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yesimwriting · 10 months ago

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OKAY idk if you keep taking thoughts but this IS the dynamic I had thought for Felix since DAY ONE, so of course I need more best friend!felix and maybe this one is a typical one but...

The jealousy??? like this man is very facial and expressive and protective, especially towards the reader.... so I thought about him watching any of his friends flirting with them? And maybe also being way too touchy? You can decide if reader is comfortable in all that or not (I think she wouldn't), but having him like trying not to be a dick but also like needing to, like they're my best friend shush so yeah, I'd love it if you could write something like that! thankss

a/n omg that one scene in saltburn where felix is like 'you're my friend,, you're supposed to be here with me' yeah i knew immediately

----

"Sorry, darling." Despite the soft, almost far off cadence of Farleigh's voice, his words manage to cut through the atmosphere of the party. He leans forward, handing off his half finished joint to the girl standing next to you. "This stuff's heavy, and I don't need Felix on me tonight."

You frown. His denial doesn't get to you as much as the way he's framing it. Like you're a child that needs to be looked after. Like you're Felix's property.

If you weren't already a few drinks in, you'd dismiss Farleigh's words with an eye roll. The buzz burning in your veins latches onto that pinch of irritation. The full sounding giggle that comes from the nameless girl by your side only amplifies the feeling. "I don't do everything Felix says."

"No," he agrees, "You do just enough to be a good, little pet." You cross your arms in front of your chest, tilting your head to better glare at him.

The feel of something touching your shoulder cracks the tension. Your head turns. Felix. Despite your annoyance, Felix's sudden appearance at your side has you easing. He leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek near the corner of your mouth. "I was looking for you."

You smile, placing your hand over the one Felix still has on your shoulder. "You seemed busy, decided to take a lap."

He brushes his thumb against your shoulder. "Never too busy for you, darling." Felix has a way of making things that should feel just polite sound genuine. "How're you doing?"

"Farleigh's being mean."

"Didn't let her smoke." Farleigh explains flatly, taking the joint back from the girl. "After the way you reacted last time, it wasn't worth it."

Felix squeezes your arm. "That true?" You're not given a chance to respond. "You know how you get. Especially after drinking." You blink at him, eyes wide and lips pressed together. "Don't give me that look." It's too gentle to be a scolding. "We can smoke when you're sober, if you want."

You're not one to crave getting high too often. There's a sluggishness to it that you have to be in a certain mood for. But something about smoking with Felix, in his room with the window open and the two of you lounging like the only things that matter are what's within arm's reach, is unbelievably soothing.

Even in your current state, you're fully aware of the fact that you're getting the better end of the deal. But with Farleigh's smug comment and that random girl that laughed still paying attention, you don't feel comfortable agreeing in front of everyone.

"You're looking for an excuse to argue." Ugh. The way he reads you is almost eerie. You press your lips together to keep from giggling, watching him carefully. You shake your head, a flimsy attempt at denial. "Yes." Felix leans closer, grinning. He drapes an arm around your back, pulling you against his chest. " I can see it in your eyes."

"My eyes are innocent."

His freehand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to better look you in the eye. He's focused, exuding more concentration than the moment warrants. That's the thing about Felix, crowded room or empty dorm, it doesn't matter. He has a talent for making anyone feel like the only person in the world.

"Hm," he hums, "You pass." Despite coming to a conclusion, he makes no effort to move away from you. "Want to get another drink?"

You nod, "Yeah."

"C'mon, then." He drops one arm, waving a halfhearted goodbye to Farleigh before guiding you forward.

Felix keeps an arm around your shoulders as you maneuver through the chaos of the party. It's instinct to accept his lead, a part of you more glad for it than usual. You're starting to feel fuzzy, and with Felix guiding you, it's safer to accept the sensation.

"Oh my god!" A squeal and then your name.

You turn your head, eyes landing on a familiar face from your lit class. "Daphne!" She's a newer friend that you mainly know from exchanging lecture notes and working on essays together. A part of you is surprised to see her here, but you guess you shouldn't be. Now that you're thinking about it, you feel like you've seen her around Felix's friends before. "Hey."

Daphne approaches you with a wide grin. "I didn't know you were here." She then glances to Felix, and then Felix's arm, and then back to Felix. "Hi, Felix."

If he notices Daphne's curious scrutiny, he gives no indication of it. "Hi, Daphne," he greets, confirming that they do run in the same circles.

She smiles politely before turning her attention back to you, "It's been a minute since I've seen you." Daphne tosses a glossy strand of hair over her shoulder. "We need to catch up, I found out the best thing about the girl that sits in the front row that always tells everyone her grades."

"Bragger girl? She's the worst."

"Oh, you have no idea."

Felix squeezes your arm, turning your attention back towards him. "I'll get you your drink, you catch up with your friend." You beam at him as his arm gently moves off your shoulder.

As soon as he's disappeared into the crowd, Daphne gasps, "Oh my god, whatever's going on there is better than my bragger girl story."

You blink. "What?" Confusion and Felix's absence make you feel slightly off balance. It takes you a moment to catch up. "Oh, Felix? We're friend." Daphne presses her lips together, the look she's giving you not entirely convinced. "C'mon, tell me about bragger girl."

"Okay." Daphne gestures to an empty coach that's been pushed against a wall. "Let's sit?"

The two of you make it to the edge of the room. Daphne's not shy about taking up space, letting her long legs extend into the start of where people might walk. She trusts the world to move for her. It hits you then that your friendship with Daphne, like your relationships with a lot of people you've been spending time with recently, doesn't make make sense on paper.

You sit, grateful for the chance to lean against something sturdy.

"Alright," Daphne starts, angling her body towards you, "Bragger girl--never's gotten an imperfect score girl--" She cuts herself off with a soft, tipsy giggle. "Is hooking up with the TA."

Oh, you're fully hooked. "What?" Daphne nods, expression satisfied. "No way." There's no way to prove the connection between that girl always managing to beat your scores by a few points and any of her personal relationships, but come on. "Wait--with--with which one--the tall one or--or the one with the--" You're too out of it to recall a good descriptor, "Hair."

Daphne laughs again, "Hair?" You shrug at her. "Doesn't matter how little sense that makes, because that's the--the best part of the story." You nod, urging her. "She's hooking up with both of them."

You gasp. Oh my god, you cannot wait for Felix to get back so you can reiterate every detail of this. "Really?" Daphne giggles, nodding her head. "How do you know?"

"Okay," she crosses her legs, "So, I was at this ba--"

"Hey, Daphne," the voice is low and clumsy, over extending the second half of Daphne's name. Daphne looks up in time to see a guy sit on the couch's cushioned arm. "Who's your friend?"

Daphne throws you an apologetic look before turning back to the stranger. "Hi, John." She then introduces the two of you politely, presenting you as a friend from her intro to western lit class and John as someone from her econ class.

John doesn't even attempt to hide the fact that he's looking you over. You're not sure if it's the slightly glazed over quality to his eyes or his lack of shame gets to you. All you know is that some instinct tells you to be wary.

He tries your name on his lips, slurring slightly. "Why've I never seen you around?"

"Oh, I don't know," you try, tone much more sober than it was a moment ago, "I'm around, I guess. Here and there."

It's not your best small talk, but the only part of you that seems to be clinging to sobriety doesn't feel right. He's friends with Daphne, you tell yourself, you have no reason to believe he has bad intentions just because seems like he's had too much of whatever he's been having tonight.

John laughs, like your words were some obscure joke that he wants you to know he decoded. "So what do you do when you're not getting out?" He angles himself towards you, disregarding Daphne entirely. "I'm having a hard time picturing you in a library."

It's almost ironic enough to get you to laugh. John sees you here, he sees how you're dressed, and who you're with and just assumes that this is your regular state. And while there's nothing wrong with being the party girl type (some of your favorite people are that kind of person), it's just not who you are every night of the week.

"Actually, John," Daphne interjects, "She's really smart, like basically certified genius smart." You throw her a not so subtle look that says you feel like she's exaggerating. "What? I said basically." You don't look like you agree, "C'mon, even Dr. Alvero's said it, and he can't stand anyone."

"Really?" John moves to stand. "Dr. Alvero. His class is bloody murder." He takes a step towards you. "Maybe you could help me study sometime." You're too aware of the length of your dress, of your legs. "I'd pay you for your time."

There's something about the way he tacks on the reference to finances, an implication that burrows beneath your skin. That's the worst part of Oxford's elite, they assume that if you don't run in the same circles...that if you don't come from generational money, you have nothing. That you're in a position to bend to their every whim for what they consider petty cash.

"John," Daphne tries, voice hard.

"What?" John takes another step forward. "I said I'd pay her."

Indignance and nerves bond uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. As much as you want to tell him off, the way he's looking at you leaves you frozen, and it's not like the two of you are in a private area. You don't want to be labeled as a hysterical drunk.

"Sweetheart." Felix is within reach.

You turn your head instinctually. He's less than a foot from the couch, holding a solo cup. Despite directly addressing you, Felix's attention is fully focused on John, who seems to have finally remembered the concept of personal space.

Felix walks past him without a second glance before sitting next to you. It's a squeeze, Felix's knee pressing into yours. "They ran out of cups, so I thought we could share." Felix extends his arm slightly, gesturing to his drink. "Have some."

You lift a hand to reach for the cup, but Felix shifts before you can actually attempt to take it. Confusion has you dropping your hand back to your lap. You don't get where he's going with this until he gently tilts the cup in a silent question. You nod.

Felix brings the drink to your lips, gently tilting the cup until its contents are down your throat. The alcohol burns slightly, but not overbearingly so, and the flavor is familiar. Your favorite drink.

He pulls the cup away, a drop of liquid sliding down the corner of your mouth. Felix's thumb wipes it away before it can reach your chin. He then brings his still damp thumb towards his mouth to clean it.

Heat roots itself in your chest and crawls up your neck. All of your discomfort, all of your worry from before feels far and abstract until Felix asks, "So, who's your friend?"

"Oh, uh--this is Daphne's friend, John."

Daphne nods, leaning forward to join your conversation, "Yeah, I know him from my econ class."

"Yeah, good to finally meet you, man. " Felix finally looks back at John. "I think my step-mother's friends with your mum."

Felix places an arm against the back of the couch, giving you space to relax against his side. A more sober you would have thought twice about giving in so quickly, but you're starting to feel light again. "Uh--Cindy Marin."

"Right!" John exhales, relieved, "Right."

Felix nods once before turning his attention back to you. "You ready to get out of here?" There's an assuredness in the way he asks the question that makes it seem like there's nothing of value left at a party that hasn't at all since he sat down. You nod. Felix leans towards you so that he can better look over your shoulder. "See you around, Daphne."

"Yeah, see you."

Felix gets up, immediately stealing the warmth and comfort he'd been providing while next to you. Something that you only very minorly resent him for. He offers you his hand as you stand, and that makes up for most of it.

You turn your head to say goodbye to Daphne. Now that Felix isn't looking, she grins at you before mouthing: that was hot.

You roll your eyes, hoping your feigned irritation is enough to cover any signs of being flustered. Especially when Felix pulls an arm around your shoulders.

"Bye, John," he mumbles, "Congratulate your step-mum for me, yeah?"

Felix guides you out of the party. Once the two of you are exposed to the cool, night air, Felix lets go of you. There's a stiffness to his release that gets to you.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

"Can I?" Your voice is smaller than you thought it'd be.

Felix pauses, thinking through your request before handing you the box. You smile as Felix leans towards you. You don't smoke--with the exception of an occasional drag from one of Felix's cigarettes--but you like lighting them for him.

You pull one from the box and place it between his parted lips. He hands you his lighter next. You spark it to life, bringing the flame to the cigarette's end. Felix takes a deep breath, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling. He doesn't attempt to take your hand or place an arm around you again.

"Are you--" You're not even sure how to word it, "...Okay?"

He takes the cigarette between two fingers as he breathes out. "Fine." Felix inhales another drag. "Just didn't love the way that guy talked to you."

"If it helps, neither did I."

Felix glances over at you, eyebrows pulling together. "Then it's a good thing your best friend was there."

You roll your eyes fondly, fighting a grin, "You're always a good thing."

He looks down, his fingers brush against yours. You intertwine them, pulling his palm against yours. "Someone loves me."

You attempt to glare at him, but the look feels too sickeningly fond to come off as menacing. "Don't start."

His smile broadens. He squeezes your hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. "Want to stay over tonight?"

"Yeah." You grin, body subconsciously leaning against his a little more. "Are you tired?"

Felix eyes you with exaggerated skepticism, "Why?"

"Wanted to know if you were in the mood to read to me tonight."

He smiles, angling his head to press a kiss against the top of your head. "Anything you want, lovie."

----

felix: oh my god,, i can't believe people treat you like that!! maybe you should borrow my last name for a little, just so that they leave you alone

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

#bestfriend!felix #bestfriend!felix x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi

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kikohao · 8 months ago

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ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⋆˙. operation: one bed

★ ㅤㅤpairing ; agent!jeonghan x agent!reader ★ ㅤㅤsummary ; you and jeonghan were assigned a case together, you both played the roles of an engaged couple. why is it that you had to share a bed to sell the act? ★ ㅤㅤthemes ; spy au, one bed trope. fluff, mentions of seungcheol, soonyoung, and joshua ★ ㅤㅤwarnings ; cursing, kissing, slight jealousy, use of nicknames ("babe") ★ ㅤㅤword count ; 2k ★ ㅤㅤtaglist ; @nonononranghaee @abodyhasbeenfound ★ ㅤㅤa/n ; one bed trope with jeonghan has been rotting my mind for almost a week omg im really happy i was able to finish it on time! i've never really wrote a "kissing" scene before so im really sorry if its weird bye 😭 requests are always open! (texts, ot13 scenarios, drabbles, fics, mtls, etc) send an ask to be added to my taglist! likes and reblogs appreciated! <3

"Agent Kim, do you hear me?" You try to maintain a formal persona, as you talk into your built-in earphones as you make your way to the grand venue.

"Loud and clear. Make sure your earpiece is switched on at all times." A tuneless voice followed.

Upon entering the hotel, you and Jeonghan were greeted by the expansive lobby that screamed elegance and sophistication.

"They must be bloody rich," Jeonghan muttered quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. He was right though, there were multiple marble chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow upon all the guests.

It was extraordinarily exquisite.

"Pass the details," Jeonghan spoke into his earpiece as we moved to a certain corner of the corridors, hoping to maintain a low profile throughout the whole party.

After a few shufflings of his notes, he responded.

"Agent Yoon, you're Jacob Choi, son of the most prestigious Grand Celestial Palace. I'm pretty sure no one would go into more detail about you, but make sure they buy the act. We can't risk anything. Agent Y/N, you're Ana Wang, Jacob's fiancee, I'll get back to both of you with more details on the individuals. For now, you both are an engaged couple, seemingly having an Alliance with Mr. Lin."

"Got it."

You and Jeonghan made your way towards the reception to mark you both in now that you've got your "personal" details. By doing so, you both were accompanied by a middle-aged man, possibly someone who worked there. He wore a black suit and bow, around 5'8?

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight," Agent Kim spoke from the earpiece.

"Why are you so tense?" Jeonghan muttered, "I'm not." You replied swiftly with a scoff earning nothing but a soft chuckle from him that kept on making my ears ring.

Why did your stomach suddenly start to churn? You disregarded it, possibly assuming it was hunger or thirst. Your train of thought was interrupted by a man who made his way towards us. He looked old, although, his rosy cheeks and flawless demeanor said otherwise. Guess he was the well-known, Mr. Lin.

"Oh, Mr. Choi!" He exclaimed out loud for everyone to hear, grabbing Jeonghan's hand and shaking it vigorously.

You tried extremely hard to keep in the giggles that were trying to escape your mouth as you looked at Jeonghan's reaction to the sudden interaction from the man. You forcibly had to look away because you knew you'd fuck things up the second you made eye contact with him.

"It's been so long! How're you and your fiancee? Ms. Wang ain't it?" He questioned, looking towards you. Maybe it was just you and your overthinking capabilities, but you swore something was off about how he looked at you compared to how he looked at Jeonghan, but you decided to brush it off.

"We're doing quite well, thank you." Jeonghan put out, maintaining a calm composure that very well contrasted with his normal personality.

"How's your mom doing? I'm so sorry that happened to her," continued the man. You and Jeonghan shared a quick glance at each other, one that said -- "Oh we're so fucked if we mess this up."

"Mom is doing quite well, thanks for asking. She's doing much better." You replied, noticing the intense tension that followed. Seems like staying here for too long may be risky.

"Babe, why don't we get something to eat? I'm starving." You shared teasingly, looking at Jeonghan, enjoying the flushed expression that lay on his face as you managed to throw in a pout to make it seem more genuine. You both needed to instantly get away for a while to ask Agent Kim about the next plan, and this was the only resort.

Jeonghan excused himself as walked towards one of the empty tables, hand in hand. As soon as we took our seats, Jeonghan voiced through his earpiece, "What do we do next?"

"So far, we haven't found anything. And, I'm guessing neither have the two of you. I checked with Agent Kwon regarding the party details. Seems like everyone attending is encouraged to stay the night, I'm pretty sure it's just for them to make more affiliates, either that or just to show off how rich they are. Either way, I and the crew think it would be beneficial if you did so, in order to uncover more details on Mr. Lin, it would also help in selling your facade since I'm pretty sure he's catching up with suspicions of his."

"Are you sure about that?" You spoke softly into the earpiece, observing the surrounding area, "It sounds quite risky,"

"It is, indeed, but it's your call on whether you want to."

You look at Jeonghan, he seems to have similar thoughts as you do -- he doesn't seem too fond of the idea.

"What do you 'reckon?" you ask him, simultaneously taking a sip of the non-alcoholic wine they'd provided all the attendees.

"Well, it is pretty risky. But, we'd better do as per Mr. Kim and Mr. Kwon since we'd have to put up with these titles until we get the requirements. It'd help sell the act." He finally spoke.

It was unusual. It was unusual how he seemed calm and collected amidst something like this. You'd imagined him to be some kind of reckless person like the persona he usually played so you weren't quite fond of going with him.

You nodded -- he had a point. The faster Mr. Lin believed us, possibly the quicker we could get this case over with.

And, this was it.

Jeonghan hurried towards the hotel management before it was too late to get a room while you sat at your spot, gazing at everyone who attended such a social gathering.

Guess you realized you zoned out when a young man, maybe in his 20s, sat next to you and started up a conversation like good old friends.

"No way, Ana? Is that you?" He put up a question, his face in awe.

"Oh, yes, hello." you manage to spit out, giving off a small smile as you gaze at Jeonghan, his back facing towards you as he converses with the management team.

Guess I'm fucked.

"You were never the one for these kinda parties, you always mentioned that they were too crowded. Guess you grew out of your phase?" He smiled cheekily avoiding the fact that he most possibly just insulted you, or at least the role you're currently playing.

Is this gaslighting?

A phase? How is not wanting to go out and talk with people a phase? You didn't know who Ana was nor did you ever meet her, but you most certainly didn't like someone like him straight up insulting someone.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You questioned, maintaining a small smile. The last thing you wanted was your cover to get blown.

"Oh, Nothing. How's Jacob? He be treating you well?" He continued as he took a small sip from his cocktail drink.

You nodded, glancing every now and then at your so-called "companion" who's left you to talk to some guy who supposedly knows you. It made you laugh how he thinks he's all that -- you could easily spot how the guy was wearing a worn-out suit and tie, most probably already used, and how he just seemed sketchy.

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight,"

He did seem quite sketchy.

You spotted Jeonghan making his way back, guess God did hear your prayers after all. As soon as the guy spotted "Jacob" making his way towards us, he excused himself and left. Possibly to get another drink.

"Guess who managed to get us a room with my good looks," he winked at you, holding the keys high up. You couldn't help but chuckle.

Cute, you thought. Instantly regretting it when Jeonghan pointed out who flushed your face looked.

"Oh shut it, Yoon. Look, now you've ruined the mood." You shot back before he got a chance to say something sly.

His smile didn't last long though. "Oh and, who was that?" He asked, most likely mentioning the guy who'd been talking with you while he went to get the keys.

"Some guy who knows Ana. No clue, but he seemed sketchy." You replied, taking the keys from him.

A few hours passed with nothing but talking with the other participants, drinking, eating, talking again, drinking, talking...

"Huge thanks to everyone who was able to attend today. I wish all those returning back home a safe ride. Everyone who's staying for the night, you may make your way towards your rooms. Have a wonderful night!" Mr. Lin spoke out after clinking his wine glass, attaining attention from everyone present in the hall.

You followed Jeonghan as you made your way toward your room, slightly gazing in awe at all the picturesque art on the walls.

As soon as we entered our rooms, we both noticed the same exact thing.

There was only one bed.

One bed.

Anyone would expect Jeonghan to take up the sofa that was present in the room. Well, guess what? You were wrong.

There was a minute of silence before Jeonghan spoke out loud. "I'm taking the bed. You can take the bed if you want, but I'm not taking the sofa if that's what you're thinking." He smirked as he took off his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack before heading towards the bed.

Well, what did you expect?

That Jeonghan would give up the bed?

No chance and not at all surprising.

"You're such a gentleman aren't you?" You placed your shoes alongside him, making your way to the bed, not ready to give it up either. "They should've sent Joshua with me," You sighed out loud for him to hear.

"Joshua?"

"Well, anyone taking a good look at us would know that we're meant to be," You reasoned, followed by a breathy scoff from Jeonghan. You cooed at his reaction, "Aw, babe, didn't know you were the jealous type," you added, teasingly. You hated to admit it but playing Ana was fun.

"Yeah, right."

We both had got into bed by the time it was 11. You switched the lamp that was present in your dimly lit room.

4 AM.

He stared right at me, with his dusk-brown eyes. But, it wasn't a normal stare. But a stare that held desire within. You both faced towards each other, the middle barrier made of pillows long gone.

"What?" You slurred slightly, still half-asleep, heart, leaping in your chest.

It was now that you realized that you failed to realize how ethereal he looked. His tired eyes bore into yours, as his bangs lay lazily on his face.

He leaned in slightly, reducing the gap between us.

"Your eyes are really pretty," He muttered. It always amazed you how he didn't have much of a deep voice like other men, but still seemed dominant without it.

That was a stab to the heart. Not in a bad way though. In a way that made you want to kiss him. You wanted to hold him.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but you swore you couldn't breathe as soon as he gently placed his lips, carefully molded into a heart, onto yours, locking it in place for a swift second before pulling away.

It lasted like a second or two, but your face looked as if you'd just run a marathon.

"Yoon, are you drunk?" you finally spoke out, not believing what just happened. You thoroughly enjoyed it, but how could he kiss you just like that?

"Yoon doesn't sit right with me, 'Babe' sounds much better."

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sungbeam · 8 months ago

Text

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a parasite about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @atzhouse @kflixnet

#kflixnet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #jung wooyoung imagines #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung scenarios #jung wooyoung oneshots #jung wooyoung drabbles #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung scenarios

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kissforyouu · 11 months ago

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sanrio shopping with jungkook!

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff

a/n : this fic was inspired by those "hello kitty shopping for my gf" videos on tiktok!! (i turned out to not like this very much but eh i'm posting it anyway😭)

unedited.

'"ah? then what happened?" jungkook hums to his phone.

"gguk, turns out, they were talking about the same guy! can you believe that? we all were flabbergasted. i can't believe he managed to fool both of them like that." you babbled.

"oh— oh!—and you know what? that guy, whatever his name is, apparently he has his own girlfriend. my friend found out." coming to a state of shock, jungkook suddenly gasps. and because he gasps, you gasp. out of habit, you guess.

that makes jungkook giggle a little. "cute", he thinks.

"how'd he manage to fool everyone? does his girlfriend know?" his tone is curious.

"mh, don't know. i'll find out and let you know!" you exclaim.

"find out?", jungkook is in disbelief, "how're you gonna find out, baby?"

"oh, i have connections. can easily find anything out, just need to ask someone or just check instagram!" you felt as if you were spilling a super confidential secret to your boyfriend. it made you mentally giggle.

"what? so you're saying you can find all the gossip out?" he scoffs, grip tightening around the wheel to make a turn.

"uhhuh! ...i mean, anything within my reach. you just have to search a little."

"okay, baby detective." he says with a small smile on his face.

"pfft!" you shout through the phone.

jungkook grins, eyes rolling jokingly.

"by the way, baby detective, i've got to go. just arrived at the convenience store. also, want anything?" he asks you like he usually does.

"mmmm...", you take a few seconds to think, "just want the usual." you answer.

"okay baby. a strawberry milk and those cookies. got it." jungkook makes a mental note to go buy those as well while he bids goodbye to his pretty little girlfriend who was across the line.

the man groans, getting out of the car with a small stretch. jungkook walks in the convenience store as he goes through each aisle, piling his cart with everything he needed, but also making sure to buy you your little snack.

once he was done, he leisurely gets his groceries checked out at the cashier and then loaded into the trunk of his car.

while humming some random tune, jungkook happily restarts his engine to get on the road again. but instead of going back home, he makes a turn to drive to his favourite shop.

that stop onwards, jungkook stops at various shops with sanrio items and all sorts of cute stuff his girlfriend likes.

"childish", he would call you each time, but he couldn't help but love the way the corners of your eyes would crinkle up whenever he bought you something, or the way you'd have the biggest prettiest smile on your face and how your eyes would sparkle. his favourite was the little rewards you'd give him after, the countless amount of little kisses being planted on his face!

his pretty little girlfriend (you;)) would giggle while doing so and that would make him giggle even louder back. nothing better than a happy girlfriend. anything to see your smile.

so he buys a bunch of pink plushies, sanrio plushies—mainly cinnamonroll and my melody, your favourites, a random pair of hello kitty socks, necklaces and all sorts of kinds. his favourite purchase being the pink hello kitty football.

why did he even buy that? what would you even do with a football? you don't enjoy sports, you'd rather read a book while listening to music. sometimes he'd wonder what was the reason for all these "unnecessary equipments". seriously, why does it have to in be some sort of a theme? why can't you just use a normal football? but when it came to his girlfriend, though, he'd buy her a pink themed island if he could.

what a caring, sweet, considerate boyfriend he is!

*beep!* *beep!*

the cashier's machine beeps, displaying the amount to be paid on the screen. jungkook pulls out his wallet, fully black with a pink shaped heart pin with the description "I ♡ my gf" stapled on to it, which was obviously given to him by non other than you.

another thing about jungkook was the fact that he'll always keep these little charms you would give him. true, he'd joke around saying he'll throw it away but oh god, knowing jungkook, who was on his knees whipped for his girlfriend, would never ever in a million years throw away something his girlfriend gave him. jungkook will make sure to keep it with him always. whipped man.

with a swift movement of his credit card on the card machine, the cashier hands jungkook back his card as well as the items he purchased. your boyfriend's already thinking about the big smile you're going to have on your face as he gets right back inside the car, finally making his way home. meanwhile, you also make sure to spam the man on messages asking him where he was and that you missed him.

by no time, jungkook was already at your place. he quickly opens the trunk, taking out all the stuff he had gotten you. both his hands were occupied with carrying the bags as he made his way inside your house, greeting your parents with a smile and a bow then entering your room.

and there you were, his pretty baby, writing something on your notebook while hugging your legs upto your chest while being seated on your chair.

"jungkook!" immediately, you squeel, just happy to see your boyfriend.

"y/n/n!" he squeals back to match your energy.

jungkook walks around your room to place the bags on your bed. curiously, your eyes follow the mysterious (read:not) bags and his hands, already recognising the logo of the bag. your favourite sanrio shop!

a cheeky smile creeps upto your face when you realise what's inside. jungkook notices it, almost cracking up a laugh, but shuts down fast enough. you both give eachother the eye, paralinguistically communicating.

"...gguk..." your nose was scrunched slightly, lips in the form of a duck's and your eyes were lit up.

"yeah, yeah", he rolls his eyes playfully, "come look at what i got you", he snickers.

excitedly, you get up from your seat and make your way to sit next to your boyfriend with a shy smile.

you weren't normal this much shy around him. i mean, you were, to a certain extent, but whenever he got you something you'd get all giddy and shy like a little girl having her first crush. you never pressure him into buying you things, though, he just always insists on buying you this and that. you've given up on telling him no. plus, i mean, if he really wants to...hehe.

"got you these uuhh...plushies. this guy's your favourite, yeah." he pulls out the cute cinnamonroll plushie, throwing it at you.

you catch it immediately, hugging it closer to your chest and snuggling into your boyfriend's meaty arm.

you take the bag from jungkook, digging it and pulling out all the goods.

your lips tremble, a loud laugh bursting out of you the moment you find the hello kitty football.

"what's this? this is so random?" you laugh.

"to be honest, i don't know the purpose of this, it's useless. why a hello kitty one? just buy a normal football?" he rolls his eyes, leading backwards while balancing his body with his forearms.

"mhm, then why'd you buy it?"

"cause you'll like it." his answer melts your heart.

you throw the ball at him, watching it bounce away effortlessly.

"awww, gguk." you coo at him.

you pull your boyfriend closer by his ears, then planting a big fat kiss on his forehead.

here comes the kisses, my favourite part, — jungkook thinks.

"my babyyy!" you pull him to your chest, fingers ruffling his hair while you planted kisses on the top of his head. jungkook loved buying you gifts, just for this reason. it's not like you never showed him affection without him buying you gifts, you most certainly did, but he just can't forget that big fat smile on your face whenever you unbox your gifts. plus. he always believed that it was important to buy your girlfriend everything she liked. that was just his point of view. and he stood by that.

"you know damn well you're the baby here—" his voice was muffled by your chest while you were aggressively kissing all over him. fingers tugging onto his socks locks, you pull on his hair as well, just full on baby-ing your boyfriend.

well, you most certainly would not harshly pull on a baby's hair and aggressively kiss them, but eh, close enough.

"god, y/n—"

"muah, muah, mwah, mwwaah!" wet kisses were being planted all across his face.

you push him down to the bed, his body fully laid back on the bed now with you on top of him, repeatedly kissing his face everywhere.

jungkook held you by your waist, letting you do whatever you wanted. this is why he did it anyway.

you place one last kiss right over his eyebrow, pulling away with a big smile.

"mmm, one more..." his eyes are closed, lips in a faint smile as he points at his face.

"mmm," you coo, "okay, where?"

"on my dick."

you groan at his words, turning around and about to get off of him before jungkook catches you, his happy laugh laugh being heard before he pulls you back to his chest.

"joking, joking." he reassures you.

your body was laid on top of him, face inches away from his. jungkook brushes away a few strands falling onto your face and tucks it behind your ear. you soothe into his touch, absolutely loving this feeling.

"here." he taps his lips.

happily, you grab his face with your palms and lean in to deliver a big fat kiss just the way he wanted.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #smut #bts #bts jk #bts smut #bts fluff #jjk fluff #fluff #sanrio girl

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twstunes · 2 months ago

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hello and welcome to the Rollo Torment Nexus, designed to impart the absolute worst academic experience to everyone's favorite deranged church boy.

rationale:

1. Rollo has to be surrounded. There is no easy way out short of vaulting over the desk, and we all know he's not gonna do that while class is in session.

2. Floyd "Malicious Noncompliance" Leech has to be sitting directly next to Rollo. This should be self-explanatory. Whether he's actively doing something annoying or just taking notes in sloppy handwriting while wrinkling tf out of his notebook pages, his presence will be enough to test Rollo's patience.

3. Someone Floyd loves to annoy and/or talk to needs to be sitting on Rollo's other side. I've chosen Ace for this example, but Jade, Kalim, Grim, and Lilia would also work. Jamil would also be a good choice, as he would likely find a way to redirect Floyd's attention onto Rollo.

Riddle and Azul also have potential, but there's a solid chance they would take their lessons too seriously & ignore Floyd to the point he stops trying to get their attention. This would result in him being less annoying to Rollo, which is antithetical to the point of the Rollo Torment Nexus.

4. Malleus, naturally, has to be present. Though having him sit directly next to Rollo would be funny enough on its own, having him sit behind Rollo is the advanced play here. After all, if Malleus is within view, Rollo can keep an eye on him, thus keeping his own paranoia at bay. If Malleus is looming ominously behind (& above) him, Rollo has no way of staying watchful without blatantly ignoring the lesson/letting Malleus know he's wary. This would vex Rollo to no end, AND Malleus would find it funny.

5. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why Ruggie? Why not Idia or Azul, since Rollo would be more cautious of them?

Like Jamil & everyone else present for the Glorious Masquerade misadventure, Ruggie doesn't like Rollo. He's also one of the wilier students at NRC, meaning he wouldn't think twice about getting a little revenge at no cost to him.

Ruggie and Floyd are chill, but not overly involved with each other; further, Ruggie's physical presence in the classroom isn't particularly unusual, unlike how Idia's would be. Both of these points minimize the chance of Floyd abandoning his "talk across Rollo" endeavors to chat with Ruggie instead, meaning Floyd will spend longer maximally annoying Rollo.

Ruggie and Malleus get along pretty well! Even with Malleus' lack of Normal Person Social Skills��, it wouldn't be hard for the two of them to strike up a conversation – which would result in Rollo having to hear and be acutely aware of Malleus' presence behind him the whole time.

Ruggie would 100% start talking quietly to Malleus, just loud enough for Rollo to kinda-sorta hear, JUST to get on Rollo's nerves. Like–

Ruggie: "Hey, Malleus, how're you doing today?" Malleus: "I'm doing well. Why do you ask?" Ruggie: "No reason, really. Just, y'know...it'd be funny if Rollo thought we were plotting something right behind him." Malleus: "Oh that's brilliant. Let us continue, then."

#rollo flamm #rollo flamme #twst #twisted wonderland #floyd leech #malleus draconia #ruggie bucchi #ace trappola #twstposting #twisted rambling

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hearthpoetry · 6 days ago

Text

hello, crisis hotline. how're you doing today?

hi, i'm feeling stressed.

i'm sorry to hear that.

what's worrying you?

too much.

it's just my kids.

they haven't talked to me much in years.

just enough to keep things civil.

i just can't think of what i did wrong.

sounds like you care about your family a lot.

i do.

it's just.

everyone is too sensitive these days.

that's what i think.

is there anything else bothering you today?

yeah, have you seen what's been going on on the news?

yes, unfortunately.

i mean. could you imaging your daughter having to share a locker room with a man?

it's ridiculous!

these transgenders have no right trying to convince us that they're girls or-

i'm sorry to cut you off.

(the feeling in my chest right now.)

(it's telling me there's danger.)

(it's telling me i need to leave any way i can.)

(this isn't what i'm supposed to do.)

(this isn't what I'm supposed to do.)

(this isn't what i'm supposed to do.)

(i'm here to help.)

(no matter what.)

(i need to protect myself.)

(but i'm a service for him.)

(remember what they say.)

i'm sorry to interrupt, sir.

(you have to be vulnerable always.)

i need to inform you that you're speaking to a trans woman who is very uncomfortable with this discussion.

(show him kindness.)

if you'd like to discuss something else that's bothering you sir, i'd be more than happy to talk about it.

(this isnt what i'm supposed to do.)

(this isn't what i'm supposed to do.)

(i have a right to be angry.)

(i have a right to be hostile.)

otherwise, i'm going to have to end this call.

(breathe)

(god, breathe, please!)

(my chest feels like i'm going to explode.)

(this hurts.)

(i might die if i don't run away.)

(i might throw up if i have to keep talking to him.)

(it's not just a difference in political opinion to think i'm some sort of sex offender.)

(it's an act of war.)

well, i-

click

(this isn't what i'm supposed to do.)

(breathe.)

customer service voice training

hearth, 11/4/2024

#title: customer service voice training #original poetry #poets on tumblr #original poem #poem #poetry

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phoward89 · 5 months ago

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Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, smut, fingering, p in v, suspected cheating, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

This is the Coriolanus x Reader ending AKA ending 1. The next ending I wrote AKA ending 2 will be for Crassus x Reader.

This is also a bit long.

Masterlist

Ending #1-Coriolanus:

“How're you feeling?” Coryo asks, resting his chin on your shoulder as you sit together on his bed. You're literally nestled into him; his arms are wrapped around you while yours are wrapped around him.

“I'm fine.” You lie.

“No, you're not.” The blonde with a halo of golden curls tells you. Of course, he knows you're not fine. He knows everything about you; knows you better than you even know yourself.

“I don't want you to leave.” You confess, struggling to hold back tears.

Coriolanus had received his conscription letter for the Peacekeepers that day. A letter that changed everything the two of you had planned for your lives. It definitely changed Coryo's plans, since he was going to make things official with you. Make you his girl.

But now he's been drafted into service in the Peacekeepers. Apparently there's a dire need for Peacekeepers in District 8. Coriolanus says apparently because he's abso-fucking-lutely positive that his father's behind him being drafted into the Peacekeepers. All because he wants you to himself.

Coriolanus isn't stupid, he did graduate the top of your class at the Academy. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. With how his father keeps looking at you lustfully paired with the sudden conscription notice, well the blonde boy just knew he was being shipped away from you so that his father, General Crassus Snow, could poach his girl.

You.

Coriolanus also knew that it was now or never to tell you about his deep running feelings for you; to warn you about his father's dark and lecherous intentions towards you.

“Y/N, baby, we need to have a serious talk.” The curly haired blonde tells you, his baby blues boring into you with such seriousness that it was somewhat unsettling.

“About you leaving in 2 days?” You ask, sniffling.

“Yes,” Coryo nodded, “that's part of it.”

“Then what's the other part of it?” You curiously ask.

Coriolanus hits you with the bomb of, “I’d like you to be my girl; wait for me.”

“Wait for you? But, Coryo, Peacekeepers serve for 20 years and-” You begin to voice your worries only to be cut off and silenced by Coryo's lips pressing onto yours in a desperate, needy kiss.

Any thoughts that were in your head float away as you feel the softness of your best friend's lips crash into yours. Your instincts take over and before you can blink, you're grabbing Coryo's shirt and returning his kiss. Your lips slot against his in inexperienced motions.

Neither one of you has much experience, so your kiss is full of bumping noses and lips that're smooshing together in excitement and neediness.

Pulling back for air, Coryo leans his forehead on yours and nearly pants, “Wait for me, Y/N.” His baby blues look so vulnerable as he pleads, “Please, wait for me.”

So, of course, you promise to wait for him.

And that promise is what's having Coryo kissing you and pawing at you, begging you to fuck him before he has to go away. To let him make you his girl in every sense of the word.

You're nervous, having never been with anyone before, but you agree to sleep with Coryo. You figure that he'll be sweet and gentle since he's never been with anyone either. You think that the two of you losing your virginity to each other will be romantic and like it's portrayed in novels and romcoms.

But it's anything, but that.

Coryo's got no idea what the hell he's doing once the two of you get naked. For all of his bravado and confidence around everyone in the public eye, he's just a touch starved boy that needs somebody to love him so much. So much that it's borderline pathetic.

But, he's obsessed with you. And that obsession gives way to him nervously slotted between your legs, kissing and sucking on your neck while fingering your tight virgin hole with his long, slender digits. He's a bit awkward with his movements at first, but after you tell him what feels good and what feels off he starts to get the hang of things.

Coryo's thumb experimentally presses into your clit, swiping it back and forth, as his fingertips press against that spongy spot hidden deep inside of your wet cunt. His fingers, long and slender, slip smoothly in and out of your pussy.

Your chest heaves up and down as you feel a tightness form in your lower belly. “Coryo, I think I'm close.” You tell the curly-haired blonde, voice a wavering gasp.

“Wait.” Coryo ordered, his baritone desperate as he ordered you not to cum. “I wanna be inside you when you cum.” He tells you, pulling his hand out from between your legs.

You've never had anyone, other than yourself, make you cum before- but you felt the need to cum right now, so despite the hesitation you felt about losing your virginity you agreed to let Coryo be your first. Be inside of you when you both cum.

As soon as you said okay Coryo placed a shaky hand on your thigh, holding your leg spread wide while using his other hand to help guide his fat cock inside of your tight, innocent hole. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as you feel him push every large agonizing inch of his dick into your wet, but too tight pussy.

Coriolanus, being a greenboy in bed, had no idea what he was doing or how to make the first time not be so uncomfortable for you. All he had was his baser instincts to rely on.

You let out tiny whimpers as your best friend’s large cock tore you open; he let out a guttural moan at the tight feeling of you. And when he finally pushed past your barrier and fully sheathed himself inside of your snug, wet warmth the both of you let out high pitched moans and groans. Your sounds of first time pleasure and pain sounded like a beautiful duet in the still of the night.

Your cunt felt so good around his cock. So much better than his hand does when he jerks off. So much so, that Coryo couldn't control himself; he ruts into you at a fast and needy pace.

He can't help it. You just feel too damn good.

Since you're already at the tip of the edge, Coryo's frantic rutting doesn't bother you. In fact it makes your orgasm bubble up and over.

And he just continues fucking into you at a sloppy, desperate speed, as he ride out your high. Coryo buried his head of platinum curls into the crook of your neck as he groans and whimpers while chasing his release. He's desperate to cum, so his rutting gets quicker in a last-ditch effort to empty his aching balls; to relieve his throbbing 8 inches of hard cock.

Being inexperienced, it doesn't take Coryo too long to cum while whimpering your name desperately.

Coriolanus collapses on top of you, his body acting like a weighted blanket. He doesn't ask if you like it or if it was good. But he does kiss you and tell you that he's gonna miss your pussy when he's gone.

And that you better not let anyone else use your cunt while he's gone cause it's his to play with; nobody else's.

Without Coriolanus by your side you fell into a depression. Yes, you received letters from him and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't physically around, like he's always been, and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

So goddamn much.

You felt so alone…

You thought that you were doing good job of hiding your hurt, your depression and loneliness. But you weren't.

No.

Crassus noticed it right away.

And he tried to swoop in and put a smile on your face by asking about your day or by suggesting you read a certain book in the library, but it never worked. Nothing worked to put a smile on your face.

The only time a faint smile appeared on your face was whenever Crassus handed you a letter from his son while shifting thru the mail after coming home from work. You'd always snatch it from him with a smile on your face. One that never quite reached your eyes.

You cherished Coryo's letters. He always complained about District 8 in them, but he’d also write a few lines about his feelings towards you. Always told you to wait for him; that he'd figure out a way to return to you.

Crassus, as cold and unfeeling of a man as he was, never kept his son's letters from you despite the fact that the middle-aged man wanted you as his next wife. His future First Lady. And why didn't he keep them from you?

Because he wanted to woo you away from his son’s affections. Crassus wanted the knowledge that he pursued you, courted you, and gave you somebody to confide in all the while Coriolanus was sending you letters that were borderline love letters.

Crassus wants you to pick him over his son, not because he made you, but because you want to.

Because you want him.

And having Coriolanus thousands of miles away serving in 8 would definitely help out with you picking the older Snow…

Out of sight, out of mind as they say.

But you truly did hold onto hope that Coriolanus would make his way up the ranks and quickly. Your sanity depended on it.

Despite Crassus’ attempts in trying to console you, you missed Coryo and wanted him. At least Crassus’ suggestion of taking up a hobby to help clear your mind seemed to help a little.

And what hobby did you pick up?

Baking.

Baking helped you deal with the loneliness Coryo's absence brought you. It also helped you forge a friendship of sorts with Crassus since he became your official taste tester for your treats. Oh, and you just sprung that on him one day. You didn't ask him if he wanted to taste your homemade goodies, just shoved some cookies at him one day and told him to eat it and let you know if you needed to tweek anything.

Baking also helped you deal with Coriolanus' betrayal. A betrayal that, sadly, you heard about from his own father:

Crassus.

While baking some cookies for Yule, the phone rang. Since Grandma'am was old, hard of hearing, and taking a nap it was up to you to answer the phone. Especially since Crassus was at work. If he was home then he would've answered the phone.

But he wasn't home, so answering the phone fell on your shoulders.

You dusted your flour covered hands off on your apron while exiting the kitchen and making your way to the main sitting room of the house; where the phone was at. Sitting on the chair right next to the phone, you picked up the video phone and answered with a simply sweet hello.

Coryo's face appeared on the video screen. “Hi, my darling rose. I've missed you so much.” He greets you with a wide smile that shows off too many of his pearly whites. “I've got some great news, baby.”

But you didn't want to hear it.

No.

Not after what Crassus told you a couple of weeks back.

“I just took an Elite Officer's Placement Exam.” Coriolanus beamed, his cheeks hurting from smiling so manically.

But you weren't smiling. In fact, you didn't see how this news was great for you. Not with what you learned about him lately.

“I bet your district whore’s really happy about that.” You snidely remark, letting him know that you're aware of his cheating while stationed in 8.

The platinum blonde, who's sporting freshly buzzed hair, swallows a lump in his throat. He keeps a neutral face, but internally he's sweating bullets. He can't help, but wonder who told you that he had a district whore.

“I don't have anyone, but you, my darling.” Private Snow tells you in a voice that's as sweet as honey and as charming as ever. But the way he tilts his chin up ever so slightly and bats his long golden eyelashes portrays a fake innocence; manipulative nature about him.

One that you aren't sure you want to see thru.

But…

You decide that you need to confront Coryo with what Crassus told you.

Taking a deep breath, to calm your nerves and slow down your racing heart, you looked Coriolanus straight in his baby blues via the video screen and told him, “Crassus told me that a couple of his contacts in District 8 told him that you've been with a girl for a few weeks.”

Coryo's freshly shaven jaw ticks and his chest tightens slightly. His eyes widen for a split second, only to go back to their correct size. And then Coriolanus does what he's learned to do best while away in 8. He spins things to suit him; to favor his agenda- his wants, his endgame.

“Y/N, baby, listen to me, please-” Coriolanus gives you the believable explanation of, “I haven't been with anyone. All I did was turn in a thief, that was a girl, for punishment. She was whipped and I helped her out of the town square afterwards.”

A look of longing crosses over his face as he swears, “You’re my girl, darling. My one and only girl, who I'm doing everything I can to return to and be with.” He tickles your eyes with honied words of, “I impressed my superiors and they arranged for me to take the Elite Officer's Exam. After I receive my official passing results I'll be transfered to 2.” Coryo raises his hand and caresses the screen as if he was caressing your face. “Once I'm at the Nut I'll send for you.”

“What?” You asked, taken aback by the private's words.

“Officers, even ones in training, are allowed to have a girl if they want.” Coriolanus smiles brightly. “It's a reward for hard work and loyalty to the Capitol.”

“How long will it take you to send for me, Coryo?” You ask, sounding both curious and apprehensive.

“I surmise a month.” He told you, only to quickly follow it up with a desperate sounding, “But you can't tell my father about it. Promise me you won't tell him, Y/N.”

“Why can't I tell him? He's-” You began to ask, only for Coriolanus to cut you off with a loud snap of, “Because he'll try to stop you, Y/N!”

Coriolanus shook his head, only to explain in a whooshing baritone, “My father wants you all for himself; he'll never let you be with me. You can't trust him with our plans, Y/N.” Giving you a hard look, one he's learned as a peacekeeper, he orders in a way that seems like a well meaning suggestion, “If you're getting friendly or close to him, stop it. It'll only tear us apart.”

You worried your bottom lip as a sense of melancholy and, if you'll dare say, guilt, washed over you. You didn't want to lie to Crassus about the plans Coriolanus was striking up for you, especially since you've been growing close to his father.

You surely had a hard choice to make.

You had to decide whether or not to believe Coryo when he claims his faithfulness to you; to run away to be with him.

But could you truly believe that he didn't cheat on you, that he was just doing his job in turning in a thief; making sure she cleared the town square after her whipping.

“Time’s almost up, my darling rose, but I'll write.” Coryo told you, making you snap out of the mental blackhole you were falling into. “I love you.”

“Private Snow, time's up!” You heard a man from off screen loudly about at Coryo, causing him to hang up on you before you ever had a chance to say I love you back.

That night while Grandma’am's sleeping you're in the living room with Crassus, watching an old classic movie on CapitolTV. You're on the sofa, body softly nestled into his side while Crassus has an arm loosely slung around you.

To an outsider looking in you'd look like a couple. But you weren't a couple. Just friends.

Right?...

Just when the noir detective was about to press a bartender for information on the movie a breaking news alert broke out and interrupted the film.

“We're sorry to interrupt your current programming, but President Ravenstill is dead. He died this evening, in his bed. The president was sickly and his illness was progressing far worse over these last few days.”

Never had a president died in office in the history of Panem. Usually a president would step down if deathly ill or old and an election would be held to name a successor. But the incumbent president would not officially retire until a presidential replacement was elected.

President Ravenstill’s death turned the system upside down and on its head.

Crassus didn't even seem surprised about the president’s demise.

Well, he shouldn't be since he's been paying a contact of his in the Presidential Palace to slowly poison the president to make it look like the elderly man got sick and succumbed to his winter illness.

“What's going to happen to the country now that the President Ravenstill’s dead?” You ask, looking up at Crassus’ pale blue eyes with worry swimming in yours.

Eyes that're the same icy shade as his son's.

But his holds a coldness while Coriolanus seems to hold- well you can't quite put your finger on it, but the younger Snow's eyes don't light up the same as they used to.

That you're certain of.

“The Senate will rule over the country while the election process is out into motion.” Crassus simply explained. Smirking, he adds, “I’ll be tossing my name in the hat as a presidential candidate for the Old Guard.”

“You're going to run for President of Panem?” You ask the middle-aged man, who you’ve developed a tiny crush on over the last few months, as the breaking news story ended and the tv resumed playing the old classic movie.

“Yes.” Crassus nods. “I believe that I can successfully get this country into shape.” And you don't doubt it. He was a former general; a war hero too.

“Petal, you'll be baking all sorts of cookies and cakes in the Presidential Palace once I'm elected.” Crassus confidently told you. He was already making plans for the two of you to be in the Presidential Palace together. “Maybe you can even give the bakers some of your recipes to bake as well.”

“Maybe.” You reply while watching the movie on TV.

Everything feels so surreal right now. Your entire day feels like a dream.

A winter’s dream that can't be real, but in fact it's real. It's very real.

And to top off your day; mark the night as unbelievable, Crassus placed a hand on your chin only to tip your head to the side and capture your lips with a kiss.

A firm, but passionate kiss that caught you completely off guard.

A kiss that turned into other things…

Yule came and went and so did New Year's. Your relationship with Crassus had turned into something that maybe you shouldn't have let happen. Not when you're waiting for Coriolanus to send you word about his officer's promotion.

You knew that he passed his exams since Crassus told you. It was an offhand remark about how one of his sources in 8 told him that Coriolanus passed an Elite Officer's Exam and would be transferred to the Nut in 2. The older Snow also crudely remarked that he felt his son would be bringing his district whore with him to warm his bed.

And his words had an effect on you. A negative one that made you doubt Coryo's feelings for you; his promises and words as well.

Grandma'am was oblivious to your anxiety. The old woman was too busy being enamored by her son's presidential campaign. A campaign that was running smoothly despite it only being a month in. Grandma'am was positive that Crassus would win the nomination for the Old Guard party and would be one of the official candidates.

And Crassus…

Well…

He was so worried about his campaign and beating his opponents that he rarely noticed you, unless it was to blow your back out in bed. But you weren't complaining about that.

You're a human that craves closeness and touch, you'd be a fool to complain about Crassus fucking your brains out night after night.

But you often wonder if you're together only due to circumstances. Crassus has never told you ‘I love you’ like Coriolanus has. That small fact alone has you leaning towards Coryo's offer to run away and join him in 2 at the Nut.

Surely if Crassus cared about you, even held an ounce of love for you, he'd vocalize it. Right?

And one night when Crassus got home he shifted thru the mail and handed you a letter from Coriolanus. “He's at the Nut in 2 now.” Crassus announced- his line of sight on the return address on the envelope he was presenting you.

“You said he'd be transferred there.” You reply, taking the letter.

Crasuss nods before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I need to go over some papers for my campaign in my office, so you go ahead and read your letter.” Before walking off towards his office down the hall, he told you, “I’ll be a while, but I'll join you in my room later tonight, petal.”

Left alone, since Grandma'am was visiting the neighbor Pluribus, you took a seat on the sofa and opened the envelope, only to pull out the letter. When you unfolded it, a ticket fell out.

Your chest started to race as you realized it was a train ticket. Quickly, you began to read the letter Coriolanus sent you.

My darling rose,

I'm sorry for not writing sooner, but I was preoccupied with moving to the base on District 2. Living in the Nut, a base carved into a large mountain, is quite the adjustment. Also, my training has taken up most of my time too.

But, I promised to send for you once I was settled in, which is why I'm writing you this letter. Enclosed is a ticket for your passage to District 2. I'll be at the station waiting for you.

And please, my darling, pack light.

Love,

Your Coryo

Staring at the ticket in your hand, you realized that you had a choice to make. A hard choice.

Runaway to 2 and hope that Coriolanus truly does love you; that Crassus is wrong and that his son doesn't have a mistress.

Or…

Stay in the Capitol, where you feel safe, with Crassus who's on a quest to be elected president. But, you're so unsure of where things stand with him.

Maybe if you'd ask you'd get an answer, but you won't ask him. And he won't tell you.

In fact, Crassus thinks that everything's fine between the two of you.

But it's not fine.

Maybe he shouldn't have given you that letter, considering it contained a train ticket for the very next day.

But whatever path you choose, you'll be spurning a Snow.

You made your decision, so there's no turning back now.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself as you look out the window of your seat, watching the scenery while clutching your travel case. The canyons and mountains you see on your way to your destination amazes you. You've never seen anything like it in your entire life.

Yes, you've seen the Rockies from the Capitol, but they weren't like the jagged mountains that touched the clouds you're now seeing. No, the mountains you're seeing now look so majestic. Something that belongs to the world of the giants in the old myths from the Pre-Panem world.

You were on the train for nearly two days whenever you saw a sign reading 'District 2 Welcomes You' accompanied by the station’s large building in the distance.

This was it, you finally made it to 2.

You chose Coriolanus and you know that he'll be waiting for you on the platform.

And when you exit the train with your fellow passengers he's rushing towards you, wearing his officer's uniform complete with the gray cap, and you can't help but think that he looks so handsome. With a huge smile, you run up to Coryo.

And when you reach Coryo you drop your travel case and jump into his arms, that he's spread wide open as an invitation for you to hug him. You instantly wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you so tight. His head leans forward and he captures your mouth in a kiss that's passionate and desperate.

“I missed you so much, baby.” Coriolanus tells you between deep, heated kisses. Kisses that are more spit and teeth than soft pillowy lips pressing together.

Kisses that have nearby soldiers whistling and civilians shaking their heads in awe.

Coryo groans while pulling away from the kiss. Smiling, he caresses you cheek. “First things first, my darling. We need to get to the justice building and make you Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.”

“You want to marry me?” You ask in an awes whisper.

Of course Coriolanus wants to marry you. It's the only way to ensure that he wins. That he has you.

You being married to the young officer means that you'll never be free to be with his father, General Crassus Snow, ever again.

“Of course, I want to marry you, Y/N.” Coriolanus softly coos, unraveling your hands from his neck before bending down to pick up your discarded travel case. Pecking you on the cheek, much like Crassus had done the night before you left the Capitol, Coryo drapes an arm over your shoulder and urges, “Lets go get married, my darling.”

Once you left the Capitol and became the wife of Elite Officer Coriolanus Snow of Panem's Air Force you never saw Crassus again. Well, at least you never saw him in person. You did see him on campaign commercials and in campaign flyers.

You also got a letter from him once.

And only once.

All it said was:

Petal,

I hope that you're happy with the path that you have chosen. I'm afraid that in time you'll discover that your husband is not the man he portrays himself to be, but in fact a snake. I myself have never claimed to be a saint and I never hide my true nature from you. I am, however, truly sorry that your childhood friendship with Coriolanus was used to manipulate you into eloping with him.

I'm sad that I'll have to occupy the Presidential Palace alone; without the sweet smell of your baking wafting around the large kitchen. I shall miss your baking.

Lovingly yours,

Crassus

Crassus was elected President of Panem and he used his new position to unite the 12 districts with the long since destroyed 13. Crassus also pressed 2 to use their military academies to train children to become ruthless killers; volunteers for the games.

The Hunger Games.

Games in which children of both the Capitol and 13 were excused from. Capitol because it's the jewel of Panem, the ruling city. And 13 because that's the apple of Crassus' eye; where all of his nukes and weapons factories are. Also, 13 is the reason for him being filthy rich considering he's an arms dealer.

And when Dr. Gaul addressed President Crassus Snow with a law change that would drastically affect both the games and Panem as a whole, well, the spurned, cold man signed off on it.

You had 4 children with Coryo. And, sadly, they're all marked as District 2 born and bred citizens because of Dr. Gaul's amendment that all children born on PK bases would be district citizens; would have their names registered for The Hunger Games.

And since Coriolanus was stuck in 2 (he tried to get a transfer to 1 or the Capitol, but it was always denied) your children were also made to join the training academy for tributes.

And when your youngest son turned 18 he was voted by his class to volunteer as the male tribute that year.

When you saw the cold glint in your father-in-law’s icy eyes on the TV, during the tribute parade when the chariot for 2 rode up the Corso and made a stop at the platform Crassus was at, you knew without a doubt that your son being a tribute was punishment. Your punishment for leaving him and picking his son.

You and Coriolanus having to watch your youngest son, Javani, fight for his life in an arena that he should've never been in was unsettling, unfair, emotional, and nerve wracking.

All because you picked the son and not the father. If you picked Crassus your child wouldn't be running around in an arena, hand in hand with a girl from District 12 instead of staying with the career pack alliance. But you picked Coriolanus and now, 25 years later, that choice is biting you in the ass.

But at least you listened to your heart when you ran off to be with Coryo.

And Major Coriolanus Snow was obsessively in love with you. So much so that his infatuation with you grew every second of the day.

But that doesn't lessen the pain in knowing that your son's fighting for his life because of the father you chose for him.

All you can do is hope and pray to the gods that Javani uses both his brawn and his brain to find a way to survive the games. But his possessiveness over the tribute girl from 12, who's his age, concerns you. Because there can only be one winner.

It's like that in both the games and life.

And Coriolanus was the winner of your heart.

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luimagines · 5 months ago

Note

Reader confronts the boys about the events of loopy from a poisoned plant.

But everything turns out okay because reader likes them too :)

- glitter ✨

The aftermath of loopey plant? Got it!!

Masterlist

You can read the first part right here!

Content under the cut!

Four

Long day finally over with, you get ready to end it as you crawl into your bed roll.

Four was busy sleeping off the rest of the poisoned pollen and whatever antidote Legend had all but shoved down his throat. You're not sure you're willing to deal with the aftermath but the morning cannot come fast enough.

You lied. The morning came too fast.

You wake up quickly and try to figure out what to do next. You turn in your bed roll and see that Four is already awake.

He sees you before you can pretend to still be sleeping and you curse your luck. Internally, of course. Outwardly, you smile at him and sit up, trying your best to stay causal despite everything he said into your ear the day before.

"Good morning." You grin.

Four winces. "Too loud."

You flinch in return and lower your voice. "Whoops. Sorry."

"It's ok."

"How're you feeling?" You whisper and move to sit next to him. You're suddenly not all that tired. You wait on baited breath to hear his answer and if he's retained any memories from yesterday at all.

Four bite his lip and knocks on his own head gently. His own voice is quiet. "I have a headache but that's about the worst of it. I wasn't too bad yesterday, was I?"

You smile. "You slept most of it off. It wasn't so bad."

He sigh and nods in relief. "Good. I was worried I might have made you uncomfortable."

"Why would you have made me uncomfortable?" You lean forward, trying to keep your smile innocent and less shark like.

Four blushes and looks away. "I have the vague suspicion that I was speaking out loud for a good part of that but I can't seem to tell if I actually did or not."

"Oh." You tilt your head. "That's not so bad. I don't think you were."

"Really?" Four looks back at you, relief flooding his gaze. "Thank goodness."

Your grin turns sharp anyway. "So when do I meet your dad and grandpa?"

Four stills and curls his lips into his mouth. "...Come again?"

"You wanted a summer wedding, right?" You tilt your head. "I was thinking about it and I think you've got the right idea, but I've always my wedding to be outside and the summer might get too hot. So an early summer or late spring wedding might work best if we got that route."

"Oh my god." Four covers his mouth as horror begins to step in.

You giggle and kiss his cheek. "Think about it, yeah? Let me know what you think. I'm not opposed."

".....thanks..."

Wind

Warrior carried Wind back to camp in record time.

Wild returned with Legend, Hyrule and Four and sicked them all onto the groaning and pained boy in front of you.

You tried to stay closer but word spread fast and soon everyone had a hand in helping Wind get back on his feet. Even if that included distracting you in the process.

The day ended before you knew it and everyone was settling in for the night since Wind was now stable and more coherent than he was hour before.

You crept close to the boy and laid nearby, just in case Wind tried calling out to you again. Feeling a little brave, you grabbed onto his hand and let your eyes close shut.

Wind tightened his grip on your hand, calling you name weakly into the air. Your eyes were open in an instant.

"I'm here, Wind." You answer him, crawling a little closer to the boy. you sit up, hoping that the angle would allow him to see you. "I'm here. I never left."

He groans and turns in your direction. "Really? I thought you wouldn't come."

"No." You don't let your voice waver. "I was always there. You just didn't see me."

Wind doesn't seem too convinced but he's also exhausted, no doubt from the treatment everyone had painstakingly shoved down his throat. "I'm tired."

"I know." You smile softly. "It's late. You should sleep."

"What happened?" He asks you instead. "I don't remember what happened after the plant. It was pretty."

"Pretty poisonous." You grit. "Don't go near that thing again. It hurt you really bad."

"Ok." He doesn't fight you on this. "Is that why everything hurts right now?"

"Kinda, yeah." You tell him, because it would be mean to lie. "And everyone freaked out when you were poisoned, so the guys might have been a bit rougher on you than they should have been. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive them."

"They owe me."

You laugh. "Sure, buddy. Sure they do."

"Stay?"

"Of course. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Hyrule

You managed to get Hyrule to the group camp with less damage than you thought would be needed.

Hyrule wasn't helpful in the slightest, but you're thankful to the shadow that has been helping you thus far.

He comes to his senses a few hours later, after you've filled the others in the situation. The Traveler groans loudly and rolls over. "My stomach hurts."

You don't have it in you to feel sorry for him. "Probably because you literally ate the dirt." You shake your head. "Let me get you something to drink; maybe that'll help."

"Thank you." He looks your way but doesn't move from his spot on his bed roll.

You get him some water and mix in some white power Twilight said would help him with any stomach problems. He had a bit of humor to his voice but you're willing to bet that was just because he was holding back laughing at your rendition of the earlier events.

You were a bit dramatic about it but Hyrule doesn't need to know that.

You come back and give it to him with little fanfare and sit nearby. "Here."

"Thanks." He starts to sip it closely. "Why does my everything hurt?"

You smile a little, amused that your little turn of phrases were making their way through the group. "You were literally dragged all the way back here. Not dignifying, but I didn't have many options."

He hums and continues to slowly drink the water. "....That would explain why it feels like I fell down a mountain."

You see the shadow tease Hyrule's hair in the distance. It's subtle but Hyrule visibly relaxes. "What damage did I cause?"

"None." You shake your head again and move to sit closer to him. You can at least pretend that the shadow is you, just so no one asks questions. "Unless you count damage to my psyche from the strange things that came out of your mouth."

"Oh god, don't tell me I confessed." He whines and drowns the last of the glass to avoid eye contact.

".....what?"

"I said it, didn't I? I told you I loved you. Crap. I'm sorry-"

"No." You stop him before he can continue with that train of thought. "...But you did now."

Hyrule freezes.

You're also left staring at him.

The shadow acts quickly and pulls your head down so that your lips touch Hyrule's head. You pull back quickly with a bright blush.

"We'll talk later." You steal the glass away and scurry as fast as you can to busy yourself with something unimportant.

Hyrule will be fine. Right? Right.

Time

You were absolutely correct.

Twilight and Sky had found you and had tease you relentlessly once they managed to pry you away from Time. The Old Man didn't seem to want to let you go.

It would have been a little more humorous if he hadn't looked on the verge of tears at the thought of you leaving him.

You stayed with him, because anything else would have sent the poor man into a panic.

It took a total of two days for the effects of the pollen to calm down and for Time to be restored to his quote unquote, former glory.

Luckily for him, he didn't seem to remember most of it. Only that he kept looking at you in a way that had your chest clenching and your breathing coming out in short bursts of pure emotion.

It was maddening. ...And the boys weren't helping you in the slightest.

You had to clear the air at the first chance you got. You didn't want to continue this strange dance you've found yourself in with the Old Man.

You pulled him aside and were ready to interrogate him when your words died on your tongue. There he went again, looking at you with the most tender and adoring look you had ever seen on a man, let alone him. "...Link. What is it?"

You can't bring yourself to be accusatory. Something about the flower changed him. He's never been this vulnerable on this journey. What had he gone through?

Time raises a hand and runs the back of it on your cheek. "...I thought I lost you."

"Never." You grab his hand, holding it close. "You could never lose me."

"I found myself powerless." He takes in a shaky breath. "Tell me. What changed between us? What did I do?"

"N-nothing." You gulp, feeling your legs go a little weak at the sheer power he carries in his voice. "You called me a flower... and then wouldn't let me go. It was innocent."

Time doesn't seem convinced. But he doesn't have enough in his memory banks to dispute this. "Very well."

"Link?" You hold his hand a little tighter. "....It was the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me. I... should thank you."

"I hardly doubt something said in the midst of confusion and loss of cognitive function would be considered romantic." Time glares at the ground. "I could do much better now that I'm sober."

Your breath hitches in your throat and you decide to get a little brave and reckless. You lean closer and nearly poke your nose with his. "Prove it."

Something ignites in him. A wicked grin blooms on his face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You whisper. "Because I would have said the same thing about you."

Wild

You ended up needing to change your shirt.

Wild was apologizing profusely and on the verge of tears afterwards.

Legend was kind enough to help you with the mess and steal one of the Captain's shirts for you to wear while Four and Sky helped Wild get himself situated and settled.

You sighed and fixed the way the clothes clung to you. It highlighted just how skinny Warrior was but you didn't want to think about that when you were more worried about Wild and his current state.

You rushed back quickly. Wild was sniffling and whining like a kicked puppy while Hyrule brushed his hand through the Champion's hair, trying to calm the other boy down.

"How is he?" You whispered as you got closer.

Hyrule looked up at you and cringed. "I'm sure you can guess. He might have ingested some of whatever it was that made him this way. He says his stomach hurts a lot despite not eating anything. I'm inclined to believe him."

You sighed and copied the movements the resident healer performed on your friend. You lean in and kiss Wild's forehead. "I'm sorry, buddy. You'll feel better soon."

Wild looked up at you and swallowed harshly. "Promise?"

"I promise." You smile tensely. You look to Hyrule for confirmation and he looks just as lost as you feel. You repeat yourself anyway. "I promise, Link."

He groans against and curls up tighter. "I'm sorry...'bout your shirt."

"Soap and water exist." You wince, trying to keep your voice light. It was your favorite shirt, but you don't want Wild to feel worse. "Legend is taking care of it."

"Oh... ok."

"You've been very nice and good to me." You whisper. "I don't think I have the capacity to be mad at you. Much less for this. I like you too much, Wild."

"I like you too." He tries to look up at you. "...I didn't like that plant."

"I don't like it either." You agree, if only to make conversation. "Let's not get close to it again, yeah?"

Wild nods and closes his eyes, reveling in the way your hands feel in his hair. "I'm never cutting my hair."

You giggle slightly. "Good. I'd miss it."

He smiles.

Twilight

It had taken many hands to get Twilight to behave enough for him to be treated.

You didn't think he would be as possessive as he was. He growled in ways you didn't think was possible and nearly tried to bite Time.

It was... fascinating, if a little scary.

You watched him and tried to calm him down with the others. Eventually he fell asleep.

Only to wake up less than hour later.

You wanted to yell and scream. He had just calmed down. What mess do you have to deal with now?

"Ow my head..." He sits up in his bed roll and hold his head in his hands. You step closer to him and poke his shoulder. "How're you feeling Rancher?"

"Like I got kicked in the head." He mutters under his breath. "What happened?"

"You got poisoned." You smile softly, gathering that it was more or less safe to be next to him now. "And then hugged me. And smelled my hair. And I think you kissed it."

Twilight had gone completely still in the time that you had begun talking. You noticed but decided to keep going if only to save yourself from blushing at the reminder of his not-quite-kiss.

"You also tried to punch Warrior in the face, bite Time and wrestle Wild." You shrug. "Sounds normal if you ask me."

"I won't." He rubs his forehead. "...Did I do anything else? ....To you?" He adds hesitantly.

You feel just as hesitate but honestly? He wasn't all that bad, if a little too honest. You shake your head. ""No. You were well behaved."

"Thank Ordana."

"I like you too by the way." You blurt and lean closer. "And you don't have to be scared to talk to me, ok? I like talking to you too, Link."

You kiss his cheek, if only because it's fair- implies your traitorous brain. You don't see Twilight short circuit, but you do see Warrior and four give Twilight some thumbs up from their corner of the camp.

"Get better soon, ok Darlin'?" You copy his subtle drawl and watch in gremlin delight at the way he completely flushes red.

"YeAh." He clears his throat, unable to meet your eyes. "I will. I will."

"Good."

Warrior

The loud curse that slips past your lips was enough to get the group to look over to where you were.

Legend and Twilight naturally started laughing at the sight of Warrior face first in the dirt before you called out for help. Wild and Sky responded quickly, helping drag the unconscious young man to the middle of the camp where it was safe.

You instantly started explaining what you say and how he reacted, giving your own ideas about what might have happened without actually being there to witness it.

Time and Four got to making a spot to put his body where he would be comfortable until he slept it off.

You hovered around like an anxious hummingbird. You had all this energy and no where to spend it. Feeling your plight, Hyrule and Wind took it upon themselves to keep you occupied before you started to mother hen the Captain while he was unconscious and unable to defend himself against it.

Thankfully, it didn't take that long for Warrior to wake up- complaining quite loudly that he'd swear off drinking for the rest of his life.

You had the sudden suspicion that it wasn't the first time he had woken up such a manner- even though you knew that there was nothing alcoholic in the vicinity. Still, you decided to commend him for the attempt. "Good. We'd hate to deal with you hung over as it is."

He groaned and rolled over in his bed roll.

No one bothered to correct him in his incorrect assumption that he had been drinking with the boys.

Time had snorted at the claim and at his reaction but there was a subtle wince to his face that you couldn't help catching. Was Time familiar with the feeling as well?

You shake your head and make your way next to Warrior. "Hey."

"Hi." He grumbled, clearly not happy with his current predicament.

"What do you remember?"

Warrior tenses up before he can stop himself. He clearly remembers something but he doesn't to tell you, less you confirm it for him.

You smirk. "Do you remember the kiss?"

He shoots up. "What?!"

Given that you're not entirely sure what going through his head, you're willing to make a bet and let his own mind fill in the blanks for you. Besides, fireside cuddles sounds nice- but if he had something else in mind you don't think you're inclined to turn down that offer either.

You giggle and kiss his nose to tease him further. "There wasn't none but you mentioned it. If you ever want to follow through with what you told, just let me know."

Warrior looked horrified.

"Let me know." You repeat yourself to get through to him. "Ok?"

His voice is small and disbelieving but he nods slowly. "...ok."

Legend

It took a while for Legend to cooperate enough for you to bring him back to camp and get him checked up on. He wouldn't stop going on and on about how you were one of nicest people he's ever met and that he never wanted to leave you and the thought of leaving you made him sad-

Honestly, you had to tune him out for the most part. If you continued to listen to him talking and rambling you would have probably started crying. You never would have guessed that Legend was incredibly sentimental underneath it all.

You had to leave him to the care of the other boys while you went to collect yourself off beyond the forest line.

With time, when you no longer felt all mushy and soft for the boy had to grow up way too fast just to survive, you made your way back to the camp where Legend was looking properly hung over.

He groaned and maybe vomited a little given the looks Wild and Four were giving him as Time cleaned his face. You're a little ashamed that you more or less ran away from him but you doubt he would have wanted you to see him like that anyway. Right?

Eventually, you gather up the courage to get close to Legend and sit next to him where he would actually notice you. He sees you and rubs his face. "I was told you brought me back."

"Yeah." You admit quietly. "I found you first."

"I already told everyone to stay away from that stupid flower."

You pale slightly. In your attempt to rid yourself of the embarrassment, you had completely forgotten about the plant that got Legend into this mess to begin with. "Oh. Good."

Legend nods and rubs his head a bit. Warrior steps in to give the Vet a glass of water. He drinks is greedily.

"Do you still want to braid my hair?"

Legend chokes.

You bite your lip. "I wouldn't mind it."

He looks at you with a scarlet face and with wide, almost scared eyes. "Oh my god, what did I tell you?"

"I lot of things," that you don't think you have the strength to go into right now. "But it's really not that bad."

Legend smiles, but it's not like he believes you.

You'll just have to prove it to him.

Sky

After you successfully managed to drag Sky throughout the unmarked trail back to the camp, you started barking out order to the boys to help him. They rushed to put their hands to work.

Hyrule first went about healing any injuries he may (read: absolutely) have obtained.

Four and Warrior went about making a tonic to help rid the pollen slash poison out of his system while you went to clean yourself off and pretend everything Sky said to you didn't actually happen.

When you returned feeling better about yourself and the current mess, you found that the boys had managed to corral the chaos of the camp as well. Sky was stable and dinner was already over the fire. It would be ready in a matter of minutes.

Luckily, Sky didn't stay asleep for long and soon it was as if nothing had ever happened.

But you decided that you still needed to get some answer out of the boy.

The following morning, after everyone's morning routines were done and over with, you found yourself guiding Sky away from everyone else just to see how much of yesterday he actually remembered.

He seemed unable to meet your eyes.

"Good morning." You bump your hip against him. He nearly falls over but catches himself. Sky's blushing. "Good morning."

"Sleep alright?"

"As good as I could given the pollen from that weird flower." Sky scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh perfect, you brought it up first. I was going to ask you about that."

Sky blushes harder. "Yeeaaah? What about it?"

"What do you remember? Do you remember what you told me?" You tilt your head, not bothering to acknowledge how awkward he no doubt feels. You feel a little vindicated since he made you drag his dead weight all the way back to camp on your own.

Sky looks away.

That's all the answer you need.

"Did you mean it? Truly?" Hope enters your voice before you can stop it. Sky catches it because of course he does.

"Yes. I did." He mutters. "I also recall that you said... you said that I was pretty too."

"You are!" You kiss his cheek, taking your shot. "Ok?"

"More than ok." Sky takes your hand softly, lacing your fingers together. "....Do you really think I'm the good child?"

"....you're one of the best ones here."

"I broke a chandelier on purpose to get an item."

"....my statement still stands, honey. But I'll remember that."

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #didn't quite mean to write warrior as if he was drinker XD #drunken sailor came on while i was writing and it just happened

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 3 months ago

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Vaggie dipping Charlie while dancing, leaning down and untying Charlie's bowtie with her teeth. is this a thing

actually, Vaggie stealing Charlie's clothes the entire time they're dancing

Nothing above the belt is safe from her. She opens and drags off Charlie's coat, wraps it around her own waist. Snags Charlie's bowtie, re above, ties it around her own wrist using just her mouth. whoops Charlie's suspenders just got pushed down her arms, nooooo resemblance at all to any other straps a person might get helped out of during and intimate situation-

by the time Vaggie's unbuttoning Charlie's shirt without messing a beat or step of their dance, Angel Dust is taking notes with one set of hands while covering Niffty and Lucifer's eyes with the other, Husk is looking sick and has actually stopped drinking, Alastor has the surviving egg boi propped up in front of him as a shield, and Cherri Bomb is cheering bc of the fiery tracks a very warmed up Charlie is leaving all over the ballroom floor

everyone finds out why chaggie aren't intimate in public more often... they are really really bad at remembering they're in public, or knowing when to STOP

Husk: "...what... the fuck are they doing?"

Angel Dust: "At this point? Each other, basically~"

Lucifer: "Why are my eyes being covered...?"

Cherri Bomb: "YEEAHHH!! AND THEY'RE HOT AS HELL! GET IT PRINCESS!"

Lucifer: "Oh. Ha ha ha! I see!" (shapeshifts) "But not literally. I don't see literally. I don't think I need ANY eyes at all right now!"

Cherri Bomb: "AHAHAHAHAH MORE FIRE!!! MORE MORE!!!!"

Niffty: "Fire? As in bon fire?? I AM MISSING OUT ON SOMEONE BURNING ALIVE!?"

Alastor: "I am terribly afraid we are not, dearest. Not unless you count this egg frying himself with his own blush."

Egg Boi: "Wowzer!"

Niffty: "Boo."

Vaggie: "Did one of you assholes just BOO us?!"

Angel Dust: "YA GIRLFRIEND IS HALF UNDRESSED TOOTS! HOW ARE YOU EVEN STILL NOTICIN' WE EXIST???"

Vaggie: "My hot girlfriend is half undressed you moron of COURSE I'll notice when someone boos her!!"

Husk: "Then put some fucking clothes back on her!"

Vaggie: (flips him off while charlie twirls her) "FUCK YOU! NO!!!"

Lucifer: "Oh apple of all the eyes I don't have right now! How're you feeling about all this, Char-char?"

Charlie: "I'm feeling... Wowzer... heheh~"

Angel Dust: "It was that thing with untying ya bow with her mouth, huh?"

Charlie: "HEHEHEHEH."

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #charlie morningstar #chaggie #angel dust hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #husk hazbin hotel #niffty hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #incorrect quotes #silly nonsense #vaggie making sure charlie's clothes are neat and tidy right up until they step onto the dance floor #dancing is not worktime hours #dancing is admiring her girlfriend hours~

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rinneverse · 7 months ago

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cw just a crumb suggestive. minors do not interact. happy aventurine release day!! hope everyone who wants him gets him in their first 10 pull :>

aventurine likes to think his jealousy is subtle.

but really, after knowing him for so long, there are tiny slips in his facade, minuscule cracks in the mask that clue you into how he’s truly feeling.

they’re not easy to spot. his character is carefully crafted to be as flawless as possible; he’s a phenomenal actor and he doesn’t like to expose his true nature.

but you know him—you know him in ways no one else has seen before. you’ve seen him come unraveled, breathless and slick with sweat. you’ve seen him on his knees for you, eyes glimmering with want as he worships you. you’ve seen the way his nose scrunches slightly when he laughs, the way his eyebrows pinch together when he’s deep in thought, the way his left hand is always tucked behind his back during a gamble.

“you so were jealous,” you jab at your boyfriend, coy smile dancing on your lips as he scoffs and turns away.

“was not. i can only listen to that angel prattle on for so long, you know.”

“no need to deny it, vennie.”

the gambler turns your way. he gives you a brief once over before approaching you. he pushes into your space, forcing you to step back until your back hits the wall. he crowds you there, arm coming up to rest on the wall above your head. you’ve effectively been trapped.

"i'm not denying anythin' baby," aventurine huffs, bringing his face to yours. his warm breath ghosts against your lips. you find yourself wanting to tilt your head towards him, to brush your lips against his.

you resist yourself. you know exactly what he's gunning for here.

(you know you won't last very long. he'll always get what he wants in the end. you don't mind one bit.)

"i could literally see you glowering at him. you're not too subtle, you know?" at least not to you. not when you've come to know him in such intimate ways.

"i was bored—and hey, let's talk about the way he was lookin' at you. i didn't appreciate it one bit. that's what has me so worked up, since you're so convinced i'm jealous."

"he was just having a conversation with me??"

aventurine gives you an incredulous look, bringing his free hand up to squish your cheeks. you let out an indignant squeak.

"that's not how i saw it, sweetheart. c'mon, indulge me here. if i were him, i'd be lookin' at a pretty thing like you the way he was too. but doing that right in front of me? ugh," he sighs dramatically. "how're you gonna make it up to me? you were givin' all of your attention to him and i just don't think that's fair."

"when do you ever play fair?"

"i am right now, aren't i?"

you shoot him a look that screams absolutely not. but you sigh anyways, bringing your arms up to loop around his neck. the hand that holds your face loosens, then slowly trails down your body, coming to rest on your hip.

with a coy smile, you let your lips brush against his, feather-light and fleeting.

"fine, fine. i'll make it up to you. my eyes are only on you tonight, 'kay?"

aventurine smiles, dark and full of sinful promise.

"good. i think i'll take my time with you."

#☆ oakie writes #aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #can u guys tell i rlly like making him jealous .. i think its fun #possessive avennie <33 ugh #queuing this so it posts when his banner drops for NA :>#۫ ִ ׂ💭 a kiss for queue ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ ۫

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temptress-writes · 1 year ago

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📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #hes #anon #hs #hslot

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emjayewrites · 2 months ago

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fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (1/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu

A/N: Please let me know if you like to be removed/added to the taglist. Also, a surprise mention in this chapter that links to another story!

The Madrid sun blazed relentlessly as Aurélien jogged across the training pitch, his head pounding with each step. The air hummed with the rhythmic thud of cleats striking balls and the sharp whistles of Coach Ancelotti directing drills. Aurélien grimaced. Last night's tequila shots at Goya Social Club were exacting their revenge.

Whoever invented tequila deserved a special place in hell.

"Bloody hell, he's trying to kill us," Jude Bellingham panted, falling into step beside Aurélien. "You holdin' up alright, mate? You look proper rough."

Aurélien grinned weakly at his teammate's distinctive Brummie accent. "I'm starting to think I should've stayed my ass in bed."

Eduardo Camavinga joined them, looking annoyingly fresh-faced. "What's this? The great Tchouaméni can't handle a little heat and a few drinks?"

"A few?" Aurélien scoffed. "I'm pretty sure I drank half of Mexico last night. Unlike some lightweights who bailed early," he added, eyeing Camavinga pointedly.

They paused near the sidelines, grabbing water bottles from the cooler. Jude took a long swig before turning to Aurélien, his expression softening.

"How're you really doing, though? With everything coming up next month?"

Aurélien's smile faltered slightly. "It’s… whatever. Not trying to dwell on it."

Camavinga clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder. "The arranged marriage, right? Your old man still pushing ahead?"

"Yeah," Aurélien sighed, his casual facade slipping a bit. "It’s a done deal. My fiancée and her family are arriving next month."

Jude shook his head, whistling low. "That’s a lot, mate. And you don’t even know her?"

"Not a clue," Aurélien confirmed. "Dad’s got it all arranged with her family. They even got the blessing from the elders back in Cameroon, but it's mainly my dad driving this whole thing."

"No wonder you've been living it up lately," Camavinga said, his tone sympathetic. "Fuck, I'd be drowning in women too if I knew I was being forced into a random marriage."

"You would've been if you hadn't ghosted us like that," Aurélien retorted. "I'm tired of planning stuff and you back out last minute, bro."

Jude nodded, his face brightening. "Speaking of hanging out, Lila's planning to visit soon. She's keen to catch up with everyone."

Aurélien managed a genuine smile at that. "That's great; it'll be good to see her again." He shook his head in disbelief, still amazed at how Jude had managed to snag Lewis Hamilton's little sister. The young Englishman's charm seemed to know no bounds. "How'd you swing that again?" he teased. "I still can't believe you're dating her. Talk about punching above your weight."

Jude grinned, a hint of pride in his eyes. "What can I say? The Bellingham charm is irresistible."

Camavinga snorted, nudging Jude's shoulder. "Yeah, right. And I'm the King of France."

As they bantered, Aurélien's mind wandered. He thought about the countless nights he'd spent clubbing, the endless amount of pussy, and the carefree laughter shared with teammates. All soon to be replaced by... what? Family dinners and couple's game nights? Sure he loved his family, especially his young siblings, Anne-Maïsha and Yannis, but settling down at twenty-four years of age seems blasphemous. The thought of being married was almost as nauseating as his hangover.

His phone buzzed in his bag - probably another message from his father, Fernand. The reality of his situation was closing in, and Aurélien couldn't help but feel a mix of resignation and resentment. He'd always known this day might come, but the speed at which it was approaching left him reeling.

They continued their training, and Aurélien tried to focus on the present. The feel of the grass beneath his feet, the burn in his muscles as he stretched, the familiar banter with his teammates. But his thoughts kept drifting to his unknown fiancée. Would she laugh at his jokes? Would she understand the offsides rule? Would she realize she was marrying a man whose idea of cooking was not burning toast? Would they even like each other?

An hour or so later, training was over for the day, and he hit the showers. By the time he stepped out onto the parking lot, he was back in his zone. The sun was still blazing as evening slowly drifted on, but he didn't mind. Sliding into his ride—a sleek, black Porsche 911 Turbo S—he let out a long breath. The leather seats felt cool against his skin as he sank into them, and the engine roared to life with a low, satisfying growl.

Aurélien pulled out his phone, noticing the missed calls from his father. He hesitated, then tapped the number and brought the phone to his ear. The call connected almost immediately.

"Ouais, Papa? (Yeah, Dad?)"

"Aurélien, enfin! Où es-tu? (Aurélien, finally! Where are you?)"

Aurélien sucked his teeth, glancing out at the sun-soaked training grounds. "Je viens de finir l'entraînement. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? (I just finished training. What's up?)"

His father's voice took on a more urgent tone. "Va à l'aéroport. Ta femme arrive aujourd'hui. (Go to the airport. Your wife is arriving today.)"

Aurélien's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he frowned in disbelief. "Aujourd'hui? Mais pourquoi si tôt? (Today? But why so soon?)"

There was a brief pause before his father answered. "Elle a terminé ses études plus tôt que prévu, et elle commence à décrocher des contrats… tu sais, avec son Instagram. (She graduated early and she's starting to land some contracts… you know, with her Instagram.)"

Instagram? Aurélien blinked, trying to process what he'd just heard. The sarcasm practically dripped from his mind. Great. I'm marrying an IG hoe.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "D'accord, j'y vais. (Alright, I'm on my way.)"

"Merci, fils. Sois gentil avec elle. (Thank you, son. Be nice to her.)"

Aurélien let out a dry chuckle as he hung up, shaking his head. Be nice? He didn't even know this girl, let alone how to be nice to her. As he shifted the Porsche into gear and pulled out of the lot, his thoughts drifted back to his unknown fiancée. Would she be another high-maintenance Instagram model obsessed with followers and brand deals? He smirked to himself. He'd seen enough of those in his life already.

But there was nothing to do now but go pick her up and see for himself. Maybe she'd take one look at him and decide she could do better after all. A man could dream, right?

Zuri fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting around the crowded airport pick-up station. She had no idea who she was looking for, which only added to the anxiety bubbling in her chest. Her father had given her little to go on, vague descriptions and the promise that she would "know him when she saw him." But how was she supposed to recognize a man she’d never met?

Then, out of the sea of people, she spotted him. A tall, broad-shouldered man with an air of effortless confidence, moving through the crowd as if he owned the place. His smooth, dark brown skin and muscled frame hugged his designer tracksuit perfectly, and his piercing eyes seemed to notice everything around him. Zuri's breath caught in her throat as he approached.

His gaze settled on her with a mix of curiosity and certainty. He stopped just in front of her, towering over her, and offered a polite nod.

"You wouldn’t happen to be the daughter of Ernest Awanto Nchang, would you?" he asked, his voice rich and smooth, though there was a hint of dryness in his tone.

Zuri blinked, momentarily taken aback by his handsomeness and the way his curly taper fade complemented his angular facial features. "Yes, I am," she replied cautiously. He then began to ramble off in rapid French, and Zuri failed miserably at trying to catch up. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't speak French that well."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah, my bad. I'm Aurélien."

She nodded, offering a small smile. "Zuri. Nice to meet you."

As they collected her luggage - all five suitcases of it - Aurélien couldn't help but suck his teeth. "Damn, girl, did you pack your entire house?" he muttered.

"I didn't know how long I'd be staying," Zuri bristled as she followed Aurélien to the parking lot, her eyes widening slightly when she saw the sleek, black car parked in front of them.

A Porsche? Nice.

The car was immaculate, with gleaming chrome accents and tinted windows that added an extra layer of mystery. When Aurélien unlocked it with a casual click of his key fob, she couldn’t help but admire the luxury of it all. She slid into the passenger seat, and her fingers brushed against the soft, peanut butter leather that lined the interior. The seats were plush and cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the tension radiating off Aurélien as he settled in behind the wheel after packing her luggage in the trunk. The scent of expensive cologne and leather filled the air, making the space feel even more intimate and imposing.

The drive began in uncomfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. After a few minutes, Aurélien finally broke the silence, his voice laced with dry humor. "You know, you weren’t supposed to arrive until next month."

Zuri didn’t miss the underlying irritation in his tone. She glanced over at him, her defenses kicking in immediately. "I’m sorry for ruining your plans," she shot back, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Aurélien’s lips twitched slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, surprised by her sass. "Why the sudden change?"

Zuri sighed. "I graduated early from university. My father and I weren't seeing eye to eye about my career plans. He wants me to get a 'real job'," she air-quoted, "instead of pursuing my influencer work. So he decided to ship me off to Madrid, figuring my 'husband'," another air quote, "would straighten me out."

Aurélien couldn't help but laugh. "Gotta love African parents, huh?"

"Yeah," Zuri snorted. "By the way, how do you pronounce your name again? Or-ree-lee-en?"

"Aw-reh-lee-an," he corrected. "And yours is Zoo-ree, right?"

"Close. It's more like Zu-ree. Short 'u' sound."

They pulled up to a modern, spacious house with large windows and a manicured lawn. As they entered, they were greeted by an energetic German Shepherd puppy.

"Zeus, down boy," Aurélien commanded, but the dog was too excited by the new arrival.

Zuri shrieked and jumped back as Zeus bounded towards her.

Aurélien's lips contorted into a teasing grin. "Don't tell me you're scared of a little puppy?"

"He's not little!" Zuri protested, eyeing the dog warily.

"He's only a year old," Aurélien chuckled, picking up Zeus easily, as if the dog barely weighed anything at all. "See? Harmless."

Zuri didn't look convinced, but she tentatively reached out to pet Zeus's head. The dog immediately licked her hand, causing her to giggle despite herself.

Aurélien watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Looks like Zeus likes you already," he remarked, setting the dog back down on the floor. Zeus trotted off, seemingly satisfied with the introduction.

"Come on," Aurélien said, gesturing for her to follow him. "I’ll show you around."

The house was as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside. Modern and spacious, with clean lines and tasteful décor that spoke of understated luxury. Aurélien led her through the open-plan living area, pointing out the key features as they went.

"This is the living room," he said, nodding toward the large sectional sofa and the wall-mounted TV that dominated one side of the space. "The kitchen’s over there, fully stocked. Dining area’s next to it if you’re into that."

Zuri trailed behind him, taking in the high ceilings and the large windows that bathed the room in natural light. Everything looked like it had been carefully curated, from the abstract art on the walls to the sleek, polished surfaces that gleamed under the light.

He led her down a hallway, past a few closed doors, and stopped in front of one. "Here’s your room," he said, pushing the door open to reveal a well-appointed guest room. It was cozy, with a queen-sized bed covered in crisp white sheets, a matching dresser, and a small seating area by the window.

"The bed’s already made up, but if you need extra sheets or towels, they’re in the closet here," Aurélien added, opening a nearby door to show her where everything was neatly stored.

Zuri nodded, still a little overwhelmed by the situation. "It’s really nice, thank you."

Aurélien shrugged as if it was no big deal. "My chef usually comes in every other day around two to fill up the fridge, so if you’re hungry, just look there."

Zuri raised an eyebrow, curious. "Do you ever cook for yourself?"

Aurélien let out a short laugh. "Nah," he replied, shaking his head. "Not really my thing. Oh, yeah, I’m usually out early and back late, so don’t wait up for me. It’s cool to eat without me."

Zuri wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

"Well, I’ll let you settle in," Aurélien said, giving Zeus a quick pat before heading toward the door. "Zeus and I are gonna give you some space. If you need anything, just let me know."

With that, he left her alone in the guest room, the door clicking shut behind him. Zuri stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The reality of her situation was slowly sinking in—she was in a foreign country, in a stranger’s house, with a man she barely knew, and would soon be in a marriage she hadn’t chosen.

She tried to keep a straight face, to be strong like she always was, but the fear and uncertainty were overwhelming. Her hands trembled slightly as she sat down on the edge of the bed, the softness of the sheets offering little comfort. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay composed, but the tears came anyway, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Zuri quickly wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking down so easily. She’d worked so hard to build her life, her career, her brand as an influencer. She was known for her confidence, her style, her ability to navigate the fast-paced world of social media with ease. But now, all of that seemed so far away. Her home was in New York, where she knew the streets, the people, the culture. And now, here she was, starting over in Spain—a place she’d only ever visited on a few short trips to Europe.

How was she supposed to navigate this? She could barely understand her parents’ home language of French, and now she was expected to learn Spanish too? The thought was daunting, and for a moment, she felt utterly lost.

Aurélien paused outside the guest room door, his hand hovering over the handle. He could hear Zuri's muffled sobs from the other side, and a twinge of guilt twisted in his stomach. He'd never been good with crying women - it always made him feel awkward and out of his depth. His ex-girlfriends had often complained about his tendency to shut down or retreat when emotions ran high.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. Part of him wanted to go in there, to try and comfort her somehow. But what would he even say? 'Sorry your dad shipped you off to marry a stranger'? Yeah, that would go over well.

Despite his discomfort, Aurélien couldn't help but think about how beautiful Zuri was. Her umber skin was flawless, smooth, and rich like polished mahogany. Her full lips, high cheekbones, and almond-shaped eyes gave her an almost regal appearance. And her hair - a mass of springy curls that framed her face perfectly. She was stunning, no doubt about it.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a text from Jules Koundé:

"Hey man, just landed in Madrid. Still good for me to crash at your place?"

Aurélien winced. Fuck. With Zuri's unexpected arrival, he'd completely forgotten about Jules' visit. He quickly typed out a reply:

"Slight change of plans. The fiancée arrived early. Mind staying at a hotel instead?"

Jules' response came moments later:

"No worries, bro. Hotel might be better anyway - more privacy for bringing back some señoritas, if you know what I mean 😉"

Aurélien chuckled, but then paused. Could he still do that? Bring back hookups? Technically, Zuri was his fiancée now, but it's not like they were going to have a loving marriage. Maybe they could come to some sort of agreement - you have your side pieces, I have mine, just keep it out of the media?

He shook his head. That sounded grim, even to him. But wasn't that the reality of their situation?

Thirty minutes later, Aurélien met up with Jules at a trendy bar in downtown Madrid. The two friends dapped each other, slipping easily into rapid French.

"Mon frère, ça fait trop longtemps! (My brother, it's been too long!)" Jules grinned.

"Je sais, je sais," (I know, I know,) Aurélien replied, signaling the bartender for two beers. "Mec, tu ne croiras jamais ce qui s'est passé aujourd'hui. (Dude, you won't believe what happened today.)"

As they settled into a corner booth, Aurélien recounted the day's events - Zuri's unexpected arrival, the awkward drive home, her fear of Zeus.

"Elle est comment? (What's she like?): Jules asked, leaning in with interest.

Aurélien took a long swig of his beer before answering. "Belle. Vraiment belle. Mais aussi... je ne sais pas. Perdue? Effrayée? Je l'ai entendue pleurer dans sa chambre. (Beautiful. Really beautiful. But also... I don't know. Lost? Scared? I heard her crying in her room.)"

Jules whistled low. "Merde, c'est dur. Qu'est-ce que tu vas faire? (Shit, that's rough. What are you going to do?)"

Aurélien shrugged, feeling helpless. "Je ne sais pas, mec. Je ne sais vraiment pas. (I don't know, man. I really don't know.)"

Aurélien and Jules continued their night, moving from the bar to a pulsing nightclub. The bass throbbed through the air as they made their way to the VIP section, immediately drawing attention from the other patrons.

Two women approached them, exuding confidence with every step. The taller one, with sleek box braids cascading down her back, sidled up to Jules, while her friend, with her hair styled in loose waves and curves that her dress hugged perfectly, set her sights on Aurélien.

"You look like you could use some company," the woman with the braids said in accented English, her dark eyes locked on Jules. "You want to dance?"

Jules smiled coolly, already angling towards the dance floor with his companion. "Sounds good to me. Aurélien?"

Aurélien watched his friend smoothly lead his dance partner away before turning his attention back to the woman before him. She was stunning, her skin a rich, deep brown that seemed to glow under the club lights.

"I'm Lia," she said, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "And you are…?"

"Aurélien," he replied, his eyes appreciatively taking in her features. He knew exactly where this was heading, and a part of him hesitated. The image of Zuri, alone and crying in his guest room, flashed through his mind.

But then Lia's hand was on his arm, her touch warm and inviting, and he found himself leaning into it. Didn't he deserve one last night of freedom before diving into this arranged marriage mess?

"So, Aurélien," Lia's voice pulled him back to the present. "What brings you out tonight? Celebrating something?"

Aurélien chuckled, a hint of irony lacing his words. "You could say that. Let's just say I'm trying to… clear my head."

Lia tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? And how's that working out for you?"

Aurélien’s gaze lingered on her, sliding from her eyes to her full lips, then lower, drinking in every curve with deliberate intent. "I think it's starting to help," he murmured, his voice low and thick with suggestion.

Lia’s lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with intrigue. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them until their bodies were nearly touching. "Is that so?" she teased, her tone laced with challenge.

Aurélien leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Why don't we find somewhere more private?" His hand brushed her waist, fingers skimming the fabric of her dress.

Lia didn’t hesitate. She got up from her seat, leading him out of the VIP section through a dimly lit hallway and into a nearby storage room. It was cramped and cluttered, but it provided the seclusion they needed.

Once inside, Aurélien wasted no time. He pressed Lia against the wall, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her close. Their lips met in a heated kiss, all hunger and need, as their bodies moved together in a feverish rhythm. His hands roamed over her curves, exploring every inch as she eagerly responded, her fingers threading through his hair.

The kiss broke, and Lia dropped to her knees, her eyes locking with his as she unbuttoned his pants. Aurélien's breath caught as she freed him, her hand wrapping around his thick length. His cock was long and veined, the skin taut and smooth, with a slight curve that Lia seemed to appreciate. She took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around him as she began to work him over with slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue.

Aurélien groaned, one hand resting on the back of her head as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock before sliding down his shaft. Lia knew exactly what she was doing, her movements expertly designed to drive him wild. Her slurping sounds filled the small room, a wet, rhythmic symphony that matched the pulse of his desire.

He hated that he was here, in some grimy storage room at a club, getting his dick sucked like this. It felt beneath him, almost disrespectful to himself, but he couldn’t deny how badly he needed this distraction. The tension, the frustration, all of it melted away with each skilled flick of Lia’s tongue, each tight, wet pull of her mouth.

But even as his body responded, his mind wandered. Thoughts of Zuri crept in, uninvited, disrupting his focus. He imagined her face, the way she looked at him earlier with a mix of uncertainty and defiance. He could almost hear her voice, questioning what the hell he was doing. The thought made him grit his teeth, annoyed at himself for letting her into his head at a moment like this.

Lia's pace quickened, her mouth moving faster, more desperate to push him over the edge. Aurélien let out a low growl, trying to banish the thoughts of Zuri from his mind as he focused on the warmth of Lia's mouth, the tight suction that was driving him closer to release. He tightened his grip on her hair, thrusting deeper into her throat, the need for release overriding everything else.

Finally, with a rough groan, Aurélien came, his body shuddering as he spilled into Lia’s mouth. She took it all, swallowing greedily as he rode out his climax, her lips still wrapped around him until he was spent.

When it was over, Lia slowly pulled back, wiping the corner of her mouth with a satisfied smirk. Aurélien leaned against the wall, catching his breath, his mind already turning back to the reality he was trying to escape.

"Needed that," he muttered, his voice rough.

Lia stood, straightening her dress as she shot him a playful look. "Anytime," she teased, giving him a light tap on the chest before standing up to her full height. "Y'know that was only a preview right?"

Aurélien adjusted his clothes, feeling the weight of everything settling back on his shoulders. "I know, but I'm fine with that preview."

"You sure?"

"100%," he said, deftly ignoring the pout on her lips. "Thank you."

Lia shrugged as she fixed her dress, "You're welcome, I guess."

This had been a temporary distraction, nothing more. As he exited the storage room, his thoughts were already drifting back to Zuri and the mess he knew was waiting for him.

Should've kept my dick in my pants.

Aurélien felt surprisingly guilty as he made his way back to the main area of the club, spotting Jules near the exit with Lia's friend. The two men approached each other, exchanging a quick dap.

"Heading out?" Aurélien asked, eyeing the woman waiting with Jules.

Jules grinned, "Yeah, man. You good?"

Aurélien nodded despite his slight uneasiness, "All good. See you tomorrow?"

"For sure. Later, bro."

With a final fist bump, they parted ways. Aurélien watched them leave before calling for his own ride home.

The house was dark when he arrived, save for the flickering light of the TV in the living room. As he approached, Zeus lifted his head from the couch, tail wagging slightly at the sight of his owner.

"Hey, boy," Aurélien whispered, moving closer. That's when he noticed Zuri, curled up on the couch next to Zeus, fast asleep.

A small smile tugged at his lips. He'd have to tease her tomorrow about cozying up to the dog she was so afraid of earlier. Quietly, he retrieved a blanket from a nearby chair and gently draped it over her sleeping form.

As he leaned in, he couldn't help but notice the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. The sight sobered him instantly, reminding him of the reality of their situation.

"We're both fucked, huh sweetheart?" he murmured, more to himself than to her or Zeus.

With a sigh, he turned off the TV and headed upstairs. In his room, he shed his clothes, the scent of the club – and Lia – still clinging to him. As he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, his mind raced.

This arranged marriage... it wasn't what either of them wanted. But it was their reality now. As the water ran cold, Aurélien couldn't shake the feeling that his life had irrevocably changed. The carefree bachelor was gone, and in its place? A reluctant husband? A man trapped in a loveless marriage?

As he climbed into bed, exhaustion finally overtaking him, his last thought before drifting off was of Zuri's tear-stained face. Whatever happened next, he realized, they were in this together.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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