#nyu icons

[lestrange-or-xuxu]

⠀ ⠀︵ֵ๋⏜⠀◌ׄ͡♡⠀ꓸ ֺ⠀ ᭄꩜𑜆⃮ᥱ⠀𝟤𝑂𝑂𝟥⠀◌⠀⠀໋⠀✒̸ ⠀ ͡꒱

[odorareicons]

[feverdreamhigh]

New purple theme for speak now before the crazy lady tries anything else

[dreamgirlnightmare]

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[cinnaleaf]

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time 

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice. 

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions. 

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.” 

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.” 

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.” 

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious. 

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online. 

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.” 

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison. 

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it. 

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music. 

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool. 

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.” 

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm. 

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose. 

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went. 

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back. 

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

[seouljazzbar]

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of. 

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many. 

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins. 

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world. 

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing. 

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your  tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise. 

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs. 

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[astonmartinii]

daniel x gradschool reader?? maybe they’re not officially dating but he meets her when he’s in new york and they spend the summer together??

big apple lovin' | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x gradschool!reader

sparks fly when daniel visits new york on his winter break

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 203 others

yourusername: studying up a storm in the city of my dreams

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yourusername omg stopppppp i'm blushing

yourclassmate now zoom in so i can steal some notes

yourusername at least do the stealing urself

danielricciardo

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danielricciardo: big city exploring

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username he's looking so fucking good DAMN

landonorris miss you already

danielricciardo i tend to have that effect

username i'm sad he doesn't have a seat but he seems so much better right now

maxverstappen1 so like none of the pics we took matter?

danielricciardo didn't want to hurt your feelings when everyone ignores you for my sexy ass

newyorkstreetstyle

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newyorkstreetstyle: our usual warren street fashion icon has been double trouble recently, obsessed with both.

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username warren street girl having the best taste in men as well ... mother

username not daniel ricciardo on new york street style do they not know who he is?

username DANIEL CONTENT

username people in the comment section freaking out over the man but warren street girl is the real nyc celebrity here

username warren street girl i do not know you but on behalf of the f1 community thank you for taking away danny's skinny jeans !

yourusername

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yourusername: found this stray cat in central park, anyone recognise them?

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yourbff1 idk who he is but he looks freakishly similar to the guy who hasn't left our apartment in a week

yourusername ah yes now you say it they do look strikingly similar

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yourclassmate1 if he gets us all coffee again he can stay for as long as he wants

danielricciardo finally someone on my side

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danielricciardo: wet dream concrete tomato or something like that

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username i am not okay

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carlossainz55 low blow ricciardo

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username bf!danny is something so personal to me

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danielricciardo a pretty one :)

yourusername

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tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: final stretch of grad school with some extra motivation

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yourbff1 believe me everyone in the apartment can hear the motivation

yourusername THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS APP ACT APPROPRIATELY

danielricciardo sorry not sorry

landonorris so this is who the honey badger is obsessed with

yourusername as he should be

username GRAD SCHOOL? educated wag incoming let's go

nyu

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nyu: nyu graduate y/n y/ln has had her graduate study published in the journal of english literature and cultural studies!

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username so how did danny's dumbass pull a published researcher?

yourbff1 ENGLISH LIT SLAY

yourusername thank you nyu will miss you guys :(

nyu come visit soon!

danielricciardo congratulations smarty pants xx

yourusername love you honey

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yourusername: grad school ... completed it mate ;)

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maxverstappen1 congrats y/n !!

danielricciardo love you so much, so glad i met you xx

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yourclassmate1 but now we need jobs

danielricciardo

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danielricciardo: finally showed the mrs my day job

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username FULL LAUNCH AT A RACE OH LORD

yourusername so you really are that famous?

danielricciardo who wouldn't be a fan of my face?

yourbff1 so where's our tickets we had to deal with you all spring term?

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note: pls enjoyyyyyyy (p.s. there's a lando request i finished but tumblr deleted it from my drafts so i'll get that up asap) xx

[attachmentbarbiee]

idk something about dan walking blair into the nyu party with "good girls gone bad" playing in the background is so iconic

[medullam]

Icons Octavia St. Laurent and Luna Khan with director Wolfgang Busch for How Do I Look panel at NYU [NYC, 2003]

Source: Preserving Ballroom History

[welcometololaland]

LolaLand - Red, White & Royal Blue Fic List

AU

Double, Double, Acting Trouble (Alex/Henry) 5/5 - E - cursed theatre AU at NYU (~30,000)

Cursed is a State of Mind (Alex/Henry) 6/6 - E - cursed coffee habits (~18,000)

Catch and Release (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - T - rowing AU (~4,800)

Fifty First Dates (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - E - fake dating with a twist in NYC (~26,600)

Seven Years (Alex/Henry) 7/7 - E - Alex and Henry find each other in every universe, all set at Christmas (~35,000)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - E - Canon divergence (~21,000)

Luck of the Draw (Alex/Henry) 4/4 - T - Bachelorette party AU (~19,300)

Route 11 (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - E - Public transport AU (~19,000)

Down For the Count (Alex/Henry) 5/5 - E - Blackjack/poker AU (~40,000)

Speak for Yourself (Alex/Henry) 12/12 - E - Roommates AU (~105,000)

Collaborations

never the same twice (Alex/Henry) 8/8 - E - iconic collaboration of 8 writers about the versatility of Alex and Henry's sex life (~34,000)

Canon Compliant

Contaminated (Alex/Henry) 1/1 - T - Angsty Henry (~1,100)

[sankta-starkova]

THE OUTSIDERS

001; start of something new

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

wordcount: 1.8k

The winter Solstice was creeping up on Daisy Valance. She knew she had to head to camp to see her friends again and it helped that her mums new boyfriend Nick had taken her on a trip so she didn't feel so guilty.

Last summer had been her fifth at camp and she loved it like it was home to her. Because it was.

She felt safest there. Although she loved her mother and she loved going to NYU, she still loved Camp Half Blood.

She was wrapped up at in a coat, her suitcase in her hand as she looked around at the place she called home.

Daisy waved at Chiron as he walked over, or galloped, she was never quite sure how to describe it.

"Miss Desdemona," he said, bowing his head.

She chuckled, "You are the only one that calls me that Chiron," she said, walking alongside him as he walked further into camp.

She remembered coming into camp years ago and seeing it all for the first time. The feeling never went away.

"Look who the minotaur dragged in," a voice said and she turned around when she heard the voice.

She recognised him in an instance. It was her best friend in the whole world, the only person who ever truly understood her.

"Luke Castellan, charming as always," she said, dropping her suitcase down as she walked over.

He pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. The last few weeks had been hard without her.

She was his best friend and that was it. But he had always wanted more.

His dreams were getting worse and worse. He could see him standing there, taunting him, telling him that he had things that he needed to do.

He was torn between it all. He wanted to fulfill what he thought was his destiny but he wanted her as well - that's something he hadn't even managed to say to her yet.

"Good to see you again," he said, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"You too Luke," she said, "I'm sorry I missed your wins at capture the flag,"

"It's fine, a boy doesn't wins twice in a row often," he joked, looking down at her.

"Shut up," she said, stepping away from him and hitting him on the arm, "Now, help me with my bags?"

She looked over at where her bag was to see Chiron standing there, a smile on his face.

He had been working at this camp for years and had never seen a couple quite like them. Having spent years to admit their adoration for one another.

The issue was that he had heard of Lukes fate. That something bad would happen to him even if he didnt know what it was.

He hadn't told anyone but knew that something tragic would occur. He didnt want the couple to falter because of that.

He leaned down and picked her bag up, handing it over to the boy.

They started walking, side by side. It was like they were joined at the hip and couldn't seperate.

They didn't hear the whispers of their camp mates as they walked past. Luke and Daisy were icons in camp so to see them together was news to them all.

They walked into the apollo cabin and they cheered when she walked inside of the room.

She laughed, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she listened to the cheers of her coming in.

Daisy loved her cabin. She had never felt a home like the camp before and they all meant a lot to her.

A little blonde boy rushed up and she pulled him in for a hug.

"How was college Daisy?" He asked, looking up at her.

He was the closest thing she had to a little brother. She had been the one to bring him here and she looked after him fiercely.

"Good Will, its nice there," she said.

She couldn't tell any of them how lonely it felt sometimes, being the only demigod there. Always watching her back to make sure there weren't any monsters.

"I don't get to see you enough," Luke said, leaning against the empty bunk bed. He knew the top one was hers.

She shrugged, a sad smile on her face, "You see me often enough,"

"You don't come back enough, I agree," Will said, walking closer to Luke.

Luke smiled, leaning down and ruffling the kids hair, "Thanks for standing up for me kid,"

"Where's Lee and Michael?" She asked, changing the subject. 

"They're somewhere, dealing with the new kid who just joined," Luke explained.

"Very nice," Daisy said, looking at Will, "You should tell me all about what's happened since summer,"

He started talking and then Luke looked down at his watch. He really needed to talk to her.

"Actually, can i borrow her for a minute Will, I need to talk to her," he said.

He had a solemn tone to his voice and she knew that meant that something was wrong.

She worried about him all the time. She didn't want something bad to happen, for those nightmares to take affect him him.

Will nodded and then Luke turned to Daisy, "Can we go for a walk?"

He was serious. Too serious. Her smile faded, "Sure,"

There was silence between the two as they walked through the woods, muscle memory taking them to their favourite spot.

When she saw the lake, she remembered all of her best memories that occurred here. Her eighteenth birthday party.

The moment she realised she loved Luke.

It was here, at this very lake and now, as she sat down next to him on that very same log, she knew something was wrong.

There was a prolonged silence. It was awkward and neither knew what to say and that was new for them. They were always comfortable around one another so what changed?

"You okay?" She asked, looking over at him.

He shook his head, silent. There was this moment where he looked like he was going to say it but he didn't.

His Adams apple bobbed as he fought back the urge to tell her everything. He had to be careful with what he was going to say.

"You gotta tell me what's going on here," Daisy said after a while. She couldn't wait for him forever.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see her reaction, "I had another one of those dreams,"

She scoffed, "Luke. I told you not to listen to those," she said, almost scolding him.

These dreams had been occurring for years, ever since he was 17 and went off on that quest his dad sent the two of them on.

She could remember him afterwards. She had been injured but his internal problems were worse than anything she sustained.

Daisy had told him that those dreams were dangerous, that he should tell Chiron but he had ignored her ever since; his pride was getting the better of him.

"They're making sense. They all make sense," he tried to explain.

He reached over, hand on her knee as he tried to convince her that these were right.

She shook her head, "They don't. He's trying to manipulate you,"

She was desperate at this point, trying to reason with him. Nothing good would happen if he kept on going the way he was.

Daisy couldn't lose the man she loved. She had lost so much in her life and he was the only one that stuck around. She loved him, even if he didnt feel the same.

"He is right, our parents don't care about us," he said.

She scoffed at his incredulous statement, "I could have told you that," she knew they didn't care but that wasn't reasoning for war.

He reached forward and took her hands in his. Only then did she realise that she hadn't been looking at him.

Luke rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and she looked up at him, eyes meeting his. She could see the vulnerability in his face - he really thought he was doing something important.

Her face blushed a little bit at the intimacy of the moment, her hands in his, his eyes locked on hers.

"Come on Des, this is it, this is our time to take charge of our future," he begged, desperate.

This was Lukes moment to achieve everything in his life that he had wanted. But the other thing he wanted was the girl in front of him.

He couldn't let her down.

"Don't listen to him," she begged, feeling the tears burning up behind her eyes at the thought of losing him.

He brushed his thumb over her hand again, trying to sooth her as he heard the break in her voice, "I should. He's right about everything,"

He wasn't looking at her. He couldn't bare to see the pain in her eyes.

"Luke," she begged.

He looked up at her now, seeing the tears welling up in her waterline. She never cried so to see her like that meant that this was important to her.

"Please, listen to me." He asked, desperate to get his point across, "He wants me to take something from the God's and I'm going to do it,"

Her heart pounded in her chest. This could completely ruin his life and the world. She couldn't let that happen.

"Promise me you won't," she begged.

He hated seeing her like this, "I have to," he muttered, voice breaking.

"Prmoise me you won't. You're my best friend Luke, promise me," Daisy was desperate. She had to stop him.

He watched the tear slip from her eye and roll down her cheek. Luke reached up, the pad of his thumb brushing across her cheekbone.

"Okay, for you," he said, hand staying on her cheek, "I promise,"

She pulled him in for a hug, holding his against her for a little while.

Daisy wanted to believe him, she wanted to hope that he would stick to his promise and maybe it was the rose coloured glasses that prevented her from seeing the truth.

"I won't let anything happen to you, ever," he promised, words muffled as he spoke them into her shoulder.

He pulled away, brushing a strand of hair away from her face so that it was behind her ear.

"Okay," she muttered, hoping that this was all real. That he wouldn't hurt her because why would he?

The nightmares that she had after his quest came back that night.

The image of the man in the middle of the woods came back again, cloacked in darkness, covered in fear.

She woke up in a sweat, eyes pooled with tears. She didn't know that this was the start of the end for her, that this man would ruin her life.

Daisy closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep in blissful ignorance about what was soon to come.

If you would like to be added to a tag list then you can comment here or send me an ask :)

[queenlachimolala]

City of Valkyries

Coming very soon

I'm presenting the main characters of the Acotar fanfic inspired by the famous TV Show 'Sex and the City'. We will follow the iconic trio composed by Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie.

Gwyn Berdara:

Age: 29

Job: Researcher at NYU

Sexuality: Straight

Emerie Illyria:

Age: 30

Job: Fashion Designer

Sexuality: Lesbian

Nesta Archeron:

Age: 28

Job: Professional Ballerina

Sexuality: Bisexual

Co-writen with @gwynniethenymph

[ramonaboat]

Listen, I need more fics of Alex in NYU Law.

I need to see him make friends who treat him like a normal person. And as much as they do, his life still calls for the extraordinary lol Like he has notes to his professors asking to be excused ‘cause he has a White House/politics related engagement.

I also need to see Alex doing really well in class. I wanna see his profs being impressed, even the ones who doubted him in the beginning thinking he got in because of who his mother is.

I wanna see him just blend in so well with certain people they sometimes forget he’s actually like.. an icon

Like a classmate would blurt “Yeah, and my mother-in-law is the Queen of England” to express how ridiculous something is

And Alex just responds nonchalantly with “Mine will soon be” and continues to just sip on his frappe lol

I need to see Alex stress out over deadlines and exams and recitations like ordinary students. Have study groups. Go to parties. Live as much of an ordinary life as he can even though he’s constantly flanked by body guards lol

Eventually his friends become friends with Cash and they just get used to everything. The extraordinary-ness of their occasionally ordinary friend.

I would also like to think Alex’s NYU friends are protective of Alex. They can sniff out who’s just gonna use him for their gain, who’s being too nosy, etc.

Likewise Alex is an extremely giving friend. He’s more well-off than most of them but he doesn’t like to flaunt that or make them feel uncomfortable with gifts. But he does help when it comes to school, finding resources, helping them find internships. He goes all out for them, too. He also does occasionally buy them expensive gifts during special occasions just because haha

I also wanna see how Henry is able to help Alex unwind during his busiest, craziest days where he basically has coffee as an IV. I bet they’d be the type to parallel do stuff lol. Like Henry would devour a novel while Alex studies, and they would happy just being pressed against each other as they do so.

It would also be funny to see Henry just randomly show up at NYU with the packed lunch (which he definitely did not order from somewhere😅) that Alex forgot to bring when he frantically rushed to get to class on time.

I need to see his classmates shocked at how casually the Prince of England just drops by (even though he has like PPOs)

Maybe there’s a rumor mill in school too, just people talking about the stupid tabloid articles about whether Henry and Alex are hitting a rough patch, they’re going to break up, Alex is a bad influence on Henry, etc. This pisses off Alex’s friends off more because well, at this point Alex is used to it.

And when Henry arrives at school he makes sure to be extra sweet when people are looking.

And since this is law school and everyone’s older, Alex definitely has friends who get married. He brings Henry as his plus one and there are jokes about protecting the cake 😅

[azarbock]

Chapter 13 - New Year's Eve 2018

Word Count: 2,338

Summary: Tom and Isabelle ring in the new year with a bang

Trigger Warning(s): graphic descriptions of sexual activities, oral sex, p in v sex

A/N: if you're uncomfortable with any of the above triggers, go ahead and avoid this chapter like it's a plague; re-read your favorite chapter(s) and/or skip to the next one, if applicable

The morning after Isabelle’s performance as The Princess in NYU’s gender–reversed adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, Isabelle discussed New Year’s plans with Tom. She knew it was way too early to discuss plans for the holidays, however, since she spent the previous New Year’s with Tom and his family in England, she figured it was his turn to spend it with her in the United States and wondered if he’d ever experienced something one must see before they die. When she discussed it with Tom, he agreed. He took that opportunity to answer her unspoken question, mentioning he’d never seen the iconic New Year’s Eve Ball Drop in Times Square and prompting her to make a decision. She booked a hotel room along Times Square with a balcony so they could watch the event in privacy. Although he offered to pay her back, she refused, saying his treatment of her warranted such expensive privileges.

            So, they stood on the hotel’s balcony on December 31st. The balcony had a metal railing and was large enough for a four–person round table with chairs, and two deck chairs. Isabelle wore a figure–hugging, golden, floor–length, sequin dress with off–the–shoulder, a–line cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a high slit. It appeared she ordered it in a size too small, as it pushed her chest up to display her ample cleavage. Her hair hung in loose curls and was pinned back by a golden hair clip. She accompanied the dress with the shoes she wore to the Ragnarok premiere.

Meanwhile, Tom stood in a suit, his hair and beard perfectly trimmed, and his arm was around her waist. His eyes would glance at her bosom now and then. Suddenly, they heard a knock at the door. When Tom opened the door, he saw a waiter with a bottle of Dom Pérignon champagne and two empty glasses.

“Your order of champagne for the New Year,” the man said with a smile.

“Thank you!” Tom replied, allowing the waiter inside after slipping $100 into his jacket, satisfying the man. “You can put them on the table outside.” The man quickly followed Tom’s direction. After opening the bottle by removing the cork, he promptly left. When the door closed, Tom rejoined his girlfriend, who was about to serve herself and him some of the drink. “Hold on!” Isabelle stopped. Then, he grabbed the bottle and poured some champagne into the glasses. “I wanted to do that.”

“Oh,” Isabelle replied, smiling. Once Tom filled the glasses halfway, he handed one to her. “Thank you!” After clinking their glasses in a toast and taking a sip, Isabelle continued. “You’ve really never seen the Ball drop?”

“No!”

“I thought you were fun.” Tom sensed his girlfriend’s teasing. Her playful smile and chuckle confirmed she jested. “I remember the first time I saw it live. I was in the crowd in Times Square. The atmosphere was intense! Lovers were everywhere! I remember thinking, ‘If I’m here with a partner, I won’t be down here. It’ll be in the privacy and comfort of a hotel.’ I don’t want my first kiss of the new year captured on camera and broadcasted for all to see.”

“That’s understandable. Now, you are with a partner sharing a glass of expensive champagne on the balcony in a private hotel, dressed to the nines.”

“True that!” Isabelle raised her glass in a toast and took another sip of her drink, prompting Tom to do the same. Looking at the man she loved, she couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked. She knew a similar–ish thought crossed his mind. Tom’s eyes slightly darkened each time he took them off Isabelle’s and glanced at her cleavage. He was about to take action on his naughty desires when, suddenly, the couple heard the countdown and joined them.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tom cupped Isabelle’s head and brought her closer until their lips connected in a kiss. After they parted for air, they finished the champagne in their glasses. At that moment, Tom noticed Isabelle wasn’t wearing a coat.

“You must be freezing,” he said.

“It’s no problem,” she replied. Before he could take off his jacket and give it to her, like the gentleman he was, she stopped him. “Why don’t we go inside? We’ve witnessed all we should, and there’s really no reason to stay outside. Come on.” Isabelle grabbed the champagne bottle and walked back inside with Tom on her tail.

            Once inside, Tom shut the door and set down his glass as Isabelle did the same with the bottle and her glass. Then, they embraced one another, Isabelle resting her head on Tom’s chest. After a moment or two, she looked at him.

“Happy New Year, Tom.”

“Happy New Year, Isabelle.” Then, they reconnected their lips. This time, the kiss was more passionate. When she felt his tongue brush against her lips, politely asking for entry, she granted it, quickly returning the favor. Isabelle grabbed ahold of the jacket he had previously offered her for warmth and rid him of it. Then, while she unbuttoned his shirt, Tom untied his bowtie and unzipped her dress. When it fell to the floor, Tom broke the kiss to latch onto her neck, sucking, licking, and kissing the area, causing her to moan into his ear at the pleasurable feeling while he reached behind her and unfastened the clasp on the hair clip, letting her hair down. Their hands weren’t idle while he gave her a hickey. Tom unclasped her bra, removed it, and slid down her panties while Isabelle unbuckled his belt, removed it, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding them and his boxers past his firm bottom.

            When they were finally fully unclothed, Tom grabbed Isabelle’s legs, wrapped them around his waist, carried her towards the bed, and laid her down. Finally, he released her neck from his attention, passing it to her right breast and kissing her body on his way down. In response, Isabelle threaded her fingers through Tom’s hair as more moans fell out of her mouth. Her left breast wasn’t left unattended, receiving massages from his right hand. Isabelle moaned as Tom teased the nipple to a peak before switching breasts, sucking, licking, and kissing her left breast while massaging her right. When that nipple was at a peak, he kissed his way down her body until he reached her cunt. Tom noticed it was weeping, ready for his attention. Isabelle propped herself up with her free arm.

“Your pussy seems ready for my attention,” Tom told her, his eyes blown wide with desire. “Are you?”

“You know I am, baby,” Isabelle replied through her teeth, her eyes blown wide with desire. “Eat my pussy, baby!” That was all he needed. Tom wrapped his arms around her thighs, then attached his lips to her dripping, wet cunt, and started licking and sucking. “Ah! Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, fuck! Fuck!” Isabelle threw her head back in pleasure, gripping his hair tighter and pulling. This caused Tom to groan into her cunt, stimulating her even more. “Tommy! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum, baby!” When he added a finger to her glistening clit with a squelch, she couldn’t take any more. Isabelle’s release arrived with a “TOMMY!!!” Like a gentle and thorough lover, Tom helped her down from her high. After her senses returned, he climbed on top of Isabelle, a look in his eyes similar to that of a predator stalking its prey. He reconnected their lips and, this time, Isabelle tasted her release on his tongue. However, she couldn’t bring herself to care, focusing on returning the favor.

            Pushing his shoulder, Isabelle flipped them over. When Tom was on his back, she straddled his waist and reconnected their lips for a brief moment before she kissed her way down his body, taking special care to lick and suck a hickey onto his neck. She felt something poke her ass. It couldn’t be his hand because, currently, one cupped her head while the other held onto her waist. No, Isabelle knew it could be from one thing: Tom’s erect member. She knew giving special attention to his neck would elicit such a reaction. After all, whenever she danced and sang to him the second verse of Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA, she’d inch her fingers up his chest and graze them over his neck, then almost kiss his lips, all of which would arouse him to the point she’d see the outline of his long, thick cock on his pants.

            After Isabelle was confident her attention would leave a mark on him, as his would on her, she started kissing her way down Tom’s body, his hand around her waist moved to rest on the mattress. When she reached his penis, she skipped the appendage to kiss and massage his upper thighs, frustrating him. Groaning, Tom tightened his hold on her hair and pulled a little, urging Isabelle to end her teasing. However, she wouldn’t be thwarted, determined to get him as aroused as he got her. Her next move was unusual for them. Isabelle grabbed the champagne bottle, tipped it over, and poured some of the liquid around Tom’s fully erect dick, which touched his stomach. After setting down the bottle, she licked and sucked the liquid up, sure she’d grazed the member along the way.

            When she was certain she’d lapped up all the liquid, she glanced at the appendage. Sure enough, she saw pre–cum covered the tip. Satisfied she’d aroused him enough, Isabelle knew she didn’t need to ask Tom if he was ready for her attention on his crotch. She licked from the base to the tip of his member, then took his cock in her mouth. Since it didn’t fit inside her mouth, she stroked the rest with her hands. Tom threw his head back as deep, guttural moans fell out of his mouth, loosening his grip on her head to bunch her hair into a ponytail. He knew what Isabelle would do next. She hollowed her cheeks before starting to breathe in through her nose and blow out through her mouth on his penis.

“Yes, please, darling!” Tom yelled. “My love! More! More! Yes! Yes!” Isabelle complied with his request for more and replaced her blows with moans. This seemed to push him over the edge. As he tightened his grip on her hair with a “BELLE,” she felt ropes of his seed squirt into her mouth.

            After a moment, Isabelle knew he’d released all he had to offer her. Then, she removed her mouth from his cock with a pop and climbed up the bed so she could kiss him, giving Tom a taste of himself as he’d done to her just moments ago. They smiled into the kiss, naughty thoughts entering their brains. As Isabelle straddled Tom, she felt his member poking her once again, and she was ready. Breaking the kiss, she stood on her knees atop the bed and guided his dick inside her dripping cunt. The couple moaned as she felt him stretching her walls and he felt her squeezing his penis.

            Immediately, Isabelle began bouncing on her boyfriend, his hands on her hips to guide her movements. Then, Tom’s gaze fell on her bouncing breasts. Determined to get her aroused again, he moved one of his hands to squeeze her right breast and play with its nipple.

“Ah!” Isabelle released a high–pitched cry, Tom’s ministrations doing the trick as she increased her pace. After a few moments, he felt her tighten around him. Up until this point, he’d only cum inside her while in the missionary position, and he wasn’t ready to change that. Removing his hand currently teasing her breast and placing it back on her hip, Tom removed Isabelle from his cock, frustrating her until he flipped them over. Then, he realized he had forgotten something.

“Shit!” He shouted. “I forgot to put on a condom!” Before Tom could remove himself from her embrace, Isabelle stopped him.

“There’s no need for a condom, my love,” she replied.

“Why?”

“Because I love feeling the hot, wet flesh of your cock stretching my walls, and reaching that spot deep inside me over and over again until my pussy weeps from pleasure.” Tom’s eyes darkened. “However, I don’t think we’re ready for children, so I started taking the pill.” He couldn’t help it. He surged forward and kissed her deeply before grabbing her hips, lining himself with her entrance, and plunging deep inside her, the pair releasing louder moans in the process. Isabelle wrapped her arms and legs around him, effectively embracing and trapping Tom. Since she was already close, all he had to do was make her climax. Getting into position, he then repeatedly thrust his hips, quickly removing, then reinserting his cock inside her.

            After a moment of Tom’s movements, Isabelle’s walls squeezed his member tightly as she came all over him, the one curse word New Yorkers were famous for repeatedly spilling out of her mouth as she arched her back. The feeling of her release, coupled with that of her clenched walls around his dick, triggered his release.

“Shiiiiit!” Tom shouted before collapsing onto Isabelle, exhausted. When they both climbed down from their highs, he removed himself from her and pulled away the covers. Once they were tucked into bed, they grabbed ahold of one another in a cuddle. As Isabelle scratched his back, Tom stroked her face with his thumb. The lust that once filled their eyes was replaced with love.

“Happy New Year, Hamlet,” Isabelle said, using the pet name she knew he loved hearing.

“Happy New Year, Ophelia.” She knew by using the pet name, which called back to their love for Shakespeare, he’d do the same. Then, with a kiss, they fell asleep.

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[foolcrum57]

BFDI X II TOUR announcement video(s) Summary

Locations covered in the JNJ animation are NYC, LA and Florida

Locations covered in the AE animation are Huston, Chicago and Seattle

-II2 15 will premiere the whole tour -BFDI, the TPOT episode releasing by the time of the tour will show at the first 3 locations, and then the BFDIA episode releasing by the time of the tour will be shown at the other 3 -Taco II plush, Evil Leafy plush, and the Pin enamel pin are the 3 merch offerings -There also seems to be what looks to be… a themed towel? with several BFB voting icons behind adam michael and cary while they are talking. IDK if this is merch tho

Full Schedule: New York, New York - June 29th and 30th at the NYU Skirball Center Houston, Texas - JUly 6th at the Linda & Archie Dunham Theater Seattle, Washington - July 13th and 14th at the SIFF Cinema Egyptian Los Angeles, California - July 20th and 21st at the Saban Media Center Chicago, Illinois - July 27th at the Harris Theater Fort Lauderdale, Florida - Location not yet announced, tickets will go live on April 15th

Tickets are the same price as last time. $35 for standard viewing and $75 for VIP seating which includes meet and greet + signed item.