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together lewdly, with the wet gush of your pussy leaking around the base of his cock messily. It has your ears burning, shame and arousal a heady mix in your lower belly.

Logan’s hips start to rise from the barn floor, snapping up to meet yours with every bounce. You can feel him deeper like this, brushing against places that make your legs shake with pleasure. 

You’re dangerously close to the edge already, a mess from all the teasing earlier. But from the way Logan’s muscles flex and tense beneath you, you can tell he is too.

“Goddamn,” he growls, his hands moving to grip your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him impossibly faster. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby, so fucking perfect. Don’t stop.”

His words make your head spin, the filthy praise sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands scramble for the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling until it’s loose enough to show off the toned muscle of his chest.

You rake your nails through the dark hair decorating his skin, hardly paying any attention to the brand burned into the skin across his left pec.

"Tell me how it feels," he groans, his voice dark and commanding. "Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel."

"So good," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking as he grinds against that perfect spot inside you. "Logan, I—"

“You’re close,” he rasps, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you harder. “I can feel you, baby. So fuckin’ close. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Gonna milk my cock like a good girl?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach clenches, tighter and tighter. Your head lolls back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as you near the edge.

"C’mon honey," Logan groans, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, let it all fuckin’ out.”

You're helpless to deny him, the thick stretch of his cock paired with the gentle pressure of his thumb on your clit tightening your body like a bowstring threatening to snap.

 “Logan—oh God—Logan!” Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping as your walls shake around him.

Logan’s hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he groans low in his throat. “Goddamn,” he growls, his voice wrecked. “So fuckin’ perfect, squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—”

With a few more rough thrusts, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body going rigid against yours as he finds his own release, groaning your name like it’s the only word he knows.

You slump onto him gracelessly, your body spent and trembling as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His cock jumps and pulses inside you, sending little aftershocks through your sensitive core as you feel the slick spray of his come painting your walls.

The rough fabric of his shirt feels oddly comforting on the overheated skin of your cheek as you rest your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

The brand catches your eye again, more pronounced now that the wiry hair dusted along his chest lays flush, slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

You raise your hand, gently tracing over the raised skin, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. A curved ‘X’ scarred right over his heart. 

The same ‘X’ that was embroidered on the front of Marie’s shirt, that hangs above the doors of the very barn you lay in, that’s scattered all throughout the property.

You read once that not all cowboys choose the brand, only the most loyal to the ranch. A kind of fierce loyalty that knows no bounds, that has no limits—it may be the only loyalty most will ever know.

You think back to your grandmother sitting you down at her weathered kitchen table a few days before your father and you made the move. The stern talking to she gave you felt silly at the time, useless information that you’d never actually need.

Now that you're here, her words ring in your ears for the first time in months, blaring and unavoidable.

“Don’t go and get mixed up in any cowboy business, honey. They’ll never love you more than the life, you’ll always be in the rearview mirror.”

Logan takes your hand in his, bringing it from his chest to his lips for a quick kiss before pointedly lowering it to his jean clad thigh. You can feel the way his fingers flex around your wrist, telling.

You swallow hard, the air in the barn suddenly feeling thick and heavy.

You're pushing yourself to your feet before you even realize what you're doing, ignoring the dull ache as his spent cock slips from inside you.

Logan hisses at the sensation, but he's pushing himself to his feet all the same. You're dying to sneak a peek at the look on his face, but you refuse to turn to him.

Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear for what you might find if you do.

You straighten the wrinkled fabric of your dress, trying in vain to make yourself look as half as presentable as you did before walking into this barn.

The distant sound of a zipper being tugged up and the whisper of denim against denim catches your attention. Your eyes flick to the doors, your brain going a million miles a minute as you consider your options.

You could always beat him to it. You could walk out right now and pretend this never happened, avoid Blackbird like the plague for the rest of your fathers political career.

You doubt you'd ever see Logan outside these fences, it would be so easy to forget.

You shift on your feet, lip caught between your teeth. The sweet ache between your legs only matches the one in growing your chest, all those good feelings sour at the thought of walking away.

Against your better judgment, you turn back to him. 

Logan’s already looking at you, hands busy with slipping his belt back into place.

You’ve always been good at reading people, at gauging what they might be feeling, but as your eyes scan along the flushed skin of his face, you find yourself unable to describe what you see swirling in his eyes.

“When will I see you again?” It’s weak, barely a whisper. You want to kick yourself for sounding so small, for getting so caught up in a man you hardly know.

Logan lets out a soft breath, hands coming to rest on his hips as he searches for something to say. “Whenever you have a reason to I reckon'.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you.

His answer is honest, unpolished—just like him. Something about it hits you deeper than you expect, a bittersweet sting that tightens your chest.

It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s something. 

You try to stomp down all the feelings of hope filling your mind, pointedly ignoring the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Well if that’s the case,” you say slowly, eyes never leaving Logan’s as you step closer. “Then I guess you better keep these.”

You reach around his waist to slip your panties in the back pocket of his jeans, patting the denim a few times for good measure before you step away again.

“Gives you a reason to come see me again, cowboy.”

Logan chuckles, soft and sweet as he shakes his head bemusedly. He raises his hand, gently taking his hat from your head to drop it back on his own.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture tender in its unexpectedness.

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, everything feels raw.

Too raw. Like you're teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something you’re not sure you’re ready to handle.

You let your gaze drop to the floor, biting the inside of your cheek as you resist the urge to say something else, to push the moment further.

Instead, you turn, taking a slow step toward the barn doors.

Just before you reach them, you hear him again, his voice steady, but there’s something in it that makes you pause, hands lingering on the doorframe.

"Don’t be a stranger, alright?" he calls after you.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: lowkey want to make this a series...like this was so fun to write and i have a few more ideas...let me know chickens <3

[dj-of-the-coven]

trigun 1998 episode simulator

[3 minutes of guitar solo]

Vash the Stampede: hi my name is Vash the Stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love. all I really want to do is have a sandwich and a morning coffee without getting chased by bandits

some bandit: (gunshot) absolutely not. square up faggot

Vash: rats.

[gunfight]

Vash the Stampede: my name is Vash the stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love.could I please have a sandwich

Meryl from the Bernardelli Insurace Society: how long are you going to sit on your ass doing nothing but playing games with children and doing chores for the elderly and disabled and looking after lonely youths and cooking dinner for the homeless

Vash: I've been here for like 2 days

Milly Thompson: Hi Vash!

Vash: Hi Milly

[exit left pursued by bounty hunters]

Vash the Stampede: (panting, entering a bar) my name is Vash the stampede.... I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Good L*rd what is going on in here

Hostage: mphdsfhapff!!!! mffmpphhf!!!!

Villain of the week: well if it isn't the elusive Vash the Stampede! you see it all started when I was 4 days old and you kicked me like a football and then exploded my parents to death with a laser canon and killed every puppy in a ten ile (translator's note: this is the No Man's Land equivalent of the American Mile) radius

Vash: I don't remember doing that but well I suppose you can shoot me if it'll make you feel better

Side character of the week: Are you insane? Just shoot him instead???

Vash: but my mom told me not to be mean to people

Villain of the week: (still going) And as I am now 47 years old I have finally decided to get my revenge. Say your prayers, Vash the Pisshead

[Wall explodes and reveals a motorcycle with a sexy priest on it]

[sfx: guitar with a hint of electric distortion]

Vash: is that..... Wolfwood?

Meryl who was in the background this whole time: the priest?

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood: (brings his fingers up to a pair of luscious lips to grab the cigarette from right between them, taking one more slow inhale before crushing the cherry red underneath his heel)(sensually cocks one of his 8 guns) Are you just gonna let this guy talk down to you like that needle noggin?

Vash: I g-

[guitar riff bumper]

[guitar riff bumper]

Vash: -uess not, since you're here to help now... (slow, warm smile) Wolfwood

Nicholas D. ranged Wolfwood: Vash

Milly who was also in the background this whole time: Hi mr priest man! isn't this lovely, I haven't seen you since the last time you spoke with mr Vash yesterday evening when you were helping him buckle all those silly belts on his pants after he had lost them somehow

Vash: On a cactus

Milly: On a cactus! Oh it must've hurt so terribly; how fortunate that Mr Priest man was there to help you

Wolfwood: Hi Milly

[gunfight]

Villain of the week: ohhhhh curses!!! CURSES!!!! I have spent my whole existence getting ready to fight Vash the Stampede but he's just too good at swallowing all my bullets!!!!!!

Vash the Stampede: my tragic dead mother would be sad if I didn't swallow everyone's bullets so I've trained diligently every morning at digesting gunpowder without dying immediately

Wolfwood: [internally: I can't believe it. All this time I've spent walking the path of darkness, reaching to a pure light that I could never grasp, and yet here is a man who's dedicated his life and his body to the pursuit of Peace. I wish he were a woman so I could fuck him romantic style. I've got a whole plan for it and everything. Whiskey, sunset, a bed with no sand in it, 6 hours. This would be fully and completely possible if only he were a woman. Unfortunately he's not, but I can still think about the what-ifs. platonically of course. Maybe if he got some good dick he'd stop being so annoying. And maybe he'd stop making me rethink my morals. I wonder if the seven drunken handies meant anything to him. Platonically]

Wolfwood: Well anyway it looks like my job is done here

Vash: (teary) Will I see you again?

Wolfwood: I don't know. And besides, whenever I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself. You know, it hurts.

[exit Nicholas D. Wolfwood pursued by repressed homosexual desires and immense catholic guilt]

Vash the Stanned Peat: (looking out the window like a widow whose husband was killed in action) Nicholas... D... Wolfwood.......

Meryl who was in the background that entire time, yes, the whole time: shut the fuck up already

Vash: when will it be my turn Meryl. When

[roll credits]

[priisprii]

I am trying to tell you somethin' , somethin' I already said - C.SC

Summary: Parties are all good, but getting fucked by your hot fuck buddy is better.

Warnings: dom! Seungcheol, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving) , spit kink, pussy slapping, light degradation.

Word count: 2.3 k

Minors don't interact.

All your friends warned you about Seungcheol, he was a bad influence, Heartbreaker, red flag blah..blah.. blah.

You actually didn't really gave damn about the rumours and gossips surrounding him, he's a Playboy.... So what? If blessed with that beautiful face and delicious body it would be waste to not to get laid left and right.Choi Seungcheol was fever dream for you.Buisness major, good gpa, athlete, plays guitar, looks like Greek God and so on. He was perfect and you want him.

So you plan on getting him.

Confessing to a guy a getting rejected might not be the worst thing that could happen right? You were sure Seungcheol felt something for you too, his lingering gaze on you in a crowded room was enough proof for you. Even though you both never exchanged any words, there was a strong pull between you too , which your bestfriend described as delusion. Turns out it wasn't your delusion, You confessed your feelings through Dm, ready to get rejected but all you got a one line message, meet me after class.

Six months passed to that incident, and you have Seungcheol in your life.Not as a boyfriend though but as fuck buddy and it was enough. Afterall all you wanted was to be one of his girls. So here you are attending some useless party, locked up in one of the room upstairs and getting used by Seungcheol just as you always wanted to be.

" I am gonna make you ride my shoe if keep sucking like stupid inexperienced whore. Come on I taught you better than that" Seungcheol warned, his voice dripping with lust. He was getting impatient with the way you were sucking him without any effort but what could you do? The way he was bobbing your head up and down was intoxicating, the rough carpet brusising your knees,his cock touching the back of your throat in most delicious way, he was big, so big that your lips started hurting, lipstick ruined long ago, spit dripping straight to your exposed tits, mascara ruined, Seungcheol would trade half of his life to see you like that forever.

Your grip on Seungcheol's thigh tightened, you tried taking him deeper in your mouth than he already was, gagging uncontrollably around him, your moans sending vibrations straight to his spine. The way he was grunting made it clear that he was close to his release, so you increased your speed, desperate for his cum and his pleasure.

"Yes babe Just like that, soo good"

His voice was so sweet now unlike the scary tone he used earlier, he rarely praised you and whenever he did it made you lose your mind a little bit. He was everything you wished for and he fucked you just like you wished, he fulfilled all your depraved fantasies, he was your first and when he gotta know that, he was absolutely gentle with you, cause he didn't wanted your first experience to leave bitter taste in mouth, the memory making you curl your toes, pussy dripping uncontrollably, crying for some stimulation.

"Open wide" Seungcheol purred, removing his dick from your mouth, you whined loudly not liking the emptiness you were left with, your action made him lightly slap your cheek, not in mood for your complaints. Nevertheless you obeyed mouth streching widely ,tongue out. Pathetic. Seungcheol thought to himself.

He pumped his cock few times before exploding on your tongue, you knew better to not swallow until he gave permission to do so, he purposely aimed for your cheek and forehead, something about you being covered in his cum made him go absolutely feral, he loved seeing you so vulnerable and fucked up,no one looked as pretty as you in his eyes.

"Swallow"

His one command was enough for you to quickly swallow his cum which was already over dripping from your lips. You looked at him with doe eyes, vision blurry with tears, waiting for him to give attention to your wet weeping pussy. He scooped the remaining cum from your cheeks and forehead by his fingers and put them straight to your lips mouthing suck which you compiled almost like a dog. With his two fingers he streched your lips wide, creating enough space for him to land spit directly in your mouth, the actions making you clench your empty wet cunt .

"You like everything I do with you, don't you?" Seungcheol asked cockily, none of his previous partners were as freaky as you were and none of them made him as wild you made him, you bring that side of him that no one knows.

"Please Cheol.. Touch me please"

you begged breathlessly. panties were soaked with your arousal and sticking against your folds, crying for his, fingers, his tongue, his cock, him. Cheol let out a chuckle, laughing at your neediness nevertheless you were so turned on that his voice alone could make get you off.

"Get on the bed"

Your heart cried out in happiness ,finally getting what you wanted since evening, when he invited you to this mediocre party, you got on bed almost immediately lying on your back, not caring about the pain in your knees, or your iron deficiency, you were already drunk on Seungcheol. He was better than any drug. Seungcheol discarded his pants which were barely hanging around his torso, his black T-shirt coming off next, your mouth watering at the beautiful sight infront of you, his abs, oh how much you wish you could ride them, well that's for another day. He climbed on the bed, not breaking the eye contact, his intense gaze making you squirm. You were almost naked, the only article on your body were your useless panties, who did a terrible job of hiding your arousal. Seungcheol pressed two of his fingers against your cunt and a breathless moan escaped your lips ,pleased with your reaction, pressed down deeper against the fabric.

"Always so wet and ready for me"

He removed your panties in blink of an eye, your bare cunt now fully visible to him, he eyed you up and down, his intense gaze making you try to close your legs, which earned you a slap on your thigh from Seungcheol.

" Try closing your legs again and I will tie you against bed and leave you like this all naked and desperate mess" Seungcheol threatened you , you immediately spread your legs as far as you could, the shame flying out your body.

"Please, Cheol I am sorry, please fuck me, I promise I'll be good"

He didn't replied to your begging but, a smirk made it's way on his lips, he eyed your pussy, diving straight to get a taste. His tongue lapped against your clit while his fingers aimed for your g-spot, burrying them deep inside your cunt and scissoring them deep inside, the sudden pleasure was overwhelming for you, you held yourself back from closing your legs, not wanting to disobey him. You gripped Seungcheol's hair, burrying his face deeper into your pussy, you could feel his smirk against your folds, your whole body trembling with pleasure. You were a blabbering mess , moaning Cheol's name like a prayer.

"Fuck Cheol, I am so close... Please don't stop"

He grunted against your cunt, blowing hot breathe against your folds, he knew you could combust any second but he had other plans, he liked denying you, keeping you on edge was addicting to him. Just when you were about to get your sweet release, Cheol removed his fingers and mouth, discarding you fully and delivering a sharp slap against your cunt, the sudden overwhelming force making you whimper and cry out in pain.

"Oh, poor baby wanted to cum?" Cheol asked you, lacing his voice with fake sympathy while moving his fingers up and down against your bare pussy.

"Please Cheol, fuck me" you cried out, giving him your best doe eyes. Seungcheol again slapped your cunt hard enough to make your whole body jolt up with pleasure.

"You like it, don't you? You could easily get off by me slapping your cunt" Seungcheol cooed, an evil idea plaguing his head, you were beyond stimulated, even a light touch could make you cum right then and there and the intensity with which he was smacking your cunt was enough for you to squirt uncontrollably.

"No.. please want your cock" you pleaded, squirming against bed, you just wished for Seungcheol to fuck you without any more teasing.

Maybe it's your tears or the desperation in your voice which made Seungcheol line his cock against your cunt, the movement sending you to clouds, even though he fingered you thoroughly, you were not prepared for his cock, the warmth of your walls making him grunt out in pleasure, your pussy was his favourite place right after your mouth.

"Always so tight"

"That's it, take it"

Cheol didn't gave you time to adjust, he grabbed your left thigh and without wasting any time started thrusting into your wet needy pussy. You let out string of broken moans , overwhelmed by sudden delicious strech . Seungcheol captured your lips for a ferocious kiss, his tongue diving straight to your mouth, nothing was cute or innocent about this kiss, it was dripping with passion and fire Seungcheol had for you, which he wasn't able to confess yet, he only hoped you would understand his incandescent desire.

"God, you're so beautiful" Seungcheol whispers against your lips, his unforgiving thrusts never stopping , he drags his tongue slowly against your lower lip, making you clench against his cock harder, with his free hand, he grabbed your tit, pinching and twisting your sensitive bud , you let out a yelp which was swallowed by him, he kept fondling with your tits pushing your body deeper into the bed, he was drunk on your scent.

"Cheol, Cheol hand, your hand please" you voiced out incoherently , trying to reach out to grab Seungcheol's hand , he stopped his movements for a second, processing your words, then it clicked to him , you wanted to intervene hands with him, how romantic he thought to himself before continuing his punishing thrusts and grabbing your hand, intervening your fingers with his and bringing it up to kiss your knuckles, the action swelling your heart with unexplainable feeling.

"You're mine" Seungcheol said , rolling his hips against you, he could feel that you are near with the way you were arching your back almost painfully, the room was filled with echos of skin slapping and strong scent of sex , all overwhelming your senses, you loved this. Loved getting used by him as he desired and he knows you love it too.

"All yours" you whispered, voice breaking with each syllabus, those words were enough for Seungcheol to pound against you harder, chasing his release along with you.

"Fuck Cheol, I am so close" you cried out, feeling your your orgasam ripping through you, your moans grew louder with each passing second. Seungcheol himself wasn't able to maintain a steady pace, your walls engulfing him , making him chase his own release.

"Cum for me, babe"

His words were enough for you to let go of all thoughts and cum "G-God, oh God, Cheollie," you whine, your eyes shut because of overwhelming sweet pleasure, it feels  too fucking good, you kept spaming around his cock like crazy, making him cum too.

"“Fuck, gonna let me fill this little pussy to the brim pretty, fuck keep squeezing me like that baby" Seungcheol breathe out, pushing warm ropes of cum deep inside you,His thrusts slowing down dragging his cock in and out of you, his breathe ragged against your lips , he halted after ensuring every bit of his cum was deep inside your womb, he crashed on bed beside you, engulfing you into a tight hug.

"So good for me" he purred, his fingers making its way to your bruised cunt, pushing the overflowing cum back inside with two fingers, you yelped, body burning with over sensitivity. You tried grabbing his hand but he didn't let you .

" Can't let any of the drop go to waste" Seungcheol said cockily, after few more strokes , he shoved his fingers to your mouth, you sucked them immediately not needing any further command, his sweet taste overpowering your senses.

Seungcheol pulled you into a kiss, stroking your hair so tenderly afraid you could breake, his kiss was soft and gentle, pouring his heart to you, the words I love you were sitting right on his lips, threatening to escape his any second.

But he stopped, he will confess but not today, not until he thinks he's worthy of you, till then he will settle for your having you in his arms like this, outlining I love you on your back with his fingertips not knowing that you understood each stroke.

A/N : Thank you for reading my first work after so many years, i apologise for the cranky writing, i promise I will be better.

[coucouatoi]

take it as a compliment | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: smoking, swearing, light angst, making out

A/N: Got a request for Outgoing Harry/Shy reader and then this happened. I'm actually so in love with this so I hope y'all enjoy :)

Summary: Your band is out of a main singer after a petty feud. The hunt for someone new is pure torture, not a single audition has peaked your interests. None until he walked in.

"Next!!" your band's drummer, Maeve, exclaims with an exasperated tone. The person who was auditioning scurries off the small stage, too embarrassed to say goodbye. They were the 10th person to audition today. Ten people have gone on stage and tried to show off their singing skills but no one has been even remotely close to good. You're starting to suspect that all of these people are pranking you. There's no way that this many people are tone-deaf... Right?

You look back up when you see someone new walking on stage. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see who's next to audition. Harry Styles, the myth, the legend. He's a star member of the swimming team, captain of the rugby team, honorary member of the debate team and the most sought-after guy at your university. He is probably the last person you expected to show up for your band's audition... You don't even know if he can sing.

"This is going to be hilariously, so happy we are filming" Riu, your band's bassist, chuckles under his breath. You shrug with a small smirk, guess he wants to join today's humiliating compilation of failed auditions.

"Hello everyone, I'm Harry Styles auditioning for lead singer? I guess" he laughs at himself, now this is something you've never seen... a nervous Harry? Could this be an act??

"Don't sound too excited now" Maeve rolls her eyes, "What are you going to sing?" she clicks her pen ready to write the title down.

"October by Broken Bells" he speaks more confidently into the mic now. Your eyebrows raise, shocked. You would have expected something a little more mainstream maybe something currently in the top 10 chart or even an old classic. Riu presses the record button on his camera and rearranges the tripod to better capture Harry.

"Whenever you're ready," You say softly as you hope for the best, your behind is really starting to hurt after sitting for so long hopefully you can leave the auditorium soon.

The man onstage takes a deep breath before pressing play on the acoustic track on his phone.

Soft guitar strings start playing and only a few seconds in Harry starts harmonising with the instrument before the lyrics come in. And when they do... Your jaw hits the floor. The voice that comes out of his mouth would have been impossible to imagine. It's not a very vocally powerful song but requires a certain knowledge of music to get it right. He sounds beautiful and enchanting.

Riu, who's sitting next to you, shakes your arm making you turn your head to him. He mouths "What the fuck?" and you only nod as an answer completely bewildered.

He doesn't move around the stage or anything, just stands in the same spot and sings. Sings better than anyone you've heard today. Better than your past lead singer you're sure. His eyes are shut in what you have to assume is concentration but he could just be too nervous to look at you and your bandmates. His dark hair is pushed back out of his face letting you see his features, his furrowed brows and the sheen of sweat on the tip of his nose.

The song ends and he finally opens his eyes, gagging your reactions. You make sure that you've closed your mouth not wanting one of the first times he really looks at you for your mouth to be wide open...

"Do you write your own songs?" Maeve breaks the silence.

"I have some written yes" he answers quickly, a small jitter going through his body. Excited that he wasn't immediately shooed off stage.

"Is this a serious audition or are you just joking around?" Riu then asks having had enough of this long and boring day.

"Serious, I love singing" he nods quickly, "And I think I'm pretty good at it" Ah! There's the cocky attitude you've gotten used to from him.

Maeve grabs your arms from across the table tugging you towards her, Riu in the middle simply lowers his head closer to hear what's about to be said.

"What do you think?" She asks looking deeply into your eyes. You nod before answering already conveying your approval.

"He's really good guys, winning the UK universities competition good" You definitely see him adding a lot to your group. He's got the charms, the voice and the confidence to get you all the way to the finals.

"We're really accepting Harry Styles into our band?" Riu sounds annoyed but you know that he approves of this choice too...

Here goes nothing.

-

It's officially been two weeks since Harry has become your lead singer and he has not been on time for any of your practices. He's always got some elaborate excuse explaining his tardiness. More often than not he demands multiple breaks to go out for a smoke "Helps the vocals ya know?" he laughs before leaving the room. Maeve is one hair off of kicking him straight out but you've unfortunately entered his name down for the UK competition... and Harry knows this. Both of your other members have tried to reason with him, without success so they've told you that it's your turn to try, and try you will.

There's one hour left and Harry is out on another smoking break you choose this time to go out and attempt to talk to him. You haven't had many one-on-one conversations with him since him joining you. You're still intimidated by his status, his popularity, his reputation, his looks...

After leaving your guitar behind, you head out to find him leaning against the brick wall of your school, his head is tipped up and cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. You take a deep breath before walking up to him, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation.

"Is it your turn to tell me about the importance of punctuality, darling?" his lips form into a smirk as he hears your thick heels crunch the gravel as you move towards him.

"I guess so, the other two didn't work" you shrug leaning on the wall next to him. "Why did you audition if you don't care?" you ask him in a hushed tone, still surprised you have to have a conversation like this with him.

You don't see it but Harry's body tenses. Guilt flows through his veins and he looks at you but you're looking at the ground.

"I do care" is what he answers.

"I'm sorry but I don't believe you" You shake your head and finally meet his gaze, "Are you late for any other extracurricular activity you're part of?" your tone is unbothered but Harry feels it sting him, as if you insulted him... maybe you did. He thinks about it and... well he's not. He prides himself on being a stellar member of everything he's a part of.

"Why don't you treat us like equals? We are all part of the same team here" you add with a tilt of your head actually curious for an answer.

"I... Look, our other two members treat me like I'm lower because of how I act and who I'm friends with" he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and stomps it under his shoe. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs, "I've gathered that you're the reserved quiet type but not one of you has tried to get to know me, why should I make an effort when none of you want me here?" with how rapidly the words are leaving his mouth you know he's been holding all of this in. You're stunned to silence.

"I don't feel welcomed so I'm not making an effort anymore" he walks away from you and from the building, "I tried to mend the gap by inviting all three of you over to my mates party last week and none of you showed... my message was left on read in the group chat" he looks at you and you don't see any malice or anger just... sadness? Disappointed? You're not sure.

His confession pains your fragile heart. He was trying, he had tried and your bandmates and yourself had only damaged the already non-existent relationship.

"I've never been to a party, I'm not great in crowds" you try explaining, "I barely even make it through our gigs, I'm always the first to go home" Harry nods in understanding, grabbing another cigarette from the packet he has in his pocket and lights it.

"Still could have said something... I know Maeve and Riu hate me so I guess there's not much I can do about that" he shrugs as he takes a drag. He's trying to brush off the emotions he just let himself have in front of you.

"I should have, I'm sorry" you mumble your apology still shocked that you've managed to get this far.

It's quiet for a few minutes. Harry focused on finishing his cigarette, seemingly needing to ease the tension he felt.

"I'll be better about my tardiness," he says after a while. You nod, smiling slightly when he looks over at you.

"Let me know when your next party is, I'll try and go" you offer, a peace offering between you and him. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Sure, darling" he stomps his second cigarette out and walks back over to you "Won't invite those two losers tho" he smirks at you before walking back into the building. You roll your eyes with a laugh and follow him back inside.

-

Harry S

10 Pleasing Road, Tomorrow 9 pm

See you there?

You

What should I wear? Should I bring anything? How many people are going?

Harry S

Whatever you're comfortable in, nope just yourself ;) And about 20 people nothing crazy

You

Okay, see ya

-

Oh god. You have no idea what to wear and you can't possibly ask Maeve or Riu for advice they'd need to know what you're dressing up for. You've been procrastinating your outfit choice all day. Your makeup is done dark and mysterious just how you like, your hair is up and out of your neck predicting that it'll be too warm wherever you're going but you're only wearing underwear... a matching set sure but not an appropriate outfit for a public outing.

You look at the time on your phone and your breath hitches, you're already past your maximum departure time... you're going to be late. This is not good. You contemplate texting Harry and telling him you can't make it but you want to have a better relationship with him you want to make an effort.

You find a long dark red floral dress that you haven't worn in forever and decide that tonight it will stop gathering dust. There is a slight chill in the outside air so you grab the crochet bolero Riu made you for your birthday. It's black with a ladybug charm in the center of it, she lands perfectly in your cleavage. You rush out of your room and out of your shared flat with Maeve before she starts asking questions. You slipped on your go-to heeled boots before running out of the building.

The address Harry sent you is, surprisingly, only a 15-minute walk away from where you live. Keeping a rapid pace is all you're focused on so you can make it with as little delay as you can. Being late gets your anxious gears running like crazy, your internal and external clock always chanting "Early is on time, on time is late and late is unacceptable!". You can thank your mother for that one.

You make it to the one-story townhouse at 9:28, you hear music from the outside and a few cars parked in the driveway and on the sides of the roads.

You breathe in and out deeply as you make your way to the door, calming your heartbeat and yourself. This is your first uni party, the first party that isn't family or Maeve/Riu related. Your first big girl party. It's nerve-wracking but also a little exciting.

As you're about to knock you realize the door is already ajar, you don't overthink it and head inside.

Turns out Harry had been pretty spot on with the number of people at this gathering. Doing a quick scan of the living room, after going through the small entrance, most people are sitting down, drinking and smoking different things. Only a few people look your way but they go back to their original conversations quickly, unbothered by another presence. You spot a table filled with different liquor bottles and mixers and make a beeline for it. Before you start mixing a drink for yourself someone calls out your name.

"You made it!" you turn your head and spot Harry making his way towards you. He's all smiles and bright eyes, he's got a beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.

"I did, sorry I'm late" you grimace thinking about it again.

"Pff, no one's on time at a party" he waves it off before taking a drag, he blows it out away from your face and looks down at the empty cup in your hand.

"Why isn't there a drink in your hand, darling?" he asks you in mock shock. You shrug and gesture to the table, "I don't know what to make"

He nods and asks for your go-to spirit. Once you tell him he starts making a mix, only using the one liquor, finishing it off with a scoop of ice and a straw.

"Voila!" he winks as he hands you the now full cup. You take a sip and hum appreciatively.

"This is really good thank you" you smile in gratitude. Any worries that have been clawing at you since the moment you accepted to come are slowly disappearing. Harry seems genuinely pleased that you've shown up and that makes the overwhelming feeling large crowds give you dissipate. You should be able to stay like this for a while now.

"You look really nice, darling, I love your style" he lifts himself onto a stool, carefully not to spill his drink or drop his cigarette.

You can feel heat crawl up your neck and onto your face, not used to getting compliments. It's not that you haven't dated or hooked up with people but it's not something that just happens. Flirting requires a lot of energy from you, you're quick to feel embarrassed and shut yourself out just to process it all. Not that you think Harry is flirting or trying to get with you, he's just a socialite who's not shy to say what he's thinking.

"Just threw on whatever" you shrug avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sure that's an understatement but nonetheless you look gorgeous" he winks as he takes one last long drag before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray next to him and then throwing it into a trash can.

He's quite captivating to watch; his eyes are dark, an attractive smirk is always present, and wavy hair moves around with him and his tattoos. God his tattoos! You knew he had loads just by having seen his arms but now his button-down is pretty much unbuttoned at this point. You see many more that you never knew existed and it's only making him more handsome. The butterfly on his sternum, the two swallows beneath his collarbones, the fern leaves peeking out of his jeans; a very dangerous and tempting combination. You'll let your imagination run wild later...

"Mh, so um what does one usually do at a party?" Ah yes, a very natural change in conversation! You go Y/N, you mentally mock yourself with a subtle shake of your head. Harry doesn't seem to mind the switch or notice your mental scolding because he answers truthfully.

"Depends what you're up to doing honestly, I know someone has weed somewhere so you can join the stoners..." you shake your head, not your vibe. "You can dance in the basement that's where the music is playing and people are grinding" You shrug at that option not completely opposed to it. "Or you could go in the yard and join one of the many drinking games happening" That is a good option for later in the evening.

"Take me dancing?" your voice is a little high pitched, not completely confident in yourself but you want to make the most of this. It's not every day you'll be doing this kind of thing.

Harry doesn't answer verbally but he does grab your hand and guides you. His grip isn't tight you could easily free yourself if you wanted to but you want to make it to the dance floor... and holding Harry's hand is quite pleasant.

As he had previously said, the dancing is happening in the basement. This is where you realize Harry is probably the worst counter you've ever met because in this room alone there are at least 30 more people. The space is huge and open; no walls just another makeshift bar, large speakers, some funky lighting and some overused-looking sofas.

Feeling brave you pull Harry towards the other people dancing, and he follows with no hesitation. The beat of the pop song is good and gets your hips moving quickly, you'll never admit it but cheesy pop music is your guilty pleasure. Harry quickly matches your moves, smiling as you dance together he almost looks surprised that you're doing this with him. When you realize you haven't let go of his hand you quickly spin away in a somewhat casual attempt to free yourself, not that the handholding was bad. You just don't want to make him uncomfortable or maybe get anyone he's into at this party to think he's unavailable. The thought of him leaving you right now does make your skin crawl but you focus on dancing back towards him to finish your super duper casual and unnoticed freeing.

"You're a natural, who knows under all that eyeliner and glitter you liked bubblegum pop" Harry jokes as you get close to him again. You laugh and shake your head.

"It's all a distraction, Styles, I'm good at distractions" You wave your hands in front of his face with a spooky witch tone of voice.

"I don't doubt that..." he grabs your hand again and pulls you close to him, careful not to spill either of your drinks.

You feel the heat of his palm travel all the way up your arm and down the other. He's now deliberately taken your hand twice. Twice in the same hour. Hell in the same 5 minutes! God, he's so intoxicating. Your friends would not approve of the thoughts you're having. Riu would scream bloody murder and Maeve... Maeve would never look at you in the eyes again.

You chug the remainder of your drink and toss your empty cup onto a nearby table, you mentally apologize to the person who will pick that up later. Harry follows your lead and places his now free hand on your waist pulling you even closer to him.

"What do you think of the party so far?" he leans into your space even more, softly asking his question right next to your ear. You hum first as you angle yourself towards his own ear to answer.

"Not as crazy as I've seen them in movies or TV shows... but I think I watch too much American television" You laugh at yourself but you quickly still when you feel Harry's lips touch your ear.

"What? You're missing some cheesy games and making out with strangers" he teases you, tightening his hand grip on your waist.

"Something like that yeah, ha" Your breath is quick and uncertain. Overthinking how you're even supposed to breathe normally because you know Harry hears and feels your every breath.

"Mh, let me satisfy your wishes then" he pulls back and winks. "Hey!", he exclaims, "Anyone wanna play truth or dare?" at his question many people cheer affirmatively and he drags you towards one of the couches where everyone else follows suit.

The couch you're now sitting on has obviously been occupied by many other butts and now your own but you try to get that thought out of your head.

"You go first Haz, you initiated" you hear someone with a thick accent say.

"Fine, fine... who wants to ask me?"Harry playfully rolls his eyes as he leans back, his arms splayed across the top of the couch.

"Truth or dare?" someone new calls out.

"Truth let's keep it tame for now" he answers the crowd. You hear some people whisper to each other, debating what question they should ask now that they have free will.

"Did you actually fuck Olivia Flores while she was dating your mate Niall?" a high-pitched voice calls out. Harry rolls his eyes and breathes out deeply.

This rumour had spread all over the school through all clicks and social groups. Olivia was the most beloved student you could think of. She loves speaking with anyone and everyone, she volunteers every other day, and she's never in a bad mood or at least never lets anyone see if she is. The only time that you've ever seen her smile gone was when the rumours started. When everyone was whispering about her cheating on her boyfriend with his best friend. Niall is basically the embodiment of a golden retriever and people took the news of him being cheated on very badly. She denied it endlessly and tried to get people back on her side because her friends ended up turning on her. Harry and Niall both denied the rumours but there was no stopping everyone else from saying what they wanted. Especially after their break up and her decision to switch schools...

"I've said it a million times before, no. Never. I never have and never will because I know how much they still care for each other" he clicks his tongue at the end, annoyed at the question.

Some questions still cross your mind but you decide that his answer is enough. You choose to believe all three of them in this, that their denial is truthful and that Niall and Olivia breaking up after had nothing to do with the rumours.

"Y/N, in honour of your request, truth of dare?" Harry brings your thoughts back to the present, where everyone is now looking at you... analyzing. These people don't know you so you let them watch you even if it makes your skin crawl.

"Dare" might as well go past your boundaries even more. You're getting to know a whole new you tonight, it's exciting.

"Kiss me" he murmurs close to your ear, having leaned into your space. You chuckle pushing him away playfully.

"Come on! Be serious this is my first party game!" you poke his chest with your nail and squint your eyes. He can't just tease you like that! Pfff.

"Serious? You don't think I'm serious" he tilts his head to the side. His expression is unreadable and it makes you question whether he's being a goof right now or if he really wants to kiss you. Why would he want to kiss you out of anyone here?

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you. He looks shocked for a moment before letting a breath out, it almost sounds disappointed... can air sound a certain way? You're definitely overthinking this.

"A real dare please!" you squint your eyes at him in a playful manner. He shakes his head at you with a crooked smile, he's bewildered but you don't know that. You don't know how much he yearns for you right now. How much you attract him or how much it means to him that you're trying. Really trying to know him and make him your friend.

"Fine, I'll settle for the cheek" he winks and points to his right cheek which is inches away from your face.

You assess his expression, he's smirking again obviously happy that his teasing is affecting you. Ever so slightly furrowing his brows in worry that you'll reject that too. So. In honour of your first-ever big girl party, you do it. You kiss his cheek and you play dirty a little bit. Pressing your lips right to the corner of his lips. Right where they merge into the skin of his face.

"There! Now who's next?" you exclaim excitedly turning back to the group of people. A girl you don't know raises her hand and you dare her to do a shot of her least favourite alcohol. She walks off in search of it and your head is turned back towards Harry by a gentle hold on your chin.

"You're such a tease, gorgeous" his voice is soft but rugged almost sounding bothered by something... by someone?

"How so?" your lips form a small smile as you take a sip of your beer, you're conveniently sat next to a cooler full of them.

"You're irresistible" he replies with dark eyes, the hand on your chin moves to your cheek. The tips of his fingers tangling in your hair almost scratching at your scalp.

You don't completely understand how he's saying that about you when he looks the way he does. His hair is falling gorgeously onto his face as he looks at you, his eyes are dark and inviting, lips parted and numerous tattoos still on display.

"What are you going to do about it?" Wow! You're feeling brave tonight good on you! It might be the drinks you've been working at starting to make the anxiety you previously had melt away. Making the nerves calm and the fear of embarrassing yourself much less important.

"What do you want me to do about it?" his lips brush your own as he whispers his answer. You hadn't realized how close you'd gotten to each other; your chest is pressed to his, thighs seemingly glued together at the side, hands holding onto whatever part that isn't yet connected...

Before you can answer and quite possibly take him up on his first dare, your phone rings in your lap. You jump in surprise but Harry's strong yet gentle hold on you doesn't waver, he keeps you close to him. You glance down at the screen and see that Riu is calling you, the terrible selfie he took for his contact picture staring back at you. He has the habit of "stalking" you and Maeve on the Snapchat map, he says it's to make sure you're all in your usual spots. And... well... right now you're definitely not in one of your usual spots.

"Are you going to answer?" Harry asks with a slightly annoyed tone. You look at him again breaking eye contact with Riu's picture. You shake your head and take a deep breath, encouraging yourself. Harry's eyebrow raises in confusion but before anything else can be said you surge forward. You connect your lips to his desperately, forgetting everything else around you.

Harry's hand, the one that was on your cheek, reaches to the back of your head and pulls you closer. Deepening the kiss more than you thought possible. His other hand wraps around your waist and pushes you forward making your chest completely stuck to his. Your hands busy themselves as well, your right one tangles into his curls and your left grabs onto his forearm almost in an attempt to brace yourself. His tongue meets yours making you moan in pleasure. Who knew making out with someone could feel so good?

Harry doesn't stop, not for one second, as if he'd been wishing to do this for a while. He has but you obviously don't know that. He's been interested since his audition, he had seen your band before but never interacted. He always thought you were gorgeous but never had a chance to see if there could be any chemistry between you both. And now? Lord.

Someone around you hollers and it snaps you out of the bubble that surrounds both of you. You jerk away from Harry putting as much distance between you as you're able to on the otherwise cramped sofa.

"You two better go off to somewhere more private before we all need to bleach our eyeballs" The person sitting next to Harry laughs as he nudges him on the arm, shaking both of your bodies against each other. Harry shakes his head and playfully punches the person but you stare at him shocked. Shocked that you were just fully making out with him, shocked that he wanted to make out with you... Shocked that you're kind of wishing it kept going.

When Harry's head turns back towards you, you can't help but meet his gaze. Your own eyes are wide and just now getting back to focus, they had gone hazy with want but you won't admit that to yourself just yet.

"Let me walk you home? I know you have an exam first thing in the morning tomorrow" He asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you don't miss any essential studying you might want to do.

"Um, sure, a party on Wednesday is weird..." You shake your head in thought now just realising that you had completely forgotten about the test.

"Makes hump day less humpy I guess" he shrugs with a teasing smile before standing and helping you up off the sofa.

The walk back to your flat is entertaining. You get to know your new bandmate even more, truly getting to know him as a person. You share about yourself as well not wanting the conversation to seem one-sided. Turns out drinking a little alcohol makes you chatty.

Somehow, your left hand has interlocked with Harry's right one. How and when this happened you're not sure all you know is that you've had a painfully obvious blush on your face and neck ever since. You don't attempt to break the hold because... well... you really don't want to.

"Well, this is me" You turn to face Harry as you speak. You gesture to your complex vaguely still wanting to talk with him.

"Mh, quaint," he says without even looking at the building.

"Guess this is goodnight then" Your lips form into a small pout, disappointed that you have no real excuse to stay around Harry anymore.

"Guess so... I'll see you at practice tomorrow?" his hand tugs you towards him gently, leaving only inches between you. You bite your lip and nod as an answer all words having vanished from your mind. He smirks and bends down to press his lips on yours one more time. This kiss is much different than the one you previously shared, this one is only a short peck barely even qualifies as a kiss. You instinctively follow when he parts from you desperate for a real kiss.

"What's wrong pretty?" he's teasing you and you know it.

"Kiss me properly... leave me regretting coming back home to study instead of staying at yours" There's a sentence you never imagined yourself saying. You're feeling like a completely new you. Maybe it's the liquor in your system but Harry stops the nerves and the overthinking that's always going on in your head. He feels like a breath of fresh air and that is so fucking hot.

Harry doesn't hesitate to reconnect your lips again for a real kiss. He bites and drags your bottom lip towards him you moan at the feeling, quickly wrapping your arms around him to deepen the contact. Your tongue meets his between your mouths, it's not a battle, feels like they've been waiting to reconnect since they parted ways at the party.

"You're so hot Y/N" Harry practically moans out before slamming his lips back against yours.

Kissing someone has truly never felt this good.

-

The exam you only spent about 45 minutes studying for ended up being a total breeze as it was open book. Your nerves had immediately vanished when you'd stepped into the auditorium and read that on the board. But now your nerves are back up as your final period is about to end. Band practice is after this. You'll have to face Harry in front of both of your other friends... who have no idea that you've made out with the new member... twice.

Harry hasn't stopped messaging you all day thanking you for giving him a chance again and asking if he could take you out after practice. You haven't answered yet, every time you try to write one up your fingers word vomit and you end up deleting your drafts. You want to say yes to him but you feel like you might be braver telling him face to face.

When you hear your professor announce that he's dismissing you early you practically jump out of your seat. This could be the perfect opportunity to go see Harry early. He's been done with class for about an hour now and is already at the auditorium waiting so you rush over. You don't take the time to put away your pencil case or your notebook, keeping them in your hands as you make your way.

"Hope you haven't been ghosting me, sweetheart" Harry calls out immediately as you walk into the auditorium. He's lying down on the edge of the stage, a leg hanging off the side with his phone in hand above his head. He doesn't turn to look at you but you can't blame him so you're quick to walk to him ready to explain yourself.

"I wasn't I swear! I just kept overthinking my answers... thought I'd have an easier time answering in person" you tell him as you put down your things on one of the seats.

"Understandable, things can be more complicated to convey through a screen" his answer lifts a weight off of your shoulders. You were so worried he wouldn't understand.

"So, I'm glad you gave me a chance to get to know you" you start, "I know we weren't very welcoming and I'm sorry" You tentatively place your hand on Harry's chest, between both of his pecks.

"It's okay gorgeous, I know it's cause you were just so intimidated by my hot bod" he lightens the mood with his joke and you're so grateful.

"Mh, sure" you tease him with a shake of your head.

He gasps in mock offence batting your hand away from his chest. You laugh at his antics,

already thinking up your next answer. Harry doesn't let the hand that was on him go far grabbing it and tugging you closer to him.

"As for your other texts... I'd really like to go out with you later tonight" Your voice turns very weak at the end of your sentence, shyness taking over. Harry chuckles and tugs you to him again.

"You're so cute, darling" he smiles softly, "I'm glad I didn't scare you off" his free hand reaches out and wraps around your neck to cup your nape. He pulls your face down to his kissing your lips, once, twice, thrice...

"Riu and Maeve are going to be so confused when I tell them" you chuckle. Your friends might actually faint when you tell them you're going on a date with the Harry Styles.

"Let's just let them walk in while we kiss, easy way to announce it," he says with a wink. You smile and bend back down to lock lips... addicted to the way he feels.

"Or, you could write a song about how good kissing me is" you joke as you whip your hair backwards in an attempt to joke. Harry, however, takes your suggestion seriously.

"I've already got five written in my head, six if you kiss me again right now" And who are you to deny helping his creative juices?

You do end up shocking Maeve and Riu with your "very inappropriate spit swapping" Maeve's words, not yours.

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can��t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He’s staring at him.

Steve Harrington is staring at Eddie Munson.

The thing is, people don’t just stare at Eddie. Not for any reason that means anything good for Eddie. So when, completely unprompted, the fucking King of Hawkins High walks up to Eddie and says, “I need to talk to you,” Eddie thinks he’s entirely justified in the squeak he lets out.

“You? Talk? To me?” Wow. Great job, brain.

“Please,” Harrington whispers, and Eddie thinks desperately this must be some kind of joke, except he’s good at reading people, and he knows the desperation in Harrington’s eyes.

“Okay,” he says, stammers. “Um. There- there’s, behind the school, a, uh-”

“Table,” Harrington nods. “That works. Just…” he sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “Leave the lunchbox at home.”

Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Then what the fuck do you want with me, dude?”

“I can’t explain. Not here, not now. Just. Please. After school, okay?”

Eddie looks at him. Really looks, studies his face, understands the lines by his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. His heart thumps as he realizes. He’s scared. “Okay,” he says, and means it.

Eddie’s a man of his word, so after school he makes his way to the table, pausing when it comes into view. Harrington’s already there, sitting with his head in his hands. Eddie calls out from a couple of paces away. “You sure you don’t want anything from the lunchbox?”

Harrington jumps, hands up, eyes round. Relaxes a little when he sees Eddie. “No. I- I’m good. I can’t, actually.”

Eddie frowns. “What, like, a sports thing? No one’s gotta know, dude, I’ve never been busted, I can keep a secret.”

Steve gives him a half-smile. “No. It’s- it’s not a sports thing. Just… sit down? And promise to listen?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, because he knows how comforting it can be to just have someone there, and he’s not a dick; clearly Harrington’s going through something. Though why he approached Eddie, of all people, he doesn’t know.

“Okay,” Harrington repeats back, taking a breath before starting. “If I were to tell you I’m from the future, a future in which we know each other, how would you ask me to prove it?”

Eddie blinks. He was ready for a lot of things, but not time travel. “Um. I dunno, man, I haven’t really thought about it.”

He takes another deep breath. “Can I try?”

“To- to prove you’re from the future?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. “Man, where the fuck do I get the strain you’re on?”

He blinks. “What?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Come on, man, you have to admit you’re not really making sense here.”

Harrington sighs. Takes another breath. Says, “You live with your uncle Wayne. Your father taught you to hot wire cars when you were nine. You listen to Dio and Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne but your favorite song is I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton, because it was your mom’s favorite. The guitar pick you wear around your neck was hers. She taught you guitar. You love The Hobbit. Stop me when I’ve said enough.”

Eddie’s never been more scared in his life. “Listen, man, I dunno where you heard all that-”

“Eddie,” he says, implores, and digs something out of his pocket. Opens his hand to reveal a ring.

A ring Eddie already has on his finger.

“What the fuck,” Eddie whispers. Grabs for the ring before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea. Examines it, sees the dent from where his finger had gotten smashed in a door.

His hands start shaking.

“I’m from 1987,” Steve Harrington says, sure as anything. “And I’m trying to stop something terrible.”

“And what would that be?” Eddie asks, feeling strangely detached from the whole thing.

“Your death,” Steve Harrington says, still sure as anything.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[ifwdominicfike]

your camera roll —

if you were dating guitarist!matt

a little insight on the life with your boyfriend who is the lead guitarist of an upcoming band ⊹ ࣪ ˖

layout inspo: @55sturn

1st - you walked in on matt shirtless while strumming away on his guitar, his bottom lip between his teeth while bopping his head to tune he was playing. you were enjoying the view until he had caught you staring. “sweetheart- where’d you come from? scared me there” he says with a smile “have i ever told you how good y’look like this..?” you make your way to his lap as he sets down the instrument “come on y/n you know i c-cant have any distractions baby..” your hands trailing down his chest, teasing their way down to his belt “just five minutes please ?” “fuck okay fine, only five though got it?”

── .✦. ──

2nd - your 1 year anniversary with matt was coming up and you had the perfect gift for him. you were lucky that he had gone off to rehearse at a friend’s house leaving you alone, with his laptop still opened on a tab that was on a specific guitar still on the screen. fast forward the day of your anniversary you had matt covering his eyes as you excitedly brought over the same guitar to set in his hands. by the feel of it matt had already gotten an idea on what it was. “o-oh my- no you didn’t” “happy anniversary matt!!” he carefully sets it down and wraps his arms you, lifting you up slightly as he starts to kiss all over your face “i love you so much baby you have no idea”

── .✦. ──

3rd - it was no secret that matt loved you, he would kiss the ground you walked on every second of the day. always waiting on you hand and foot and taking care of whatever you had going on, he spoiled you bad. you always got your way no matter what, some may say you were “needy” but that never bothered matt — he loved it. you two were getting ready to go out and you were “having trouble with the laces.” that was your excuse to matt as he kneeled down with a sarcastic sigh “you were having trouble with the laces bun? the other shoe seems perfectly fine t’me” you smile and pull at the other lace to undo the knot “i think y’need to do that one too baby” you giggle at him as he sighs “have it your way then, spoiled girl”

1st - it was your first time seeing matt play live and fuck. he looked so good, the entire night he would glance over at you and wink or give you a teasing smirk as his fingers worked the chords. that was another thing too, his hands. he knew how much you loved them, as the night went on the show was coming to an end. matt had made his way over to you and he instantly lifted you off the floor “m’gonna fuck you soo good when we get home, hope y’know that pretty girl” his voice filled desperation as you whine when his lips make their way to your neck.

── .✦. ──

2nd - matt knew you were the only one he would ever want, he always knew from the start. so when you suggested getting matching tattoos he dropped everything and made an appointment. “y’scared pretty girl?” he was holding your hand to calm your nerves as you were basically shaking in the chair. “shut up matt, im just- not used to getting these. unlike you!” you point to his sleeve as you scoff “s’gonna be fine sweetheart, im right here”

── .✦. ──

3rd - “baby you he- oh” he opens the bedroom door before he stops in his tracks when he sees you sitting down with his favorite guitar in your arms. “what’re y’doing?” he asks but before you could answer he interrupts himself “wait- whats jerry doing there?” you laugh at the name of the cat, you never took it serious for a cat name but matt insisted on naming him jerry. “jerry wanted to help me out love, isn’t he the cutest thing ever!!” matt laughs as he makes his way to you, his hand caressing your jaw as he lifts up your head to give you a kiss “i love you so much sweetheart.”

1st - “baby that sounds fine right?” matt ask’s “m’sorry what?” your eyes quickly meeting his, he wanted you to be the first to hear his solo for his bands next song but you got sidetracked and ended up staring at his hands — the veins spread out and becoming more prominent when they moved. “really? whats with you and my hands huh?” he teases “they’re just so pretty, how could i not stare at them?” you state “you’re weird, kidding! but please can you actually hear this real quick” “of course handsome”

── .✦. ──

2nd - you two always enjoyed moments like these, quality time was always something important to both of you. it never failed to turn into you talking matts ear off but he loved hearing you talk about your day. “also you’re never gonna guess what happened so y’know my friend- sorry m’rambling again” matt looks at you confused “no- no keep going baby why’d y’stop?” he asks “o-oh uhm okay!” you awkwardly laugh “you’ll never annoy me bun, i love hearing you talk”

── .✦. ──

3rd - you were deep into your book while matt was fixing up his guitar, until matt heard small snores coming from you as your book was limp against your chest. he smiles to himself and begins to put away his things — agreeing that it was time for bed already. one everything was done he had gone over to you, curled into a ball peacefully sleeping. “m’pretty girl” he says to himself, he carefully picks you up making sure to not wake up but he failed horribly “wh- matt?” you grumble “shh, just go back to sleep hun. ‘kay?” last thing you know is matt snuggling up against you while whispering the sweetest words ever.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i live for guitarist!matt. i always use sweetheart WAYYY TOOO MUCHHH. but i just know matt would call his gf sweetheart so SHHH. this took me way longer than needed but only bc im a procrastinator ANYWAY i didn’t notice how long these were.. but enjoy!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @bluestriips

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 ꕤ

Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader: bondage kink

summary: You decided to snoop around your boyfriend's Amazon wishlist, trying to find the perfect gift for your first month anniversary. You couldn't believe what he had saved.

warnings: smut, shibari use, bondage (duh), hyunjin being a cutie and hot at the same time

word count: 2.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You and Hyunjin were only one week away from your first month anniversary and you were very excited and nervous at the same time. 

It had been your dream when Hyunjin finally got the courage to ask you out on a date. You had felt on top of the world, feeling like it was a freaking dream. He took you to a nice fancy restaurant, complimented you the entire night and then took you out on two more before finally asking you to be his girlfriend. 

It was recent, very new, and you still didn’t know him a hundred percent, so you weren’t really sure what to get him. 

A first month anniversary was a huge deal for you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him in the slightest. You knew he had a lot of money, so he could really buy anything he wanted. 

You thought you could buy him a camera, but literally the day you searched for the one you knew he wanted, he purchased it himself. You also thought about taking him out on a date yourself, but you knew he wouldn’t let you pay, and you honestly thought the idea was pretty lame and basic. He did that for you every single week, it wasn't that special. 

An idea popped into your head.

Maybe you could sneak into his computer and lurk around his amazon wish list or something. You knew every inch of his house and belongings, so you could easily know what he owned or not.

You grabbed his computer and sat on the bed with an excited sigh. 

You put the password and quickly opened google, typing amazon. Thankfully, the page immediately opened in his logged account, so you clicked on the wishlist button and carefully started looking for future gifts. 

A Fender Stratocaster electric guitar… no, that’s way too expensive. You were not even half as wealthy as he was, and besides, he had two guitars already. He didn’t need a third one. 

A painting brush set… it could be. Hyunjin really needed new brushes, so you wrote them down as possible options for gifts. 

A vinyl record from the band he had recently started listening to… you got that for him for his birthday when you weren’t together yet, it wasn’t that special either. You had to be original. 

Shibari ropes… wait.

Hold up.

Shibari ropes?

In his wishlist?

Was this something he was willing to try? 

You bit your lip at the thought of trying that with Hyunjin. You couldn’t stop thinking about him tying you up and letting him use you the way he wanted. You wouldn’t have ever thought that your boyfriend was into that kinky shit, but here you are. 

You sent the link of the shibari ropes he had put on favorites via airdrop and quickly closed the window, deleting the history search just in case he saw it and discovered your gift. 

The ropes were a tiny bit expensive, but you knew they were totally gonna be worth it. 

The week of the anniversary rolled faster than you thought and you were getting anxious by the minute. You started having second thoughts. What if he thought you were a fucking weirdo for buying the ropes, or even worse, what if he realised you went into his wishlist and broke up with you because he thought you were-

Okay, relax, you thought to yourself.

After the date he had taken you on, he took you back home and sat you on the bed, ready to give you the gift he had gotten for you.

“I really hope you like this” he said and grabbed a box from the closet that was hidden by his clothes. 

You bit your lip and opened it, taking the box that was inside. 

Once you opened the box, you gasped when you saw the two necklaces, one with your initial, and the other one with Hyunjin’s. 

“I wanted to have your initial around my neck, and my initial around your neck” he smiled. “I hope you don’t think it’s weird, I just thought it-” he started rambling but you cut him short by kissing him deeply.

His breath hitched in surprise, but he was quick to grab your waist and pull your body closer to his.

You pulled away and then, pressed a peck to his lips. “I love it, Hyune” you giggled. “And I love you”

It was the first time saying those three words to him.

His face broke out into the most heart crushing and wonderful smile you have ever seen. “God, I love you” he said and kissed you, making you fall back on the bed with a giggle, tangled in his arms.

When you felt the kiss getting a little way too hot, you pulled away, remembering he gift you had bought.

“I- I uh… I have a gift for you as well” you said and bit your lip, chewing on it.

Hyunjin let out a smirk. “Okay…” he giggled.

You quickly sat up on the bed and walked towards your bags. You grabbed a box and sighed.

This is it.

You handed it to him, and he didn’t miss the look on your face, noticing the way you were nervous about it. 

“It’s okay if you find it… um… weird, and shit” you mumbled as he carefully took the lid of the box out. 

His eyes visibly widened when he saw the bright red ropes laying on the inside of the box. 

“You- Y/N… how…?” he started stammering like a child and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I- okay, I didn’t know what to get you so I went into your wishlist on amazon and I found that you had these there in your favorites. And I- well, I thought you were into it- them” you said, nervously.

Hyunjin took them out and his fingers caressed the rope. “You want me to tie you up with these?” he asked, and you noticed the huskiness in his voice.

He wanted this.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Because you discovered I had a thing for it… or because you want me to?” he asked, trying to check if he had full consent from you on this one, or you were just trying to please him. 

You smiled, realising the implying in his words. “Both things, Hyune. Because you have a thing for it, and well, I want to try it as well, you know?” you said, licking your lips. 

“Fuck, get naked. Right the fuck now” he said, standing up from the bed and almost ripping his shirt off from the eagerness he felt. 

Your eyes widened and then you saw the way he was dead serious about it.

You stood up shakily on your legs and slowly took off your dress, letting it slide over your body and pool on your feet. 

You stood in your underwear and his eyebrows arched, a sign that he wanted those two remaining garments off as well. You hooked your pointer finger on the side of your panties and slid them down, kicking them further away and then your hands went behind your back, unclipping your bra and throwing it away. 

Hyunjin grabbed the ropes and held two fingers up, curling them in a come here movement. 

You walked towards him and let him wrap you up in the red ropes, tying them all over your body, till you could no longer move by yourself.

He grabbed you and deposited you on the bed.

His cock got impossibly hard at the state he had you in, all tied up and helpless. Hyunjin had you exactly how he wanted. You squirmed in your place, with a whine, trying to get him to do something.

“Hyunjin…” you whispered, your eyes getting teary already.

He chuckled and placed two hands next to your head. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby, and you’re getting pouty on me already…”

His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing his jeans away, standing only in a pair of boxers that sit too tight on his hips due to his raging hard on. 

His fingers swept over your core, teeth digging into his lips when he found you wet and ready for him.  

“No… no fingers, I just want your cock, Hyune” you moaned.

And how could he resist, really? When you were begging like that for him, so sweetly. 

He manhandled you so you were on your knees, your face resting on the pillow and your arms were tied behind your back. 

“Do you remember our safe word, jagi?” he asked you.

You nodded into the pillow and he slapped your ass swiftly, making you jolt and yelp.

“Words” he said sternly.

“I do… I do…” you whined.

Hyunjin smirked. “Great” he stated.  

Hyunjin took off his boxers, his erection slapping wetly on his stomach. He grabbed his length, pumping it with his hand a couple of times and then guiding it through your pussy lips. 

You moaned into the pillow once you felt him buried to the hilt, and then his hips started moving torturously slow. 

He heard you whine and start babbling nonsense against the pillow, making him chuckle. “What is it, baby?” he said, continuing his slow pace. “I can’t hear you”

You pushed your cheek into the sheets and let out a cry. “Please go faster, Hyune” you pleaded, tears now rolling down your cheeks. 

He grabbed you by the ropes that were tying your hands, lifting you up to a kneeling position, making your back hit his chest.

“You know how hard it makes me to have you all tied up and helpless while you beg for me to fuck you?” he asked you, lust dripping in his tone. 

You let out a moan when you felt him push his cock deep and fast inside of you, hitting over and over the sweet spot inside of you. 

He could listen to the headboard hitting against the wall with loud thuds, knowing the members were gonna be fucking angry at him for making so much noise, but he really couldn’t give to shits about it. 

Hyunjin continued thrusting his hips and you moaned brokenly every time he hit the delicious spot. His teeth bit at your neck, leaving a few hickeys to adorn your skin. 

“I love you, baby” he whispered. “Fuck, you look so good, such a fucking work of art” he mumbled over your skin, going dumb himself over how well you were taking him. You were so wet and tight, added to the fact that you were making a wet dream of his come true by letting him tie you up, that it made him almost lose control. “Fuck, are you close, honey?”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent words or even thoughts. His hand went over your front, finding your clit and rubbing it. 

You tightened even more around him and he felt your orgasm coat his dick. Once he felt you relax under his hold, meaning you were already spent, he took his cock out from your quivering hold and laid you on the bed, angling your ass up.

He grabbed his cock and started jerking himself off, applying pressure to his base and his thumb rubbing over his tip. 

The orgasm washed over him, making his legs tremble from the intensity of it. His come came out in spurts over your ass cheeks and he let out a broken moan when he finished, his eyes lingering on the artwork he had made over your ass, feeling himself proud and smug at the sight in front of him. 

He let out a tired sigh and grabbed the ends of the ropes, prying them off of your body. 

Hyunjin felt his heart ache when he saw the red lines on your body, from the tightness of them.

“Shit, my love, I’m so sorry” he said, his hand coming to soothe off the redness. 

You basked in his touch and smiled. “It’s okay, I liked it” you said, with a shy giggle.

“Oh I’m fucking sure we both did” Hyunjin said with a chuckle. “Fuck baby, that was so freaking hot” 

You hid your face on the pillow, feeling your cheeks grow hot. 

Hyunjin laughed at your shyness and pet your hair. “I love you” he confessed once again.

“I love you” you replied back and eyes his handsome face. “Shibari, Hyunjin? Really?”

“Stop!” he squealed, making you chuckle. 

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @jisunglyricist

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[papaya-twinks]

my two girls - l.n

Warnings: Mentions of a cut

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

When Lando held your baby girl for the first time, he vowed one thing, and that was that he wouldn’t let a single person harm her in any way. She was his girl, as were you, the two loves of his life, and hed be damned if something happened to either of you.

He’d spent ages at night, meticulously planning things to keep your little girl, Cherrie, safe and away from harm, including baby fences and safety measures for the house, as well as brainstorming personal and more emotional things.

The day he’d brought you back from the hospital, he’d said something that you were sure you’d never forget. “Y/N,” he said, one hand on your waist as he led you into the house, “just coz we have a baby now, doesn’t mean I don’t have to show my love for you anymore,”.

You knew what he meant, in some families, when they had kids, they refrained from showing their love for their significant other, but Lando didn’t want that. He wanted to show his love for you every single day, when he woke up with his gorgeous lover.

“Im gonna show you how much I love you, and I’m gonna show Cherrie what she deserves when she grows up and finds a man,” Lando promised you. He wasn’t a crazily overprotective dad, actually, yes, he was very conservative with his family, but he wasn’t madly controlling.

And one thing Lando loved to do was show Cherrie just how much he loved her. Like when she fell over one time whilst putting her shoes on, ready to go to the supermarket with you, and a little cut appeared on her knee. Before you could even do so much as turn around, Lando had ran down the stairs to her.

Yes, he was spoiling her. And he didn’t care. He comforted her for ten whole minutes, before he led her to the kitchen to choose a plaster, and help her colour a heart into it, all whilst she forgot why she was even sad. And when she was asleep, he’d stay up at his keyboard, playing tuned and recording them.

“Love, what are you doing?” you asked, walking into the studio room as you wrapped a night gown round your body, eyes a little drooped. “Recording some stuff,” he said, turning to you with a smile. “What kinda stuff?” you asked, sitting on one of his thighs as he rested one hand on your back.

“Just some random stuff,” he said, refusing to elaborate as you hummed. And soon enough, you were asleep. The nights of Lando on the piano continued for months on end, before he finally beckoned you and your three year old daughter to the room.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing the CD he had in his hand as Cherie giggled, reaching for it. “Wrote her a whole album,” Lando smiled, helping Cherrie pop the CD into the player. “An album?” you gasped, eyes wide as the melancholy music played.

“So she won’t fall for some stupid dweeb who plucked a few chords on the guitar when she’s older,” Lando smiled to you, giving you a kiss on your cheek. He…wrote an album? To prove to his daughter what she deserved in a man, and to set her standards how she deserved them to be.

time skip

“Daddy, I don’t wanna stay here,” Cherrie cried as you held her hand, sighing as you knelt beside her. She really was a daddy’s girl, wasn’t she? “Who’s gonna keep mama company then, hm?” you asked, trying to persuade. “No! I wanna keep daddy company,” she said, her eyes red. “Baby, it’s only the weekend, okay?” Lando said.

“Baby, she hasn’t slept a single night,” you said once Lando had returned. “Shit, really?” Lando said, his eyes wide as you nodded, a grimace on your lips. “Fuck, let me go see her,” he said, walking into her room. “Hey baby,” Lando says slowly as he walks in to see Cherrie on the bed.

“Go away!” she cried to him, “I hate you!”. Lando sighed, trying to walk back in but she wasn’t having it. Poor thing, she really did miss Lando. It was really her fault. She was only three anyways. And the next time he had to leave - he didn’t want to go through that again, as he thought.

“Baby,” he said slowly, kneeling to your daughter’s height. “I’ve got something for you to remind you of daddy when he’s gone for weekend,”. Cherrie looked like she was about to cry again, before he held out the teddy in a orange McLaren hoodie and boots and a hat. And, well, Cherrie slept sweet and sound for the rest of the races.

time skip

Cherrie was 18 now, she was moving out to go to university, as Lando helped her sort through her boxes of what to bring. “I’m taking that,”she stuffed something into a case. “What’s that?” Lando asked, looking up as he opened the bag to see. The bear. “Y-You kept it?” he gawked at his daughter in shock.

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.