#in matching orange sweat bands…

[theloveinc]

Lmaooo just thought about Bakugo doing squats with you walking around the neighborhood bc you’re two days overdue with his fat ass baby😭😭

[dilfsfordinner]

honeymoon- nanami kento x wife!reader

a/n- in preparation for this week’s episode, this is my ode to my husband

warnings- fem!reader, unprotected sex, praise, missionary pos, mating press, belly bulge, nanami has a big d, implied breeding kink, fluffff

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Nanami Kento had been dreaming of a vacation. Somewhere with sand and palm trees, warm weather, the ocean, you. Now it would take a lot for him to admit this because he’s not a dreamer, per se, especially with his strict work ethic, but the amount of times he had to catch himself during a shift from drifting off in a fantasy about sleeping in or relaxing on the beach, you could say he had started to reflect his child-like self.

Except every single one of those dreams could not rival the feeling of experiencing his honeymoon with you. He’d gotten what he wanted. A private villa, surrounded by greenery with a whole rainbow of colors blessing the space. Red, orange, pink, and especially white flowers would pop out from the dense leaves of the tropical garden that was essentially your front yard, their sweet perfume just light enough to not be too overbearing. The villa was perched in a cluster of palms, the white-sand beaches of the Caribbean literally at your disposal by a pathway from your bedroom, its wood-lined trail leading down to a private oceanside cove of sand and the most vivid aquamarine water you’d ever seen.

It had been five days since the two of you had arrived at your little oasis, 120 hours of complete and utter relaxation accompanied by sheer happiness. You could barely contain your excitement for the trip when he’d announced the surprise destination a month before your wedding, and that giddiness you were once feeling was multiplied tenfold. Kento Nanami was finally your husband. The man you had fallen for was now tied to you legally and emotionally, the two of you matching with the golden bands placed upon your fingers, yours just a tad bit more extravagant with the stone you had dreamt of forged perfectly into the smooth metal.

Your favorite gift you had received though was once again from your husband. It had been given on the day of your wedding, a little white, bow-tied box placed in your hands before the reception. Upon opening it, you were met with a pretty bracelet, a twisted chain of pure platinum so uniformly perfect, you knew your husband had picked it. Your favorite part however, was the tiny charm hanging from the chain, a cursive “k” inscribed into the precious material, a clear sign of your newly wed’s hand in the purchase. “I’m yours now,” he had whispered into your hair, kissing away a stray tear from your cheek before helping you clasp the delicate chain around your wrist.

For days you had thanked him any way you could for his kindness, the two new additions he’d gifted so beautifully thoughtful, gifts that certainly garnered a lot of attention, especially when it came to some.. exerting activities.

It was like the atmosphere had turned you two into animals, your bodies sore from the endless (sorry for lack of a better word), fucking, the tension so thick you could feel it heavy in your chest, the warm, salty breeze flowing through the mesh, white curtains of your bedroom doing nothing to help calm your lustful state.

It was nearly dusk and your current session had started about an hour ago, any and every position you could think of already tried, your body turned and flipped a multitude of times before you were placed on your back again, thighs pushed up against your chest, your legs falling over your husband’s broad shoulders.

Your throat was dry from the fountain of moans constantly spilling from your mouth, Nanami’s name starting to sound like an imaginary word from the amount of times you’d choked out the syllables. Don’t be too embarrassed though because he was just as knocked as you, his skin flush from exertion, sweat dampening his blonde locks, and his usually cool tone of voice had turned desperate, your own name a slurred grumble or groan every time he felt you clench around him.

Your silky, white nightgown had been discarded long ago, the little scrap of fabric on the floor reminding you of what had started this escapade in the first place. The memory of Nanami’s eyes darkening when you’d emerged for bedtime had your stomach tightening and eyes squeezing shut. You’d known him for who knows how long and he still managed to make you feel like a horny teenager with just one look.

“My perfect wife,” he panted into your neck, heavy cock nudging your deepest parts, you could feel him in your belly, could even see him in your belly, the area below your navel molding just slightly into the shape of his cock every time he would push into you.

Your skin was glowing from the last remnants of sunlight reaching through the gauzey curtains, the ocean waves gentle as they crashed along the shore, wrapping you in a cocoon of pure passion, the current moment so perfect and loving, one of Nanami’s hands snaking into your palm to ground you, the other resting beside your head as he kissed the tender curve of your neck.

He was a warm lover. Caring, romantic, a listener. Someone who focuses on giving instead of stealing pleasure. That’s why it was so easy to give him your trust, to open yourself up to him emotionally, and physically. Someone who easily outshined anyone when it came to choosing who to share your remaining years with.

Your ring fingers clinked together when he pushed into you with a particularly needy thrust, the golden bands once again twining as his fingers curled over your own in a firm lock. “Only yours,” you whimpered out, voice almost breaking from your very vulnerable position, your chest compromised as your legs were propped up, the backs of your thighs fitting against his chest, folding over his shoulders at the knees.

Not only did your words drive him crazy, but the little jingle he would hear every time his hips connected with your own had his eyebrows knitting with some primal need to actually make you his. The bracelet he’d gifted you had ended up clasped around your delicate ankle, the silver charm glinting his initial in the low lights, every little reflection catching his peripheral, spurring him on. You had done it on purpose. You had known he would have you folded sooner or later and you knew how much he loved to mark you, that piece of jewelry a literal signing of his name on you.

Your mouths latched onto each other, hurried kisses ending in heavy breaths against each other’s face or neck, eventually your foreheads being the place of rest as he continued to fuck you with every ounce of energy in his body.

“-love you, s’much,” you murmured, voice lilting with the rising pleasure in your core, his thick length prodding every ridge you had to offer, that spongey spot of nerves catching his head with every pass, eliciting a gasp from your lips, Nanami’s jaw clenching as he held himself back from completely plowing into you, your approaching climax drawing a rush of liquid from your twitching cunt, trickling onto his thighs.

“I love you,” he kissed you this time, his strong hand fisting the sheets beside your head, the other still clutching onto your hand as he knocked the breath from your lungs, his cock feeling like a full-blown spear impaling you, the only thing keeping you sane being his mouth on you, and the sweet-nothings groaned from his lips.

***

It was dark by the time you two had truly finished with each other, your body curled up in Nanami’s lap as he lounged with you on the large chairs placed outside the curtains of your bedroom, the moonlight bouncing off the waves as they continued their trek across the shore.

His nimble fingers traced gentle shapes on your back, your upper body covered by his blue shirt, dwarfing your form in a pool of fabric, Nanami modeling your “half-nakedness” with only a pair of boxers, his strong legs visible to your very sleepy, but eager eyes.

Some type of tropical, cricket creature hummed a pretty song, coaxing your eyelids to flutter, your body sinking further into your husband’s hold, your cheek nestled gently against the soft curves of his collarbone, his heartbeat steady in your ear.

Taking note of your drifting consciousness, Nanami smiled down at your curled up form, fingers slowly letting up on their brief massage session to brace his hold. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, kissing the top of your hair with such tenderness you almost agreed to get up and listen, but he was just so warm and cozy.

Pretending to not hear him, you put on your best sleeping face, mouth opening slightly to really pull it off, the tiniest of snores leaving you in a very convincing manner. Silence followed your antics before a rumble vibrated from the chest of the man you lied on, a soft laugh leaving him as he took in your ‘sleeping state’, a laugh that had your lips twitching, a smile almost breaking out on your face.

“What a shame.. the Mrs. has fallen asleep on me,” he sighed, voice filled with faux sorrow, and when he relaxed back into the chair, you thought the victory was yours, nuzzling back against his chest to comfortably relax again. That was.. before your world was turned upside down, a yelp echoing from your throat as Nanami hoisted you over his shoulder, your bottom cradled by his large hand as he smiled that stupid smile of his and trekked back into the bedroom, all fatigue gone from the two of you, replaced with the teasing air of aching want.

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[moonchildstyles]

fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out. 

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar. 

Harry Styles. 

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him. 

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him. 

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling. 

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night. 

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place. 

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach. 

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena. 

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice. 

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight." 

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him. 

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him. 

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort. 

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?" 

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting. 

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions. 

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape. 

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?" 

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah." 

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin. 

She gave him a small nod. 

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it. 

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up. 

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her. 

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned. 

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her. 

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?" 

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat. 

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes. 

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me." 

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke. 

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man. 

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right. 

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed? 

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot. 

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage." 

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment. 

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him. 

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?" 

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space." 

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body. 

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage. 

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her. 

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more. 

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot. 

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor. 

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room. 

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night? 

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank. 

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say? 

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more. 

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears. 

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her. 

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close? 

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?" 

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry." 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)." 

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul." 

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me." 

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?" 

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way. 

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras." 

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?" 

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?" 

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her. 

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you." 

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation. 

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears. 

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?" 

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now." 

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms. 

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god. 

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night? 

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat. 

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror. 

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?" 

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features. 

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling." 

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players. 

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either. 

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet." 

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?" 

"Why do you say that?" 

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon. 

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink. 

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end." 

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything. 

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh. 

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile. 

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?" 

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row." 

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?" 

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky." 

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her. 

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes. 

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks." 

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night. 

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think." 

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny." 

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation. 

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants. 

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face. 

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist. 

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?" 

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room. 

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone." 

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself,  "Nice to meet you." 

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile. 

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice. 

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face. 

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh. 

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?" 

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets. 

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour." 

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about." 

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features. 

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from. 

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it." 

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do. 

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip. 

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly. 

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?" 

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go." 

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his. 

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him. 

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room." 

"Coming back?" 

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not." 

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning." 

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow. 

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning. 

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side. 

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside. 

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot. 

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?" 

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit." 

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out. 

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone. 

"ABBA?" 

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?" 

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen." 

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?" 

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest. 

"Still like me?" 

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave. 

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach. 

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless. 

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?" 

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter. 

"I can show you." 

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers. 

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips. 

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered. 

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles. 

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?" 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders. 

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?" 

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin. 

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy." 

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?" 

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants. 

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips. 

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away. 

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?" 

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least. 

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?" 

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?" 

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side. 

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand. 

"What do y'want to listen to first?" 

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers. 

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at. 

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?" 

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look. 

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers. 

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more. 

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest. 

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs. 

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks. 

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots. 

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought. 

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins. 

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please." 

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip. 

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor. 

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands. 

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips. 

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

 She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud. 

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?" 

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice. 

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan. 

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out. 

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin. 

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?" 

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band. 

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?" 

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets. 

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties. 

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt. 

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more. 

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?" 

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin. 

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me." 

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted. 

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before." 

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?" 

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says." 

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?" 

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here. 

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true." 

"Which ones?" 

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs.  "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy." 

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off. 

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit. 

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?" 

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?" 

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening. 

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby." 

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy." 

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?" 

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss. 

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?" 

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world. 

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before. 

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers. 

"Y'called me daddy." 

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps. 

"Say it again, baby." 

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?" 

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to." 

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time. 

"Daddy." 

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him. 

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue. 

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck." 

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined. 

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

 Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of. 

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?" 

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides. 

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me." 

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?" 

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths  sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."  

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in. 

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow. 

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—" 

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me." 

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy." 

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command. 

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go. 

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her. 

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings. 

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me." 

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs. 

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips. 

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?" 

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along. 

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you? 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel. 

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself. 

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me." 

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy." 

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing. 

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit. 

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart. 

"We-We'll make it fit." 

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then. 

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach.  A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed. 

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets. 

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined. 

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted. 

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?" 

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

 "I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby? 

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?" 

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad." 

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight." 

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper. 

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth. 

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me." 

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape. 

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world. 

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings. 

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music. 

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted. 

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos. 

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches. 

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.  

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky. 

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair. 

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight. 

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way. 

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again. 

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence. 

"What are y'doing this summer?" 

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk? 

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?" 

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?" 

Her heart lagged. 

"What?" 

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want." 

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?" 

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that." 

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together. 

"You're that easy?" 

"I suppose I am, love." 

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

[gabgabwrites]

DEUCE | Art Donaldson & Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Art has been so stressed about his match coming up against his ex best friend and denies it completely, you’ve begged and begged him to relax before he agrees, until someone interrupts.

warnings ⇝ language, unestablished? relationship, kissing, smut! 3sum, softdom!art, mean!patrick, oral (M & F), masturbation (M), handjob, cum eating, spitting, rough sex, unprotected sex, riding, spanking, minor ass play, groping, scratching, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, not much aftercare, mdni.

read part 2 here

note: this one is a little 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎 also is shorter than most of my fanfics, more porn than plot

Tomorrow Art would be playing against Patrick Zweig, his old time best friend and part time rival. Art told you he didn't worry for his match, but you saw the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion and the bags under his eyes grew darker. You told him to take a sleeping pill when he slept but he said he was getting enough hours of sleep, you had to act like you didn't feel him constantly moving around at night, tossing and turning.

"Art, I really think you should relax today. I can book you an appointment with a masseuse to help your muscles, or, y'know, you could sleep," You chewed on your bottom lip after telling him this, Art sighed, stopping his upper body exercises in the small gym.

"It's fine, honey. I'm fine. I feel totally relaxed," He gave you a tight lipped smile before he picked up the orange resistance band and began to pull at it. You watched his eyes glaze over in focus before sighing yourself, pushing off the wall and leaving the room.

You knew better than to press further. Art was stubborn and determined, traits that made him both a fantastic athlete and a frustrating partner at times. You loved him dearly, but his single-minded dedication to his sport often left little room for self-care. As you walked away, you couldn't help but worry about the toll this match against Patrick was taking on him.

The evening passed slowly. You busied yourself with mundane tasks, trying to keep your mind off Art's impending match. The air in your shared apartment felt thick with unspoken concerns. Art, still in his workout gear, moved from one exercise to another, the rhythmic sounds of his routine creating a steady background noise. You watched him from the kitchen, your heart aching for the man who pushed himself so hard.

When dinner time rolled around, you called out to him, "Art, dinner's ready." He nodded, wiping sweat from his brow before making his way to the table. You had prepared his favorite meal, hoping it would bring some comfort.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, sitting down and picking at his food. You could tell his mind was elsewhere, probably on tomorrow's match and the strategies he needed to employ.

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" you asked softly, trying to meet his eyes.

Art sighed, finally setting his fork down. "It's not that I'm worried, exactly. It's just... Patrick and I, we go way back. This isn't just another match. There's a lot of history there."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I know. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're going to burn out."

"I know you're right," he admitted, squeezing your hand. "But I can't help it. I need to be at my best."

"I understand," you said gently. "But you need to take care of yourself too. How about we go for a walk after dinner? Get some fresh air, clear your mind?"

Art considered it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

After dinner, the two of you strolled through the nearby park, the cool evening air a welcome change from the stuffy apartment. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot was soothing, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It was enough to just be together.

Eventually, Art broke the silence. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, pursuing this career so intensely."

You looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's all-consuming. I love it, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on other things. Important things."

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "Art, you have a passion and a talent that's incredible. But it's okay to have doubts. It's okay to want more than just your career."

He looked down, his expression thoughtful. "I just don't want to let anyone down. Not my team, not my fans... not you."

"You could never let me down," you said firmly. "I love you for who you are, not for what you achieve. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Art pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of your head. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

The walk seemed to have done some good, and by the time you returned home, Art appeared more relaxed. He took a long shower while you prepared some chamomile tea, hoping it would help him sleep better. When he emerged, you handed him a cup, and he accepted it gratefully.

"Let's try to get some good rest tonight, okay?" you suggested, leading him to the bedroom. He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

As you both settled into bed, you reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sounds the faint hum of the city outside and Art's steady breathing.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

"I love you too," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "We'll get through this, together."

That night, Art's restlessness seemed to ease. He still shifted occasionally, but there was a sense of calm that hadn't been there before. You stayed close, your presence a steady anchor in the turbulent sea of his thoughts.

The next morning, you woke to find Art already up, dressed in his gear and looking more focused than he had in days. There was a determined glint in his eye that made you believe he was ready for the match.

"Feeling better?" you asked, stretching and sitting up.

"Yeah," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I think I am."

"Good. I'll be cheering for you," You said, giving him an encouraging kiss. You grabbed his racket and headed for his car. Once there, you packed all his equipment in the back. He drove the car this time, to the stadium. You two had gotten there earlier, for many reasons like him relaxing before the match and for him to get last minute practice.

He told you he was going to the sauna for an hour or so, you told him you'd wait outside, on the small bench as you decided to flip through a magazine. As Art headed towards the sauna, you found a small bench outside and settled down with a magazine. The warm, humid air from the sauna seeped out, creating a comfortable ambiance despite the anticipation buzzing in your mind.

Flipping through the magazine, you tried to distract yourself with celebrity gossip and fashion trends, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Art and the upcoming match. You couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at your insides, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the glossy pages in front of you.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as you anxiously waited. You checked your watch every few minutes, unable to shake off the nervous energy that pulsed through you. Finally, just as you were starting to wonder if you should check on him, the sauna door creaked open, and Art emerged, white towel around his waist, his muscles shiny with sweat and his blonde hair darker and sticking to his forehead.

He called your name, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. You looked up from the magazine, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. "Yes?" you asked, your voice coming out softer than intended, laced with a hint of curiosity and a touch of anticipation.

He licked his top lip, his gaze scanning the room briefly before locking onto yours. "I realised I really do need to relax," he admitted with a sigh, pondering how to phrase his next request. "Come here, please?" His voice was soft yet tinged with a hint of longing, inviting you closer with a subtle urgency that stirred something deep within you.

You swallowed, placing the magazine neatly next to the pile of his disregarded clothes on the bench, before standing up and slowly walking towards him. "Yes?" His forefinger found the neckline of your shirt and hooked inside, before abruptly pulling you in making you yelp out in surprise. "Art?!"

"Shh-h-h, someone could hear you," He waited for you to stand up straight, after nearly being curb stomped by the sauna bench and turning to face him. His voice dropped to speak softer. "Help me relax?"

"Art, I-I don't—," The words got caught in your throat when you felt him pick up your hand and gently kiss your fingertips, lips moving to graze over each knuckle before they were on your wrist. "Anyone could walk in."

"They won't," he murmured against your skin, his lips lightly grazing the soft flesh of your forearm. "Please?" His plea was soft and earnest, his voice laced with vulnerability. You let out a gentle sigh, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, before tenderly moving your hand from his lips to cup his jaw.

"Only because it's getting hot in here," You smirked, Art's eyes shone at your words before his fingers moved to help you peel away your shirt that was becoming damp with moisture. He waited until you were fully undressed, clothes a disregardment, scattered around on the bamboo floor, before kissing you.

Your body was still somewhat dry while Art's was slippery against yours, dewy with sweat. His one hand cradled the back of your neck as you pushed your tongue between his lips, happily obliging to feel you against him. He let out a groan, signalling he wanted more, he needed more. Using little control, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed down on them, forcing you to sit on the bench.

Your lips broke apart before Art smashed them together again. Your fingers went to the white, fluffy towel and began to pull at it, falling apart to reveal his cock, hard and pulsing. "You really are needy?" You murmured, Art whimpered to ensure your questions.

You pressed a hand against his pec, letting it slither down and collect little moisture before your fingers found the tufts of hair below his belly button, following the trail until you reached his cock, wrapping your fingers around the base and slowly pumping your fist.

Art let a gasp, swallowing his moan at your actions. "Sit down, Art," You told him, he basically threw himself down, now kissing you shoulder to shoulder, your hand wrapped around his cock while his left hand squeezed at your thigh and his right curling at his side. "This helping?"

"Yeah, mmm, yes," He groaned, slowly but surely failing to kiss back as you squeezed his cock harder, making his mind go fuzzy. "Please don't stop."

His head fell back, lips parting as he panted and moaned, the crown of his head resting on the wall. Your lips took action down the column of his throat, tongue lapping up at his sweat. You sucked a path down to his shoulder, before allowing your teeth to graze the skin there.

"Art, I want to ride you," You said softly.  Art was quick to shift his hips, snapping out a trance so you could slide onto his lap.

His fingers flew to your arousal, massaging at your aching clit to get your hole to relax. "That feels good."

Your fingers pumped his cock still, only at a slower pace. It twitched and throbbed, especially when the pads of his fingers moved and found your hole, feeling you drip onto his fingers. His eyebrows drew together in focus, fingertips breaching your pussy, sinking into it.

You ignored the initial pain of the stretch, humping your hips to sink onto him further. His fingers worked faster to relax your hole before they pulled out, too eager to have you around his length. He grabbed his cock and nudged the pink tip at your entrance, feeling your hands stabilise yourself on his shoulders, and drop onto him, both letting out a moan.

You bent your legs, for leverage, hips bucking into his to get friction while his hands grasped your hips. "You feel so good around me," He gasped. You nodded at his words, lips finding solace on his skin again to kiss his flesh.

It was pure bliss between the two of you, in the warm, sweaty room. Moans and wet sounds bouncing off the walls.

The door suddenly ripped open, a gush of cold air fanned your back. Your head whipped around to see what it was, or rather, who it was; Patrick Zweig, standing in all his naked glory.

Your hips didn't stop their movements, even though Art stiffened at the intrusion. A wicked grin cracked on Patrick's face at the sigh. "Huh. World renowned tennis star getting fucked like a whore in the men's sauna before a big game," Patrick whistled. "Who would've guessed?"

"G-Get out, Zweig," Art said, words stuttering from pleasure.

"No, no. I don't think so. I think I'll just sit here and enjoy the show," You watched him sink down onto the opposite side of the room, brown eyes looking from your face that never left his view, to where you and Art were connected at the hips. He couldn't help the stiffening feeling between his legs, not caring for his cock to slowly harden, and out in the open.

Perhaps you should've stopped and ran out in shame. Perhaps Art should have begged you to stop instead on having his fingers dig deeper into your hips, his own bucking up into yours. Perhaps you should've looked away when you saw Patrick take his own cock in hand and fist it, matching the same pace you fucked Art.

Perhaps it was all the reason you came too quickly, mouth falling open as moans tumbled from your lips, getting Art's thighs coated in your cum. You felt him curl up, his own high nearing. He slammed you down on his cock, before filling you up.

"Aw man," Patrick chuckled, though it was slow and rugged with lust. "The show’s over and I barely started jerking off." He sighed, throwing his hand up, no longer touching himself.

You turned to tuck your head between Art's neck. Panting from your labour. "What do we do?" You whispered to him.

"Wait until he leaves."

He did not. In fact, you heard the floorboards creak with Patrick's weight, until you felt a presence behind you. "Hey, Art," Patrick spoke. "You gonna move over so I can try her?"

Your heart dropped, at first in surprise before your mind mulled over scenarios. Art's eyes shot up and glared at Patrick, who just stood there and smirked. "Excuse me?"

"C'mon, man. It's not like it's the first time we shared her," Patrick had to bring up the one night you three shared in college, the one you never spoke about again. You didn't hate that night, in fact you used to think about it often, but Patrick grew to become a major prick thereafter, forcing you to forget about it.

Art stayed silent, until he sighed. Using his hands, he moved you to look at him. "You can tell him no."

You took in a breath, chewing on your bottom lip. You stared into Art's eyes, looking, searching for any sort of plead, or hesitation, but got none. Did he want to share you? Would he be willing to? "I don't mind," You whispered. "But if you don't want to, then we don't."

Art pried his eyes away from you to stare at Patrick, a multitude of emotions, ones that didn't look all too pleasant. "Only this once."

Patrick let out a grumble through his chest, happy you two agreed. Perhaps it would change the way on court.  "You got it, hermano," Patrick slipped a hand on your shoulder, pulling you off Art's lap to stand, back pressing against his chest.

His one arm was wrapped around your shoulders while the other was snaking it's way down, tips of his fingers brushing along your tummy in the ticklish area that had it convulse, until they pressed into your pussy, collecting the residue from both you and Art. When he was satisfied with what was gathered on his fingers, he brought them to his lips and let out a groan at the taste of both of you.

"It tastes so good. You should try," He don't give you time to protest before reaching down to collect more cum before shoving his fingers in your mouth, having you choke and sputter until your tongue licked away at the salty liquids. "God, if that's the way you suck my fingers then I can't wait until I feel you suck my cock."

His fingers left your lips, hand moving down to grope your left breast, squeezing at the flesh.

"Tell me something, Art. How rough do you fuck her—ooh no wait, how rough does she fuck herself on you?" Patrick asked, eyes flirting to Art who just glared at the brunette, knuckles paling as he gripped the bench. Patrick smirked at the silence he got, from both ends.

He roughly grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, he clicked his tongue in fake pity.

"Poor thing, not treated right?"

"I'm treated just fine," You told him. "Thanks."

"Hm, we'll see." Patrick basically threw you forward, hands seizing your wrists behind your back, having you at a near 90 degree angle, face close to Art's. Patrick used his foot to nudge open your legs. You felt the tip of his cock brush your folds, before he abruptly shoved his entire length inside you, he wasn't as long as Art, but he was more girthy.

Your face screwed in pain, giving you no time to adjust before his hips snapped against yours, fucking into you at light speed. "O-Oh, fuck," You whined, head falling forward from pleasure.

"That's what I thought. Needed someone to fuck you right," Patrick chuckled, taking one hand and slapping your ass, making you howl in pain. Patrick's brown eyes found Art's, who was still glaring at him, yet he had a blush on his cheeks. Patrick smirked. "Take notes."

"If you only fucked her to be an asshole, then you can stop." Art growled, anger sizzling in his chest.

"Nope, just doing it correctly." Patrick nearly fell forwards when he saw a sliver of movements on Art's end. His tongue swiping to wet his bottom lip as he gave Art a shit eating grin. "You bastard. You getting off to watching your old best friend fuck your girl? Dirty, dirty boy."

Gasps and moans clashed in your throat, getting the strength in your neck to look up where Art was, indeed, fisting his cock. Your mouth salivating at the sight. "L-Let me help," You stammered out, letting your lips fall open. Art gently grabbed your head and positioned it lower, sighing when he felt your tongue lap out and lick his tip.

It was so contrasting, the way Patrick was manhandling you, tip nudging that one sweet spot deep within you while his fingers slapped, scratched and groped your ass and Art's gentle caresses on your hair. It was like heaven and hell, all in a sauna, perhaps you were limbo.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby. I'm so close, gonna let me cum deep in your pussy?" Patrick moaned. Words slurred from drunken pleasure.

"Patrick—." Art warned, a damn near growl escaping his chest.

"Nuh uh, man. I can't pull out now."

"Patrick—."

"Fuck!" Patrick moaned, his movements sloppy as he spilled his seed inside you. Panting as he caught his breath.

He was quick to pull out before dropping to his knees. He grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them apart before he dove his face inside, tongue rolling against your clit.

His own cum spilling from you and onto his nose and top lip. That man ate you out like a starved man.

Art's hips jerked before he was cumming in your mouth, fingers tightening slightly in your hair as your name fell from his lips.

"Gonna cum," You moaned, words coming out unclear as your mouth was still full of Art's cum. You couldn't get the energy to swallow, it slowly dribbled out your mouth, along with your drool and back onto Art's cock, Art couldn't lie and say it wasn't one of the hottest things he's seen, not even phased that you didn't swallow.

Patrick grabbed your hips and pushed you further down onto him, mouth open as you came on his tongue, hips rolling on his face. He swallowed most of it. He stood up, with some of your cum in his mouth and his own spit. His hands still kept your ass spread, pursing his lips, he allowed for the concoction to dribble onto your neglected asshole.

He didn't do anything to penetrate it, only using his forefinger to spread the liquids from your asshole to your pussy, leaving you wet and sticky all over.

Patrick stood back, allowing for you to hobble towards Art and sit down on the bench next to him. "Let's make a bet. If I win, I get to fuck her again."

"Get the fuck out of here," Art spat, grabbing a towel to help clean you. Patrick just chuckled before grabbing his own towel, wrapping it around his hips before pushing the door open and leaving.

Art turned to you, his voice softer.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah," You smiled meekly. "Just promise me this, you'll win."

Anyways, this was inspired by the beautiful sweaty sauna scene:

[sunalee]

jam to my heart — Jay

summary: The handsome guitarist set his eyes on you, and lucky for him, you did the same.

with: Jay (Park Jong-seong)

warnings: rockstar au!, enhypen as a band, jay is a smooth fella, he's charming enough to make my cheeks warm.

a/n: jay with a guitar is such a perfect sight i can't even ratiocinate. Some of the boys aren't metioned, but they're still part of this au.

“C'mon _____, let’s stay on the front so we can see them better!”

Ami calls you out, dragging you through the ’90s themed new pub you’re visiting, “Cords and Jam”. The place is really cool, with black and white checkered floors, red walls with various themed lamps, and posters of classic rock bands. The staff is very friendly, not to mention the drinks and snacks that make you want to spend your whole wallet there.

But the reason you’re here it’s the almost one-year hiatus, not having seen any live show since this period. You miss this environment, the thrill of waiting for the next band to perform, and even the sound check that the musicians do five minutes before the music starts.

Ami told you about this band tonight, Orange Blood. You haven’t heard anything from them yet, but they’re really known on social media for their impressive covers, skilled talent, and very, very, good-looks. 

Rock is great, but a handsome guy playing makes the experience one hundred times better.

She drags you to the front as you both get your bubbling drinks, fortunately not having too many people blocking your path. You don’t mind being in the back of the room, it’s even better to dance there, but you won’t lie, it’s so exciting being right close to the stage, even with the frenetic heartbeats that make you want to take another sip of the drink.

The band finally arrives, five handsome men in their twenties coming in front of the stage. The crowd shouts excitedly, you join them with your own hollering.

“Good night, everyone! I’m Jake, and we are the Orange Blood!” The blonde lead singer announces, a cheeky smile appearing on his face as he hears the crowd’s euphoric cheers.

The drummer, a dark-haired lad with side shaved haircut and looks of a runaway teen, taps four times the drum sticks together, a cue for the other instruments to start playing as well. On Jake’s left side, there’s the keyboard player and the bassist, the two with similar features and exhaling confidence. You heard around their names were Sunghoon and Heeseung. 

But it’s the guitarist on the right side of Jake who catches your attention; suddenly, he’s the only thing you can focus on.

Not only for his great solo at the beginning, but his very charming personality. The way his fingers pluck the strings with such mastery, as if it were as eyes as breathing, his built arms taken by cool tattoo shapes matching with his dark, medium hair, his thin and well cared lips that forms a pleasing smirk whenever he hears a praise from the female crowd. 

And when you hear his smooth, deep voice singing on his microphone, your legs almost give out.

It’s like this man put a spell on you, taking you to a place without time, space or circumstance, all your senses fixed only on him, mind navigating and daydreaming about different scenarios where he’s the main star, and you, his forever partner.

The show was a blast. Everyone had the time of their lives, and Orange Blood for sure would receive a lot of invitations after this concert. The mysterious guitarist wipes his sweating forehead after waving at the crowd, his black regatta clinging on his torso and making him look even more attractive. Unfortunately, he moves away with the rest of the crown, sparing one last glance before going.

That glance goes directly on you.

You don’t know what to think about it, your heart racing and mind numb from the unexpected moment, but before you can try to come up with something, Ami is dragging you by the hand again, leading you to the bar.

She tells you that she’s going to call her friend outside and would be right back. “Don’t accept drinks from strangers” was the last thing she said before leaving. You decide to order another drink, sitting on a free stool there.

You start wondering about what that gaze meant, the sweet flavor of your pinky lemonade helping your mind work even with the pub buzz. But you focus so much on your thoughts, that you don’t notice the main problem right in front of you, brown eyes staring at you with amusement.

“Pinky lemonade?  Sweeter than I thought you would be, huh?” That smooth, dreamy voice wakes you up, making your heart suddenly flips as you finally realize who just sat beside you. He gives you another one of his charming smirks, supporting his jawline on his hand while he extends the other in your direction. “Jay. A pleasure.”

“______.” Best say your name right away than rambling trying to come up with a sentence. “I-It’s nice to meet you too. You played amazing tonight.” You can’t help but blurt your thoughts. 

“You think so?” He tilts his head, looking even more interested now, his eyes following you like a cat gazing at its prey.

You bite inside your mouth, feeling uneasy but not in a bad way. “Yeah, totally.” You nod to your own sentence. Jay tries to hold back a chuckle. “Uh, shouldn’t you be in your dressing room after playing?”

“And lose the party? What’s the fun in that?” He questions, raising his pointer finger to call the barman. “Same thing she’s having.”

Now you can’t help your chuckle. “Are you a sweet man too?” Your interest wins your nerves, showing Jay your playful side that he’ll surely enjoy in the future.

“I don’t like getting drunk. Especially not when I’ve just met a pretty girl like you.” He flirts without shame, making you swoop into his charm so easily that you even forget that you came with Ami here. Not that she wouldn't support you, anyway.

“I don’t know If I should be flattered.” But you’re not hooked enough to be fooled. Whatever this man wants with you, you want to figure it out now.

He gives you a knowing smile, as he just reads you like an open book in front of him. His pinky lemonade comes just in time for his answer, his hand holding the glass but not taking his brown eyes off you.

He wants you to know that feeling too.

“You should be.” He answers honestly, self-confidence boosting around him. “ It’s not every day that I set my eyes on someone special.” He moves to click his glass with yours, taking his time to take a small sip of his drink before leaning close to you, gaze and smirk never faltering.

“And when I find someone special, doll, I don’t lose my chance.”

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[blueberryarchive]

The One Were Jungkook;

more slasher!jk

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨; slasher, 80s, psychological horror

𝙩𝙬; heavy non-con, somnophilia, horror, violence, blood

(thank you to @hoseokshobagi for helping me with this big mess, I love u, shut up)

NY, 1985

The little ol' Brew House wasn't like the bar you went to with Jimin. It was so small that you could feel the sweat running down your back, the ghost of a hand or a glance behind you with every step. There was a sour smell of old, dried beer on the rustic green furniture and freshly disinfected vomit in the corner where Jungkook motioned for you to sit.

"Sit down, don't move."

You climbed onto the cracked brown leather stool, your bare thighs sticking to it like Velcro. A band was playing Iron Man on the other side and it was so uncoordinated that it matched the people sitting there: middle-aged men in blue-collar jobs, women in black leather skirts and foreign students with little money, underworld poets and their upper class girlfriends living the fantasy of muses sitting one their boyfriend's thighs while they discussed Bob Dylan and Williams Burroughs. A green and brown amalgam of sweaty skin drinking warm beer and watered down whiskey.

You couldn't help but compare both places.

Sweaty Joe's was a bar just two corners from the university, it was bathed in colored lights and posters as old as the owners of the place themselves. Red leather sofas were distributed in the corners and those, for years, have belonged to the Maroon Knights players.

This is where you met Jimin, it was your first week and you and Bobby Joe decided to have a beer, you two were new, smiled candidly at each gentleman who offered you another drink. You had never done that in the small town where you came from.

Jimin was celebrating his first winter tournament, his crimson cheekbones and his elegant smile conquered your heart, he let you sleep in his room in the trailer where he lived with his four brothers. His hands never took yours without first asking you, never looked away. You fell asleep so quickly in that bed while the little snores of the quaterback kept you stable, safe.

At dawn, you couldn't even see his face, you spent a week avoiding the hallways where he frequented until you did what your mother did to apologize to people: you baked some cookies. Unfortunately, he was on a diet but he still accepted them, his younger brother would eat them all with pleasure, you offered him a kiss and he let himself go.

That afternoon you lost your virginity behind his secong-hand orange Pontiac, white cotton panties crumpled and drooled between your teeth as Jimin held your calves. You cried so much that he forgot to moan, but your boyfriend wiped away each tear with his wet tongue and his thumbs until his cum fell thickly onto your skirt and his uniform.

The second time was different. What you don't know is that you cooking for him lit a spark, a simple breeze in a dry forest and you were the summer sun. You were going to be his wife, he promised you, with drooping eyelids and your pelvis on top of a pillow, his hands guiding your ass until they collided with his waist.

“I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to buy you a house and a huge ring. Fuck—you’re going to have to stop me at some point because I’m going to get you pregnant every time you smile at me, love. Doesn't Ms. Park have a ring to it?" He growled grabbing your hair to pull you closer to his sweaty chest.

“What is that pretty head of yours thinking about, huh?” Jungkook snapped his fingers at you, placing a long mug of beer in front of you. The second cigarette of the afternoon dangled between his fingers as he waited for you to take a drink, his eyes darting from your chest to your hair. “I saw you look at the ring on your finger.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me a month ago.” You said fixing the thin silver ring, a promise desperate to be fulfilled.

“How very” The boy laughed, choking on the smoke, you held the beer and took a long drink.

You realized that men when they exist in a cloud of promises and anonymity are more fuckable, because now seeing the metalhead in front of you, you just wanted to hit him.

“I don't understand why you keep yapping when you're not here to hear me speak.”

“I didn't want us to move on to fucking so quickly, but if you can't wait, then we'll make a little something in the alley.” Seeing your face blush he laughed again. “I'm kidding, doll. Don’t be so rigid.”

With a whistle, Jeon effortlessly caught the eye of a man nearby. His muscles were noticeably defined, and he sported a pair of square glasses that added a touch of charm. Dressed in a casual plaid shirt, his hair styled like a military man. Spotting Jeon, his face lit up with recognition, and he quickly closed the distance between you.

“Kim, I thought you weren't coming to the meeting.” Out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of the man's slight tensing as his friend spoke, but without skipping a beat, his hand gently landed on his friend's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"You literally said-"

"No, I didn't. Gosh, give me a break."

Hoseok looked in your direction with a hint of distrust, the creases on his face sharpening with each step you took. You walked closer, his eyes traced your body from head to toe, his initial skepticism fading away the moment he reached your side. Your little shorts and Wham! t-shirt hugged your curves tightly, clinging to your tits like a sculpture of marble.

"What's this?" Hoseok pointed at you and moved his fingers up and down.

"Come, I want to introduce you to my friend. We met in…" Jungkook's smile widened as he tilted his hand. “Well, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you have to make a place for her in the club, wouldn't you gladly have one of the sweetest pieces of meat of the whole faculty on the team, eh?”

Jungkook looked in your direction again, he knew that the way he spoke caused tremendous disgust in you and he enjoyed it. “This is Hoseok, the president of the archery club. Greet him before he hates you for some reason.”

"Shut up." Hoseok's voice cut through the air as he extended his arm to shake yours, his calloused hand brushing against your skin. His sharp eyes studied your hands intently, examining every detail. "You got weird fingers."

"Is that how you give compliments to pretty girls?"

Hoseok let out a sigh, nonchalantly plucking the cigarette from Jungkook's mouth. With a subtle gesture, he motioned for his friend to approach while bringing the cigarette to his own lips.

“If you want to fuck one of the cheerleaders, find another way, I'm not going to put her in the club, dude.” His failed attempt at whispering, which was clearly intentional, didn't escape your ears.

“Do you think I have to fuck one of you to be part of your Disney Heroe theatre team?”

Hoseok's eyebrow arched, while leaning back against the bar stool. With a confident yet subtle sway, he adjusted his posture, his pelvis shifting ever so slightly, but still managing to catch your eye. A mischievous grin formed on one side of his lips, knowing full well of the effect he had on you. “And why the hell are you looking for me if you don't need me, Barbie?"

"I'm here to let you know that I'll be waiting for you in the green area on Monday at 3, expecting you to hand me a bow and arrow," You declared, a sweet smile playing on your lips like a precious jewel shimmering beneath a cloak of innocence as you deftly snatched the cigarette from between his parted lips. "And I hope you show up with a smile that could outshine the sun and a more decent cologne."

Hoseok scoffed with raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by your little rebel talk as you took a drag from his stolen cigarette.

"You do realize you'll be the only woman in the group, right? The guys ain't going to like you, they tend to be very…"

"Terrified of women," Jeon chimed in, leaning against your shoulder.

"Exclusive," Hoseok added.

"They'll probably do a jerk-off circle if they see me in a skirt." You quipped, a sly smile playing on your lips.

The three of you looked at the cubicle where the a few memebers sat, all upper class kids who couldn't get into anything in their lives without Mommy opening the door for them first.

“Whatever, you're not even that hot, they'll live.”

You smiled, turning around on your stool to continue drinking your beer. “See you on Monday, four eyes.”

“Bye, Hobi-Bobby.” Jungkook rested his arm on the bar, his eyes positioned on your profile.

“Do you want to fuck now? I love women who know how to silence men, i'm already hard.”

"Why are you so fucking disgusting?"

"You're the one sitting next to me, you can go now." And he waited. You stayed there, speechless and waiting, too.

"Kim?"

"Who?"

“The dickhead called you Kim.”

“I don't know who that is, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You nodded. You weren't too sure now. “Are you sure you're the one I talked to that night?”

"I promise you." Jungkook dragged his stool closer to your ear, the smell of nicotine and shaving cream was pleasant, manly. "Are those sugar tits as sweet as that voice of yours?"

“What time did I call you?” You ignored his nutty breath.

“Are you questioning me now?”

"Yeah."

His jaw tensed, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“I'm going to give you some advice, doll. If you want things to go well today, don't question me.”

You felt a rush cover your back, the beer felt colder on your fingers and you were more aware of his proximity. You were in his territory, you didn't know anyone there, you were screwed.

“Can you answer me just one thing and that's it?”

Jungkook moved closer and nodded, his pupils stabbing at your lips waiting for you to say something out of line so he would have an excuse to destroy you with.

“Why do people think you are weird?”

His sigh collided with your neck, a smile woven little by little; you could see stars in his eyes when he moved back. The raw desire to show you why.

He leaned close to your ear and whispered slowly, the urge to laugh drowned out by his words. Both his hands hiding his lips like a child. You swallowed as you finished listening, a long drink to finish the remaining beer.

He pulled out a new cigarette before your eyes met his again.

“So, in your room or mine?” He mumbled before lightning the tip.

“I'm- I think I'm going home.”

"Isn't your home in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, you silly little bun'?"

The man in front of you pouted, nodding with a dejected face when he saw you stand up, the large mug of beer hitting your trembling anatomy. You wanted to vomit, to shed your own skin to pieces, to vanish, to crawl along the road back home like a mass of nerves and to sleep in your bed until you forgot what this psychopath had just hummed in your ear in the middle of the crowd.

But what did you expect? Wasn't this what you were looking for?

That's why curiosity ends up being the cruelest animal feeling. It takes you to the cheese on top of the trap, it makes you look at the sun and go blind, it makes you run through the grass until you fall at the bottom of nowhere. Voices like Jungkook's end up taking you to a seedy bar, at the mercy of God if he is even allowed in these parts.

“Come on, I'll take the bike down for you, then.”

You grabbed your backpack and walked in front of Jeon, stares like needles digging into your shorts.

Outside, his arms stretched out to take the bicycle, as light as a feather.

“I would've take you to college but-”

“I think this is where our journey ends, Jungkook.” Your voice was firm, elegant. You knew when to say goodbye.

He remained silent, one last smile as a gift. "If you say so." His hands opened dramatically to show you the road.

You raised your leg until you sat down and accelerated down the street, the sun hiding on the horizon. You didn't know if it was the wind hitting your cheeks and eyes, but you felt the cold stream go down to your neck. You wanted the road to get shorter in front of you and suddenly you were crying like a lost child, the sharp exhale stinging your lungs, you took all the alleys you recognized and the ones you didn't and you looked around at the desolate sides of New York.

Hiding from the sun your skin grew cold and the sobs turned to murmurs praying that you would return alive to the arms of Steph or Bobby Joe.

But oh, how angelic you looked with the halo of Jungkook's car headlights on your back. A honk chilled your blood until you couldn't do anything but grip the handlebars until your knuckles turned white.

“I changed my mind, I'll take you.” His breathing was jagged, he was sweating deeply, swallowing hard to hide the psychosis.

“It won't be long now and my boyfriend is waiting for me.”

“Don't worry, just load the bike and I'll drop you off at his house.”

'No' was not an answer and you knew that, no one ever said no to him. And if they did no woman managed to keep her tongue to say it.

"Roger that. Thank you, Jungkook, you are a gentleman.”

“Of course, get off the bike now.” He muttered as he snatched the iron from your hands and threw it behind his vehicle.

The trip was lethargic, the music faltered in the car with each curve until you reached a neighborhood of white houses and yellowish lights, the crickets chirped in the safe silence of a suburb. You thought about getting out when the car stopped and screaming until your lungs vomited.

But of course, when you arrived the garage door was open, the car slid across the smooth concrete without a sound.

“Do you mind if I look for a few things before I take you home?” His voice sounded so carefree that you almost believed you were going back to your dorm room. You shook your head as he went down to close the garage door, the darkness consuming your hope.

Your heart began to beat blood so fast that your hands began to try to open your door, Jungkook tilted his head at the noise until he saw your reflection in the side mirror.

"Why you do that? God, you’re so stupid.” Jungkook took your hair in his hands and without much effort dragged you out of the vehicle and onto the garage floor. His hand covered your mouth, his calloused and sweaty fingers undoing the button on your Levi's until they stuck to your ankles.

“It's only once, you have to reward me for the beer you had, you know?” His voice burned in your ear along with the beating of your heart, a light hum of your soul trying to get away from your dirty body.

“Mm-” You groaned as you felt the fabric of his jeans mold between your ass. Moving was in vain, fighting a mere fantasy.

“Just a quickie and then I'll drop you off, don't be so rigid.”

Your body was puppeteered to the living room with dim lights, curved and modern furniture that someone paid great attention to match with the upholstery and the carpet that decorated the floor.

And your body was thrown to the edge of the pink couch, the metal underneath the cloth digging into your stomach, your ass in the air as you felt cold hands remove your underwear. Why weren't you moving? Why did you let this happen to you? What was your mom doing right now? You thought of her chubby body moving around her room while organizing her dresses, folding the flowery pieces and tucking in it away in her closet. Peacefully humming gospel songs.

Warm spit fell onto your pussy and you closed your eyes, the last tear creating a shadow on the corrugated carpet as Jungkook slid his cock around the entrance to wet the entire area. The phone rang five, six, ten times next to you. Beep.

Hello, you are calling the sweet home of Bee, Dr. Kim and Taehyung. We are on vacation in Florida, but when we arrive we will take your message. Bye bye!

Who were the animated voices humming on the phone and why was Jungkook's voice there? You looked at the stranger loosening his grip on the sudden crackling laughter coming from the small speaker on the phone.

"Fuck." The now stranger mumbled, holding your neck with his forearm.

"You got the wrong kid, callgirl." And your eyes opened like a full moon, you looked at the closed windows of the room. “Taehyung, you have ten to hide.”

"Shit." Taehyung whimpered behind you pushing your body to the ground, instinctively you grabbed his leg causing his body to fall to the ground next to yours.

If you were going to die today, you wouldn't do it alone.

"Five, six…"

“What the fuck are you doing, you fucking whore?! I will die if he finds me.” His reddened face dragged trying to take your sudden weight and strength off of him. It was useless. Black Sabbath began to play above the house, reverberating, like thousands of wasps between the walls. “I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please. Let me go."

Taehyung's head reached the kitchen when a worn military boot stopped his movements. The muddy sole of the boot collided with Taehyung's head, making it bounce again and again and again against the wood of the kitchen. It was a hollow, wet sound, more forceful with each blow.

You leaned your body back until you collided with the sofa, your nails anchored in the carpet.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, ple-” Taehyung tried to speak until the boot took the last hit and his jaw hung from his mouth like a toy. His eyes looked back with mercy. Run, he shouted to you with his bleeding eyes, run until you die but run. A broomstick passed through his mouth until his body bounced once more. And then...

So still.

Drool was falling from the corners from having your mouth open for so long. Why didn't you run? Is it that the boot you were looking for so long? Was the cruelty of being curious true?

An excessively tall figure passed through the kitchen frame, avoiding Taehyung's lifeless body. Black was the first thing you saw: the dirty jeans, the leather jacket tied around his waist, the Motley Crue tank top pressing against his chest and shoulders. Sweat dripped from his mullet to his tattoos.

His face, soft and covered in red. His oval nose and thin lips, eyes like a dead deer. Metal surrounding the room like the choir of fallen angels.

It was him, it was Jungkook.

“Poor little thing.” He licked his lips as he held your chin so you were looking at him. “Look at you, so afraid of that fucking-” he growled under his breath, getting down to your level.

"Please don't kill me." You cried, the air was thick, like sulfur around him.

“I didn't promise you that in the call, baby. Did you forget already?"

His hands were delicate under your armpits until he lifted you up and took your body to the furniture sitting you on top of his wide thighs. Your body looking at the turned off television, the curved reflection showed the difference in size. You were a doll on top of that beast.

“Put your foot up.” He ordered as he grabbed your knee to help you put on your Levi's with the softness of a creature in feather hands. "Stop crying."

“I can't, I'm too scared, I want to go home.”

"Pity." Jungkook sighed, taking your underwear from his jeans, wet with some chemical. His tattooed fingers took the flimsy cotton to your nose. Bitter at first and then it burned in your lungs. “Don't try to fight it, it'll be worse for you, baby. Atta girl, just let go, inhale.” His voice was serious, unharmed, like an anesthetic just like the clorophorm. There was no harm in closing your eyes if you were in the great hands of a beast, a mammoth.

"I like you girls manageable, stupid." Was the last thing you heard, a smile grazing your neck.

Your body rose without permission, abrupt. The pain was immeasurable.

“Jimin, she's up!” You heard a small voice in the corner of a familiar room, the sheets rough and thick.

The silhouette of Jimin's younger brother ran to the kitchen. The other two brothers approached the door, their blond heads peeking out. Jimin pushed them until he reached you.

“Hyung-”

“Shut the door, JP. I’m sick of you, just eat your fucking breakfast and get out of the house.” Jimin shouted, looking at his brothers out of the corner of his eye.

The slow footsteps receded and Jimin turned his attention to you.

“Love, no, don't cry. I'm here.”

His name fell from your lips desperately as you squeezed his face, consuming every detail so your body knew it was real and wouldn't squirm like a worm.

“Breathe with me, come on.”

You closed your eyes hugging your boyfriend's neck.

“Come on, I've prepared a hot bath for you in the twins' room.” You shook your head frantically without breaking away. “It's just to get the mud off your body, then we'll go back to bed.”

"Mud?"

“Minjun found you outside this morning, do you know where you were last night, who did this to you?”

You grabbed the sheets and uncovered your body, bruises covering your legs and stomach. The dried mud covering the sheets of Jimin's bed. A scream choked in your throat.

“Its okay, I can change the sheets. Don’t worry about that. Let's go champ, up.” Jimin patted your injured thigh so you would chain your legs around his abdomen. With a grunt, Jimin lifted you up and carried you to a makeshift tub of hot water.

The little beds were together on one side of the small room, a metal tub emanating sweet steam covering the walls of the room in a thin web of drops.

“Raise your arms.” Jimin kissed your neck gently, the nausea returning little by little but you just let your body melt in the arms of the only person who mattered. His eyes shone with the concern of a father, he undressed you as quickly as possible so that the bruises didn't have time to hurt. Reaching your shorts, he knelt in front of you and stared at your tired face.

“I shouldn't have gone to the bar last night.” He wavered his speech for a second as he slowly lowered the zipper.

“Shh.” Your hand fell into his messy hair, he was still wearing his pajamas, what time did Jungkook throw you in front of Jimin's trailer?

The silence became strange, different. You didn't understand Jimin's sudden furrowed eyebrows when he took off your Levi's.

“Minnie?”

“Motherf-” Jimin stood up and hit the wall hard. His body turned around until he was looking at the jeans on the floor again. “That's it, I'm calling Yoongi.”

"What? Yoongi, what for? Minnie, don't leave, please."

"Don't move!"

Your boyfriend disappeared from the room before you asked him what was happening. You sighed with a heavy heart as you walked in pain to the mirror on the wall: a wide, slimy stain extended from front to back of your panties, hickies covered your stomach. The pants fell to the floor and you went to the mirror on the wall.

Your trembling finger curved until you felt the hole between your legs, the whitish and salty cum thread stretched from your entrance to your shocked face.

You don't remember Taehyung penetrating you. Was Jungkook such an animal that he came inside while you were passed out? How could he?

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed silently, the pain was unbearable around your waist and legs, pussy still numb and you could only remember the patterns on the carpet.

Cruel curiosity.

[whoisshel]

With the Band

Lewis Pullman x fem!reader

I can see the sweat dripping down Lewis’ face as he rapidly slams his drumstick down to the fast-paced tempo of the song. His once-white shirt is now almost transparent as it clings to the sweat perspiring from his body. Most of his hair is hidden by his navy hat, but I can still see the locks that are overgrown linger on his neck. I can tell from his scrunched-up nose and frown that he’s regretting wearing his new pair of blue jeans that are still stiff.

From where I stand, I can smell the saltiness as it blends in with the alcohol that clings to every inch of the small dive bar. My feet try to follow along to the beat, but continuously misstep as they stick to the ground from the unwashed floor. I can barely hear my voice over the instrumental as I sing-a-long to my favorite song. 

I keep my eyes attached to every movement Lewis makes, when he reaches over to his symbol or when he nods his head up and down to keep his rhythm. My eyes follow his as they search the crowd. When his blue eyes meet mine it’s like two oceans combining together and creating something more special than just a body of water. I suddenly no longer feel claustrophobic from all the surrounding patrons. When he smiles at me, my heart expands to every inch of my body. Crickets awaken in my stomach their song vibrates my brain to one hazy thought of comfort in knowing that I never have to fear loneliness again.

When he turns back to prepare for the next song, everything is finite once again. I never have to fear the end. I will have a lifetime of the feeling of my fingers dancing through soft sandy hair. Every Thursday, I will forever be reminded of the tangy flavors squeezing onto every taste bud when I have a bite of an orange from his parent’s backyard. Every time I smell mint leaves and vanilla Madagascar, I immediately think of Lewis.

As soon as the next song starts, the room becomes muggy again as everyone begins to dance. I continue to stand in one place bobbing my head and tapping my foot as I watch Lewis move his drumstick from one spot to another. I take a sip from the foggy glass in my hand welcoming the fuzzy feeling.

After three more songs, the band finishes up thanking the crowd before leaving the stage. Lewis set his sight on me, pushing as fast as he could over, securing his arms around my waist. Matching his embrace, I wrap my arms around his neck inhaling mint and vanilla. Murmuring our affections into each other’s ears over the loud stereo filling the space.

[dilucsflame33]

Ohmygosh, i stumbled upon your cocktails and im in love<3 may i get a raphaels fire whiskey?🐢 please and thank you!!

Pocky Challenge 🌸🔥

I decided to do the 4-1 challenge for February and doing this request at the same time. I hope that's okay, love! ^^

Warning:

Heavy kissing, teasing, and flirting but that's all. Plus, it's Raphael. This man can flirt. 🫠

Word count: 707

It was like any other time at the lair for you. 

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while Mikey was sitting on the floor playing video games. Genshin Impact.

“What’s your favorite character in the game?” You asked at random while he just killed a boss for ascension materials. 

The orange terrapin hummed in thought. “There’s a lot of characters I like playable wise but, if we’re going for the storyline I would say Yoimiya.” 

You smiled, knowing the cheerful woman would be a good match for the hyper turtle. Both love kids and people. Not only that, she kicks butt. 

“Sadly, I don’t have her.” He sighed with yearning. “I will gladly be a Yoimiya main, if this game will let me have the characters I want. This gacha game is terrible but it’s so addicting”

“I would never doubt that.” You said as you patted his shoulder. “I wish you luck.”

Mikey laughed, knowing that he needs a lot of it for a game like this. 

And money.

“I’m guessing you’re going to see Raph, right?” Mikey said as he watched you getting up from the couch. “Take these with you. These are Raph’s and I don't want him to get mad if he finds out I took his snacks.”

You rolled your eyes as your palms took hold of the pocky sticks. Strawberry flavored. Smirk on your face, you trudged to where the brute was located.

You could hear his grunts and puffs of air when he exhaled as he bench pressed sewer man-hole covers. His strength never fails to surprise you; Raphael shows off his muscle and proved it on the battlefield. Yes, his brothers are strong but there was something about him that gets your heart pumping. He’s a blunt man, and doesn't like beating around the bush. Not only that, he doesn’t take crap from anyone. 

Especially his brother. 

You bit your lip when he grunt once again as he raised his arms with the bar, biceps bulging as he placed back to its decimated place. Raph sat up and exhaled, lifting a water bottle and swallowed the liquid inside. Your eyes can’t help but stare as he devoured the clear contents and sighed when he was done; a towel around his shoulders as he wiped the sweat from his face.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Voice gruff and masculine, he turned his head and looked at you with a smirk. His emerald eyes hold a teasing nature in them and it makes your heart do things that it shouldn’t be healthy. 

“What if I am?” You flirted back as you stepped forward, standing in front of your red banded boyfriend. His hands, large and calloused, came to your waist and pulled you to him. “I have a challenge for you, something you can’t deny.” You know that he will never back down from a challenge, especially if it’s with you. 

His brow raised with interest. “Challenge, huh? I’m listenin’.”

That’s when he saw the strawberry pocky in your hand, knowing where this was going. And this man is enjoying the challenge already. “If you’re wanting a make-out session, you don’t need sweets for that.” He said as his hand was laced into your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. “You already taste sweet, baby doll. If you’re trying to give me cavities, I will gladly own it.”

You laughed and kissed his forehead. “Then do the challenge with me and we’ll see.”

Raph snickered as you grabbed the cookie out of the box and placed it on end to your lips, the strawberry flavoring hitting your taste buds. The man can’t help but crave the treat in front of him.

And he’s not talking about the cookie. 

With a new sense of determination, he leaned to you. His lips were about to take a bite, but he took the whole stick into his mouth and kissed you with passion. A gasp left your lips as his tongue invaded your warm cavern, hands on his shoulders as he pulled away. Completely dazed with the hot fiery passion of his lips, Raphael ate the cookie and smirked. 

“You should know not to challenge me, doll. Otherwise, I will leave ya breathless.”

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Here's my Master List!

🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST 🔞

[niragisqueenofhearts]

~Lured to the music.~

Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+‼️MINORS DNI‼️ nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, semi public sex, brief mention of violence, drinking, smoking (cigarettes)

Word count: (rechecking...)

A/N: Just a cute little dabble i thought of last night. I’ve been obsessing over Joaquin and his characters lately so i thought why not add him to the roster. I’m not the type to add music to fanfiction but two songs i listened to helped inspired this- I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good by The Oscar Peterson trio and If i tell you I love you by Melody Margot. Do with that information what you will.

More fanfics to come!

Enjoy!

————

This was it, everything Arthur has ever dreamed of was finally happening tonight.

Tonight, he was going to be on the Murray Franklin show.

He strutted down the streets in a red suit, complimented with a green dress shirt, orange vest, a face of clown makeup and a head full of green locks to top it all off. He hummed a melody to himself as he made his way down the sidewalk, taking brief moments to dance and bask in his own glory as he passed by the many windows, each with their respective people inside looking over at him. They were all staring up at him like they had never seen anyone like him before. He smiled, waved, even blew kisses as he basked in his glory.

Arthur's actions soon came to a halt as a sound caught his attention. Down this very small driveway like a path, he could hear the faint sound of a piano playing. A soothing jazz melody wisped through the air and into Arthur's ears, his curiosity peaked, and he'd decided that he needed to find out where it was coming from. Sure, he had somewhere to go, but a little detour never killed anybody, right?...

Arthur followed the music, the notes getting louder with each minute as he searched for the source, and very soon he found it. The music led him to this scenic hideaway. He looked through the windows to see the space filled with the regular white collared joes, all enjoying a drink as they spoke to each other. Arthur hated these guys, the ones who had it easy, the ones who used mommy and daddy's money to fuel their own selfish lives while people like him died in the dirt. No, Arthur would not stand it. Not anymore. Tonight was a night when the world would be set straight, to get him and others like him justice - one way or another.

Arthur pushed open the glass door that stood before him and ventured in. The smell of smoke, alcohol and sweat greeted him immediately. The music had a hold on him and was pulling him closer. The workers around him all took brief glances at him, the usual side eye, furrowed brows and judgement passed all around him, Arthur didn't care, he just wanted the music. The bar seemed like something out of an old mafia movie, it was dimly lit with lamps in the corners.

The bar sat to the left of the area, it's counter lined with the same copy and paste guy wearing the usual black trousers and white button-down shirt. Further down to the back was a stage where the band sat. The gentleman that sat on the piano looked at his instrument with such love as his fingers plucked the strings so diligently. Arthur smiled, swaying his body gently to the melody that danced around him, getting lost to its beauty.

He did a quick spin and as he stopped, there you were. Like the other men you were wearing the matching attire, except a skirt, black pumps and pantyhose. You sat on the stool with a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Your eyes were closed as you swayed with the music's melody, taking the occasional sip of your drink or a drag of your cigarette. Soon you gave up on nursing the drink and just gulped it back in one swipe before placing the glass onto the small table next to you. Must've been a pretty hard day at work. Arthur wondered what you did for work. Probably some type of accounting or something.

Suddenly the piano stopped, the quiet rustling of things filled the room before a quiet "Two, three, four." count. Then the next song began to play, this one was more upbeat, with lyrics of the inadequacies of words and the depth to feelings to prove of love. You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out into the ashtray next to your glass and rising from your seat. You wanted to dance. You stumbled slightly as you walked away towards the dance floor but managed to keep the rhythm as you made your way onto the dance floor. Arthur grinned at your clumsiness as he watched you, clearly, you've had a bit more than just the one scotch he saw you nestling on.

It all seemed to change once your heels clicked onto the tile floor. The music took over, like a marionette puppet and you begin to twist, and turn and sway with the music that poured in. Arthur watched you like a hawk, even stepping away slightly to adore the full body vision before him. The passion in your body, the anger, the love in every move and gesture. It was all so real. The song seemed to come alive. Like a siren leading a sailor to the slaughter, you enticed and tantalized those around you and a death Arthur welcomed.

Slowly he made his way toward you, watching your body as he mirrored your rhythm with his, and that's when it happened. A single graze of fingers across you looked and gazed upon the clown that stood less than an arm’s length away from you. Maybe it was because you had a few to drink, maybe it was because you didn't care, but there was something about this clown that intrigued you. Something in his eyes, or maybe his outfit or maybe it's the fact that you haven't seen somebody like him before. Whatever it was, you let the magic of this person fill you, he pulled your soul from its cage, leaving you feeling free and wild.

Arthur gently took his hand in yours, in a swift motion he spun you to face him, his other arm snaked around your waist. The two of you stood there just for a moment. He was waiting, waiting for you to do something. Scream, push him away and call him a creep, but you didn't. Instead, you brought your other arm around his neck, and now began this tango of your own making. The two of you moved like dancing figures in a choreographed routine. Now you were no professional dancer, and neither was Arthur, but the two of you together danced like how the ocean flowed. Your intricate footwork like you had rehearsed, the way he pressed you against him, how you both molded perfectly together, and how you both held on for dear life to each other. There was nothing in the world but you two. And it felt so good to have someone so beautiful at your side.

At a point in the dance, he'd release your hand and let his fall to your hip. You'd let your now free hand rest upon the back of his neck, softly playing with his waved ends. The two of you were so close, you could feel his heartbeat against your skin. Your eyes never once left his. In just that moment you both were connected, spiritually, emotionally, physically. As the last seconds of the song played, he dipped you before bringing you back up to him. He leaned closer into you, your noses grazing together as you both fought the urge to just kiss right then and there.

"You're a good dancer." You finally spoke.

"I know." He responded, a smirk beginning to creep on his face.

He held you until you balanced, then finally released your hips. Your body ached for his touch but neither of you made any move to leave.

"What's your name?" you asked, as you stared into the blue depths of his eyes.

"Arthur." He answered quietly. He gave on last polite smile before turning and walking over to the door.

You couldn't just leave it there surely, so you began to follow him. You walked as carefully as you could through the crowd before stumbling on your heel and tripping into two gentlemen, who had now spilled their drinks onto each other.

"Fuck!" One cursed while the other groaned and turned to face you. You stepped back slowly, your hands on your agape mouth.

"I am so sorry."  You exclaimed as you looked between the two, a hand over your forehead.

"Jesus Christ, could you have been a little more careful?"

"This stain is never going to come out!"

One by one, the men berated you for a simple accident. You didn't really care about their feelings, you just wanted to speed this up to catch the clown about to leave.

"I'll buy you another drink-"

"Oh, so you can spill it on us again? Jesus what is wrong with you?" One of the men interrupted as he grabbed napkins to clean himself and his colleague off.

"I'm sorry." You said again as you attempted to head toward the door, unfortunately, one of the men grabbed your arm.

"No sweetheart, you need to take care of this. This is a very expensive shirt that you ruined."

"Just send me the bill." You grimaced at the touch of the man as you tried to pull away from him.

"Oh honey, I think it's going to take more than that." The man spoke condescendingly.

You've seen this before all the time. Men not taking you seriously in the working world of corporate. Men who objectified and sexualized you, who thought you were some sort of toy to be used and thrown away, people who thought they were better than everyone else.

"Get off of me!" You shouted as you made another attempt to release yourself from the brute. And just when you thought things we're getting bad, a single punch hit the man that held you captive and he fell to the ground almost instantly. The other gentleman raised his fists, prepared to fight which was interrupted by the cocking of a gun and the barrel aimed in his face.

He slowly unclenched his fists and held his hands up in mercy as he lowered himself onto the seat. "Woah man."

Soon another witness caught sight of the weapon and that's when hell broke loose.

"Gun!" Yelled a voice and soon the entire crowd, including the band members and bartenders all ducked down for cover. You looked up at the armed assailant to see the same clown face you’d known from before. Arthur came back.

He took your hand in his, and with the gun still held tightly in his other hand, he dragged you out of the bar, and started running.

As Arthur pondered where you two were going to go to hide from any potential police on their way, you were more surprised with the fact that you were able to keep up with Arthur while wearing stilettos. The sound of sirens in the distance caught your attention and then you both really started to panic.

Arthur found a shortcut which landed y'all in an alley behind a vacant building that used to be a restaurant. You both ducked behind some wooden boxes and crates that sat there as a police car drove past, coming back out from the cover once the coast was clear.

You panted as you tried to regain your breath, the adrenaline was pumping though your veins and you couldn't stop shaking from both fear and excitement. You leaned against the stack of boxes behind you. "Holy shit."

You hadn't noticed the way Arthur looking you, his eyes roamed you from top to bottom, his gaze travelling from head to toe and back again in wonderment and awe. He licked his lips as he stared you down like he'd been stranded in the dessert for days, and you were a bottle of water. Boy was he thirsty...

He inched closer to you, closing the space between you too. You noticed this, finally looking up at him and your breath hitched as he stood just a breath or two away from you. He placed a hand on the boxes, holding himself up as he leaned into you. His heavy breathing caressed your lips and made you shudder ever so slightly. Your heart was racing at the mere proximity. Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel yourself growing hot under his intense stare. He took one more good look at you before finally crashing his lips against yours.  At first you were startled by his sudden boldness, but after just a second, you embraced his embrace, returning his embrace.

The kiss started slowly, soft but firm. Slowly, your tongues began to duel with each other as Arthur took control and gently pushed you backwards into the boxes and crates behind you. You moaned as he nibbled your bottom lip.

You brought your hand to cup his cheek and the other to snake around his neck. He followed suit, wrapping a hand around your waist and the other making way to the back of your thighs, beginning to gather your skirt above your knees. His fingertips grazed your skin lightly, leaving trails of heat in their path.  You gripped tightly onto him for dear life, trying desperately to make this as perfect as it could be. You gasp as you felt his nails dig into your soft flesh before running his palm over it, soothing the ache. In a swift motion, he lifted you onto the stack of crates. You helped him, removing the hand from his neck to pull your skirt up further. The sound of the unbuckling of his belt soon followed.

He pulled away from the kiss leaving you breathless. You watched as he loosened his pants completely, finally reaching into his underwear and pulling out his more than eager member. For a guy as skinny as Arthur, he sure was very well endowed. You reached between your thighs and pulled your panties to the side, you were ready for him, you needed him.

He placed one hand on the small of your back bringing you towards him as he guided himself to your entrance.  You shivered as he slipped inside of you, feeling the tip of his sex stretching you open for him, then the rest of his length followed.

You exhaled a sharp breath as he bottomed into you, holding onto his waist. You stayed there for a moment, Arthur relished the feeling of your wet heat engulfing into him, then he pulled back and delivered a hard thrust making you gasp, then another, then another and another....

Each thrust Arthur delivered, you met with them every time, thrusting your hips towards him. He'd release the crates and wrap both arms around you, one tightly around your waist and the other around your back, his hand gripping the base of your neck as he brought you closer to him. He picked up his pace, thrusting deeper and harder and faster until the sounds of your pleasure filled the quiet night air. You gripped onto his shoulders as the crates rocked with the fervor. Arthur's quite moans and grunts of pleasure filled your ears as yours filled, his strong fingers digging into your flesh were bound to leave bruises.

It wasn't long before you felt that familiar pool of heat beginning to fill your loins, you were close and so was Arthur.  He pressed himself fully within you, causing your walls to wrap tighter around him.

You both continued to move with a frenzy, both of you losing control. Both of you moaned out in unison, as you'd finally approached your climax. It felt like hours had passed and yet it wasn’t nearly enough time at the same time. You threw your head back as your orgasm ripped through you, shudders and shivers ran through your spine. Arthur held onto you tighter than ever as he grinded his hips into you, filling you with every drop of essence spilled into you.

The both of you huffed into the air as you recollected yourself from such a powerful orgasm, your chests heaved with each breath you took. Arthur pulled out of you completely, and readjusted himself, placing his cock back in his pants and zipping it up. He smiled softly at the state of you as he helped you readjust yourself, pulling your skirt back down to its respective length and helping you back onto your feet. You were disheveled, your lips painted with the red paint he wore on his face, and your hair a mess from how much sweat and exertion you put forth, and it was all because of him...

He cupped your face before bringing you back into another hard kiss, imprinting the color once more before pulling away with a gleeful smile. "Enjoy the show." Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion to his words. What did he mean? Enjoy the show? That was a weird comment if there ever was one.

It was all he said before he went on his way, pulling a cigarette out of his coat and striking a flame on the end of it.

You took one more deep breath as you can feel the emptiness around you now that he was gone. You shook the feeling as you noticed how late it was getting; you'd better hurry up before protest became more riley.

On your walk home, you caught glimpse of yourself in a window, catching the red paint that stained your face. With your sleeve, you rubbed yourself raw, even spitting onto the fabric to be sure you got every trace of it off. God forbid your roommate caught that when you got home, that'd be a very awkward conversation to have.

"Hey, I'm home." You announced yourself as you entered your apartment, your roommate Marcelle sat on the couch watching tv. She turned to look at you.

"Hey, oh... Are you okay?" She asked, her brows furrowing in concern.

"Yeah..." You answered. "Why?"

"You look really flushed, are you getting sick?"

Your eyes widened at her comment, if only she knew the events that occurred earlier.

"No, I'm fine. Had to walk past some guys fighting because of the protest hubbub, it's got me a bit shaken up." You lied to her. 

She shook her head in disbelief as she took her gaze back to the television. "People are just crazy these days..."

You chuckled. "Yeah."

You made your way into the kitchen and opened the fridge, disappointed to see the lack of sustenance that sat inside.

"Don't worry about dinner, I ordered a pizza." Marcelle spoke loudly from the living room.

"I love you." You responded as you made your way toward the couch.

"I know." Marcelle smiled. "Come, watch something with me." She patted the seat next to her on the couch. You accepted taking the seat.

"Okay... What are we watching?"

"The Murray Franklin show."

[dynamoe]

Billy Quizboy as the rabbit-toothed guitarist DAVE HILL of glam rock band SLADE— sporter of the worst bangs in rock n' roll history*— circa their 1973 Christmas #2 Merry Christmas Everybody**, which was covered as the annual Venture Bros holiday song this year by Pete White, Master Billy Quizboy, his mom and her lovers (the elderly superhero polycule).

→ hear the cover on KenPlume's youtube → go to the Billy Quizboy & Pete White index

(I know with the orange hair/eyepatch he looks like Ziggy Stardust— the Quizboy:Slade ratio is a delicate balance.)

Merriest Twelfth Day of Christmas to you, to Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer and to Slade and anyone else still reading who gives a shit.

Slade is more of a British thing, really. They had a ton of British hits in the 1970s as a glam rock band, but didn't break into the US until the 1980s (when they replaced Ozzy Osborne at the Reading Festival) with Cum on Feel the Noize, pivoting to be more hard rock/metal.

Noddy Holder was more of the “face” of Slade (head to toe plaid, mutton chops, tophat covered in mirrors). I suspect the all-plaid outfit on Col. Gentleman in the Vbros cover art is a take on Noddy's look... or he ignored the brief and dressed as one of Scotland's own Bay City Rollers. Slade suffered from a lesser case of Cheap Trick syndrome, where every member dressed like they were in a different band. Dave dressed full spaceman-- face glitter, every variety of metallic fabric available (lurex, glitter knit, vinyl, lamé) in shades of silver. The other guitarist whose name I won't look up wore a red lurex suit (I guess that would be Pete's outfit in their cover band) which he had to keep replacing because he sweated so much on stage the fibers literally melted (one of the suits was preserved by the V&A on an episode of Secrets of the Museum)... No one cares about the drummer. 

The only reason I know anything about Slade — I'm no rock trivia geek, I’m a comedy nerd — Slade was a constant punchline in 1990s Brit Comedy. Noddy appeared on Never Mind the Buzzcocks in the LaMar era. 1993 sketch show The Smell of Reeves and Mortimer had a recurring mini-sitcom “Slade in Residence” (the band living in a suburban home together, wearing their stage costumes, eating nothing but cup-of-soup, obsessing over monster truck rallies and­— the key to their appeal to Vic and Bob, I imagine­— whining in thick Black Country accents.)

Billy is my Covid muse and if he stars in the annual Christmas cover (he had only sung before on 2006's VentureAid; read poems on their take on the Beatles Fan Club records), it's not like I CAN'T draw something despite saying I was done with this shit. I promised you guys a *technically* Christmas Billy drawing and I *technically* delivered.

Now I'm gonna switch to drawing characters I own so I can finally make some money. Godblessuseveryone. ___

*Dave Hill was just being a futuristic spaceman, those micro-bangs were the hottness on all the skater girls of the late 1990s. I even had 'em.

**Having the #1 song at Christmas is a big deal in the UK (as you may remember from the Bill Nighy segments from Love Actually) and the 1973 slug match between Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody and the eventual winner Wizzard’s I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday looms large in music trivia, to the degree that I was sure Astrobot Go was going to release a cover a day later of some other (more fan-favored) characters doing their version of Wizzard to rain on Billy et. al’s parade.

→ Wizzard

So which character dons the beard and harlequin eye facepaint to be the guy from Wizzard? Probably Hank, right?

→ go to the Billy Quizboy & Pete White index → Nobody'sSweetheart on Instagram

[mrs-takami-keigo]

King of the Clouds Chapter 7

Main Pairing: Hawks/Quinn(OC)

Story Rating: Explicit! 18+

Genre: Romance/Action/ Smut

Words: 4.4K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pain….that's all I felt. From my head all the way down my body, just pain. I groaned as I turned my head, I could feel something soft underneath my head, a pillow. Cracking my eyes open slightly I could see the faint outline of my posters of the artist I love decorating the pale blue walls of my bedroom. My room? My apartment! I was in my apartment. Slowly I moved my arms, using my elbows to help me sit up. 

The room was dizzy, as if it was constantly spinning, like a merry go round. My legs felt like jelly as I placed my bare feet on the cold hardwood floors. Moving the blanket off my legs I realized my brunt up dress was long forgotten. The garment was replaced with sweat pants and an old band T-shirt I got from a concert years ago. 

‘How did I get up here?’ I remember getting dropped off by Daichi, the fight with the league and… “The boys!” I stood up fast, too fast. But I had to make sure they were okay, I will not be the one responsible for them getting hurt! My heart was racing in my chest so fast I could feel it against my ribcage. My eyesight was shit, everything was hazy, I slammed my knee against the vanity as I stumbled towards my bedroom door Swinging it open I was met with someone sitting on my couch. WIth my sight being so distorted I could only see a silhouette of the person. My breath felt shallow in my chest as the person stood up, facing me. 

‘No!’

“Whoa there firebird.”

“TOGA!!” I will not be fooled again. Grabbing the white and gold lamp on the small table closest to me, I used what little strength I had left, throwing it at his head. Those damn fake vermilion feathers were able to block it from making contact. I could feel my rage coming back consuming me again, the feeling of heat encased around my arms. I still didn’t have enough strength to use my powers to fend this person off, but I’ll be damned if I get taken out like this.

“Toga?! Quinn it’s me, real me!” Using fierce wings the fake floated through the room dodging whatever I could find to throw at them. 

“Like I would ever believe you bitch!” Mustering up as much strength as I could I ran straight for the imposter, pushing him up against the large window. My left forearm was pressed against their throat, pushing them harder into the glass. Raising my right arm, I aimed for their face, ready to send this villain flying out the window. The person growled before I felt a hand grab the back of my shirt pulling at me. I knew I was running on adrenaline alone, but that didn’t stop me from being flipped over. 

“I said,” Now my back was pressed against the glass. The arm that was pressed against their neck was now above my head. Jerking my body forward trying to escape their grasp they had on me, I was met with another low growl. A large hand grabbed my other arm, pressing against the glass as well. They pressed their body against mine, ceasing all movement from me.  I could feel body heat, and not my own, it was his. 

“It’s me Quinn, Hawks…Keigo!” I was starting to see clearly again, his golden eyes staring into my own brown ones. They were intense, filled with worry and conviction. His chest was pressed against mine, Hawks was breathing heavily. My own breath matched his rhythm, his scent of orange blossom and wood accord invaded my senses. The fog of rage lifted from my body, allowing me to take in my surroundings. My once clean and neat apartment was a giant mess, glass broken everywhere, a couple of my throw pillows split open. The coffee table in the center of my living room was flipped on its side, whatever was on top of it was thrown to the ground.

“Keigo?” My voice came out as a shaky whisper. I felt like all the air rushed back into my lungs. He was real, he was really here. I couldn’t stop the tears starting to build in the corners of my eyes. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah fire bird it’s really me.” The hands holding both my arms slid down them, slowly making their way to the sides of my face before finding purchase on both sides of my jaw, his fingers on the side of my neck, his thumbs gently rubbing my cheek. His eyes had never left mine, not for an instance. Those once fierce golden eyes had turned into a soft molten, as if he was staring at something that was going to break at any second. And boy was he.

My body went limp against him, my eyes shut. I overdid it once again, I should have known better but I guess you could say that is one of my true weaknesses. I just don’t know when to stop. 

“And there we go, I got cha.” One of his arms wrapped itself around my waist holding me up. I felt as he slightly bent down to scoop the back of my legs with his other arm.  My arms wound themselves around his neck, my head was laying on his chest. His heartbeat was like a mesmerizing metronome.

‘Ba-dum, Ba-dum.’ 

The soft feeling of my mattress met my aching back, Hawks’ body still hovered over mine as he laid me down. He made sure to add support to my neck and head as he guided the pillow behind me making sure I was comfortable. The soft and hefty feeling of my comforter covered my body, I felt warm, felt at peace. 

“You need anything?” He whispered, even as a whisper his voice still had a soft roughness to it. It was calming, his presence was calming. Each breath I took was deep, trying to regulate my heart beat from the rush of what transpired earlier.

“No, I just need to sleep.” He hummed at my response. Standing up straight, the younger man turned to leave my room. And without me even thinking I reached a hand out grabbing the loose part of his cargo pants. I watched as he turned over his shoulder, shock in his eyes. 

“What’s the matter?” 

He turned his body towards me, crouching down beside my bed. That large hand had returned to the side of my neck again, continuing the same soft caress with his thumb like before. “ Stay.” I looked at him, my eyes were pleading with him, I just couldn’t be alone right now. 

“Of course dove.” Last thing I saw before sleep grabbed a hold of my consciousness was Hawks smiling a soft smile and him sitting on the ground next to my bed, his hand still where he left it. 

 I awoke to the feeling of bright rays of sunshine creeping through the tall windows of my room. The only difference from last time and this time was that I felt at least seventy percent better. Still had a few aches in my body, but that was nothing that a hot bath couldn’t fix. 

Another difference was that my hand felt heavy and there was something brushing against my arm. Looking down to my right, Hawks was right where I last saw him. Sitting on my floor, slumped on the side of my bed, hand holding mine. His fluffy blonde hair had fallen in his face, framing it ever so beautifully. His face looked so serene as he slept, his plump lips were slightly apart allowing small even breaths to flow past them. His large calloused hand was still in my soft ones, every so often I could feel him squeeze it. It was like he was subconsciously making sure I was still there.

‘Oh crap.’ I could feel those butterflies soar in the pit of my stomach and my heart racing so hard in my chest, I thought it was going to pop out. 

“Hey bird boy wake up.” Taking my left hand I reached over to shake his shoulder. “C’mon Hawks it’s time to wake up.” He wasn’t budging. ‘I wonder?’ I am not sure why I did it but it only felt right. Gently I took the hand I was using to shake his shoulder, to card through those wild blonde locks. It felt like my hand was passing through silk. Using my nails I passed them over his scalp, before keeping my hand against the base of his neck.

“Keigo…” I leaned over and whispered to the sleeping man, giving his hand that was in mine a squeeze back.

“Quinn?” The blonde lifted his head, eyes still trying to stay open as he did so. Once he realized it was me that woke him up he was on his feet. “You okay? Are you hurting anywhere?” His eyes were frantically scanning my body. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how wild he looked at that moment.

“I’m fine. I just need to take either a hot bath or a hot shower.” I sat up in my bed, pushing my back against the headboard. “You stayed down there all night?” I could see the relief wash over his body as he sighed. Grabbing the chair at my vanity, he sat beside me again. 

“Uh, yeah I guess so. I pretty much passed out right after you did.” Hawks scratched the back of his neck, his eyes closed as he sent me one of his charming smiles my way. Pretty sure those damn butterflies turned into a swarm now. 

“What happened after I blacked out?” I looked down at my hands as my thumbs played with each other. “Deku and Bakugou, are they okay?” My voice was sullen, quiet as I spoke.

“Yeah they were fine, by the time some pro’s showed up Deku was the first one to reach you breaking your fall and Bakugou was trying to do crowd control.” 

I chuckled at the thought of that, maybe it should have been Deku taking care of the crowd, not that firecracker. 

“I’m glad they are okay.” I looked up at him, “And what about Daichi, is he alright. He shouldn’t have been caught in this mess, he is just a civilian.” 

“Well about that,” Hawks’ face turned serious, his voice had dropped a pitch. “There was no real Daichi, that was a clone from the villain Twice.” 

The pretty butterflies were gone and all that was there in the pit of my stomach was hellfire. “Are you telling me that all of that, all that I did to save him was a fucking LIE!” Even as the words passed through my teeth it felt like pure venom.  My fists clenched my sheets, my knuckles turning white. The villains used a fake Hawks against me and a fake Daichi. I was played, played like a fool. 

“You had no way of knowing that. You did what you knew to do, be a hero.” He reached for one of my clenched fists, only for me to pull away from him. Blinded by my own rage, I didn’t even see the quick flash of hurt pass through his eyes. 

“No, they toyed with my emotions! God first they pretended to be you, I was about to bring them up here to my home Hawks! Then they used an innocent person…a friend against me.” I was seething. “They got me like a fool.” Tears, I could feel hot tears start to fall from my eyes as I stared out my window. I couldn’t even look at the man beside me, too embarrassed to face him. 

“I know. But we won’t let them do that again.” He reached for my hand once more, this time I didn’t pull away. “I will make sure of it.” His hand squeezed down on mine, grounding me. Letting me know that I wasn’t alone. Sighing I turned my gaze back to him.

“I have to move, don't I?”

“Yeah.” 

“I have to tell my uncle.”

“Oh he knows.” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“QUINN!!” I heard my uncle scream from the top of his lungs as I reached his office. I sighed as I walked in, Hawks right beside me

He never left my side. After we spoke a little more about what happened in detail, I went to go take a shower to try and rid my body of these damn aches. Which did help but my side where I was hit still felt sore. Hawks was still in my apartment, pacing in my living room on the phone. His feathers were bruising themselves around my apartment, cleaning the mess we had made from our encounter. He was speaking fast and quietly, once I reached the living room he quickly hung up. I asked him who he was talking to in such a hushed tone. Hawks responded that he was talking to one of his sidekicks. Which could be true, but why the secrecy?

“Hello un-” Before I knew it he was in front of me, his large hands on both my shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” Endeavor turned me around scanning me to see if there was any damage. He was moving me so fast that I started to get whiplash as his office started to blur together. 

“Hey big guy, be easy there.” Hawks gently pulled me away from my uncle's arms, a red wing covering me, as if to shield me from him. Turning my gaze to look at Hawks. His lips were graced with a joking smile that he always had when speaking to other heroes. The only problem was his eyes, they were narrowed, glaring at the number one hero. 

‘Well that’s new.’ I thought as I watched my uncle stare at him, his head slightly tilted while looking at the younger man. I could feel the heat from my uncle raise ever so slightly at the stance Hawks was taking. ‘Not good.’

“Thank you Hawks for bringing her here, but you can leave now.” Endevor crossed his large arms over his chest, returning the same stare he was receiving from Hawks. 

“Nah I’m good where I am.” Hawks shoved his hands inside his pockets, as if letting my uncle know that no matter what he says, I wasn’t leaving his sight. 

“Okay gentlemen, let's all breathe.” I stepped away from the wing that was still covering me to stand between the two hot heads. “As you can see I am fine, no harm was truly caused. Can we look at the bigger picture here?” That seemed to catch their attention, instead of staring at each other they were both looking at me. “The villains came straight for me head on. Why?”

Stepping away, I made my way to the leather couch in the middle of the room. In front of me was a small round table with a silver tray of black ceramic cups and a black tea kettle. Reaching out I took the small kettle in my hand, letting it heat up from my small flames. Once I saw the stream of steam come from the spout, I poured three cups of tea. 

“Any thoughts from the peanut gallery?” I raised my hand, gesturing for them to join me on the two chairs opposite of me. With a huff my uncle was the first one to move, taking a seat to my right with Hawks right behind him, sitting to my left.

“It might have to do with your short fight with Dabi.” I offered a cup to each of them as Hawks spoke. When he took the cup from my hand, his fingers gently grazed mine. Those small electric shots were felt through my fingertips from the contact. ‘Yeah definitely not good.’

“He seemed to have more of a grudge against me than he does my niece.” I watched as he leaned back against the chair, taking a sip of the freshly made tea. I could see that he had been thinking about this for a while, probably since he first heard about the fight.

“While that is true, Phoenix went toe to toe with him. It probably hurt his pride to have a newcomer be able to put the jump on him like that.” His arms were placed on both his thighs, narrowed eyes staring into the cup of tea.

“So because I hurt his fragile pride, I became someone of interest to not him, but the whole fucking group?” 

“That seems like the only plausible explanation for the moment.” Hawks looked up at me as he spoke. 

“Fine, let’s say that’s  the reason why. What do we do now? I have to find a new place to live, my apartment has been compromised. I will not subject the civilians in that building to the threat of me being the league's target.” 

“Well, the commission had already given me a call about that.” Surprised by what my uncle said I placed the now half empty cup of tea back on the table. “They are relocating all of the people in the building and offering you an apartment in their secured building.” 

“What?!” Both me and Hawks exclaimed at the same time.

“I was just as shocked as you when they offered. I told them yes.” I watched as my uncle got up from his seat making his way towards me. I felt the couch sink down as he sat next to me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, bringing me closer to his side. He was always warm because of his flame quirk. Without me realizing I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Your safety is my priority Quinn. I feel as if this was my fault, I shouldn’t have told you to come here.”

“Thank you Uncle Enji, but I’m a big girl now.” Leaning away from him, looking up at him. “The next time they dare try it, they will be nothing but ash.” and that was a promise, not a threat. 

Within the week I was moved from my apartment into the apartment given to me by the commission. It was at the top of the large skyscraper in the heart of the city, I still was able to have floor to ceiling windows but this place was twice the size of my last one. 

As I walked around the room I couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty. The kitchen was an open concept looking over a sunken living room. White countertops and cabinets lined the back wall, a medium sized white and blue island in the center of it and a small round table to its right, overlooking the city. 

There were about 4 steps that lead down to the massive living room. A black ‘L’ shaped couch faced away from the kitchen on top of a fluffy sky blue area rug. The rest of the furniture around the room; the coffee table, entertainment center and other small tables that were scattered around were also black. It gave off a modern feel but still playful with the small accent of blue.

My room was down the hall, and boy was it massive. It fit a king size bed, two night stands and my vanity nicely, plenty of room for me to add more enhancements if I wanted to. A walk in closet that I am positive was the same size as my childhood room. The commission was nice enough to send me at least three more hero costumes and apparently was able to make all of my regular clothes fire resistant. Since I seem to have a tendency of burning my clothes off. 

The bathroom was probably my favorite by far, it was all black and gold. The massive claw foot tub, toilet, sink and shower were all black with small gold accents. The floor tiles were black as well even in between the tiles were black. Towels hung by the sinks and outside the shower were red, looks like they get my hero color theme. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, I went back into my bedroom. Another small detail I appreciated was the balcony. It overlooked the massive city below, sliding the door, I stepped out, pulling at the sleeves of my gray sweatshirt. It was a chilly September night, right when the weather starts to change from summer to fall. Breathing in the fresh air I hummed, thinking over the events that had transpired since I moved here.

The whole agency was looking for any leads on the league. Endeavor was leading the front, from what Fuyumi told me he was barely at home any more. I told him to keep me in the loop and when I come back I would take over. It was personal now at this point, putting a target on my back was a mistake. My uncle at first had denied my request but he knew that even if he didn’t give me any intel he may gain, I was just gonna do it on my own. He knows better than anyone that I don’t back down from a fight, I tend to embrace it. Hell I welcome it even if they want to take me out, I will go down fighting. My train of thoughts were broken by the sudden change in wind.

“Well if it isn’t the other winged hero of Japan.” I felt his presence this time. Hawks. The man that has plagued my mind this past week. After leaving my uncle's office, I hadn’t heard from him. I had asked my uncle if he heard from him at all, he only said “He’s on a mission.” 

“Oh I believe I’m the winged hero of Japan.” He floated down, landing next to me. His scent swept over me in an instance, surrounding me. I hate to admit it but I did miss him, only a little though. 

“Not according to the latest poll.” Pulling out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled up an article. “See for yourself.” Looking over at him with a smug smile tugging on my lips. 

‘Phoenix; our new star in the sky’ 

‘Phoenix has joined the rankings of our top three heroes! She has fended off the league’s assault on our city not once but TWICE. Ever since her smashing debut only a few months ago she has been nothing short of a true hero for Japan. Ms. Phoenix has kept the people of this fine country protected even if she wasn’t born here, gaining the love and respect of its people. She is currently ranked as number 2 tied with the other winged hero of Japan; Hawks.’

“Wow, I've been betrayed by my own country, I see.” Hawks laughed as he passed my phone back to me. Taking the phone back I placed it back in my pocket. While he read the article I took in his appearance. A jean jacket was draped over his broad shoulders, a white tee shirt underneath it. His legs were covered in washed out jeans with a few intentionally placed rips in them and black docs. The sleeves of the jacket were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the bracelets that were on his right wrist and a gold watch on his left. He looked good, too good.

“Got a hot date or something?” I had fully turned towards him, leaning against the railing of the balcony. I watched as he turned towards me, a devilish smirk gracing those lips.

“Why? Are you jealous?” His eyes, it's always his eyes. They were playful, and flirtatious. I was a little bitter at him shutting me out for a week, plus two could play that game.

“And what if I am?” I invaded his space, my eyes half lidded as I stepped closer to him. I kept eye contact with him as my hand reached up, playing with the gold necklace around his neck. A manicured nail lightly grazed the exposed skin of his v-neck t-shirt. His breath hitched in his throat as I did. 

“What then Keigo?” His hand that was resting on the railing gripped as I took another step, my chest lightly teasing his own. My face was so close to his own, I could feel his breath on my lips. Golden eyes started into mine, shock, disbelief and what looked like lust flashed through them.

“What happened, fire bird got your tongue?” I traced my other hand up his chest, wrapping around his neck, my fingers playing with the soft short hairs at the base of his neck. Ever since I did that the morning after I attacked him, it’s all I could think about. How soft it was when I ran my fingers through it, I couldn’t help myself. 

“God you are so easy!” I pushed him on his chest as I chuckled, the hand that was in his hair gave it a slight tug before detaching itself. I returned to my spot on the balcony. He was silent as if processing what I had just done. 

In an instant I was flipped around, my back being pressed against the cold metal bars. Hawks’ hands on my hips, slightly gripping them. His chest against mine fully, and a leg between my own. His breath was hot against my neck causing me to silently gasp. The tip of his nose ghosted up my jaw, the soft chin hair he had followed the same path, sending shuddering waves throughout my body.

“You, out of all people, know you shouldn’t play with fire.” He whispered, soft lips tickled on the shell of my ear. His voice was low, a growl as he spoke. “I am a bird of prey, and you are looking good to eat, little dove.” His hands gripped me even hard, holding me in place as he pressed himself against me further. A low groan escaped his throat as I placed my hands against his chest. His heart was beating as fast as my own. He pulled back slightly to look me in my eyes. This time it was me who had their breath caught in their throat. I could see the light of the city reflecting in his now dark golden eyes. His wings had slightly expanded, showing off their length. He looked taller, intimidating and fucking sexy. 

He chuckled when he was met with silence as he stepped away from me. His warmth was gone the second he stepped away and I felt like I could breathe again. “See ya later.” 

Just as fast as he showed up, he was gone. Placing a hand on my chest I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies made their grand return.

“Well shit.”

[gakehc]

My Sweet Enkeli: Chapter 1

"Enkeli": finnish word for "angel".

When Noah Sebastian met Nori Nurmi for the first time, he knew he wanted her more than anything. She was beautiful like an angel and dangerous like the devil.

♡ Author's note: So this is the first chapter of my new fanfic about Noah Sebastian and the female character Nori Nurmi. I created her when I started to write back in 2011. Basically she's perfect because I like to think about my favorite musicians having some trouble getting someone's attention. We tend to see them as wonderful great people so I wanted to create a character that would be just as awesome as them. The band Forever Damned is totally ficcional, I created the name a few years ago and I have no idea if there's already a band with the same name. Blind Channel fans, please, stay tuned on this fanfic! The lady on the cover is Nori created by I.A. and that's exactly how I imagine her.

♡ Warnings: This is a work involving real people but it's 100% fiction written. Please remember that this is only for fun purposes and it doesn't reflect their real thoughts and behaviors. Don't take this work too seriously. +18 only. Nothing too sexual going on this time.

♡ Characters: Noah Sebastian × Nori Nurmi (OFC).

♡ Words: 2.386

♡ MASTERLIST HERE.

It's been one week since the tour around Europe started and the night it's about to start. The opening band is ready to go up on stage and Noah waits backstage so he can watch the show, just like every night when they are playing. For the first time, Bad Omens is touring with Forever Damned, an all female band from Finland. At first, everyone was worried: How will it be to tour with five womens? Is it going to be too much different? Are they going to get used to the Bad Omens lifestyle of touring?. Well, everything is working fine, except for Noah's obsession with the lead singer, Nori Nurmi. It sounds so cliché for him, but he couldn't help himself this time; it happened before he could do something. When they met each other for the first time, his eyes captured the image of a woman wearing a black sporty shorts and matching black top, her cherry red hair with lighter orange highlights tied in a messy bun while she punched the air and swung side to side just like a professional boxer while she was training behind the tour bus. He was hypnotized by her moves, the way her legs were slightly inclined and the fabric of her clothes was glued to her body and showed all her curves. There were sweat drops on her forehead while her green eyes were focused like she was punching someone real, her lips parted to exhale the air. He can't erase this scene of his mind anymore. Seeing her in person for the first time made him see how intense and eye-catching her aura is, Noah is totally captured by her Scandinavian beauty.

After seeing Forever Damned playing through the week, Noah already knows how the band works, most precisely Nori. She likes to do a warm up, doing some stretches like an athlete would do before a race or a match. Her outfits are always seductive and provocative, tonight she's wearing a black pair of shorts that almost shows her butt and a black leather corset, making her huge boobs pop out. Her high heels boots makes him wonder how she can stand on them and play a concert at the same time. Her lips are covered in a dark brown lipstick and looks even more appetizing. Definitely Noah is head over heels for this woman and he can't even fight against it: he would lose. But of course he's not tripping on his feelings - it's pure physical attraction.

The lights are changing non-top, the music starts: the show is on. Nori walks towards the center of the stage, exuding confidence as she faces the crowd that screams for her and her band. When she opens her mouth to sing, she starts to growl in the most insane way. It's not difficult for her to sound like a growling monster just the way heavy metal fans love. A red light spots her, she sings with a clean voice and it's like hearing an angel but, at the same time, it's sexual and makes Noah feel his whole body shivering.

It didn't need too much time for Noah to realize that Nori is a completely different person off the stage. When she's up there, performing with her four best friends, she is like a sex demon, seducing everyone and enchanting the crowd with her voice, always moving her hips with the sound of the frantic drums. But when she is backstage, living her life, she is sweet and humble. It's almost like she can't see how perfect she is. The way her cheeks get colored in an irresistible tone of red when someone compliments her makes Noah want to grab her in his arms and kiss her big juicy lips that are always covered by thin lays of lip balm. He wonders what it tastes like, strawberry maybe. Her light green eyes are big, surrounded by natural long lashes. Looking right into them is avoiding yourself to lose your self control, is to embark on a journey that there's no way back. When they are facing the crowd, they shine like the biggest star in the sky.

Time flies when Noah is watching Nori perform. Soon, their set is over and the girls are thanking the crowd, who seems to love them. When the singer leaves the stage, she goes straight to the green room, making Noah think that she is avoiding him. He is disappointed, he really wanted to say some words to her, but it's better for him to wait and let her have some privacy. He needs to get focused because, soon, it's his time to go up on the stage.

•

Since Noah had some issues with his voice while touring in the United States, this time they decided to go slow and have more days off so everyone can rest. This means that they are free to spend some time chilling at the bar close to the parking lot where the buses are. The mood it's nice, everyone seems to be having a good time. The bands already started to build a friendship and the guys are thinking that it is cool to spend some time with the five Finnish girls. Auri, the bassist, it's the perfect example of an antisocial gothic girl: she doesn't speak much but knows how to tell a good joke, always full of sarcasm. Her extremely straight black long hair is always hanging loose on her back while she tends to be drinking some beer or coffee. Maila, the drummer, it's kind of hyperactive - maybe that's why she chose the drums as her main instrument. Like her bandmate, she enjoys having some beer throughout the day but she is definitely more social and likes to be around people. Mirva is Nori's sister and is hyper focused on practicing guitar. They look alike, some people even thought that they were twins, but they don't have the same aura. Nori is way more intimidating while Mirva has a totally chill vibe around her. The last one but not least, Lara, the second guitar player, it's a blond bombshell. She's always seducing everyone around, flirting and making jokes so she can make the guys laugh. And of course she already put her eyes on Noah.

The two of them talk, Noah holding a bottle of beer while she drinks a dose of what seems to be whisky. These Finnish girls don't play around when it comes to alcohol. The bar is a small place and the crews of the two bands are enough to make the place totally full like they are having a private party. The lights are low but not enough to obstruct the view, there's a lot of pictures of soccer teams hanging on the walls and a huge TV screen that streams a hockey match. Nori is sitting close to the bar, her legs crossed while she slowly drinks her bottle of beer. She doesn't drink like their bandmates because she likes to take care of her voice.

Lara tries to catch Noah's attention but Nori is everything he cares about right now. It seems that something is off for her, like she is not enjoying the time with her new friends and crew. Soon, the hands of the blond guitarist are playing with Noah's hair. He laughs, trying to be nice to her but of course she is not the one who he wants to talk to; he just doesn't want to be rude. She gets closer but his eyes are not on her, they are staring at Nori, hoping that she sees that she is all that matters to Noah right now.

"Who are you looking at?" Lara asks, turning herself so she can find the spot that Noah doesn't stop looking at "Oh… Of course it's her. If I was you I would change my mind".

"Why?" he asks. Now she got his attention.

"Nori never looks at any man while she's on tour. The girl is like a fucking nun".

"Again, why? Did something bad happen?".

"It's a long story… and she is too negative. She thinks that it's not a good idea to hook up with anyone in a band because it will not end well and the tour can get ruined, blah blah blah" she rolls her eyes "She's so fucking professional".

"Maybe she didn't not find anyone who would be worth taking the risk".

"Believe me, you're not the first to put eyes on her. We've been on the road for a while, always touring with lots of guys. There's always someone full of hope that thinks he can have a chance with her".

Lara it's not trying to get Noah just for her, she doesn't care about that. If he doesn't want to spend some time on the bed with her, she just moves on. The guitarist it's just trying to give him good advice so he doesn't waste his time and energy with Nori. Now, Noah is unsure about taking the first step. For the first time in a while, he is feeling insecure about a woman. Now that Bad Omens has reached fans around the world he knows that there's a bunch of women crazy about him and who would give anything to have a chance to suck his cock. Is this kind of misogynist? Of course it is, but it's the truth. He can have any girl he wants - even though he doesn't find it fair to use women like that - but he already understands that Nori it's not like those girls. It's like there's a shield around her and that matches with what Lara just said about her friend.

"Maybe that's why she is avoiding me" he says.

"Mm, it makes sense. I can see in your eyes that you are into her".

"Is that obvious?".

"Yep" she takes a sip of whisky.

Quickly turning around to watch her friend, Lara sees that Nori it's acting weird. Just like Noah had noticed, the singer doesn't seem right. She seems bothered but she is alone, there's no one talking to her. Lara and Nori have been friends since teenage years and they know each other like the back of their own hands. The blond one knows that her friend is observing Noah talking to her.

"I think you got lucky" she says "Let me try something".

She starts to play with his hair again, and soon Nori drinks the rest of the beer in the bottle in one long sip, taking everything down her throat. Her eyes facing the floor like she's trying her best to not look into Noah's direction but soon she can't resist. She's staring at them intensely, wishing that she could be at Lara's place, her body clearly uncomfortable at the stool while she squeezes her thighs with her both hands. Her friend has seen this before so she knows exactly what's the reason why Nori is acting like this.

"Mm, If you pay attention you can see that she's slowly clenching her thighs together" Lara says.

"It's hot" Noah smirks.

"Yeah, I bet she's jealous of me right now".

Suddenly, the singer leaves, trying to hide any emotion that might be on her face right now. She walks furiously to the parking lot and Noah follows her. It's dark and there's no one around them, so it's the perfect chance for Noah to do something because they are away from the crew and their bandmates, from all the drama that they would create if he flirted with her.

"Why are you following me?" She asks, finally slowing the steps so Noah can approach her.

"Are you okay?" He's cynical.

"I'm fine. I just need some sleep".

"Wait!".

She tries to enter the bus but he grabs her by her arm, pressing his fingers on her skin. For a brief moment, Nori allows herself to feel his touch on her, how his big hand can hold her with such strength that makes her whole body shiver as a warmness grows inside her jeans. But soon, she starts to get mad at his audacity.

"Don't you ever touch me without my permission again. You should leave me alone" her voice is firm.

"What If I don't?"

"Then I will have to punch you in the face".

She's not lying. Nori has the guts to punch Noah right in the face and her fist is ready to take into action and make his perfect nose bleed. Noah can't help but laugh at the situation. She looks even more adorable when she's angry.

"You're a very bad liar, Nori" he says.

"You don't know me".

"So let me know you, then".

She's silent, her brain can't form any single word right now. All the strength she has is being used to prevent her from melting under his touch. Her red hair is matching the color that's in her face, her nostrils widening as her breath gets quicker. Noah is loving to see that, for the first time, Nori is being vulnerable. There's an extreme desire inside his body, an urge to feel her lips locked on his, to feel her tongue swirling inside his mouth, to take her body for him and possess her, touch every single piece of her skin. Her warm breath is crashing against him, he feels like he can't hold it anymore.

"Good fucking night, Noah Sebastian".

She lets herself go of his hand and goes inside the bus in a hurry, closing the door with so much anger that it makes a huge sound and makes Noah wonder if she didn't break something. He leans his back against the bus, slowly going down and crouching while he holds his face in disbelief. They were so close to each other for the first time, the sexual tension between them was so huge that Noah felt his cock awakening inside his pants. Even though he is frustrated, deep inside he knows that he made some progress. He could see in her eyes that she was very close to letting herself lose to him and this is what makes him open a smile. Her smell it's still on his hands: cherry liquor mixed with almond and touches of rose and jasmine. He's sure that she is going to be the main attraction of his dreams tonight.

CHAPTER 2 HERE.

[leopauldelr]

How to dress as the Aikatsu Academy idols

Aikatsu has finally made its way into the world of VTubers! Just like IDOLM@STER and Love Live, Aikatsu Academy! features virtual idols. And now that it's officially out, let's celebrate by learning how to become one of these virtual idols ourselves.

As Mieru Himeno - Mieru Himeno is a pretty, talkative, and positive idol singer who has a weakness for cute staff as some claim. Anyway, to become Mieru, you first need long pink hair. That's a beginner's task but the tricky part is to replicate her hairstyle. Her braided side parts feature two big red bows and four white small ones each, totaling four big red ones and eight white small ones. The end parts of her pink hair are twirly so do your best not to mess them up. With that sorted, you are now Mieru Himeno. Feel free to decide on the outfits she wore from her campus escapades.

As Meh Mamimu - Meh Mamimu looks like a mysterious cool beauty but she is calm and friendly when she speaks. If you want to cosplay Meh Mamimu from Aikatsu, it's easy to do. Just get short silver hair with a lot of volume and two black faux hibiscus flowers for the hair accessories. No sweat, right?

As Parin Wao - Parin Wao is an energetic leader and an active girl who loves games and fun. Wao's hairstyle is no doubt the most difficult to replicate. She boasts an extra long sky blue hair with orange insides. Replicating the two ribbons from her hair is extremely difficult as it requires professional help from someone you know, although the pigtail from her left takes four rubber bands to match the look. The thin rear tails feature two orange and one blue small bows each. There are other hair accessories as well such as two ribbons, the orange and the blue, a red oval hairpin, a yellow ribbon hairpin, and a green X hairpin. With the herculean task of replicating her hairstyle sorted, you're now officially Parin Wao.

...and there you have it. How to dress as the Aikatsu Academy idols. These cosplays are sure enough to be Liked and Subscribed by everyone and you should, too.

If you’re an Aikatsu fan, you should definitely try one of these outfits. You’re sure to be the life of the party!

[haikyuuwaifu]

3.

Break Up With Him: Old Dominion

Roronoa Zoro x female reader

Genre: Humor, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing

MASTERLIST

I’d tell him that it’s over Then bring it on over Stringin him along any longer girl, it’s just wasting precious time Girl, you know it can’t wait Just rip it off like a band-aid I know you ain’t in love with him break up with him

Y/n could feel her hands sweating as her parents smiled. They were in the middle of dress rehearsals. Nami and Robin watched on from the sidelines, the two women sharing matching grins. Y/n was sure they were planning something, but she’d been too busy to ask. Letting out another sigh, Y/n plastered on a fake smile as the officiant began the rehearsal from the top.

A few hours later, Y/n found herself sitting alone outside. It was breaking into evening, and the sky was a rather pretty mix of oranges and pinks. “Deep in thought?” A voice grunted, causing Y/n to turn around. She was surprised to see that it was her father. She and her father had been having a hard time since this whole fiasco started. “S’nothing new papa.” Y/n supplied, giving him a strained smile. The man only sighed. Taking a seat next to his daughter, he rubbed a hand over his face. “This is...” He began, looking out into the street. “This is hard for me sweetheart, because I really only want what’s best for you.” “Papa it’s fine. I know it’s important to the f-” “It’s not important to me or your mother sweetheart. It’s important to those shitty ass grandparents of yours.” he growled, eyes glaring at the sidewalk. “Your mother and I never told you this, but I wasn’t always the picture of prim and proper.” Her father supplied, reaching into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, Y/n was surprised to see a small polaroid wedged into one of the pockets. Taking it gingerly from her father’s hands, Y/n took in the sight of her parents, much younger, straddling a rather large motorcycle. 

“You drove a motorcycle!” Y/n teased, causing her father’s cheeks to heat. “I was the leader of a gang actually.” He huffed, causing his daughter to break out into giggles. “No way!” She teased, nudging her father’s shoulder. The man only nodded, crossing his arms as he stared down at the picture. “I was. I met your mom in the middle of a barfight. She hit a man in the face with a broken bottle and I knew it was love.” He sighed. “I gave up that life, for a better life with your mother. The only problem with that, was that your grandparents became a stifling blanket of judgement and disdain over the last number of years.” Y/n looked up at her father, and gave his shoulder a pat. “You shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of your mother and I’s decisions.” He supplied, letting out a heavy sigh. “And thanks to your crazy ass friends, your mother and I are fully aware of a certain rough and tough paramour.” He grumbled, as Y/n let out a strained laugh. “We aren’t anything papa, he’s just a f-” “Now don’t go lyin to my future father-in-law now sweetheart.” A voice shouted, causing father and daughter to look toward the street.

Y/n was shocked to see the man she’d come to love, standing on the sidewalk clad in his Sunday best. “S’bout time you and I get out of here princess.” Zoro called, as Y/n looked over at her father. “He’s takin you out of here sweetie. Your mother and I will handle the rest.” Y/n felt the tears prick her lids as she held her father close. “Go on and get started on the rest of your life sweetheart. Your mother and I will see you soon.” Her father whispered into her hair, his voice nasally as he held back his tears. Y/n nodded into her father’s shoulder, before making her way down the steps. Her father watched on as Zoro scooped his daughter up and spun her around. His wife came to join him, as the two watched their daughter mount the bike and ride away. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all.” Her father teased, causing her mother to snort, before the couple broke out into loud happy laughter. 

[hjh-ceilo-monster]

Double Trouble : MYG x JJK

Summary : Being with one hot and popular singer was difficult. Then, how about two?

Inspo. : D-Day Concert the final | Bts 10th anniversary firework show [ Yoongi alone in his concert was lethal enough. Adding Jungkook on the stage...oh, god...they literally burned the stage.] Photos & Gifs : reserved for rightful owners 

Author POV.

"Shiiiibaaaaallllll"

The crowd screamed as the lead singer growled.

The light threw different shades here and there, from red to purple to blue and orange.

"Party party yah!"

Another deep growling joined. The chorus excitedly popped up from the hydrolic lift floor.

Now both of them held the arena's attention completely. Looking into one's eyes, they started battling their voice.

To level up the fight of dominance, the bass and drum went wild, matching their singers' energy. While the keyboard, as a backbone of this song, calmly matched the beat.

"I swear they were too much sometimes. How are they going to do the interview after this?"

The manager looked at the monitor and sighed. Despite complaining, he knew he could do nothing.

"They were always like this...always."

Y/n spoke. Watching them proudly, the old memory flashed in front of their eyes. The image of them in their school uniform collided with the now version of them. The sight made them chuckled.

Well, that really was how Yoongi and Jungkook are.

10 years ago

"Why are you here?"

The both of them pointed at each other. Their expression showed nothing but irritation.

"Brief intro for you guys. This is Jungkook, our new member. JK, this is Yoongi, our lead singer."

Y/n introduced the two to each other, even though, it looked like they had already known each other.

"So this is our new chorus? Can he?" Yoongi smirked while provoking the newcomer.

"Can't I be the lead singer. I bet I'm better than this old man." Jungkook, who cared nothing about seniority, challenged Yoongi for the position.

And that was how everything started between the two. Their journey of chaotic friendnemy.

"I still remember how they fought no end. They even broke into fist fight."

Y/n smiled at the old memory. They could feel the nostalgic shock yet delight as if it happened yesterday.

That was understandable though.

Because....they were the cause of the fight.

"Dipshit, you can compete with me on anything, but not Y/n."

The side of Yoongi's lip had some blood seeping. His hand painted red so did his face.

"Why? If you like them, say it! I'm not like you, Agust. I like Y/n and I have guts to say what I feel."

Jungkook shout out his confession, even though, the left side of his cheek got a bruise. His blood was boiling as the older stopped him from his plan.

Y/n stood in front of the door, frozen. They didn't want to believe what they had just witnessed.

"It shouldn't be like this." Y/n mumbled to themselves.

For months, Y/n distanced themselves from the band. The rest of the members couldn't hide it and told their singers why Y/n didn't show up at their studio. The two of them kept apologizing to Y/n afterward.

Well, that was in the past. Now everything between them was good. Their feelings, their problems, everything fell into their places perfectly.

"Y/nie how was it?" Jungkook was about to throw his sweating body toward them, however, Yoongi was quicker.

"Not so fast, kid. We gotta get change first."

A giant bunny pouted before following Yoongi to the changing room. Y/n giggled at the two of them.

From enemy to brother, their relationship was like a roller coaster.

*In the changing room*

"Everything's ready." The staff adjusted suit one last time before let Yoongi and Jungkook go.

"Hyung...this is it. Will they say yes?" Jungkook asked his older friend. His hands were shaking.

Yoongi didn't answer anything. The older one seemed to be well-prepared, yet his eyes couldn't hide his worry.

As much as they wanted to hear a yes and quite confident about it, deep down they were a tiny part that prepared for the rejection.

No matter what they wanted, in the end, it wasn't something they could control.

"Let's go." Yoongi spoke and lead the way.

"They are late. Is everything alright? Aren't you guys have a special ending before the concert end?"

Y/n asked the rest of the band.

"We know nothing...really. The staff only told us that those two would like to perform something special for the ending of this tour."

The bass player replied and glanced at other members, having the same expression as Y/n.

They all were confused.

Phew.....Phew....

The string of lights started shooting up into the sky. And the next moment, the firework bloomed, lighting up in the middle of darkness.

"It has been 10 years we were together. Spending year and year after you, in every difficulty we always find hope..."

Jungkook's voice suddenly came through the speakers. The firework still went on, blooming in various patterns.

"As a special day, at the end of this successful tour, we wanted to express our love and gratitude to our first fan..."

Yoongi then continued the script.

"Every practice session, every lyric, every beat, they won't exist if it wasn't you who kept encouraging us...."

"We fought a lot. We cried a lot. We acted like kids around you, yet you were never tired of us two..."

Jungkook chuckled as he ended the sentences.

"Thank you for being here. Thank you for not giving up on us. Thank you. We hope this letter touch your heart. How we wish there is a word that has a greater meaning than the word love to say to you..."

The two of them said in unison.

"Y/n-ah, let's be together always...and for the rest of our lives, shall we?"

One final blow of the firework lit the sky.

'Will you marry us?'

A/n note : That's it. I hope you enjoy the os. Seeing them together on the stage and other performance from Jimin and Namjoon with Yoongi make me want to fastfoward to 2025 so bad. Well, I chose this pair because of the chemistry when I saw the fancam. I thought it would be nice to put them into frienemy mode with and oc who bond them within the relationship (+ a litle romance)

Thanks for reading. See you next session

[lovesosweeet]

KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO

part 7

a calum hood songfic

read 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

two years ago

Michael and Crystal’s wedding is the unofficial debut of Tillie and Calum’s situationship. Tillie is a grooms-woman, Calum the best man, and they’re surprising the happy couple with a performance of “Lover” by Taylor Swift during the reception.

Tillie is already tipsy by the time they get to the “groom’s room” for the morning. Calum was tasked with getting bagels for all the guys, meanwhile Tillie was making all the guys Irish coffees and trying to get everyone else hyped up. He walks in with his giant bag of bagels and finds his girl chanting ‘chug’ at Luke. He’s just drinking a bottle of water. 

“Tillie, you gotta take it down a notch,” Ashton says, giggling over his mug of spiked coffee. 

She whips her head around, grinning evilly. “You wanna be next, Irwin?”

Calum laughs, plopping the bagels onto the table and cracking open the bottle of orange juice he’d bought at the bagel shop. 

“Honestly, maybe you should make all of us chug a bottle of water. Gotta be hydrated for the big day,” Cal says and takes a sip of his juice. 

“Water is for losers, Cal,” Tillie teases. 

“Tills, I’d actually like to remember the best day of my life. I will be drinking water until the reception,” the groom comments. He rips into the bag of bagels, grabbing an everything for himself. “Thanks for getting the bagels, Cal.” 

Tillie pouts, running up to Michael and jumping onto him like a koala, making him nearly lose his balance. “You at least have to take a shot!”

Michael groans, just continuing what he was doing. He spreads cream cheese on his bagel while Tillie clings to him. She’s not heavy, and she’s supporting herself. It’s just a nuisance to have a human stuck to you while you try to make a bagel. “Let me guess, you’re not letting go until I agree to take a shot.”

She grins. “You know me so well.” 

“I’ll drink an Irish coffee, but that’s it,” he offers as hopefully an acceptable compromise.

At that, Tillie lets go of Michael, dropping to her feet again. She heads to the bar in the back corner where she’s made a few other Irish coffees already this morning, quickly mixing one up for the groom.

“Tommy, want one?” She calls.

“I’m good, T. But thank you.”

“Knock knock!” A familiar voice calls from the doorway, not bothering to wait for an ‘okay’ before he walks in. Ryan and Andy, the boys’ tour photographers, walk in, cameras around their necks and coffees in their hands.

The group of guys, and Tillie, cheer as they enter. They all exchange hugs and greetings, and the photographers stop at the table to get bagels for themselves, too. Crystal hired a more traditional wedding photographer for the bridal party and the rest of the day, but for the groomsmen, Mike just said he’d have Ryan and Andy get photos of them getting ready, since they’d be attending the wedding anyway. 

While the whole gang eats bagels and Tillie forces Irish coffees into everyone’s hands, the photographers grab candid shots of the groomsmen in their matching black sweatsuits. Tillie’s is massive on her, since they ordered unisex sweats. The men’s size small is roughly a women’s medium, and Tillie is and extra small across the board. 

Michael’s says “groom” in black embroidery on the chest, with the date embroidered in white on the cuff. The guys’ and Tillie’s say “groomsman” and Calum’s says “best man.” They all thought they were goofy, but Crystal insisted they do something. They settled on these, hoping the subtle embroidery comes off as a little less cheesy. 

Unlike Crystal and the bridesmaids, this group doesn’t really have much to do to get ready for the wedding, so their day is mostly spent goofing off. While Tillie does her hair and makeup, the boys play beer pong and do makeshift karaoke using Youtube and a whiskey bottle as a microphone. Once Tillie is ready to go, she helps Michael do his hair. 

Michael has done his hair to go on stage countless times, so he could easily do it himself, but Tillie said that this is the one day in his life that he shouldn’t have to do his own hair. Calum thought it was sweet that Tillie was being such a good friend and whispered to Ryan to make sure he got pictures of the interaction. 

When Michael disappears to go do his first look, Calum takes a seat next to Tillie on a leather couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She relaxes into his side quickly, leaning her head on his chest.

“Are you excited?” He asks. 

“Of course!”

Calum smiles. “Me too. Are you gonna cry?”

Tillie cackles. She’s not entirely emotionless, but crying at weddings is definitely not something she has on her resume.  “Who do you think I am? Hell no. Are you?”

His cheeks tinge pink and he hangs his head. “Probably.”

She looks up at him with a pouted lip and grabs his cheek between her fingers and thumb, pinching him. “Aw, aren’t you just the cutest!” She coos exaggeratedly. 

He rolls his eyes and pulls her tighter against himself. “I’ve known Michael since we were so young. It’s a big day. I love them.”

She smiles, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s sweet, Thomas. It’s a nice feeling to have people you care about that much.”

“Woah,” Andy says as he stares at the two of them cuddled up on the couch. “So this is like, a thing now?”

He’d seen the pictures of them online. The hickies on their necks and interlocked hands. He had seen and heard the rumors, but he knew Tillie. He had spent a lot of time with her on tour, and he knew her habits. He also knew that Calum had a thing for the spunky girl, but he didn’t think anything was ever going to come of it. He thought maybe this was a one or two night thing, but now, he’s seeing it in person, almost two months after the first round of photos went around.

It seems like Tillie is actually dating him. It seems like they’re happy together. He had to see it up close to believe it. 

He believes it now. 

“Is that a problem for you, Andrew?” Tillie asks. She places a hand on Calum’s leg and squeezes it. He pinches her side in response, so she does it again. 

“No, no! Not at all. You guys are cute. Just a little shocking at first.” Andy holds his camera up to his eye and snaps a photo of the two of them cuddled up on the couch before they can even recognize what’s happening. 

That’s when the day of coordinator walks in and says they have 20 minutes to finish getting ready and to line up. Tillie groans, not wanting to put on her dress. Since she’s standing with the guys, her dress is black to match their tuxes, even though the bridesmaids are all wearing champagne, gold, and pink. 

She gets a kiss on the cheek from Calum before she heads to the bathroom to change into the one shoulder chiffon gown that Crystal picked out for her. She was given the OK to wear Converse with it, thankfully, since her feet will be mostly hidden by the dress. When she reenters the room, Calum grins.

“You look so good,” he gushes, his hands on his face while he takes in the stunning woman in front of him. Her hair is dark brown for the wedding, curled and pinned so it cascades only over her right shoulder, and while she got dressed, she put on a coat of her favorite red lipstick. 

He walks up to her, bending down to kiss her, but she sticks her hand up in between their faces.

“No! Not when I have my makeup done,” she says with a tone that comes off as ‘how did you not know this.’ 

He pouts. “Not even on the cheek?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, one kiss on the cheek.” 

Cal pecks her cheek lightly before he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around so she can walk in front of him, but leaving his hands on her shoulders. He massages them while they walk to line up for the ceremony. She is first in line, while Calum is last, as the best man. Michael ended up having Cal as the best man solely because he’s known him the longest, so he kept that same energy when ‘ranking’ the rest of his groomsmen. Tillie has known him the least amount of time, so she’s on the opposite end from Calum.

She doesn’t care. She’s just excited to be a part of this day for Michael. There aren’t a lot of people in this world that she considers family, but Michael earned that title long ago. She’s happy to wear a stuffy dress and spend the day around people who are all crying if it means she’s celebrating her brother. 

The ceremony is short but incredibly sweet. As expected, Calum cries, and so does every single member of 5SOS. Actually, Tillie is pretty sure she’s the only member of the bridal party who doesn’t at least tear up. She smiles the whole time, in awe that two people are both so in love and so surrounded by love that there’s hardly a dry eye in the room while they vow their lifelong dedication to each other. 

The reception is an open bar, which means Tillie is ordering trays of shots and challenging everyone to take them. She’s so wrapped up in cheering and whooping as she gets person after person to take a gulp of burning tequila that she doesn’t notice that the DJ has been cut off and Luke and Sierra are on a small stage. 

When she realizes, she halts and sets the now empty tray on the closest table. 

“Hi, everyone,” Luke says. “Sierra and I have prepared a little song. Please dance while we sing, because it’d be really awkward if everyone just stared at us.”

Everyone in the room laughs, but nobody moves to start dancing again, even as Luke plays the opening notes. Tillie recognizes it immediately and smiles, her eyes searching the room for her guy. Calum appears by her side in seconds, wrapping his arm around her waist to let her know he’s there. 

“Can I have this dance?” Cal asks. 

Tillie blushes and smiles. “If I have to,” she huffs sarcastically. She grabs his hand and pulls him to the dance floor while Luke and Sierra cover “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis. 

Calum and Tillie dance to the song with everyone, and Tillie can’t pretend she doesn’t feel Michael staring at them with a huge smile. He’s happy to see the two of them so happy on his big day. Calum has the dorkiest, cheesiest grin as he stares down at the girl he’s wanted for so long. Her cheeks are extra flushed now, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the eyes on her during what is the most heartfelt dance she’s ever shared with anyone, but she’s happy in this moment.

She feels like the song is spot on. She feels like she’s falling in love, and it’s terrifying and exciting at the same time. 

When the song ends, Cal nods his head toward the stage with a raised eyebrow. He’s asking Tillie if she wants to go sing their song now. She nods in response, once more dragging Calum behind her. 

Calum takes the acoustic guitar from Luke, who looks surprised. They hadn’t told anyone they were also planning on singing. 

Tillie stands behind the mic while Calum takes the stool Luke was just using. Crystal and Michael are watching them with sincere surprise, but they’re both excited to see whatever the duo on stage is going to share. They are both talented enough to kill whatever performance they have planned, and they know them so well that it’ll be something special to the Cliffords.

“Hi folks,” Tillie starts, giggling as Calum almost slips off the stool next to her while he tries to get comfortable. “First off, cheers to the happy couple!” Everyone cheers.

“Okay, no, you’re supposed to drink. Everybody, drink.” She takes a sip of the rum and Coke next to her as a demonstration while the whole room laughs. About half of them succumb to yet another attempt of Tillie’s peer pressure. 

Calum just watches her in awe.

“Now, I know that a very special someone is a Swiftie,” Tillie continues. “In that vein, Thomas and I — actually, hold up! Can we get a round of applause for the best man?!” 

Calum hangs his head in embarrassment while the whole room hoots and hollers with praise. 

“Okay, back to me,” she says, making everyone laugh. “We’re gonna cover madam Swift’s ‘Lover’ for the happy couple.” 

Michael looks at his best friends with tears in his eyes as they begin the song, and Crystal is already crying from Luke and Sierra’s performance. She reaches up and wipes the tears from under Michael’s eyes before she pulls him to her to dance again. Tillie hadn’t felt like crying that badly until she saw that. 

She wishes she could find a love that would mean someone would wipe tears from under her eyes and pull her closer in that moment, even if she’d rather pull away. 

The weirdest part of that, for her, is knowing that Calum wants to be that person, and she is letting him close enough that he may be able to. 

Their performance goes without a hitch. Together they harmonize beautifully and Tillie has palpable chemistry with Calum. He stares at her longingly as she hits the high notes and he loves how her nose scrunches up when she does. He’s pleasantly surprised at the end of the song when she walks over to stand closer to him and looks him in the eye.

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close, forever and ever?” She sings with a smile. 

He’s on a high by the time the song ends and everyone applauds them. He can’t help himself from planting repeated kisses to her forehead before they take a quick bow. 

They reenter the audience and the DJ resumes his music. Tillie grabs her rum and Coke and holds it up as she dances her way back into the crowd. Michael steps away from his wife so he can go find Tillie and Calum — but mostly Tillie, even though Calum is following her around as he has done since that night in Montreal. 

“Matilda!” Michael singsongs, wrapping her into a hug.

“Michael!” She mocks.

“What the hell was that?!”

She shrugs, her eyes flitting to the tall Māori man to her left who’s smiling at her in a way she can only describe as lovingly. “Crystal likes Taylor. We thought it was fitting.” 

Mike hugs her again so he can more discreetly whisper into her ear. “Don’t be going soft on me, now.”

With her hand that’s not holding her drink, she pinches the groom on his side as hard as she can. “Never.” 

When they’ve hugged and Michael has given Calum an embrace, too, Mike puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “Thank you guys, seriously, for everything. I love you both, but I’m gonna go hang with my wife.”

For the first time in her life, Tillie is at a wedding and pondering the thought of what her own wedding might look like someday. Even stranger: the person she’d consider marrying is staring at her, wonderstruck, imagining the exact same thing. Tillie has Calum’s suit jacket draped over her, swallowing her tiny frame, and stares up at him with stars in her eyes,

She doesn’t stop him when he bends down to kiss her, knowing her lipstick is a lost cause at this point.

Standing in the Los Angeles January coolness under the stars, they’re both over the moon. Surrounded by people they love, they’re in their own little world as they sway to a song neither of them is listening to.

read next chapter

a/n: listen folks, i uh... forgot about covid when i worked out the timeline of this story. so let's pretend covid didn't happen like the people in the south did during the pandemic, cool?

ALSO bomb drop in the next chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!! which is already written!