#song is trash by show me the body | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers.

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?”

You sniff again. Nod.

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself.

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.”

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath.

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face.

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?”

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him. Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch.

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim.

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull.

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours.

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you.

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox.

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all.

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense.

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him.

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.”

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.”

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward.

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet.

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him.

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head.

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now.

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated.

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush.

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours.

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears.

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?”

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes.

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.”

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.”

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy.

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?”

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from.

Sheila is home.

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing.

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea.

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?”

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.”

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip.

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used.

“You sure?”

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise.

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you.

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length.

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx.

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop.

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him.

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat.

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot.

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep.

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile.

Do you hear that? Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you.

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp.

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast.

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar! We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted.

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt.

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle.

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth.

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air.

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?”

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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heechwe · 1 month ago

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lost in wonderland | 𝐩𝐬𝐡

୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 12k ୨୧ genre: smut, semi-angst, fluff ୨୧ tags: mentions of drug use, fake dating au, rockstar!sunghoon, popstar!reader, enemies to lovers au, jerk to down bad sunghoon, pet names (baby, doll, love, etc.), dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), belly bulging, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: Park Sunghoon, one half of popular rock band Into Eden, is on thin ice with his management and the general public. What does his manager Jay decide to do? Set him up with the leader of rising pop girl group PrismHeart. And while it starts as two stubborn people living in a lie, growing feelings cannot hold anything but the truth. ➸ This one's dedicated to my lovely betas: Ley @pars-ley), Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, Kiki @wonwovy, & Lola @monamipencil)! I'm so grateful to y’all and the love you’ve given this story; I hope everyone else loves it too 🤍 Also the ending song and inspiration for the title is from Boys Like Girls's song "Lost in Wonderland"!

“PARK SUNGHOON: ANOTHER HEARTBREAK UNDER HIS BELT?”

“IS HEESEUNG TIRED OF HIS BANDMATE’S GAMES? IS ‘INTO EDEN’ IN TROUBLE OF DISBANDING?”

“DID SUNGHOON RUIN ANOTHER GIRL GROUP, AND HIS EX’S CAR?”

Sunghoon laughs at the headlines plastered across his manager’s desk. The gossip rags are the only vibrant thing in the office, the monochrome black and white color scheme creating a strict atmosphere that suffocates the rock star to no end. Who knew such bullshit could provide such humor?

The sound dies on Sunghoon’s tongue when he sees Jay’s displeasure pervade the older man’s entire face. His arms are crossed, and Sunghoon can see the veins in Jay’s neck tighten.

“You think this is funny?” Jay asks, his voice even-keeled, but his body language anything but.

“No, Mr. Park.”

“Hoon.” Jay says his talent’s name with admonishment. He sits back down in his chair across from Sunghoon, the large desk separating them. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“What should I call you, Mr. Park? Bro? Dude? J-Man?”

Jay can’t help the chuckle on his lips, but he shuts it down to go back to the discussion at hand. “Simply put, the label’s pissed. All that we should see two months before your tour is good press, not this shit. And you know Yeji is going to do more than just comment in a couple of tabloids.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “She has nothing to say, besides the fact that it ended mutually.”

“You call making out with Lia ‘ending mutually’?”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t know what you were told, but that happened after we broke up.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jay takes the multitude of tabloids and throws them in the trash next to his desk. “The label is going to chop my balls off if I don’t fix the problems you created.”

Sunghoon, in his mind, isn’t a problem child, per se. He simply pales in comparison to his golden boy best friend and musical partner, Lee Heeseung. It isn’t his fault that Heeseung is squeaky clean. The only crazy thing the guy has ever done was dye his hair red for their recent cover shoot.

Sure, Heeseung has been committed to one person for years, long before the two men ever became a name in the public eye. The guy never partakes in recreational activities, choosing to spend his free time with his girlfriend or in video game chat rooms rather than in nightclubs like his counterpart. And he’s always been a media darling, giving signed photos to fans and providing the paparazzi with his undivided attention without complaint.

Sunghoon likes to live without restrictions or red tape. If he has to be judged for that, constantly not measuring up to the pedestal his best friend lives on, so be it.

“It’s time for Plan B,” Jay says, breaking Sunghoon from his thoughts.

After Sunghoon’s brows furrow in confusion, Jay turns on the TV stationed behind his desk. The news video on display shows the members of PrismHeart, the label’s rising girl group, attending the AMAs with bright smiles and matching sparkly ensembles.

“This is Plan B?” Sunghoon asks, releasing a breathless laugh.

“No.” Jay points to you in the center of the LED screen. Your hair billows in the wind as your face shines with the same quality of the cameras capturing your essence on the red carpet.

Sunghoon is taken aback by you without hearing you speak a single word, and he suspects something devious brewing behind his manager’s eyes when he says, “She is.”

The nightclub is packed with D-list celebrities and upcoming starlets, ready to post to their respective social media accounts. With the right touch, the news will work its way to the trending page without fail.

Thankfully, Jay, Sunghoon’s manager, knows how to set the scene for a piece of tabloid fodder. It’s part of his job to make sure that, for better or worse, Sunghoon gets his time in the spotlight.

As for you, all you’re expected to do is mingle with your new “boyfriend,” look pretty in your little black dress, and set the trap.

You asked your own manager, Momo, if you could bring one of the girls along to break the ice and make the “meet cute” look more believable, and both she and Jay agreed.

So here you are, sitting across from Yujin with a strawberry martini in one hand and your cellphone in the other, waiting for the signal.

“He is pretty cute. You can’t deny that.” Yujin scrolls through Sunghoon’s Instagram feed, multiple gym pics and rehearsal photos lining the grid of his main profile.

When Momo produced Jay’s offer to her, she marketed it to you as the perfect way for PrismHeart to skyrocket from simmering stardom into true mega-fame. All it took was a handful of white lies and scheduled meetups. No harm, no foul, right?

Like a devoted group leader, hands in your lap and a demure smile on your face, you said yes. You would do anything for your team and the girls who were your second family at this point. Not disclosing the truth was an easy thing to do, and nobody’s feelings would be sacrificed in the process.

It would also be a welcome distraction from the destruction of your last relationship. The back and forth with Jake proved to be too much on both your work and personal lives, 7 months of happiness leading to a slow and bitter end.

Maybe a cute boy with no attachments and some light flirting could be a nice way to bounce back into the game. Then, when a real relationship would be possible for you again, you’d be ready.

You nod and take another sip of your drink, the alcohol leaving a burning aftertaste in your throat. “He is,” you agree. “He’s terrible at time management, though, clearly.”

Yujin rolls her eyes and continues scrolling. “Take off your micromanaging hat tonight, babe. Have fun. Kiss your new fake beau.”

“Say it louder,” you chide, lips on the rim of your glass again. The drink was taking the edge off of your nerves, but you still couldn’t shake the desire to make sure things went perfectly.

For both work and personal reasons, you need this to go off without a hitch.

A second later, your phone buzzes on the top of the bar. Sunghoon’s face lights up your screen, along with his message.

[Received at 10:46 PM]: Walking in with Jungwon. U?

You internally roll your eyes at the cryptic text. Jake was so good at making his messages personable, and although you could put a dagger in him for breaking your heart, the least you can do is recognize that was one of his better qualities.

You just hope Sunghoon is better in person than he is on the page. Or phone, so to speak.

[Sent at 10:48]: By the bar with Yujin.

Sunghoon saunters through the club’s double doors, the notorious half of Into Eden smiling ear to ear with his friend Jungwon in tow. Your ex Jake and Jungwon hung in similar circles due to their statuses as popular actors, but Jungwon was always nice when you ran into him.

He greets you with a smile but stops short when he sees your best friend, his cheeks turning a red hue. “Sorry, you’re just even more beautiful in person.”

As Yujin stutters over her next words, sharing a similar blush with the man in front of her, Sunghoon saunters over to your side and grins. As you look closer at him, you can discern the pink around his irises and the flimsy edges of his smile.

He’s high. So much rides on his cooperation on this plan and he’s fucking high?

“Park Sunghoon, pleased to meet you.” He gives your hand a sloppy kiss when your fingers link together in a handshake, and you retract immediately. Sunghoon pays no mind to your distaste, immediately ordering a beer and downing it the second it slides across the bar.

“Do you think you should be mixing alcohol with…whatever’s in your system?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Sunghoon winks at you and scoots closer on his barstool to you, tracing the skin of your thighs with his eyes. “I think this is the part where we dance?”

You scoff and down what’s left of your martini. You flag the bartender down for another, incredulous but trying to mask your anger with another drink. “Maybe we should get to know each other first?”

“What’s there to know? Jay gave me all the cliffnotes this morning. And we can just learn as we go, you know?”

A part of you wants to run into this without a roadmap, but it’s not in your nature. And it would be a lot easier to let yourself relax if you knew you were walking into this plan with a person as serious as you are about it.

But no, you get a stoned rockstar as your new “boyfriend” instead.

The bartender hands you your second martini, and you hop off the barstool with it in your hand. You take a light sip before you motion to the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

You have a tight grasp on the stem of your glass as Sunghoon takes your free hand to walk towards the dance floor. You notice Yujin and Jungwon dancing in a far corner together, the two of them hitting it off incredibly well.

Your hips sway to the song, your body trying to follow the music that’s thumping loudly through the speakers. It’s a remix you don’t recognize, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You smile as the pulse of the song thrums through your veins, your nerves at their lowest since arriving at the club.

What you don’t expect is for Sunghoon’s hands to settle on your hips, pulling you closer to fall into rhythm together. He moves well considering his prowess lies in rock rather than pop.

“You’re a pretty good dancer for a bassist,” you tease.

“I have a lot of talents,” he remarks back, the club lights gleaming across his face in purple and pink strobes.

He looks better in person than in all the interviews and tabloids you read prior to meeting him tonight. In your efforts to gain intel for the meetup, you couldn’t deny how well he cleaned up, even when he acted poorly.

The slosh of your drink makes you stop dancing for a second, and you laugh. “Probably shouldn’t have brought this on the–”

Sunghoon captures your lips in a searing kiss. The taste of ale lingers on your tongue the longer both of your mouths are linked. He is a good kisser, no doubt, but where does he get off assuming you wanted him to? All you had to show for tonight so far was some small conversation. Is that his typical green light to dive straight into making out?

You immediately push him off, the contents of your martini glass spilling on him in the process. “What the hell?” Sunghoon asks, touching his jacket and feeling the leather soaked in sugary liquor.

You’re stunned at how brash yet nonchalant he is about what he just did, caring more for his clothes than your personal space that he just invaded.

“You’re such a bastard,” you whisper loud enough for only Sunghoon to hear, his eyes immediately widening at your words. You walk away from him stunned and drop the glass on the counter where you were initially sitting. Not wanting to take Yujin away from her success of a night, you run outside to a handful of cameras flashing and your failure coating your skin.

Late into the next morning, you sip a hefty cup of tea for breakfast as you scroll through your latest mentions. The socials are blowing up from your recent outing with Yujin, Jungwon, and Sunghoon. You half expected to wake up to the ending of your career, but to your relief, the event was nothing short of a success.

Despite your embarrassment on the drive home and sadness before bed last night, your followers and many of Into Eden’s fans seem to have taken the bait. Some took shots of you exiting the nightclub, Sunghoon following shortly behind with a smile on his face. They also edited short clips of the two of you on the dance floor. Incredibly, none of them caught your mishap with your martini on video.

Better yet, they found the prospect of you and Sunghoon not just exciting but fitting somehow.

@edenenthusiast: hope she can whip him back into shape, miss the old hoon.

@sunghoonsluv71: sad he’s off the market but they’re actually cute together???

@prismshearts_09: she looks so happy!! suck it @jaeyun_sim.

In the next second, your phone blows up from a mention on Sunghoon’s most recent story. Your handle is hidden in a far corner of the black screen but the words plastered across the screen say everything they need to.

“Love at first spill? 🍸😏”

All of your band members and Momo light up your group chat with their excitement. In the chaos of the chat, you thumb-up a text from Yujin about Jungwon giving her his number.

Then, a single text pops up from Sunghoon that makes your glee transform into anxiety.

[Received at 11:52 AM]: Lunch on me? :/

You feel a part of your chest flutter. There’s a hope that maybe in the light of day you’ll get a chance to see the real Sunghoon. No drugs, no cameras, no need to impress. Maybe if he’s away from the attention, he’ll realize you deserve an apology for his actions.

[Sent at 11:56 AM]: Lunch and dinner or get lost.

You see the quick succession of bubbles following your text, his response hot on the heels of your last message that he reacts to with a laughing emoji.

[Received at 11:58] I think I can handle that.

You sit across from Sunghoon on the balcony of his apartment, two BLTs cooked to perfection on the patio table in front of you. He kept to his word, laying a spread of food out for you in exchange for your time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Did you make these yourself?” You ask.

Sunghoon shakes his head, bashful. “Jay helped me. Not only is he a great manager, but he’s actually an amazing cook.”

You nod and smile, grabbing a bite as Sunghoon’s blush and your quiet chewing fills the silence.

“I wanted to say that yesterday got out of hand, and I shouldn’t have gotten wasted before meeting you. It was unprofessional, and I apologize.”

You tap your fingers on the wicker table, your gut warning you to be cautious. “Did Jay tell you to say that?”

Sunghoon stutters on whatever words he planned to say next and quickly runs a hand through his hair. “I mean it, what difference does it make? I really am sorry, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’re apologizing using someone else’s script? That’s supposed to make me believe you?”

Sunghoon scoffs and presses his palms to the table. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”

“I’m impossible because you got loaded and decided to stick your tongue down my throat? Oh, and I bet the next words out of your mouth were going to be how stubborn I am because I expected you to actually want to make up for how shit you acted last night.”

“Wow. Are you just mad because you didn’t expect to like me kissing you that much?” Sunghoon says his question with a pestering but sultry tone, the words completely rhetorical.

You huff and make your exit from the table. “Fuck this, I should never have come.”

Before you can walk away from the balcony, Sunghoon takes your wrist in his hand. His eyes express his frustration, his mouth in a grim line. “Don't leave, please. Can we just pretend that the last twelve hours never happened? Start from scratch. We both know we need each other here.”

You take a deep breath and cross your arms, walking back to your side of the table with a stone expression. “I think it’s a good idea to create some rules for…this arrangement.”

Sunghoon stares you down, still irritated but agreeable. “I’m all ears.”

“First and foremost,” you start, “whenever we’re scheduled to meet, no drugs. Do it in your spare time.”

Sunghoon nods. “That’s fair.”

“Second, no PDA unless there’s people around that need to notice it. And we have to agree on it before either one of us initiates anything.”

“What,” Sunghoon laughs, “like a secret bat signal?”

“Sure Batman,” you jest. Does he have to joke every time he decides to speak? Against your better judgment, a small piece of you finds it endearing.

He ponders the thought and then taps two fingers to the side of his neck. “How’s that?”

“Fine,” you agree. “Do you have any other rules you think we should add?”

The word “we” slips so easily from your tongue. In spite of the way he stirs up every ounce of frustration inside of you, already you see him on the same team as you. That has to be a good sign.

He rubs his index finger and thumb under his chin, half teasing but half reflecting on what he could add.

“Only one more thing,” Sunghoon says. “When we don’t have plans to spend time together, what we do in our private time is our business.”

You raise your hands. “Not a problem for me.”

Sunghoon reaches his hand across the table. “Deal?”

What the outcome of your arrangement will be besides the expected results remains up in the air. Whether it will reap what you want is really anyone’s guess. But if it means you do your duties as a good bandmate, you will take whatever comes at you.

You grasp his fingers in yours, shaking them gingerly. “Deal.”

Into Eden’s most popular song “Salvation” plays on the stereo speakers in the photography studio of Vogue magazine’s headquarters. The two men on set act incredibly comfortable, Heeseung’s arm wrapped around Sunghoon’s shoulder. The older musician’s red hair is stark against the chosen clothing for the shoot, but he makes it work.

He always does, Sunghoon thinks with a repressed sigh. His hair is slicked back in contrast to Heeseung’s messy mop of wind-blown tresses, creating the contrast between the two that highlights the shoot’s concept. TWO SOULS COLLIDE: THE LEADING MUSICIANS OF NEW AGE ROCK.

Sunghoon stays still for the next shot of him and Heeseung, but he can’t help himself from following you with his eyes when you enter the studio with a bag of breakfast treats and a to-go tray of coffees.

He did not expect to see you show up to his photoshoot, and Jay didn’t give him any warning for the event on his schedule being one you would share space with. He’s not against it though. In the sea of gray suits and media lackeys, you’re a breath of fresh air. You have already taken his attention away from the mundane nature of the task he’s assigned to complete today.

He can’t deny that Jay’s plan has already made shifts to his image in the public eye. It’s only been a week of public paparazzi candids and social media mentions shared between his and your accounts, and fans are eating it up.

And, though he might never say it out loud, something about your presence levels him in a way Jay’s and Heeseung’s doesn’t. He quantifies it to you also understanding the pressures of the music industry, the feeling of someone outside of his circle who can relate to him foreign but welcome. Your relationship may be manufactured, but he has to look at the positives it’s already created in his life.

Jay runs over to you with a bright smile. “You’re an angel, thank you.”

You grin and take a breakfast sandwich from the bag to give to Sunghoon’s manager. “Least I could do for a member of my boyfriend’s camp.”

Jay winks over the rim of his coffee cup and goes back to the photographer’s side, overseeing the shots with a bit of sausage sticking out of his mouth.

You give Sunghoon a slight wave and stay a few steps away from the large lights capturing the shadows and highlights on the men’s faces.

You haven’t met Heeseung up to this point, so interacting with Sunghoon’s bandmate will add a new dimension to your “relationship.”

In contrast with Sunghoon, Heeseung exudes seriousness in every movement. You’re unsure if it’s because of his maturity or dedication to everything he does, similar to yourself, but it shows in the way the men stand next to each other. Where Sunghoon is fluid like water, transforming into whatever he needs to be, Heeseung is stoic and certain of himself, solid like a stone.

You wonder how such different people managed to be friends and bandmates. Then again, you’re in a group with four other girls, and your personalities are anything but similar.

“Alright, I think it’s time for individual shots. Mr. Park, we’ll do yours first!”

Heeseung runs to his chair in front of the vanity. It’s set up in a corner of the room for retouching his and Sunghoon’s hair and makeup. He beckons you over with a polite smile, and you oblige the silent request.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to greet you since you came in. You know how it is,” Heeseung’s lips turn up at the corners as his makeup artist dabs at his forehead with a clean powder puff. “I’m Lee Heeseung.”

You respond with your name and shake his hand, your nerves spiking. You expected Heeseung to be both attractive and polite, but it’s another level in person compared to his media appearances.

“Have you always been interested in music?” You ask.

Heeseung nods, still smiling. “Since I was old enough to hold a guitar. Both of us, actually. I don’t know if Hoon told you, but he was the one that started the band.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “No, he didn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t really talk about his work. Neither of us do.”

Heeseung laughs. “Yeah. He’s a closed book a lot of the time. But he’s got a great soul, he just doesn’t let a lot of people see it.”

You look down at your shoes, smiling. “I’d offer you a bagel, but I think the team would kill me if I let you mess up your makeup.”

Heeseung releases another chuckle. “Save it for Hoon, then. Make it a little lunch date.” When the photographer’s assistant calls for Heeseung, he winks at you and leaps off of the chair.

Sunghoon finds you in the next second, smiling warmly before taking the bag of food from your hands. “Please tell me there's an everything bagel in here.”

You nod. “With extra cream cheese.”

He beckons you to the free armchairs on the opposite side of the makeshift vanities. You sit down across from him and find your croissant in the bag, ready to eat it whole at this point.

“You could’ve eaten before I finished. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

You shrug and bite into your food. “Force of habit. I always make sure the girls eat before I do.”

He nods and takes a chunk out of his own bagel. “Like a good leader. I knew Jay liked you for a reason.”

You scoff, practically choking on the egg and cheese in the croissant. “Says the guy who started this whole thing. You didn’t tell me you were the one who made Into Eden.”

Sunghoon shrugs, his mood shifting. “It never came up. Besides, Heeseung took the proverbial role of leader a long time ago, anyway.”

You shake your head, picking at your food. “I bet everyone would give you more of a lead if you proved you could handle the responsibility.”

Sunghoon is taken aback, there’s no doubt about that. When has he not been serious and responsible about his commitment to the band, save for the past year?

Sure, he hasn’t made great decisions recently, especially with his new…habit, simply put. But he’s never stopped caring, no matter how the tabloids turned on him or Heeseung overshadowed him when he began to fall short.

Maybe he needs to put some good will back in, even if he feels justified for being jaded at this point in his career.

Wanting to turn the tide of the conversation, Sunghoon spots a random guitar in the studio and grabs it eagerly. He sits back down with a newfound interest, plucking the strings to ensure it’s in tune.

You laugh and stuff the crumb-filled wrapper in the bag. “Avoiding the subject, I see.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon defends himself. “When I see a guitar, it’s only natural to play it.” He strums a few chords, satisfied. “Have any requests?”

You lift your shoulders, intrigued.

Sunghoon begins playing the opening strings of Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova.” It’s a bittersweet song, one with a beautiful instrumental but somber lyrics. Seems fitting for the man playing it somehow.

He begins to sing the first lines, the fried timbre of his vocals lulling you into a state of relaxation. By the introduction of the first chorus, you’re singing along with him, matching his tone with your saccharine harmonies.

It makes the crowd around you pause to look on for a moment, mesmerized at two stars seeming to shine at the same second. They must resign it to fate, two talents coming together in music and love, unaware of the reality of your situation.

Or maybe, they see the shades of something blossoming that you and Sunghoon have yet to recognize yourselves.

You flip through the newest issue of Vogue, excited to read Sunghoon’s part of the interview. It takes a handful of turns before you make it to the spread, the interview intertwined with shots of Heeseung and Sunghoon clad in V-necks and leather jeans. Their outfits coincide with the grunge aesthetic. You flip through the discussion about their newest album, “Under the Sun,” until one specific segment catches your eye.

VOGUE: So, it’s safe to assume this new album is about dedication, or the commitment, to one’s desires. It shows in your new single off this album, “All For You,” as you said Heeseung, but how do you feel about it Sunghoon?

PSH: I agree with Hee a hundred percent. Sometimes you don’t realize how devoted you are to something or someone until you’re caught in the middle of it. And sometimes that can be beautiful and intoxicating, a reason to go on that keeps you alive in so many ways.

VOGUE: I sense something or someone on your mind besides the album.

PSH: You could say that.

You left hours before the boys began their interview. It could’ve been a million things on his mind when the writer made note of his reaction, but you know the online forums and fandoms must be exploding over the snippet.

“Whatcha reading?” Ningning asks. She walks into your kitchen, looking for a cup to fill with ice water. She may live a few apartments down, but she never fails to use her status as the youngest to barge in whenever she wants.

You show her the front cover when she turns her head back in your direction. “His new article just came out.”

“Any mentions of his new love affair?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you threaten to throw the magazine at her head.

“Drop it already, Ning! It’s not real anyway.”

“Come on. The guy is cute, you’re cute, have some fun with it!”

“I would if he didn’t have so many walls up.”

“Like you don’t?” Ningning tests the waters, the air suddenly thick with tension. “You’re always so serious. You know we love you, but you never let yourself loosen up.”

You sigh and drop the magazine on the counter. “There’s a lot of responsibilities on the line. I can’t just shuck them whenever I want.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to worry every second about them, or about us. Let go sometimes, babe.”

Before you can respond, your doorbell rings. You’re both surprised, not expecting anyone to show up today, but you answer the door anyway.

Sunghoon stands before the threshold with a bag of takeout and a shy smile. His eyes are not bloodshot, his outfit looks purposefully put together, and his posture tells you he’s on a mission. “Figured since you brought food last time, I oughta return the favor.”

Ningning saunters up behind you with a smirk, arms still crossed. “Speak of the devil.”

“Easy, that’s not me,” he jokes. “Probably more of an associate.”

Ningning laughs and takes the cue to exit the apartment. “Have fun, you two, but not too much fun!”

You press your hand to the back of your neck, the heat on your cheeks rising at an alarming rate. “Didn’t know we were supposed to meet today.”

“We weren’t,” he admits.

A corner of your mouth quirks up. “I thought whatever we did in our private time was our business. You’re using the space in your schedule to hang out with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sunghoon bops you on the nose with his index finger and drops the bag of takeout on the counter. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I got a little bit of everything. Wontons, crab rangoons, egg rolls…I guess I kinda went overboard, didn’t I?”

You shake your head, the other part of your mouth turning up until your face cracks into a full-blown smile. The uncertainty on his face, the wind-swept hairdo covering a part of his eyes, the rapid motions of his hands taking the containers of food out of the bag.

In any other circumstance, you would consider this an awkward but real first date. And because your heart is not functioning in tandem with your head, you feel the flutters in your stomach all the same. “I’ll eat whatever you brought.”

The sun sets into the clouds surrounding the apartment complexes near yours, the high-rise bathed in orange and yellow hues from the day coming to a close. Your stomach is still overwhelmingly full from the food Sunghoon brought over, but you’re in a comfortable space as you both sit on your couch together watching another episode of New Girl.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon turns to you, his smile not meeting his eyes. “‘S a free country. But I get to ask you one also. Quid pro quo and all that.”

You ponder how to word your next sentence, not wanting to cross an unspoken boundary. “Why did you start using drugs?”

He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Honestly, I didn’t know the reason until I stopped taking them a few weeks ago…when we started this thing. It helped to take the edge off of things, off of me always worrying about how I was measuring up to Hee. And then they just helped with everything else, until they didn’t.”

Your heart aches at his answer, the explanation one you did not expect to be so in-depth. Like most starlets and singers at your age, it just seemed to be around and available to take whenever you wanted. Not that you or any of the girls in PrismHeart partook, but it was still there.

You didn’t realize that his proclivity started from a place of genuine need for something else. Anything else, if it meant he could escape.

“My turn,” Sunghoon says, turning his full attention to you on the couch. “Why do you never let yourself relax?”

His question and Ningning’s words haunt the deep recesses of your brain in an instant, the unspoken fears inside of you coming to a head as you try to create an answer. “Being able to sing professionally has been something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. I guess somewhere deep inside I’m worried if I don’t take it seriously, I’ll lose it forever.”

Sunghoon ruminates on your answer before he traces the outline of your hand with his fingers, the touch setting off sparks on your skin. “We’re more alike than I thought.”

You laugh and throw the pillow under your back at him. “What? It’s not like I’m a robot or something.”

He chuckles and stands up from the couch. “Okay, well, either way, we need to liven the mood again.” Sunghoon scrolls through a playlist on his phone and finds a song that immediately makes his face lighten up. “Perfect.”

He connects his phone to your Bluetooth speakers, the guitar riff of The Darkness’s “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” cutting through the silence from moments before.

“What the hell-“

“Stop thinking for five minutes and dance with me or so help me God.” His eyebrows quirk up in an unspoken challenge, and before you can stop yourself and use your logical brain to think first and then decide, you’re up off of your feet with your best cockney accent to match the lead singer’s tone.

You may be off key and breathless, and Sunghoon may look ridiculous as he riffs on an air-guitar, but it’s the first night in years where you’ve truly felt free. No obligations or restrictions are there to stop you from doing what you please.

That night when you go to sleep, you save the ridiculous song to your Apple Music account and think about Sunghoon’s smile before shutting your eyes.

The flash of cameras is nothing new, especially on a red carpet. What adds a unique dynamic to the situation is Sunghoon standing by. He watches you pose for the cameras, the press doting over you for a shot of your outfit and presence at Into Eden’s album launch party.

His eyes on you burn brighter than the lights strung across the space. You blush to yourself and keep smiling for the multitudes of paparazzi. The next minute, Sunghoon puts a hand on the small of your back gently to lead you in the direction of the club a dozen feet or so away.

“Sunghoon, one picture! Just one!”

You turn your eyes to him and press two fingers to your neck, feigning it off as nervousness in front of the public. Sunghoon smirks and pulls you into his chest, letting the vultures beg for more as he holds you close.

He puts a hand up to say goodbye and walks away with you, palms intertwined. Even as you enter the club, seeing Heeseung and his girlfriend Ryujin waiting for you both, Sunghoon doesn’t let go.

“Do you want a drink?” Sunghoon asks, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“No thank you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Sunghoon?” Ryujin asks, mystified at his newfound etiquette.

“He’s still around, Ryu. Just trying to be on his best behavior for once.” Sunghoon ruffles her hair before walking away to greet Jay at the bar riddled with executives.

She huffs and fixes the flyaways Sunghoon caused, but smiles at you when she’s done. “Whatever you’re doing to him, keep it up. I haven’t seen him this way in forever.”

Clearly Ryujin’s not aware of the circumstances of yours and Sunghoon’s relationship, but something has changed in him both in and out of the public eye. Many posts and headlines showcased your numerous outings and discreet meetups in the weeks you’ve spent together. However, there were more moments shared between you that the public had no insight on.

Nights in the recording studio, rehearsals for PrismHeart that turned into goofing off between the both of you, and rides on his motorcycle that almost made your head spin.

It’s hard to tell now where the truth stops and the lies begin, and vice versa. How can you tell yourself the smiles that he gives you aren’t genuine? How do you respond to Ryujin without feeling like your answers are coming from the depths of your heart?

“Babe, there’s that director! Let’s go say hi!” Ryujin runs over to the eponymous man with her hand tightly wrapped around Heeseung’s. He smiles apologetically before being stolen away.

You wait for Sunghoon to come back, but not before you witness Yujin and Jungwon linked arm in arm, followed by the last two people you expected to show up tonight.

Jake’s hair is newly dyed, the ash blond of his hair striking under the lights of the club. He doesn’t notice you, only shakes hands with Jungwon and continues on his path to the bar. His date and Sunghoon’s ex Yeji has her body wrapped tightly around his, even as they walk through the crowds of people.

It’s been months since you last saw him, and in spite of your desire to stay and show your pride for Sunghoon and his newest album, you want nothing more than to run out of the club and never come back. Your heartbeat quickens, the thumps of it rattling your chest with no guarantees it’ll calm down.

Like a magnet, Sunghoon is by your side immediately and looking into your eyes with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s here. Yeji’s with him.”

Sunghoon scans the crowd and lands on the two at the bar. Jake catches the younger man’s eyes and lifts his drink in congratulations, a smug smirk on his face.

Before he can walk over to the idiot’s spot, you hold onto his arm tightly to stop him. “He’s not worth it, Hoon. Trust me.”

Sunghoon knew enough of your history with the C-list actor from your own admissions and your friend’s anecdotes to want to kick the guy’s teeth in. Jake didn’t just make it harder for you to make your relationship a priority in your life, but he made every issue between the two of you your fault somehow.

And as far as Sunghoon could tell, no-one could be more devoted to the things that mattered to them than you.

“Why the fuck would he show up here?” Sunghoon asks nobody in particular, still fuming at the man’s audacity and his effect on your wellbeing. “The least I can do is show him the door.”

“No, please.” You grip onto the lapels of Sunghoon’s suit jacket, emphasizing your need to have him close. If he leaves you, you might fall apart. “Dance with me?”

Sunghoon’s anger transforms, lightly scoffing at your request with a soft smile to follow. “I don’t think this song is good to dance to, love.”

The term of endearment makes your knees weak, the word on his lips making your fingers tremble against the fabric of his jacket. Yes, the remix of one of Into Eden’s new songs “No Doubt” is more suited for a mosh pit than a couple wanting to dance, but you don’t care. “Dance with me anyway.”

You lead him to the center of the club. Both your worlds look on as you hold him close and try to match the rhythm of the remix. It’s a pointless endeavor, the beat changing right when you think you’ve mastered it. Your attempts to follow make Sunghoon smile. “If it helps, I’m not a big fan of this version of the song. Glad it’s just a B side track.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You rest your head on his chest, deciding to sway softly instead of thinking about the music pumping or the strangers’ passing glances.

“I think we’re breaking rule number two, love,” Sunghoon whispers into the crown of your head.

You move to stare up at him, running two fingers to the side of his neck exposed over the collar of his shirt. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

In the haze of blinding lights and blank faces, Sunghoon’s is the only one that matters as he bends down and presses your lips to his.

In contrast to the first kiss you ever shared, this one is not entwined with alcohol or unwelcome shock. It’s ingrained with weeks worth of tension and words that you could not read before, the lines between your agreement now crystal clear.

You gladly accept his mouth on yours, your body on fire when his tongue touches the roof of your mouth. His hands slip down to the curve of your hips, squeezing the skin through the confines of your clothes.

The sounds of shuttering cameras and surprised voices intercut with the music are of no priority to you. All that matters is that this kiss never ends. That the feelings you’ve been harboring never have to be concealed again.

Sunghoon walks into Jay’s office with a heavy heart, unsure how to present the situation he will unfold to his manager. He’s been ducking your calls and texts, unsure how to go about his next moves before discussing his predicament with the person he trusts the most in this world, save for Heeseung.

“I could kiss you!” Jay says when he sees Sunghoon walk in, pointing at him with pure glee.

“Please don’t,” Sunghoon responds.

“Streams of ‘All for You’ hit an all-time peak last night, the projected numbers are predicting this record to be your best selling one since the first album, and you’re a golden boy in the press again!” Relief washes over Jay’s face, the success of his plan evident in the easy posture of his body. “Not gonna say I’m a god, but I'm definitely a genius.”

Sunghoon claps his hands together, giving his manager the praise he deserves. “That’s great, Jay. Really.”

“You should be happy, man! We’re on the straight and narrow again. Now I just have to come up with some sweet and easy way to end the whole thing and we’re good to go.”

Sunghoon wants to interject, but Jay continues on with his thoughts, letting them run free out loud. “It should be pretty easy. Just gotta find another event to have you guys attend and then we’ll pull the plug—“

“Jay, I can’t.” Sunghoon blurts out the three words that have been on his mind since he walked into the label’s building. His heart rests in his throat as he holds nothing back. “I like her. Really.”

Jay stops walking around the room and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He blows the hair in front of his face, puzzled. “Well, that’s a pickle.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sunghoon admits, because it’s the truth. He never intended on actually finding you endearing, funny, attractive, all the positive adjectives he can come up with in his mind. “And then the album party happened…and I just can’t.”

Jay sits down at his desk, his face becoming a mask of professionalism. “You know that’s not possible, Sunghoon. I mean, think about it. She has her band, you have yours. It would be a disaster trying to keep it up. The only reason Hee and Ryu are still together is because she isn’t involved in any of this shit.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, vaguely listening to his manager’s words but not giving them weight. “You don’t know her like I do.”

Jay shrugs. “You may be right. But you could barely handle a relationship, real or fake, when this started. Do you think a real one is manageable right now?”

Sunghoon leans back into the armchair, some of his manager’s words hitting too close to home to deny. Would he truly be able to keep a true relationship with you alive when he was always under public pressure and eventual scrutiny?

Sunghoon walks out of the office with more questions than answers, more unsure than he was before.

You sit in your bed, undecided on whether you should try to text Sunghoon again or not. The downpour outside reminds you of the onslaught of emotions pooling in your gut, a mixture of hurt and anxiety weighing heavy on your heart.

He kisses you because you both wanted him to and then he decides to leave you without a single word for days? What kind of sense does that make?

Yujin and Ningning want to cut his heart out with a rusty knife, but you assure them you’re as confused as he probably is, unsure where to go from this point forward.

If only he could give you some signal he’s still alive, you would feel more at ease.

A knock at your door makes you run to answer it, expecting Ningning to show up with Sour Patch Kids and the newest film on your To Be Watched list. “Ning, you better have ‘Bend It Like Beckham’ in your hand or you’re not coming in!”

You open the door to Sunghoon soaked through from the rain. “Sorry I came empty handed.” Sunghoon trails his eyes down your body, smirking at the Hello Kitty pattern of your cotton shirt and shorts. “Nice outfit.”

You shake your head, incredulous that he’s at your door without any word to warn you. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he says honestly. He walks through the door and makes you back into the hallway wall. His wet body traps you against him and the walkway. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

He chuckles, swiping his wet hair off his face. “I know, I’m an idiot.”

“And a jerk.”

“And a jerk,” he parrots, eyes full of sincerity. “But I want to be better for you. I want to be worthy of being yours.”

The confession makes your body buckle. The breath that was still in your lungs escapes in one gust from your lips. How can he think he isn’t worth it after all the vulnerability he’s shown you? “You already are, Hoon.”

He places his hands on either side of your face tenderly, his mouth inching closer. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You mirror his expression, covering his hands with your own. “I might have been told that once or twice.”

His lips collide with yours, the action soft but the emotions charged behind the kiss heavy. Where that kiss in the nightclub was chaste compared to this one, you can only imagine how the rest of the night will play out.

Sunghoon discards his jacket onto the floor, your hands automatically sliding across his damp shoulder blades. Your touch makes him shudder, a moan escaping his throat. “You’re so warm.”

You smirk. “My bed’s warmer.”

The tangle of clothes and tongues leads to your position in his lap on your bed, the comforter discarded somewhere in the rush to get him to sit down and hold you closer.

Your body writhes against his, his pants the only thing left that he’s wearing. He holds you tighter against him, groaning against your lips. “Fuck, are you trying to get me to come already?”

You blush and kiss his neck. “Wasn’t my intention, but I don’t mind.”

Sunghoon chuckles. He flips you onto your back on the mattress, taking your bra off to reveal your breasts. Your nipples perk up once the air hits your skin, and Sunghoon can’t fight the groan that escapes his lips. “You’re fucking beautiful. I could stare at your tits all day.”

Most compliments make you feel like the person giving them is obligated to, not because it’s true. But when you hear such explicit thoughts leave Sunghoon’s mouth, you believe every word he says.

He covers your body with his own, taking one nipple into his mouth as he kneads the neglected breast with one hand. Expertly, he uses his other hand to slide into your underwear, finding your clit in record time.

He swirls his index and middle finger around the bud, using your essence that has already pooled in your panties as lubricant.

You mewl, grasping Sunghoon’s hair in your fingers for purchase on something, anything. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Sunghoon releases your nipple with a pop, his mouth trailing up the valley of your breasts to stop at your lips. “I’m not done yet, darling.”

Suddenly, he has both hands pulling your underwear down your legs, leaving the fabric dangling on the curve of your ankle. He wastes no time settling his face at the apex of your thighs.

He kisses your clit, making your body buck into his face at the quick act. By the time his tongue is inside of you, prodding deliciously at your walls, you’re practically at the brink of an orgasm.

“You like that?” Sunghoon asks, his voice wicked against your pussy, the vibrations of his mouth reverberating against your skin. “Like how I stretch you open, love?”

You nod vigorously. “Yes, Hoon, you know I do.”

He licks a long stripe up your center, from your perineum to the hood of your clit. “I have to be inside you right now, darling. But I promise, I’ll make you come on my tongue later.”

You clench down on nothing, eager to have his body conjoined with yours. He takes his jeans and boxers off in one motion, his cock long and thick. You want nothing more than to take him in your mouth, feel the taste of him on your lips, but you’re too excited for what’s to come when you look in his devilish eyes.

He settles on top of you once again, certain he’s prepped you enough for him to enter you. He looks into your eyes for confirmation, and you kiss his lips to emphasize your eagerness.

He slips inside without issue, his girth stretching you more than his tongue did. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a curse flying from your mouth when he fills you completely.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice anchored to the skin of your neck. He can practically see the outline of himself on your lower belly protruding through the skin. “Feel all of me.”

His hips push himself in and out of you, his tempo slow and torturous. The rational part of you thinks he’s only doing this for your comfort, but you know him better than most deductions of logic.

Sunghoon knows you want him to go faster from the feeling of your nails digging into his back and your moans in the shell of his ear. But because he loves to tease, he’ll drag this out for as long as he can.

Until he hears you beg for more, that is. And you don’t mind groveling for what you want.

“Hoonie,” you plead, trying hard to meet his hips with your own for more force. “Please fuck me harder.”

Sunghoon kisses your forehead before saying, “Flip over for me, love. All fours.”

You do as he commands. Once you’re in an acceptable position, he slams himself inside of you.

The tempo barely compares to the previous one, giving you no time to do anything but relish in the pistoning of his hips as they make contact with yours. He smacks your ass for good measure, a moan escaping from your lips as he rubs the reddening skin.

“You wanted this,” He reminds you, smacking your other cheek harder as he drills himself in and out of you without any sense of stopping. “Wanted me to ruin you like a good little doll.”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg, stuffing your face into your pillow.

“None of that, my love.” He takes your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head from the bed. “Want everyone to hear how good you feel, how well you’re being fucked. And I want them to know how beautiful you sound when you come.”

You’re limp by the time your orgasm rushes through you, your body wrecked to no end as you’re bathed in ecstasy.

“Holy shit,” you mewl, still feeling the aftershocks.

Sunghoon continues on with his relentless attention, his speed not letting up. He moves you against him and vice versa as he pleases, seeing the white coating of your essence on his cock as it disappears inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want me to come?” He asks, unsure how much longer he can hold it in.

“Inside of me, please.”

Don’t have to tell him twice.

A groan rips from Sunghoon’s throat as he releases inside of you, knowing his entire load is painting you white. If only he could see it, see how much of him is a part of you now.

He runs his hands up and down your body when you both come down from your highs. He kisses the reddened skin of your backside as he drags a washcloth between your legs, making sure not to overstimulate you in the process of cleaning you up.

You stare at each other, both in lingering rapture as well as disbelief. He hums a song into your ear as your eyelids flutter closed, the gravel in his voice the perfect lullaby.

You wake up the next morning to Sunghoon playing the chorus of “Wonderland,” PrismHeart’s first hit on the Top 100. You grin to yourself, holding the comforter close to your chest. “Trying to record that music video was such a pain.”

Sunghoon turns and smiles at your awoken form, putting the guitar against your side table. He takes you into his arms, kissing the top of your forehead. “How so?”

“They wanted us to do this themed shoot. White rabbits, decks of cards, me dressed as Alice. But every time the director tried filming the segment where we all went down the rabbit hole, it just kept going wrong.” You laugh and run your fingers across Sunghoon’s chest.

He chuckles and kisses your shoulder. “They didn’t think to try a different concept out?”

You shook your head. “We all agreed on it. Besides, the story is actually one of the inspirations for the songs. I read a lot of Lewis Carroll growing up, but I always loved ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ the most.”

Sunghoon runs his lips across your neck, his hand tracing circles into your waist. “A beautiful girl lost in her fantasies. Sounds nice,” he whispers, his breath creating delicious waves of heat across your skin.

It still doesn’t feel real, having him so close and naked against you in your bed. It could be a dream, one action of your subconscious playing on your deepest desires. And if that were true, you wish you would never come out of it, too happy for words to express.

When Sunghoon slips under the covers and between your legs once again, you wonder if the faraway place that held your dreams could hold a space for Sunghoon too.

It only takes one weekend for your happiness to come crashing down. Whatever you and Sunghoon were building is destroyed, all in the span of seventy-two hours.

Sunghoon is helping you cook a plethora of pancakes when your front door opens in a slam. Yujin and Jungwon bust through with worried expressions.

“You guys haven’t seen it, have you?” Yujin asks, frown lines etched on the sides of her mouth. She hands you her phone, and you and Sunghoon look over the article headline on the screen.

“‘INTO EDEN’ & ‘HEARTPRISM’ CAUGHT IN DATING SCHEME? IS IT REAL OR JUST FOR SHOW? EXCLUSIVE INSIDER TELLS ALL!”

Sunghoon pulls out his phone to call Jay, stalking into your bedroom. The conversation immediately bursts into a screaming match, the sounds of Sunghoon’s anger apparent.

“I swear to God, Jay, if you don’t find out whoever leaked this shit, I’m gonna have your head on a plate right next to theirs.”

Yujin and Jungwon grow quiet. With the news shared, your friend hugs you and walks out the door with Jungwon in tow.

Sunghoon throws his phone onto your bed and walks back over to you, clearly worn out from the information he told Jay and the facts that were given to him by his manager.

You give him a close-lipped smile and envelop him into a hug. Sunghoon strokes your hair as you promise him, “It can be fixed, Hoon, and it will.”

A few days and one interview later prove that in spite of your hopes, not all things are fixable.

Jay sets up a quick interview with Buzzfeed under the guise of discussing the new album. Everyone knows the sole reason for its existence is to quell the rumors of your false romance. It started that way, yes, but that doesn’t mean you or Sunghoon have to divulge that information to the public.

Heeseung and Sunghoon discuss the inspiration for their songs and the creative process behind the album. And when the questions come up regarding the rumors, Sunghoon plays them off with a smile.

“I’m not desperate enough to need to fake a relationship with anyone! How stupid would I have to be to do that?”

The interviewer quirks an eyebrow. “Are you saying your girlfriend was desperate to date you?”

“All I’m saying is that she pursued me that night in the club, and I was more than happy to see where it would go. And as they say, the rest is history.”

Heeseung looks at Sunghoon with wild eyes, his face practically screaming: That’s the best answer you could come up with?

When Sunghoon comes to your door that night to explain himself and how his words got twisted after the fact, you open the door only to throw the jacket he left in your apartment in his face.

“Desperate,” you seethe. “That’s the word you thought best described me, huh? So I guess I’m also stupid enough to want to date you, too?”

“No, I didn’t say that! I didn’t say any of those things!”

“So the interviewer was lying? Just another person or thing out to get you, right Sunghoon? When will you take responsibility for once and own up to the shit you said about us, about me?”

The girls huddle behind you as the tears stream down your face. “Just leave me alone, Sunghoon. Get away from me, use this as the out you wanted since day one.”

You slam the door in his face, not bothering to address the fist that slams into your door or Sunghoon’s pleas for the two of you to work this out.

His heart shatters from the force of his mess, a mess that not another soul can be blamed for but him.

Weeks roll by into painful silence, not a single exchange shared. You blocked him on all social media in hopes to avoid taglines of your name in relation to Sunghoon, but it’s of no use. The time comes where the girls have to keep your phone away in hopes you’ll stop searching online for comments related to the Buzzfeed article. “Babe, it’s not gonna do you any good,” Yujin sighs, powering off the device.

You nod, resigning yourself to the fact that whatever relationship you had is over, and there was no way to prevent it. You could not control or change Sunghoon anymore than he could change himself, and unfortunately, he was still in the process of doing so and shattered your heart in the quest to be a better man.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, tries everything to repair what he’s destroyed. He pleads with Jay to make contact through Momo, but his hands are tied. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, man. If I keep pestering Momo she’s going to have my ass, and not in a fun way. I’m sorry.”

The first few weeks of the tour comes and goes in a haze, Into Eden beginning their string of tour dates up and down the eastern coast of America. The only time Sunghoon is coherent enough to remember anything is in the mornings before he falls into another night of misery. He doesn’t go back to his usual routine of drugs and booze, keeping his promise religiously. Instead, he goes on in a blur, playing his instrument and performing his parts of the songs without a hitch.

He may not be happy, but at least he’s doing something he‘s always been meant to do.

One afternoon of rehearsals, Sunghoon decides to use his break time on the roof to his advantage. The sounds of the city, its car horns and speeding pedestrians, keep him sane for once in a long time.

Of course, Heeseung has to ruin the solitude with his presence. “Sunwoo said I’d find you up here.”

“Sunwoo needs to learn to shut his mouth and focus on sound mixing,” Sunghoon grumbles, strumming the electric guitar in his lap and avoiding Heeseung’s gaze.

Heeseung sighs and sits next to his best friend. Both of their legs dangle over the edge of the building as they take in the bird’s eye view of New York City. “If you want to fix things, you just have to tell her how you feel.”

“Thanks, Yoda. Where would I be without you?”

Heeseung laughs at the young man’s ridiculous attitude, Sunghoon’s stubbornness unbroken since they became friends. “Just because you may not like my advice doesn’t mean I won’t give it to you.”

“What nuggets of wisdom could Mr. Perfect give me that I haven’t heard a thousand times over?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Heeseung runs a hand over his face, mystified at Sunghoon’s words. “I don’t know where or when you got this notion in your head that my life is perfect, but it’s complete bullshit.”

“Look at you and look at me, Hee. Everyone has said it for years. How much more talented you are, how much better you handle the spotlight compared to me, the list goes on and on.”

Heeseung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Ryujin and I almost broke up last year.”

Sunghoon looks at his best friend, stunned. “Fuck, really?”

His best friend nods. “The last album’s release…I was never home. Ryujin kept getting on my case about us not spending time together, and we took a break for a few weeks. Once I realized how dumb it was for us to be fighting in the first place, things went back to normal. Well, normal and one relationship counselor later.” Heeseung sighs. “Jay kept it quiet from everyone, including you.”

“You could’ve told me,” Sunghoon says, guilty he had no clue.

“I know. But everyone has their secrets, just like you.” Heeseung emits another breath from the depths of his lungs. “I’m glad you know now, though.”

Sunghoon nods. The reality of what he’s done, coupled with the fact he’s spent so long misunderstanding one of the only people to love him so earnestly, hits him hard. Against his will, a few tears escape his eyes. “I really fucked up, Hee.”

Heeseung takes Sunghoon by the shoulder and makes Sunghoon look him in the eyes. “Then fix it. And let me help you.”

Sunghoon smiles, his first real smile in weeks. “How?”

Heeseung smirks. “I may not be as good at making plans as Jay, but I have a few ideas.”

The arena is alive with the sounds of the audience chanting and the instrumental intro to “All for You” exploding from the main stage and stadium speakers. Sunghoon tries to brush off his sudden nerves, the gravity of what he’s about to do shaking him to the core. It could go terribly wrong or do nothing to fix his problems, but he has to try, right?

Heeseung puts his hand on Sunghoon’s back, his bandmate providing the reassurance and stable ground he needs. “You got this, Hoon.”

The two men step on stage, the crowd screaming an octave higher when they take their instruments off their stands. Sunghoon raises a hand, motioning for the band to go quiet and the audience to silence their cheers.

“As you know, a few months ago I met a person that really matters to me. I want her and all of you to know that she still does. And if she’s listening somewhere tonight, she should know that this is for her.”

Sunghoon begins playing the first chords of the song he’s written, nobody but Heeseung and the band aware of this change in the setlist. “This isn’t off of our new album, but I hope you all like it. It’s called ‘Lost in Wonderland.’”

Sunghoon begins the song on his guitar, Heeseung following behind him with backing vocals and a bass. The audience sways to the song, enraptured by the lyrics and melodies of the two musicians. Sunghoon pours his heart into the chorus, hoping by some luck that you’ll be able to hear this if nothing else.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Brooklyn, maybe I’ll see you in France. As long as the waves keep on rolling in. Things don’t always go the way they’re planned.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Jersey, maybe next year in Japan. Sometimes it’s so hard to find a friend, you’re the only one that just might understand.

“Lost in wonderland…”

By the time the final chorus rings out, the notes of Sunghoon’s guitar flying through the air gracefully, Sunghoon feels a million times lighter. All he can hope for now is that his plea will reach you amidst the sea of screaming fans.

Sunghoon runs off the stage as soon as the band finishes playing their last song, unable to hold his composure any longer. What stops him short from running to the green room is your face riddled with tears.

Sunghoon is unsure what to do next. Hold you in his arms and not let go, the last time he saw you being too long for him to accept as reality? Or confess what he said on stage was only a fragment of what he holds in his heart?

You beat him to the punch, your words coming out practically on top of each other. “Momo booked me a red eye to get here in time. She said Heeseung told her something had happened to you before the concert and—“

“I love you,” Sunghoon interrupts, the three words and eight letters no longer able to be kept inside of him.

You smile, eyes puffy but shining. Before you can ask him if what he just said is true, he repeats it until the words go stale, but they don’t. “I love you,” he says, “and I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t.”

He runs to you immediately and kisses you with all the energy he has left in his body. The feeling of your mouth on his and your hands gripping tight onto his shirt fixes the part of him that broke the second you told him to get lost.

He knows he’ll never let you go again, never take you for granted for another second, and always remind you how much of you is home to him now.

When you part, you ask him, “Did you really write that song for me?”

Sunghoon smirks. “Every single line.”

You nod, running your thumb across his chin. “I love you, too.”

The resounding sound of the bustling audience leaving the venue and the crew packing up fills the background as you kiss Sunghoon again, making up for the time you lost, and preparing for all the times to come.

1 YEAR LATER

PrismHeart’s new album cover is plastered across the press wall. The red carpet is dyed neon pink to accentuate the colors of the title, “Love Language.” It’s a fitting name for the project in your opinion, many of the songs directly inspired by your personal life.

Yujin fusses with Jungwon’s suit once they’re away from the press wall, their matching ensembles making you smile. They’ve been together for as long as you and Sunghoon have at this point. Sharing your songs and thoughts for the newest record has been easy thanks to a fellow member being stupidly in love like you.

Sunghoon steps onto the carpet for his round of paparazzi photos. His suit and jewelry are completely black except for the shirt he picked out that coordinates with your dress. It may be too pink for his taste, but he’d do anything to make you happy, and he knows how to stay on theme for a special occasion.

You add on a few brownie points in your mind for how incredible he looks, the suit emphasizing the contours of his body that you know too well by now.

When Sunghoon’s done with his pap walk, he has to hold himself back from running to you and kissing you hard on the mouth. His composure hangs by a thread through seeing the top of your chest accentuated by the sweetheart neckline of your bubblegum pink dress.

He holds you close and kisses you on the cheek, a halfway point between what he should do and what he wants to do to you, the audience around them be damned.

The audience in question goes crazy when his lips linger on your cheek, the candid shot perfect for the slew of tabloids that will come out tomorrow.

“You look fucking incredible, just so you know,” Sunghoon whispers in your ear.

You smack him on the chest softly, beaming. “Language, Hoon!”

“Hey, forgive me. Words of affirmation and all, y’know. My love language.” He winks, and you chuckle into his chest.

“You and your dad jokes. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” he confesses, taking a free lock of hair between his fingers. “Very lucky.”

Before you can tell him you feel the same, you hear the sound of your name on an interviewer’s lips. You walk hand in hand with Sunghoon to greet her before she begins her parade of commentary, both of you all smiles as you discuss your latest single.

The show must go on, the multitude of cameras and questions second nature by now. But with Sunghoon’s hand in yours and your heart completely his, you know that none of the fame will compare to the happiness that his love has brought to your life.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @monamipencil

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ��ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

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band--psycho · 3 months ago

Text

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time.

You two didn’t get along.

Sylus knew this.

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip.

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious.

You were planning something.

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions.

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed.

But it wasn’t.

There were no stray feathers.

No shards of metal.

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you.

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it.

And instead of his home being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent.

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall.

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends.

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling.

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes.

He needed answers.

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention.

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you.

You changed him.

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence.

Everything.

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you.

Needed to see you.

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that.

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume.

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully.

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling.

Jealousy however was.

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto.

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends?

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd.

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked.

Mephisto though was different.

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken.

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up.

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him.

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making.

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions.

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him.

He was becoming as infuriating as you were.

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in.

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you.

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts.

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed.

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him.

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips.

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way.

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto.

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips.

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together.

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus.

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers.

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him.

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment.

You already knew why.

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you.

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear.

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear.

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you.

“Thought you two didn’t get along?” He asked quietly.

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another.

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan.

A plan to make Sylus jealous.

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him.

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart.

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question.

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you.

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips.

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss.

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly.

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed.

Taglist:

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#sylus x reader #sylus imagines #sylus imagine #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #lnds sylus #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace imagine #l&ds imagines

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octoberautumnbox · 5 months ago

Text

The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307

tripleS Seo Dahyun & Male Reader (ft. Kep1er Seo Youngeun)

Categories/warnings: smut, voyeur, masturbation, buncha others maybe idk I forgor

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: thanks to @thewritingrowlet for beta, to @sinswithpleasure for making me get off my ass to write this, and to @midnightdancingsol for the more-than-welcome poking me with a stick y'all r awesome :DDDD

Street lamps flickered to life as the sun shone a golden hue across the sky. The festivities were just about ending and people were exchanging goodbyes and good nights, clearing out slowly – one by one, then pairs, then swathes of people vacating the increasingly empty street. It was a grand stroke of luck for you to move into the neighborhood right before the street fair, and the moving guys didn't mind too much about the tricky navigation and maneuvering once their plates piled high with biryani chicken and jasmine rice.

After helping stack up the chairs and fold up the tarps, and of course waving at the other volunteers, you spot a girl struggling with a particularly tall tower of dirty paper plates. You rush over to her to lend a hand, but unfortunately for the both of you, the tower topples over and a splattering of soy sauce covers her shirt.

“Ah, Dahyun-unnie’s gonna kill me…” she whines, and you rush for as many clean tissues still on the tables that haven’t been cleared up.

“You okay? Anything hurt?” you hand the tissues to her and start picking up the plates, in two piles this time. A cursory glance to her and you find a volunteer’s nametag on her upper left.

“Fine, thanks,” she says as she wipes as much of the liquid off of her clothes as she can, “but if you don’t mind, I need to get changed or else I’ll never get this stain out.”

“No worries, Youngeun. Just get your stuff sorted and I’ll finish up here.”

She smiles and bows just as you get up from the ground, and she rushes off without much more fuss. You drop off the trash in the proper bin, dust off your hands, and after the organizer’s reassurance that they can handle everything else, you head on off to your own apartment.

~~~

Your door clicks shut behind you, and you not-so-gracefully crash into your bed. After the week you've had and the stress from the move, it just feels right to bury your face in your hands and groan in exhaustion. Once you let out a particularly satisfying sigh of fatigue, you let your arms fall to your sides, spread-eagle on the mattress, and drum your fingers into the soft cushioning.

You stare at the ceiling, making vain attempts to distract yourself by thinking random thoughts: “Should I get ice cream tonight?” “How long has the window been open?” “Is the ceiling cream or beige?” “Why does jacking off feel good?” “What's Wooyeon been up to lately?”

The last one does give you an idea, and you reach for your phone to check. Their comeback is just recently out, and you have to say, in one particular fancam she looks a bit too good to not stare. The way her outfit hugs her body, accentuates her curves, shows off just the right amount of skin…

The video plays on, and you casually strip yourself of your pants and underwear. Sitting up properly, you intently watch Wooyeon's performance, paying close attention to her creamy-looking thighs, her cute, glazeable tummy, and her pretty, ruinable smile. In no time at all, you're rubbing your cock to her performance, as if she's dancing just for you. Every wink she does sends another spark of lust through your system, each jiggle of her thighs another wish that you were in between them and eating her out. You keep a steady pace as you jack off to the woman on screen, lazily moving yet dead set on blowing your load to her.

The song draws to a close, the confetti flies, and Wooyeon strikes her ending pose. You admire her body one last time, paying special attention to her cute chest. She bends forward ever so slightly, the perfect tease, before she flashes a show-stopping smile as the camera zooms in on her face.

You reach your limit, and in no time at all you're shooting your cum into your hand. You had the sense to prepare a roll of tissue paper in your room just for moments like this, and it's not like you'd be admonished even if you weren't living alone. Catching your breath, you reach for the tissues on the desk and clean yourself up.

A breeze wanders into the room, and you look up to find its source: the open window. Mentally curse yourself, not to let this sort of thing happen again and embarrass yourself. As you make to close it, you find, just across from your own window, another open one that frames someone else. The girl standing in her own room in the building next door has her eyes fixed determinedly on you, her head tilted, her lower lip caught between her teeth just a little bit, and a mysterious smile on the corners of her mouth.

Immediately you feel heat rise up to your cheeks, and you're sure you've just turned a bright red. The girl's eyes wander up to meet yours, and the smile on her face vanishes. Her expression quickly turns into shock, then she shuts her eyes hard before pulling her curtains closed. Remembering you're in the same situation, you pull yours closed as well.

If anyone was going to admonish you for anything, it would be yourself, for letting this happen to yourself – What a fucking idiot.

~~~

You rise groggily, rolling off of your mattress like a dolt, but you’re at least able to catch yourself before you hit the cold ground. The heat got to you, and the floor seems a much better alternative than your bed at this point.

Righting your posture and laying your head on the tiles though, you decide this is no way to spend the night no matter how cold they are. Stumble around in the dark for a bit, deciding that it isn't worth the effort to turn on the light, and just resolve to navigate around your new bedroom in an unfamiliar apartment before dawn. Good start to a new life, you joke to yourself.

“Ah, fucking shit,” you grunt in defeat, before getting up and making for your window again. You slowly pull apart the curtains, the rings clacking against the bar much too noisily for whatever time it is now, and open the window to finally let in a cool night breeze.

The air fills your lungs and nips against the skin of your back, forcing momentary goosebumps before it all settles down and your body relaxes. You head back to bed, considering maybe the blanket you brought down on the floor with you can stay there, when your attention is snatched by a strange noise.

Your eyes drift around the room lazily, but you can't find anything out of the ordinary. Just then, you hear a faint yet distinct set of words in a singsong voice from somewhere just out of sight: “Mmm, fuck yes, daddy…”

It jolts you awake, and the thought hits you. It's dangerous and embarrassing and not at all okay, but you have to know. Just a peek.

You freeze at the window, with nowhere else to look but right at her. “Yeah, it's good, shit…” she moans, seated precariously on her gaming chair, her legs apart and on the armrests on either side of her. She covers her eyes with her hand as her tongue goes crazy, dragging around her lips whenever she's not breathing heavily or saying whatever.

Her other hand works diligently at pumping a dildo into her glistening pussy, intermittently chanting “Just like that…” it seems whenever she hits a particularly good spot and her back arches forward off of the chair.

Her breath hitches and her back arches just a tiny smidge as she comes to her high. “Mmm… mmmmfuucckkkk– fuck, fuck, yes, hngg~!” Just then her body seizes, her hips jerk slightly, and she pushes her dildo as far in as she can take. She pulls it out recklessly and it's followed by a quick stream of her squirt, then a cream flowing from the freshly fucked hole collecting on the seat of her chair.

She lays for a moment just like that, out of breath and seemingly satisfied. She licks her lips a couple more times, savoring the feeling of having just came, vying to get her breath under her control once more. Once she's satisfied, she works up the strength in her yet-weak legs to start cleaning herself up: first the tissues for her cunt, then her seat, then she wobbles over to what you assume is a bathroom to wash up.

“... Fuck. Fuck.” You realize you just watched your neighbor pleasure herself, and she has no idea. However, your guilt never surfaces, never forms, having quite enjoyed the show. You can't think of anything else; her cunt is beautiful, slick, creamy, probably sweet to the taste, and if she sounds like that with a dildo, your mind couldn't race fast enough to think of how she'd sound with your cock.

A sharp gasp rips your attention back to the window opposite, and in it you find her wide-eyed and staring right back. Her mouth hangs open and her cheeks shine a bright red, and you feel the responsibility of breaking the stalemate falls on you and you alone. But what the fuck do you say in a situation like this?

You rush for something – anything – to try and salvage the situation, just one thing to say and hopefully be able to face her tomorrow morning like nothing happened. However, your words fail you, and blank after countless blanks are drawn from your head. Panic rises in your chest, your cheeks just as red as hers, and your eye contact with her becomes almost unbearably painful.

So you break it, albeit accidentally. Your gaze floats down to her flat tummy, admiring how her waist curves like the perfect handles to grab onto while you pull her onto your cock. Even lower still, and you find her exposed pussy, clean shaven and silky smooth to the eye, and for just a moment lewd thoughts intrude your mind once again: the images of her taking her dildo flash before your eyes, leading you to think that however good she felt would be nothing she’s ever had before if you had a shot with her. Inadvertently you lick your lips at the sight of her sex, and you swallow your spit to try and get yourself under control.

You finally snap out of it, and you notice her staring back at you with a common intention. She’s biting her lip again, her head tilted ever so slightly to the right, and she grips her lap to give you a better view of her pussy lips. Or, it could just be your imagination that she’s showing herself off to you. You’re pitching a tent in your boxers, “Shit, I’m only in my boxers,” and she watches you like her beautiful round eyes are all yours. You stay there for a moment, basking in the lustfulness of the woman before you, and you can only be sure she’s doing the same.

Her eyes widen again, a different emotion this time, and she takes a panicked look behind her. A bright light enters her bedroom from somewhere you can't see from her window frame, and she hurriedly pulls the curtains shut. Your show is over now, and you’re left with nothing else to do but shut your own window and relieve yourself with the memory of the pretty girl in the next building, half-naked and checking you out.

~~~

“This is stupid,” you scold yourself, “what would I even say to her?” The question lingers in front of you as your feet bring you to the building next door. “Hi, I'm sorry I watched you cum last night.” A poorly constructed string of words for sure, but it is what it is. You toss the thought around some more, but before you know it, you're face to face with the door to the apartment of the girl who you, for lack of a better term, watched cum last night.

Two quick raps on the wood, right next to the plate inscribed with “Seo Residence,” and you close your eyes. “I'm sorry I watched you cum last night, I'm sorry I watched you cum last night,” you repeat silently. Even with your hopeful attempts to make it sound less absurd, you know it's so irredeemably bad that not even the most heart-wrenching apology would make up for it.

“Can I help you?” The sudden voice shocks your eyes open. The moment you're dreading is delayed for a few more minutes, as the girl that greets you at the door is not the girl from last night.

“Hi, Youngeun, I'm from, um, the next building,” you stutter out, “I need to talk to, uhh…” and it occurs to you that you don't even know her name. You stare at each other for a good few seconds, when it finally ends with her connecting the dots.

“Ah, you're here for Unnie,” she concludes. “Dahyun-unnie, the guy from the street fair is here to talk to you.”

“Who?”

~~~

“There’s no point in pretending. I know you saw me, and I’m okay with it– I liked it, even. Now, you either come clean and tell me what you saw, or I go around and tell people how you perved on the poor girl who accidentally left her window open on a hot night.”

You gripped at her bedsheets, your fingers just as tense as the breath caught in your throat. It was a good threat, you had to admit, and if only you weren’t on the receiving end, you’d even applaud her. Instead, she stood over you with debilitating authority and a venomous tone. Her smirk did you no favors, highlighting her alluring features, including her gaze as sharp as the edges of a ripped up tin can. She had you.

“Alright,” you surrender, holding up your palms in defeat, “I admit. All I saw was you on the chair, legs apart, dildo in your pussy. That’s all.” It only comes as an afterthought that you did technically watch her cum, but rocking the boat and adding new information unprompted seems like a dangerous move. Instead, you sit still, breath held, and wait for what she might say next.

“... Okay, I believe you. Your secret is safe today.” Hearing that, you release your breath and replace it with new air. Dahyun backs off and relaxes her arms to her sides, and fails to stifle a giggle at watching you fail to decompress. She saunters back over to her chair, the same one you watched her get off in, and crosses her legs.

Her thighs peek out from under her skirt, forcefully drawing your attention, and the pit in your stomach opens again: keep this up and she’ll have another card to play against you.

You make a feeble attempt to look her in the eye, and it works for a moment. Once you meet her gaze, you find the same mischievous smirk on her lips, still taunting or teasing you or just showcasing her amusement of the situation. The corners of her mouth curl upwards dangerously, and her eyes thin to scrutinize you as you shrink in the face of her earlier threat.

“Easy now, I said you’re safe today,” Dahyun giggles. She rests her chin on her hand, still decoding your thoughts with much more ease than you’re comfortable with; all she’s doing is looking at you and somehow you’re unraveling in front of her, getting pushed to stranger and stranger thoughts. You try in vain to find something to protect yourself against her latent mind-reading powers, but once again, nothing comes up. Your stuttering fills the silence of the room for no good reason; your handle on the situation shrinking weaker and weaker.

The only thing that takes up space in your mind is the memory of her smirking at you after her fat pussy lips were pushed apart, taking her sex toy like it was nobody's business, pleasuring herself while being vaguely aware that you were watching. It was a dangerous skill she was using against you, and for all the wrong reasons, it turns you on even more.

She suddenly rises from her chair, a hand on her hip once more, and you’re forced to give her all your attention again. She flashes an evil smile at you, one that you could never in your current clouded state ever read, and she places a light yet daunting hand on your shoulder. She inches her face closer and closer to yours, and in no time at all, you're out of space for backing away.

“I already told you I wouldn’t snitch. Why are you so nervous? What do I need to say to calm you down?” She finally takes a seat on the bed right next to you, and she less-than-gently shoves you so that you face away from her. Her fingers dance around your shoulders, finding tense spots you didn't even know were tense.

“Listen,” she whispers nearly right into your ear, “I won't tell anyone, but you have to do better than that. What exactly did you see? And what did it, erm, make you… feel?” Dahyun plants a kiss right on your nape, and then starts massaging your shoulders and back delicately. She lets out another giggle, but different this time: it's less one of manipulation and more of pure amusement.

The way she squeezes and rubs your muscles weakens your defenses even more. She expertly maneuvers her fingers, picking the flimsy locks of your psyche, toying with you like you're nothing. You're completely in the palm of her hand, and there's no way out but farther into her grasp.

“I… You're hot, Dahyun, and I wish I could've seen more,” you finally admit, just as your eyes grow weary. The calm colors of her wallpaper and the faint fragrances of her bedroom lull you into a dangerous sense of serenity. “I just thought… how good it would be,” her massage intensifies ever so slightly, coaxing out more of your confession, “to have you bouncing on my cock.”

Seemingly satisfied, the girl kisses you again on the nape, her lips lingering on the skin of your neck, and it sends shivers outwards, down your spine and across your body. Her arms come under yours and wrap around your chest, and her hands fall gently, non-threateningly, to your belt. She finds her way under your shirt, and she feels up your stomach in soft touches, as if luring you into a trap.

“I was thinking the same thing, Oppa,” she sighs, and before you notice, your belt clacks onto the floor and you hear your jeans zip open. “I thought about how a guy like you should never need to jerk himself off, especially when a volunteer is just next door.” Just like that, she's already stripped you of your pants, and you couldn't be more vulnerable. Dahyun makes her way to your ever-hardening cock, and she takes it in her hand. “Perfect… we're gonna have fun, aren't we, Oppa?”

She kneels on the floor in front of you, and she makes a show of licking and kissing all over your cock. Her plump lips meet your shaft again and again with each kiss, and every so often she takes short drags of her tongue on you to get some much-welcome spit on your cock.

“Fuck, Dahyun,” is all you could put together. Dahyun looks nothing like the type of girl that'd do this to some guy she didn't know, and yet here she is, sucking you off like it’s her sole purpose on this Earth. She shoots you a lustful look, and amongst the closing her eyes to savor your dick on her lips and tongue, she shoots you a sexy wink that nearly makes you fall in love.

In an effort to not blow your load too early, you grab her by the hair, strands tangling around your fingers and trapping you just as well as you’re trapping her. You pull her off your cock with a yank, and the sudden jerk of her head makes her choke on her own spit. She tries admonishing you, but between teary eyes and a momentarily scratchy throat, she can’t say much.

Use this to your advantage, jump at the opportunity to gain the upper hand. Stand as quick as you can, throw her onto the bed. Amidst everything, she’s unable to react, only fully grasping the situation after her last cough, when she’s laid flat on her mattress with a pillow beneath her head. Huh, who knew you had such good aim.

“Tough guy, huh? Never would’ve guessed; Youngeun sang you praises for being so sweet when she stained her shirt. Or was that your plan all along?” Despite the situation, she doesn’t try to get up or take back control. Instead, she blinks prettily at you, licks her lips, smiles a sultry smile.

“Accusing me of being a pervert, even though you started it when you watched me jack off first.” Hide the shakiness of your voice, reclaim the breath she so easily stole away. Your hands slide up her legs, from her calves to her things and finally to under her skirt. Find the garter of her underwear, tease her by slipping your fingers under. “Projecting, aren’t we?”

She lifts her hips off the bed to help you strip her, the slow rise of her ass and the clumsy reveal of her pussy lips leading you to believe maybe she’s still the one pulling the strings. Despite all this, your appetite grows as her glistening cunt comes into view, and all you can think to yourself is how much more delicious it looks up close. Ridding her of her underwear, there’s nothing else to do but to dive right in.

It doesn’t take long, not at all, before Dahyun is squirming against your tongue on her clit. She runs her fingers through your hair, settling on the back of your head. Not long at all, and it’s just a few swipes of your tongue against her sex before she holds you in place with her legs, her thighs you couldn’t get enough of earlier now like clamps preventing your escape. Your hands are firm on her hips, making sure she doesn’t get away either, and your onslaught finally begins.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be good at that–” she sighs, savoring the feeling of finally having another person get her off. She moans her love without shame; an audience through her open window is nothing compared to you right between her legs. A horrid sense of shame comes over her as she watches you watch her squirm and thrash from being eaten out: her face reddens, her lip quivers, her pussy leaks more and more to entice and keep you from leaving her forever. Never mind that she forgets that you need air to breathe; you almost agree that right now Dahyun is the only thing keeping you alive at all.

She’s starting to buck her hips, her thighs nearly crushing your head between them, her back arching to signal her impending release. Any moment now, she'll lose control and her floodgates will open; she'll threaten to drown you with her love, she'll tug at your hair and grind against your face as her orgasm overtakes her. Fight to keep her down, struggle against her thrashing to hold her hips steady. Your determination to receive the reward for all your hard work drives you: relish in the smoothness of her skin under your fingertips, savor the slick that she releases just for you.

“Mmf, fuck yes, please, oh my god, oh mmm–”

“Hnnggg– Aaahh!” Another voice interrupts Dahyun's, and her attention whips to where it came from. The door swings open behind you, or at least you hear it, as Dahyun squeezes you ever harder right as her climax arrives.

“Youngeun, what are you– Aaaaahhh!” She explodes right onto your tongue, and for a moment the world fades around you. Her nectar floods your senses with perfection you could never find anywhere else, the hauntingly succulent mix of sweetness and sin drawing out your own moans as she thrashes against her mattress. You force out more of her juices with relentless laps at her sex, while the frenzied pulling at your hair and pushing against your forehead tells you she doesn’t know what she wants past letting out everything she can.

It takes just a little while longer before she settles, and as she releases you from her legs you get a grasp of what just happened. Youngeun is unsteady at the door, a hand on the frame and the other still in her shorts. The look in her eyes is one of shock and embarrassment like you’ve never seen, and by the way Dahyun stares back, frozen and equally wide-eyed, you gather the situation at the very least isn't what they were expecting either.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, and neither of them move an inch. You're only still in the middle of recovering from having your breath taken away, but it grows more uncomfortable for you most of all. As far as you're concerned, they're stepsisters, and the younger one who thought you were sweet for helping her in the street fair just watched you eat out her elder sister and got off like some porn video.

Youngeun is the one to break the ice: “Shit, unnie, I'm sorry, I'll go! Just forget I was here–” before getting cut off herself. “Hey,” Dahyun reigns, “sit.” She motions her sister towards the gaming chair, and Youngeun, judgment clouded with fear, takes sheepish steps to approach it.

Dahyun pulls you up to her eye level, keeping hands on your cheeks, and meets your lips with hers delicately. “Mmm, bet that was just as good for you, huh?” She runs her tongue over your mouth to lap up her spent essence, and you meet her halfway, deepening the kiss.

Still, the presence recently known is now a presence impossible to ignore. Despite Dahyun’s love spreading from her lips to yours, her heat bringing your temperature up all the same, you can’t help but be wary of the girl on her gaming chair taking after her sister, legs on the armrests and fingers in her dripping cunt. Dahyun tries in vain to pull your attention back to her, only her, and how could you resist either one?

“Mm, Youngeunie,” she sings, breaking away momentarily, “behind you, on the right, top drawer, it’ll help.” She returns to the kiss as easily as drawing the curtains to show you, while off to the side you hear the shuffling friction of wood against wood as her sister pulls out the drawer.

“Unnie, this is…” she says, but the thought is lost and replaced with a prolonged moan. Dahyun slips her tongue into your mouth, grunting as she feels your cock throb against the lips of her puffy cunt, coating your shaft with her liquid heat and coaxing you into a worsening state of mind. Her pussy quivers against the underside of your cock, chipping away at your common sense, until…

Meet your forehead to hers, make sure she stays how she is. Your left hand wraps around her neck, controlling her air and keeping her still, while your right dips into her sex to draw out her slick for you. Stroke your cock at the evil you’re planning, line up your tip to her entrance, and with absolutely no warning, no mercy, no reprieve, push your head past her welcoming glistening lips and into her tight, loving pussy.

“Mmmm, fuck, shit, oh– Oh my god, oh my god!!” Dahyun’s pleasure comes in the form of unsteady grunt and weak scratches against the hand on her neck. Her face takes on a light shade of red, her forehead creases, and her tongue is only nearly starting to stick out. Her pussy squeezes around your cock like it never wants to let go, her tightness driving you crazy with how good she feels, that you maybe wouldn’t mind putting a fucking baby in her.

Your hand leaves her neck and immediately she pulls you down to kiss the bruises you almost left there. Keep pounding into her, feeling her slick all over your cock, throbbing hard and hitting her good spots while sliding in and out of her pussy like it was all yours.

The moment her fingers relax then tense in your hair, you’re given just enough freedom back to see what’s gotten her so distracted, only to find–

Youngeun slumps further back onto the chair as far as she can without falling off. Her toes curl in the air as she diligently and roughly pumps the dildo in and out of her own cunt. Her top is pulled over above her chest, and she pinches and tweaks her nipples nonstop while cupping and squeezing her tits. “Unnie, unnie, fuck, he’s so hot…” she moans, dead-set on fucking herself with her sister’s dildo to the sight of you railing her beloved unnie.

“Fuck, Youngeunie, you’re such a pervert for getting off to this…” Dahyun again lifts her back off the mattress, and you know by now what this means. Her grunts turn erratic just as quickly, her pussy clenching tighter around you, practically begging you to stay inside her.

“Hngg, unnie, h-how good is he? I bet he f-feels so big…” “He really fucking is,” she sighs, waiting for the inevitable, slowly letting her sensibilities go. Her lips crash onto yours once more, slipping you her tongue like retaking its rightful place in your mouth. The sight of it causes you to throb inside her again, and amidst the thrusts in and out of her cunt along with Youngeun's own jerking off to your side, you feel your time's drawing to a close.

Make the most of it, who knows if you'll ever get this chance again. Pull Dahyun up to sit on your lap, force her to bounce on your cock. She follows like a good girl; savoring how you feel inside her, making sure that your cock is snug and comfy between her tight, slick walls. Your hands slide under her top to grope her chest, and she lets out a sultry moan of approval at how you're handling her so well. Her nipples are taut and hard against your fingertips, and the circling around her sensitive mounds only does you favors as she gets wetter and wetter, taking your cock like a champ.

“I can't fucking take it anymore,” she grunts out loud, and in one swift motion her top leaves her body, exposing all of herself to you. Before you could even dive in yourself, she pulls you onto her chest, and as soon as you're able to, you get her nipple in between your teeth. Her boobs bounce against your face as she rides you even harder, desperately chasing her own release, seeming to forget everything and everyone else.

“Fuck, fuck!” Youngeun switches hands; poor thing must be getting tired. A quick look back over to her and you find the dildo covered with slick and cream, her pussy red and puffy, her nipples sore and just as hard as her unnie's, and her eyes near tears. A quick bout of desire to get off to the sight of her overcomes you, but Dahyun tears your attention back to her, switching to her other nipple, just as she starts grinding against your dick like she found a better spot to hit inside her.

“Unnie, I-I'm close, please, you’re so hhhhot,” the younger begs in reckless need. Her toes curl and uncurl in weary need, tears starting to streak down the sides of her faces, just as her hair sticks to her forehead at the drops of sweat only starting to form enmasse.

Dahyun pulls you away, back to her, and rests her head on your shoulder, “Oppa, I’m close too,” she says with incessant sighs and gasps, curiously in sync with her bounces on your cock, “i-indulge me, would you?” She looks at you with the same weary love, the same tired, impatient persuasion.

Steel your resolve in the face of her begging. You’re finally in a winning position, with the pretty neighbor girls in the palm of your hand. A different emotion seeps into your head, one of responsibility: to finish what you started, to make good on your promises, to show both of them a good time. Dahyun’s half-lidded eyes flutter open and shut with every suckle and bite at her breasts, while Youngeun’s thighs jiggle with every forceful jerk of her hips against her toy. They’ve had enough, and you’re reaching your limit too.

“Keep your window open, got it?” A surge of confidence laces your voice at the most unexpected time, and brings out a lustful groan from the girl on your lap. “Yes, oppa, watch me all you l-like…”

“Good girl. And you,” your attention shoots to Youngeun, who you find has her lower lip between her teeth and nearly drawing blood, “you’re fucked in the head for getting off to this, but I kind of like that.” Upon hearing it, her eyes shut as she pistons her dildo as hard and fast as she can into her pussy, screaming “Fuck, oppa, please! Watch me too!!!”

The perfect opportunity reveals itself, the strings pulled taut against both of your puppets in a cruel dance for your pleasure. A bite on Dahyun’s neck and a mind-numbingly deep thrust into her sex is the last straw to finally send her over the edge as well.

“Oh shit, oh shit, I’m cumming!!!” A beautiful cry rips across her throat, and her pussy squeezes tight around your throbbing cock. Her juices flow out of her cunt generously, spraying all over your lap and the bedsheets underneath you. She buries her face into your shoulder, her teeth finding and marking flesh where her lips surround. Dahyun constricts around you, her body seizing and gripping onto you tight as her hips jerk with every stream of her girlcum that sprays out her sore cunt. Her fingers dig into your back, in no way hard enough to draw blood but only as hard as to leave marks, while her legs wrap around your waist in dire need to keep you in place and draw as much of her pleasure as she humanly can from you.

“Hngg, hahh, haaaAAAHHH!” Off to the side, Youngeun’s climax crashes over her as well, causing her toes to curl and her eyes to shut as hard as she can. She twists and turns the toy inside her pussy, hitting her good spot again and again as her cum gushes out of her in messy streams down onto the seat of her chair and floor in front of her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her tongue hangs free from her mouth, her ass jiggles with every jerk of her hips forward, and a prolonged and mindless moan snakes its way through her throat like music to you and your partner’s ears.

After all this, Dahyun’s whimpering finally brings you over the edge too. Her weak cries are the signal of her surrender to you, and what better way to claim her than to give her what she wants? Your grip on her waist tightens, and surely your handprints will stay on her sides for her to admire and recall when she misses you, but for now you keep her still just as she does to you. One last thrust into her is all that’s left, hit her good spot one last time, and it all comes crashing down. You erupt into her pussy, filling her with a burning heat that spreads through her entire fertile body. Each spurt of cum forces another groan of love from her, and she savors the feeling of being filled with your seed like it’s what she was made for. Your forehead meets hers and you capture her lips, and more of her tiny grunts and sighs slip through as your tongues dance around each other.

Once it ends, and you feel your cum stream out of her from the sheer amount alone, you crash sideways onto her pillow with her. She stays wrapped around you, breathing heavy and looking satisfied, just like her stepsister on her chair just a few feet away. Youngeun catches you waving her over, and she takes the spot on the bed opposite her unnie to cuddle up next to you as well. Dahyun snores quietly on your left, while Youngeun snuggles your chest to your right, and with two of your pretty neighbors bare and spent thanks to you, you drift off to sleep with them knowing you’d always enjoy a show the moment you ask.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #seo dahyun smut #seo dahyun #triples dahyun #kep1er smut #seo youngeun smut #seo youngeun #kep1er youngeun #fic box

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lnfours · 1 year ago

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false god | l.n

summary: we might just get away with it.

warnings: based off of ‘false god’ by taylor swift, brothers best friend!lando, fewtrell!reader, mutual pining, sexual themes, this stupidly hot outfit bc he always looks good in black. also this is kind of trash but i really wanted to get something out for you guys 😩

masterlist | listen | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the rain was pattering hard against the window in your room, but it was simply background noise as you played music softly from your computer. you hummed quietly to the song playing, your pencil scratching against the notepad before the soft ping let you know you had gotten a text.

lando

you still awake?

you grabbed your phone, unlocking it and typing back.

yea, why? can’t sleep?

a couple of seconds later your phone lit up again, a new message from him appearing on your lockscreen.

yea, still jet lagged.

wanna watch a movie or something? max and p went on a date and left me all alone 😩

you chuckled, typing back a response.

pretty sure that’s the point of a date 🤔

but sure, doors open

he disliked the first message, which made you chuckle before you heard footsteps echo down the hallway. your door creaked open, the brunette joining you on your bed as you closed your notebook. you pushed the things to the side, tossing him the tv remote.

“your pick this time.”

“i thought i picked last time?” he said, hand resting behind his head as the other grabbed the remote. you looked over at him now, the black shirt hugging his muscles perfectly, the black jeans showing off his thighs and the red backwards hat was about to send you into cardiac arrest.

it was a bad idea to look over at him, especially when the crush you’ve had on him had only worsened over the past day or so, just like it did every time he was here.

“mm, no,” you said, “i picked that scary movie last time, remember?”

“oh yeah, the only reason you picked it was because of that hot dude.”

you scoffed, “no!”

he sent you a smirk, “yeah, okay,”

you rolled your eyes and motioned to the tv, “just pick a movie, i’m gonna go make some popcorn. want anything?”

he twisted his lips in thought while you stood up. his eyes traveled over your figure as you put the stuff on your desk, the thin pajama shorts hugging your curves, the oversized hoodie falling down a little bit to return back to the tops of your thighs, you just looked so good to him right now. you always do, but right now especially.

he was quick to look away from your body, eyes meeting yours as you spun around, “just a water, please.”

you nodded, exiting the room and he let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. he wasn’t sure when it had happened, but every time he saw you recently, his chest got tight. he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about his best friends sister, she was off limits. especially to him.

he was lost in thought until the microwave beeping in the kitchen echoed and pulled him out of it, reminding himself that he still had to pick a movie. he scrolled through netflix, settling on one he had seen before but knew you’d like.

you handed him his water, which he thanked you for before you plopped down on the bed. you put the popcorn in the middle of you two before starting the movie.

at some point the popcorn had been moved to the floor, the two of you getting closer and closer without really realizing until his finger bumped against your pinky. you sucked in a shaky breath, waiting to see if he would move it. he did the same, looking down to see if you were going to pull away.

when you didn’t, he made the next move and wrapped his pinky around yours. you didn’t want to make it obvious that you weren’t looking at the movie, but you really wanted to glance over at him.

he did it for you, though, turning and looking at you before bringing a hand up to your jaw, turning your head to look at him. you almost folded, right then and there. your heart beating out of your chest and everything was happening so quickly.

but when you met his soft eyes, glowing in the light of the small lamp you had kept on and the light from the tv, all the nerves washed away, “lando,”

his voice was quiet as he softly pulled away, “sorry, i.. uh, i don’t know-“

you shook your head, grabbing his hand and putting it back on your cheek, “no, it’s okay.”

he nodded, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips quickly, having a mental debate with himself on wether or not he should take it a step further.

you took matters into your own hands, though. readjusting as you got closer. he watched you intently, his eyes locked on every move, the movie on the tv long forgotten about as the two of you breathed out. his green eyes were piercing right into yours. he leaned in a little closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i shouldn’t want to,” he breathed softly, “but i really want to kiss you.”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “maybe you should.”

“it would ruin everything,”

“not if he doesn’t find out.” you were inches apart now, his hands on your hips as you hovered over him. your heart felt like it was going to bust through your rib cage and it was all you could hear as the room fell silent.

it didn’t last long as his voice broke through the tension, “fuck it.”

he nudged your nose with his, meeting your lips in a kiss that sent tingles down your spine. you kissed him back, letting his hands grip you a little tighter as his tongue licked against your bottom lip.

the kiss carried on for a while, neither one of you wanting to pull away when he rolled the both of you over so now he was the one hovering over your frame. his necklace dangled above your chest, lips moving from yours as they peppered kisses against the base of your throat.

“fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, “‘ve wanted this for so long.”

you hummed back, fingers running through the curls on the back of his neck, breathing out a soft, “me too.”

you brought one hand down his spine, gripping at the hem of his shirt as you tugged it up, revealing the soft skin of his back. he understood what you were saying with your movements, pulling the material over his head and tossing it to the floor.

once he turned back to you, it was your turn to have his hands ride up the sweatshirt you were wearing, his fingers soft against your skin. you giggled when he accidentally moved over your ribs, a smirk spreading across his face.

“you’re still ticklish there?”

you nodded, “unfortunately.”

“good to know,” he was definitely going to keep that in mind.

his lips met yours again as he kissed you sweetly, which turned hungry in a matter of a few minutes as he helped you out of the sweatshirt.

however, the sound of the front door closing made the two of you jump apart, lando pausing his movements as he froze above you.

“we’re back!”

“shit,” you mumbled, the footsteps nearing your door as the two of you separated. you pulled the first article of clothing you could find over your head.

“just hide in here till he goes away.” you mumbled, shoving lando towards the closet. he chuckled, but opened the door anyway.

“i like being your little secret,” he teased, “we should do this more often.”

you rolled your eyes, “shut up!”

you closed the door before he could speak again, flopping back on the bed before your bedroom door opened. you looked towards your brother, a soft smile on your face as he held up the container for you.

“brought you back dinner.”

“thanks, you can just put it on the desk.”

he nodded, walking into your room before eyeing you down, “you alright? your hairs a mess and you look frazzled.”

you nodded, smoothing your hair over with your palms, “‘m good, just woke up from a nap.”

he nodded, now his eyes falling to the shirt you were wearing, “is that lando’s shirt?”

you nearly choked, but looked down at the material you had thrown on. sure enough, it was the shirt lando had thrown on the floor a mere ten minutes before your brother rudely interrupted.

“huh, guess so,” you tried to play it cool, “guess it got mixed up in my laundry. just kinda grabbed it earlier.”

he nodded, sending you a look which made it look like he wasn’t totally buying what you were saying, “okay..” you licked your lips nervously, “p and i are gonna watch a movie, you can join if you want.”

you nodded, “yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“oh, is lando home?” max asked, “i had something to ask him.”

he spun on his heels, turning towards the door, but you cut him off before he could investigate himself, “nah, i think he went out.”

your brother nodded, “damn, alright. just let me know if you wanna watch the movie.”

you nodded, “i will, thanks.”

he closed the door behind him on the way out, lando soon opening the closet door quietly to leave the closet. you smirked when his eyes met yours, the two of you breaking out into quiet laughter as he joined you back on the bed.

“you div! you took my shirt instead of your hoodie?”

you laughed softly, “i’m sorry! i grabbed the first thing i could find.”

he smiled, hovering back over you, “you look better in it, anyway.”

“you know where it looks even better?” your arms were slung around his neck now.

“where?” his smile was still on his face.

“the floor,”

he laughed softly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “mind reminding me?”

you hummed, “i guess i could show you.”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x fewtrell!reader #fewtrell!reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #formula 1 #formula one #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #mclaren #mclaren f1

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rageserenity · 9 months ago

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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dutiful-wildcraft · 1 month ago

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I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses.

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way.

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch? he asks with big brown eyes.

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them.

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings.

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does. And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking.

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair.

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag.

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about.

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen.

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready.

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her.

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away.

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely.

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?”

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face.

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him.

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes.

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her.

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms.

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice.

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

#abrupt ending bc I cant end things for shit #nik is some kind of baby #price is too #price x reader #john price #nikolai cod #nikprice #nikolai x reader #call of duty #cod #captain john price #wildcraft writing

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eveningepiphany · 1 year ago

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

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thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟸

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4624

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

It was quite the struggle to train with Ben for a week, especially when he took it extremely seriously and pushed you to the very limit. It was not that he hurt you; it was that in the lab you either lost your will to fight or you just got really weak.

There were moments when you stated to Ben that things might get serious about your power, but he chose to ignore you and aggravated the training, which left you worn out. But you were relieved that he could, in his own irritating way, encourage you that your strength was still there.

Ben answered, “No,” right away when you wanted to stop the exercise.

Right now, the entire home was a mess, and the hole you had made in the wall remained.

“I'm tired here, Ben,” you complained as you fell to the ground, gasping for air. You had been there exercising together since the morning, and it was nearly the sun going down. Except when you needed to eat or pee, he rarely gave you a moment's peace of mind. “I mean it. I'm done.”

You opened your hands wide on the ground, and he looked at your body while saying, “You're a supe; you can't just feel exhausted that easily.”

You blushed as you noticed him staring at your soaked entire body and replied, “Give me some break.” There's a good chance that you were both thinking the same thing. “How on earth can you find that much energy? Even for a supe, it's too much.”

Ben stared at you and then took off the shirt he had taken off hours earlier, wiping the sweat from his muscular chest. You grimaced, knowing you probably smelled like trash.

“It's because I am the strongest; I am not just any average Supe.” With the most arrogant way possible, he threw his t-shirt back to the ground and said, “Simply better and more powerful than anyone. But don't worry; we'll return you to the way things were, sweetie. You have my word.”

He gave you a sneaky smirk when he saw you staring at his broad, sweat-damp chest. Ben was waiting for you, literally, from above, all the time you tried to get some rest. His eyes narrowed, and you suspected his head was full of filthy stuff.

You just muttered, “I hope so,” and avoided giving him a glance as you closed your eyes.

He sighed and went down on the floor next to you, crossing his big arms over his head.

“Don't think about it that much. You're going to do even better than you are now. Maybe we should just do those trainings more frequently. What do you say?”

“It’s fine. I don’t have another choice anyway,” you replied, cutting it short while keeping your eyes closed. Even if you felt his intense stare on your face, you didn’t react. “What did the doctor tell you, by the way? The one who supervised Compound V's improvement for decades?”

You remembered that there was a lot of discussion following the news that Ben had killed him at his home. You kind of hoped you could have dealt with that cruel piece of shit on your own, though. He was just a monster with a white robe. He had always made an aggressive attempt to cause damage to you and showed no sympathy or compassion for anyone. You got scared and insecure when you opened your eyes, recalling the physical harm he had inflicted.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Ben angrily exclaimed, his fists clenched over his head. “I should have killed him properly.”

“What did he say, so you blew up?”

“Isn't it obvious? That pussy told me how little supes are in the big picture of science, the future of the supremes, humanity, and some other bullshit. It's certain that Vough paid that cocksucker generously during all those years. He lived in luxury, torturing us, and he didn’t even regret it.”

“Did he tell you what kind of research he did on my body?” You asked as you moved your body to face him.

Ben fell silent for a minute, enraged by what he remembered the doctor had said about you. Nevertheless, his eyes softened as he saw your expression and saw that you were excited to hear what he was about to say and that you were feeling at ease and comfortable next to him. That was all he needed. Ben recognized that if he made a determined attempt to be by your side and touch you in the way he desired, you would push him even further away and that you weren't

ready for physical contact at this time. He therefore forced himself to keep his distance from you and let you do whatever you wanted.

He just turned to face you and stated, “I didn't give him enough time to talk,” straightening his posture and sitting straight up on the floor. “He's just an animal, and he sees supes as rats for research in order to make profit. That's all.”

“When we agreed to live this life as supers, Ben, we already knew that.” You said bitterly, “People in charge always wanted to play with us like we were toys. They used us as they pleased and needed us for their own good. I wanted to leave the company for a number of reasons, one of which was that I was unaware of how serious that whole picture was. What I need to learn is what they succeeded in doing during the decades we were unconscious and at their mercy.”

Ben sighed and got up to get some weed from the nearest table, just after helping you off the floor.

“I was told by that son of a bitch that he examined you to make the future supers flawless. Though I'm not really sure what he meant, it seems to me that Queen Maeve—the woman from Seven—is their new you.”

“Do you think they might have found a way to weaken me? Don't say 'no' right away,” you said in a hurry when he opened his lips to object. “It just doesn't feel right about what's going on and everything.”

Your concerns, which were constantly lurking beneath the surface, took over when you realized that Ben had remained silent. Something was off with you, you two sensed that. Although after your first training day you felt a little stronger, your weakness remained under your skin.

You pulled open a window to let some fresh air in and muttered, “If you hadn't just killed the doctor, we could have learned about it.”

Ben offered you one of the glasses and sighed as if he regretted what he had done, filling the other one with wine. “I didn't intentionally kill him. It simply happened beyond my control. But I would still murder him anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow and sat down, realizing that your tiredness was taking over. “You need to find a way to control it since your nerves are always on edge,” you said. “And also, I need to find someone who can understand all of this.”

Ben sat beside you, stretching his muscles and leaning back into the coach while he listened to you attentively. As you spoke, you noticed that your gaze lingered a little too long on his sweating body, almost making you flush.

He studied your expression to see how you would react to his suggestion. He said, “I guess the best option is to kidnap or torture a doctor who is in charge or fuckever who's doing supe studies for Vought right now. We can use Mindstorm to look at your memories and thoughts to see whether they have hurt you in any way.”

His suggestion caused your eyes to widen with excitement, and you exclaimed, “That's actually a smart idea. But how are we supposed to find him?”

“Remember the new technology, sweetheart. Anything is possible with these phones, Bluetooth, and GPS technology. Remember how I found you very easily?”

You gave a nod to him, knowing that what he stated was right and that you would be able to reach Mindstorm with ease thanks to modern technology.

After you had your shower, you saw Ben watching the TV with a dead serious face, and you sat beside him.

As you used the towel in your hand to dry your damp hair, you inquired, “Is there any news about us? Almost a week has passed.”

“Not much,” he replied as he continued to listen to Homelander talk about the two of you.

‘They pose no threat to the United States,’ Homelander confidently stated, grinning, as he extended his arms and turned to face the screen. 'As Seven, we've been trying to find them for a week, but it looks like they are hiding pretty well,' he continued. I, Homelander, the Seven's leader, swear to you that they shall answer for their actions. It has been proven that Soldier Boy rescued Y/N, and it's very likely that the two of them murdered the hapless doctors as well as every lab employee in cold blood and without hesitation.'

You and Ben exchanged a look as Homelander continued his speech. ‘Their families and children are in agony even though our government gives them the best care they can. These two criminals are responsible for the deaths of the orphans whose parents they killed. It breaks our hearts to see them weeping and grieving the loss of their families. There are even toddlers among them. Soldier Boy and Y/N will be held liable and made to pay for the harm they caused to the United States and its citizens. They have little time to conceal; they cannot get away.’

As the audience gave him a loud applause and he flew opening his arms out like.

Ben angrily said, “Fuck that. Son of a bitch,” and threw the remote control onto the table in front of him. “They were just another piece of shits who enjoyed torturing supes, nothing else.”

“But I didn't kill anyone,” you mumbled. “We are past the point of self-justification. Homelander is basically controlling the crowds. They would never pay to listen to us, Ben.”

Ben stared at the TV and said, “I'll teach them how to listen,” in a menacing manner. “You see? It's no longer about Butcher and his useless group. It has to do with our future.”

You could have argued with him about the future, but all you wanted was to avoid getting into another fight with Ben.

“I think such a guy wouldn't be innocent at all. We might be able to defeat the company if we can figure out how to properly express ourselves, explain to them how Vought tricked us, and show the real Homelander to the rest of the world. There isn't another way.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered.

As you could tell Ben was becoming enraged and feeling overwhelmed, you touched his bare chest, which had a little glow to it. “Hey, are you okay?”

He responded with, “I am,” placing his hand on yours and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Can you please stop getting angry for a second? I can sense the heat building in your chest.” You muttered, “You're stressing me out here,” but you didn't remove your hand from his upper body. You could feel him cooling down beneath your touch once again. It was fine as long as it worked; you simply didn't know why.

“Well,” he said, arching an eyebrow, licking his lips, allowing you to touch him, and gently tracing his fingers over yours. His powerful, slow beats were calming in a way. “It's not too bad. Is it?”

You withdrew your hand from his sweating chest while rolling your eyes at him and making sure he was okay.

Ben had just showered when Butcher and Hughie showed up at the house.

Butcher remarked in a sly manner, “Glad, I delayed for an hour coming here to pick up you two,” as you and Ben got into the back of the car. “We could have interrupted something funny, judging by the all-wet hairs and all.”

“We were just finished training there!” you exclaimed, your face heated.

“It must be very good training, indeed. The entire fucking house was damaged like hell. You two spent a whole week all showering and training while we were dealing with the shit Soldier Boy caused.”

“Sorry for that, but it's not what you think, really.”

“I thought Soldier Boy and Crimson were having a relationship. Yet life goes on, don't they? There are always new, fine chickens and dolls all around.” Butcher smirked at Ben.

You were ready to add something about Ben and you having nothing to do, but Ben became enraged right away when Butcher brought up the Crimson Countess.

“Don't you fucking know how to stay silent and shut your useless mouth?” Butcher was obviously enjoying himself when he suddenly made Ben mad.

“What made you so furious now? Have I said anything untrue?”

Hughie leaned back in his seat and said, “Butcher, stop that,” sounding distressed as Ben continued to swear at them both and told Hughie to make Buther to suck him soon, so his mouth would be filled enough not to talk stupid.

“Why even do you become irate out of nowhere? After all, you murdered the poor woman.”

You looked up at Ben, asking with disbelief, “What? Why did you even kill Countess?”

The fact that Ben never brought it up startled you even more than Butcher's statement, as though it were nothing important. You were stunned and shocked beyond belief. At that point, you were at a loss for what to think. You were not sympathetic to her, though. After all, Vought used her as a cunning evil to harm both you and Ben. She was the one who paid you a visit in order to deceive you that day.

He tried to convince you immediately, giving you a gentle look as if he wanted you to understand what he had done. “She deserved whatever I've done,” he defended himself.

You acknowledged, “I know she did. But why?”

He looked at Butcher and then turned to face you, almost whispering, “Let's discuss this at a later time. All right?”

You found Annie nowhere to be found when you got to Butcher's home, where only Kimiko and Frenchie were inside. Kimiko watched Frenchie play with his phone, seeming bored.

“Why did it take so long for you to come here?” Frenchie inquired in an irritated manner to Butcher. “You give me too much to deal with, though you know I have things to do. Kimiko is also exhausted.”

Butcher sarcastically remarked, “Hello to you too, baby,” as he removed his coat. “I have not even once heard a complaint from her; she is an incredible Supe. She can't possibly be exhausted, right, doll?”

Ben moved you over to the edge of the coach and sat by you, resting his legs on the table, just as you were about to strike up a conversation with Kimiko. You were fine with him being close, though, so you said nothing at all. In fact, if you were honest with yourself enough, you would admit that his behavior around you somewhat comforted you.

“Kimiko and I have spent days looking for Black Noir and Queen Maeve, but we haven't made any progress so far. It's strange that they were absent from everything for so long. You see, something isn't quite right. According to Starlight, they have vanished.”

“The fuck you mean they are missing?” Butcher asked in disbelief.

“Why would Noir would go missing? It's not his thing to disappear,” you said. You thought you were thinking to yourself, but you had said it loud.

“He must have ran away when he saw us back together,” Ben said in am amused tone. “He fucking knows I'm going to kill him too. He’s a fucking dead man.”

You told Ben, “There must be a reason,” ignoring the way he talked about taking Earving's life. Right now, you don't need to see Ben being enraged over Noir and losing his temper again.

“How the fuck doesn't Starlight know where Queen Maeve is?” Butcher questioned Hughie.

Hughie took his head in his hands and responded, “She thinks Homelander did something to her. Maybe he killed Maeve.”

“How about Ninja Cunt, though? He is known as Homelander's right wing. Suppose he murdered Maeve. What about Noir?”

Frenchie remarked, “That's what I'm trying to understand,” and Kimiko communicated with him using sign language swiftly.

“All right, we'll watch out for this and see if he shows up again.” Butcher ended it quickly and continued. “Tomorrow, Soldier Boy and I are heading to New York.”

You eyed Butcher with suspicion, asking, “Why and why not me?”

“You two stayed at a lovely house for a week, for God’s sake. Aren't all of the showers enough? Is it not possible for you to separate for even a single day? Would you really miss this cunt that much?”

As Butcher continued to make assumptions about you and Ben, your face heated. Kimiko and Frenchie turned to face you in harmony, taken aback.

“You're just making the wrong assumptions.” You distanced yourself from Ben and explained, “It's not like that,” acting as though you had been proven guilty. Ben didn't appear to be supportive when you stared at him, yet it seemed as though he was okay with Butcher's comments. “What I want to know is what you're going to be doing here and why I have to stay here.”

“Yes, doll. To catch up with your old friend TNT Twins, we are going to join Herogasm. It's almost like we have to clear your names first. Maybe they know anything about the specifics of those events from decades ago, and they could say something that we could use against Vought. Though things might get messy soon, don't you worry, I'm going to keep an eye on your soldier so that he won't be pouding into any supe cunt there,” he said with a wicked smile.

Ben said, “Maybe we can also find a thing about Mindstorm there,” giving you a meaningful glance and a small touch on the arm before you could respond. You nodded to him.

“However, why must I stay here?”

“Kimiko needs to get some work done, and we need more muscle to help Frenchie and Hughie here. Let's don't take too much attention.”

“Okay,” you said, acknowledging the situation and giving up on further arguments. Herogasm was something you've always detested and loathed. Ben, the founder of it, was making it even worse. Yet the one thing about Ben's inconsistent anger—the energy in his chest—that scared you was his unpredictable temper. You weren't sure if he could find a way to control it soon enough.

You questioned Hughie, “By the way, where is Annie?” As a member of Vought and Seven, you were aware of how difficult it must be to handle the entire company's evil by yourself.

“I don't think she'll find Maeve anytime soon, but she's doing some research in order to locate her. She seemed to have disappeared in a heartbeat.”

You figured she was kind of involved in this too, based on the way they talked about her.

Ben abruptly stood up and stated, “I guess all the rooms are full. So, which room are Y/N and I staying in tonight?”

“Not full,” Hughie smiled in response. “I suppose there are now two available rooms since I will be seeing Annie tonight.”

Kimiko nodded quickly as she gave a smile to you.

Ben's expression darkened as Hughie continued to tell him and Annie that they would not be staying in this house any longer, while Ben quietly cursed. He glanced at you for a moment, but you ignored him and asked Kimiko to show you the room where you would be sleeping.

After an hour of inspecting the room and all of the furniture within, you heard a light knock on the door and knew it was Ben.

After a minute, you said, “Come in,” startled that Ben was holding back, opening the door this time without your permission.

He whispered, “As you wish, baby,” and carefully shut the door behind him.

In the dim light, his hair fell over his forehead, and his white t-shirt made your heart melt just a bit. Under his large arms, his t-shirt was too tight. Perhaps you weren't used to seeing him in his regular clothes, which is why you were still excited when you were around him.

“What now?” you muttered as you sat on the bed and observed him approach you.

He joked, “Don't get excited; I'm just here to make some conversation,” and sat down next to you right away.

You said, almost in a whisper, “Which is about?” while he briefly studied your body.

His darkened eyes lingered on your revealing nightgown, but you remained silent, intensifying the tension in the moment.

Ben's desire to force your body to the covers, get on top of you, take off your sweatpants, and get you ready for some post-breakup fucking was unbearable. He was well aware that you never touched yourself when you were by yourself in the house, and that really disturbed him because he knew that he was the reason for it. Ben could tell by the way you looked at him and by the beating in your heart that your body still yearned for him, but he also understood that he had to rebuild your trust in every way. He had to take care of his meat by hand up until that point.

After sighing and searching for the right words, Ben uttered, “About the thing I told you that we can discuss later.” He made an effort not to speak about Crimson bitch right away. She was the reason your nerves were already fragile. He had no reason to blame you for it.

As he attempted to read how you were feeling, you questioned in a cold voice, “Why did you kill her? Was it unintentional?”

You were curious as to whether he truly intended to murder her or if this was just another unintentional incident similar to the others. You needed to comprehend it, even though you didn't know why it mattered.

After a while, he said, “I blew up,” and when you realized he hadn't done it on purpose to exact vengeance for you, your posture straightened.

Ben said, “I was just trying to get information about you and your location before killing her,” as soon as he saw the look on your face. “I was cautious to do anything until she had spoken about you. But I was unable to control myself when she touched my nerves.”

“Did you kill her just because she was unfaithful?” You questioned him suspiciously, attempting to make sense of his motivations. Ben might tell you the truth or a lie, but you would still listen to him even if you weren't sure he would be completely honest with you. “In the end, it's her who deceived you. Whether Vought commanded her or not is important. She was the one who brought you there so they could capture you and then transport you to Russia.”

After pausing to comprehend what you were asking, Ben responded, “I would kill her anyway because of what she had done to both of us,” as if he had no idea how to answer properly. “Especially to you.”

You said, your eyes softening with sorrow, “I wonder what you would do to me if I were the one to trick you, Ben,” knowing that, after all these years, loyalty was what mattered most to him. “Even if I had every right to do so.”

“I would never hurt you,” he abruptly rejected, emphasizing each word in a hard voice. “I knew I would deserve it anyway.”

“I'm not so sure of that, Ben,” you said. “You're even more dangerous considering I'm getting weaker and you're ready to blow up anytime.”

His smile expanding, he added, “Hey, don't say such things,” took one of your hands, placed it on his warm chest, and whispered, “You have every power over me.”

Under his focused gaze, your face flushed, and after a moment, you reluctantly withdrew your hand.

“So, you're going to Herogasm tomorrow?” you said, attempting to change the topic. “Given how difficult it was to persuade you not to join decades earlier, you must have missed it quite a lot.”

“Are you feeling jeaolus?” he asked with a mischievous smile, and you grimaced.

“Why should I be? I'm just saying you might have missed the chance to join the party that you organized after all this time.”

“I'm not going there to fuck, baby; I'm not interested anymore,” he murmured, retaining an arrogant chuckle. “I'm going to call you when I get there.”

“I'm not sure.” You said to quit talking about Herogasm anymore. “I might be busy to pick up when you call.” Herogasm was the world's dumbest thing, especially since Ben founded it.

“Why may be you even busy, anyway?” This time Ben uttered serious words: “I'll call you nonstop, so keep your phone with you every moment.”

You responded with the same heedlessness, “I might.”

Ben smiled playfully and narrowed his eyes. “Since you too need to take care of yourself, it will actually be good for us to be apart for just a small amount of time.”

You naively asked, “About what?” as though he would make a crucial point.

“You might as well relax on this bed while I'm away because I’m pretty aware of you're not touching yourself, knowing I'd hear you in a second, huh?”

You became the deepest shade of scarlet in your cheeks and murmured, “I can't believe you.”

“I'm not making fun,” he declared with seriousness. “It is also a bodily necessity. You don't have to reject playing with yourself a bit. Being the reason is something that irritates me a lot.”

“I don't feel ashamed of taking care of myself because of you or anything else,” you immediately argued, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. “I have no problem touching myself while you're here. It's not all that important.”

Ben arched an eyebrow at your quick, brave, “If you say so,” followed by a sigh.

“I'm serious here, Ben,” you continued, growing agitated by his haughty demeanor and enormous ego. “I'll prove it.”

He studied your figure and growled in a low voice, “I won't promise that I won't focus on you or listen to the way you sound.”

“Then don't.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much. They keep me going. ♡˚.

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tommydarlings · 2 years ago

Text

Mercy | m.v

pairing: mean!dom!max x sub!reader

warnings: smut, chocking, slapping, dacryphilia, spanking, inappropriate usage of a belt, hair pulling, slipknot reference (not an actual warning but i wanted to add it hehe), getting forced to spit cum out, hardcore blowjob

w/c: 2.4K

summary: You were always used to talking back with your bratty mouth and winning the argument in the end, but how is this gonna turn out when you're having an argument with your boyfriend max verstappen? Not very well for you.

song suggestion: mercy by duffy

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +25 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Max is a very impatient person that tends to get angry very easily — everybody knows that, and that’s the exact reason why nobody dares themselves to talk back to the young Dutch driver.

Everybody expect for you.

Growing up with 3 older brothers that sometimes loved to pick on you a bit for fun, taught you quite a lot. You were never able to shut your mouth, you always had to open it and say exactly what you were thinking.

Most of the time it helped you since some people understood the message and left you alone… but some peop-, men… weren’t a fan of your big mouth, like your boyfriend max for an example.

Your boyfriend was only used to people carefully and innocently listening to him, not actually opening their mouth and talking back to the young kart racing talent.

Especially since you were the most innocent and oblivious women he ever met, at least that’s what he taught after the first date the two of you had.

But oh was mad max wrong.

“Shut the fuck up, y/n! I asked you nicely to leave me alone for now, is that so fucking-”

“Do not talk like that to me! Don’t you ever think that you can talk in that tone to me just because you're a man, you-”

And as you should have probably guessed, max hated the fact that you’ve interrupted his sentence and talked back to him.

So he narrowed his eyes at your standing figure before he quickly took long strides over to you and grabbed you by the neck, mercilessly slamming your body against the wall in his driver's room, making you yelp.

For a few seconds he just stared down at your visibly nervous figure, you didn't say anything as well, just looking him deep in the eyes, desperately trying to show him that you do not care.

“Don’t you ever even think about raising your voice like that at me again.” Voice quiet but very stern and strict, “I do not think that I can raise my voice at you just because I am a man, y/n.” Thumb pressing harder into the side of your throat, “But I do think that I can raise my voice at you and speak to you however I want because I know that you would be nothing without me.” He told you harshly.

Then, he raised his other hand to unbutton your navy blue blouse but you didn’t back down, you never back down — so you were the one now to raise your hand and slapped his hand away from your chest area but max hated the fact that you just weren’t able to obey him and be putty in his palms.

He didn’t even say anything, or change his facial expressions, he just quickly threw your trashing hand away and raised his own hand to slap your across the face, eyes not leaving your chest area as he raised his hand again to pursue a second attempt at opening your blouse that’s obviously supposed to represent redbull.

You briefly licked your lips before a grin covered your lips, then you swallowed a tiny amount of fear that build itself up in your throat down and pursued your second attempt at showing him that your not gonna listen to him that easily.

You raised your right hand again and tried to push his big hand away once again, this time you tried to act a little quicker since he almost completely unbuttoned the thin piece of clothing already.

But this time he did look at you. After he pushed your hand away, squeezed your throat harder and slapped you so rough that your head automatically turned itself to the other side, immediately shooting tears into your eyes. You pathetically whined at the impact since it was way harder this time, making him look at you after he unbuttoned the last tiny button.

“If you can’t listen to me, then you have to feel the consequences and believe me, baby,” changing his posture a bit so he stood straighter infront of you, “the consequences that I'm gonna give you are really painful.” he muttered deeply as he quickly removed your blouse, throwing it away before he let go of your throat, making you gasp.

Even though your vision was quite blurry since the slap still hurt like a bitch, you were able to see how max walked backwards and plopped down onto the small, comfy couch in his driver's room.

“Take your clothes off, slowly.” He demanded as he put his arms on top of the armrests and spread his legs, manspreading in front of your still clothed figure as your bottom lip trembled while the tears didn’t stop.

But you only shook your head as you kept your gaze on him, making him throw his back and release a deep and short chuckle.

“You just don’t. want. to. give. up, do you?” Voice harsh and clear but you didn’t care, you just crossed your arms over your chest and repeated your action, shaking your head again.

He briefly sighed before he removed his arms from the armrests and put them on his thighs before he frowned and mumbled under his breath,

“Didn’t even know that I was dating a bitch that needs to be taught some respect and discipline towards her own boyfriend.” He said before he stood up and made his over to his little locker, quickly opening it to obviously look for something specific.

Tears dripped down your red cheeks as he carelessly got a hold of his black, leather belt that he wore today as he arrived at the paddock with his blue jeans and navy blue t-shirt.

If you would think that this is some kind of joke just to make you even more nervous than you already are, you would even laugh but you knew that max was not joking, max was never joking when it came to punishing you for being a brat. If he says that he’s gonna punish you in that and that way, then he’s gonna punish you in that and that way, no doubts.

Without muttering a single word, max sat himself down again, spreading his legs again and motioning your body towards his sitting one with his pointer finger, other hand still holding his belt.

He knew that if you are willing to obey to him, that he doesn’t even need to say anything, you’ll do anything for him without him having to say anything.

And of course, you haven’t made your way over to the visibly angry man sitting on the probably pretty expensive couch in front of you, your ego was way to big for that.

You quickly wiped some of the tears away, briefly sniffing before you stood up straighter and glanced down at the dutch man,

“No?” He asked you, tilting his head to the side before he sighed in a loud tone, rolling his eyes at your childish and bratty behaviour.

“Like I’ve said, little one, who doesn’t want to listen, has to feel.” Max said in a rather calm tone before he stood up, grabbed your upper in a very tight and quite painful way and sat himself down again, throwing you in the process over his thighs.

You loudly complained, trashing with your arms and legs around but secretly you didn’t even wanted to leave his place to be honest, you just couldn’t disappoint your own ego.

“Stay still.” He harshly spat at your trashing figure before he unexpectedly raised his hand and spanked your almost bare ass — great choice to wear a skirt by the way — with his leather belt, immediately making all your limbs stop trashing and gasp in a high pitched tone as tears shot in your eyes, making you grab his racing suit.

He briefly chuckled as he noticed how much you’ve regret doing everything you’ve done earlier, “Oh now we're regretting it? After I’ve told you multiple times already in the past that, that bratty behaviour isn’t gonna get you anywhere in life, especially not when you're with me?” Spanking your poor ass another three times as he went on,

“And your always gonna be mine.” Spank. “You’ll never leave me, “ Spank. “Believe me, I’ll make sure of that.” Spank. He chuckled in a mean way before he swiftly removed your white thong, quickly putting it in front of your face.

“That’s your chance to show me that you are able to listen to me and that I’ve taught you well in the past.” Quickly giving you another hard and loud spank with the long piece of clothing before he continued, “Open. Your. Mouth.” He demanded while his belt glided along your red ass cheeks.

But after a few seconds of watching you removing your gaze from his hand that’s in front of your face and putting your eyes onto your fingers that are currently squeezing his racing suit since the spankings with the leather material really hurt, he got his answer.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath, “If that’s how you want this to go, then so it’ll be, you little bitch,” your boyfriend spat in a raspy tone before he threw your panties away and grabbed your throat, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

His nose glided along the top of your head as he spoke up, “you better not forget that I gave you a choice and you fucked it up.” Spanking your ass with his leather belt again, “So everything that’s gonna happen in the next hour is not. my. fault,” he told you angrily before he spanked you again, making you gasp and cry out as tears covered your vision.

“H-Hour?” You nervously asked him, you’ve never before had sex for an hour, especially not sex that… rough and painful. But you loved it and he’s knows that.

You heard him chuckle as he wiped one of your tears with his thumb away, “Oh you think I’m gonna spank that pretty ass of yours for a few times, edge you 2 or 3 times, slap that little face of yours and then let you go?, no, that’s not how it works, y/n, baby.”

You gulped, “h-how does it w-work, then?”

He slowly retreated his hand around your throat, dropping your head, before he put his big palm on the top of your head and pushed your wet face in the soft material of the couch.

“You’ll see,” he mumbled in a hush tone, Dutch accent covering his voice before spanked your with his belt another five times, making you jolt every single time the hard leather touched your hot skin.

“P-Please!,” you begged in a quiet tone, voice already quite hoarse, “Please, m-max-”

“What? Please what, y/n… say it, c'mon,” he demanded as his hand didn’t stop spanking your poor ass with his belt, other hand still forcing your face down into the couch.

You sniffled before you spoke up again, “Please m-make it s-stop, maxie.”

He chuckled at the pretty nickname you’ve been calling since the two of you are dating, “Do not call me maxie now, y/n,” he said, spanking your ass with the hard leather one last time before he picked your by your hair up, making you gasp.

After wiping some of your tears way — smudging your mascara and also slightly your lipstick in the process — max quickly put his belt around your wrists, tightened it around your delicate skin before he finally looked you in the eyes.

“Get on your knees,” max demanded in a quiet tone.

Since you knew that you’ve already fucked up, you’ve actually obeyed this time and removed your trembling body from his lap and got on your knees in front of the dutch man, closely watching him as he opened his racing suit and freed his very visible erection, tip already leaking with pre-cum.

You licked your lips at the beautiful sight in front of you. You’ve raised your hands to touch him and make him feel good but the black belt around your wrists didn’t allow that, making you gulp as his big hand grabbed your hair, lifting your head again.

“Stop whining, you are the only one that’s responsible for all of that,” max told you harshly, putting a few loose strands of hair out of your wet and heated face, “C’mere,” he mumbled quietly before he forced your mouth towards his dick.

“F-Fucking shit,” he growled as your mouth went around his dick, forcing his dick down your throat until you gagged, “that’s exactly what your mouth's good for and nothing else you hear me?” Throwing his head back as he noticed how tears glided down your cheeks again and how gagging and sloppy sounds filled the air, making him moan.

You choked on his length, obviously showing him that you want to go a tiny bit slower since the pain of his spanking with his belt still hurt like a bitch, but max didn’t care.

He put your hair in a messy and careless makeshift ponytail before he forced your mouth even further down onto his cock, so far that the tip of your nose was already touching his pelvis, making you squeeze your eyes shut as tears already fell onto his thighs.

“Just like that, baby,” the Dutch driver whined in a deep tone, groaning before he went on, “That’s w-what you get for talking b-back to me, fucking h-hell.” Throwing his back and slightly arching his back as soon as he came into your mouth, hand now slowly leaving your head, dropping your hair again.

Max quickly calmed himself down before he looked down at you,

“Open,“ nodding his chin in your direction before you obeyed and opened your mouth.

You don’t have a lot of sexual kinks, but if there’s one thing that you absolutely love then it’s swallowed his cum, it’s basically some kind of prove for you — the prove that you are the only one that can make him cum that quick and like that.

He briefly bit his and smiled as he saw the amount of cum on your tongue, but after staring at it for a couple of seconds he didn’t order you to swallow it, no — he grabbed the back of your neck and swiftly lifted himself up, dragging you with him as he made his way over to the small sink in the corner of his driver's room.

You gasped as he pressed your shaking body against the hard, white sink, brows furrowing at his action, not understanding what he wants from you.

“Spit. It. Out,” Max demanded from you as he put his other hand on your chin, leaning your head forward while his other hand still held your back in place. Your eyes widened before you let his cum drip it’s way down your tongue that was covered in it, making your boyfriend chuckle.

“Good girl.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #max verstappen x you #max verstappen ff #max verstappen #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen redbull #rbr #red bull racing #f1 #smut

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sunnyferr · 9 months ago

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"Akatsuki Yandere + a song for each one"

Hey! This is my second post! I hope you like it as much as you liked the previous one<3

No mentioned pronouns

WARNING: YANDERE, Obsession, manipulation, obsessive jealousy, verbal aggression, mention of physical abuse

part 1 / part 2

characters: Deidara, Sasori, Hidan, and Kakuzu

playing: NEW MAGIC WAND - Tyler, The Creator

Deidara, one of the youngest members of the Akatsuki, I would say he's closer to the "teenage romance," so to speak. I see him as the "sweetest," if you will.

Still, I view him as someone who manipulates emotions. He would use the classic "don't you love me anymore?" as his main weapon. He would never lay a hand on you, but he would play with your innocence and kindness towards others, especially towards him.

"Do you want that nice guy to end up dead because of you?... Hmm, that's what I thought."

Gradually, you would see how your interaction with the outside world deteriorated. He hardly let you communicate with other members, always under his watchful eye.

He would hug and kiss you as much as possible, but only if you were obedient to his rules and commands. He tends to give the cold shoulder when you don't obey what he ordered.

His hands on your cheeks, squeezing lightly as your plump lips parted, he looked at you like a small and defenseless being, one who wouldn't harm a fly. He knew he had you under his control. Your teary eyes made him want to hug you tighter, so tight he could crush your ribs, but love was like his art, explosive, isn't it?

playing: hostage - Billie Eilish

He does not have a heart, Sasori does not have that feeling of "love" like Deidara, he only feels obsession towards your body, your delicacy, and your sweet demeanor... the most innocent puppet in his collection.

He would always be by your side, protecting his next work of art, constantly admiring your eternal beauty, his eyes piercing your beautiful waist and hips, your beautiful hair and your bright eyes, but in his gaze, it is cold, only showing greed to have you there, just for him.

"No, I don't like you at all, you seem annoying to me, what I like is your body..."

He would be in your room all night, watching you sleep while he fixes his puppets, watching your chest rise and fall with your breaths, your body relaxed and stretched, he looks at you with desire, undoubtedly you will be part of his next collection.

He never kissed you, never touched your body, he saw you as so fragile, as if you were made of glass, he did not want to harm your perfectly cared for skin, it would be sacrilege for him...

His hands so close and yet so far from your body, with a destructive desire to strangle you and turn you into his next work of art, to him it seemed... exciting, imagining the way you writhed before him, it made him feel in some way, as if he had control of your life, he loved being able to possess you, to do whatever he wanted with you, like a puppet...

playing: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey

In addition to being aggressive as a partner, he is a crazy obsessed with his partner, and always forces you to be behind him, chasing him like a dog in search of some love, because he couldn't even provide that to you.

He always saw you as a fragile doll, that he really wanted to break, stain, just to satisfy his morbid fascination with you, he always wanted to destroy you, sees your tears as the most beautiful and adorable thing, even if they are from the pain he himself caused you.

"Look… are you about to cry again? You are so cute when you cry for me…"

His eyes always on you, watching every move, if you spoke too much, he would correct you when you got to his room, grabbing you tightly by the wrist, quickly dragging you to his room.

He won't really feel guilty about anything, just pretends to by bringing you some flowers and maybe some chocolate or candy he knows you like, so you feel a little loved, and then he will continue to be the same human trash as always.

A wet cloth on your cheek, he had hit you again for throwing a "tantrum", you were crying, in the darkness of the room, until he opened the door, with the same bouquet of flowers as always, throwing it beside you, as if that would make the bruise on your cheek disappear, he slowly approaches you, and places a hand on your injured part, and leans in to give you a kiss, a kiss that seemed sweet, but in reality, meant nothing to him.

playing: Drunk Walk Home - Mitski

A really tough man, very materialistic, not so jealous, he really doesn't care, what he doesn't want is for you to leave his mental control, he is very materialistic, he loves money, how far would he go for it?

I know it's hard to hear, but he prostitutes you, of course, only with the people he wants, he really has a fetish of seeing you surrounded by other men, it's something that actually increases his sexual desire, seeing you trembling and embarrassed is something he craves.

"You look so beautiful when you look like that… you should be grateful that I see you as a beauty…"

You really agreed to that "job" because he threatened to leave you if you didn't accept, really a manipulator, playing with your kindness and love for that man.

although he is a LITTLE kind with the aftercare, helping you up and taking you to the shower, giving you privacy to shower, since in half an hour, more clients would come…

he watched the steam come out from under the door, while he was counting bills, going back to the raw memories of your tears running down your cheeks, really exciting to be honest, he stopped counting when he felt the water turn off, and saw you coming out of the shower with just a towel covering your intimacy it made him think of the beauty he had in front of him, too bad that beauty was not only defiled by the man…

#naruto #naruto x reader #akatsuki #akatsuki x reader #akatsuki yandere #deidara #deidara x reader #sasori #sasori x reader #hidan x reader #hidan #smutt #akatsuki smut #kakuzu #kakuzu x reader

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soobchwe · 22 days ago

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lost in wonderland —⋆˚࿔ 𝐩𝐬𝐡

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ✿ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ✿ word count: 12k ✿ genre: semi-angst, fluff ✿ tags: mentions of drug use, fake dating au, rockstar!sunghoon, popstar!reader, enemies to lovers au, jerk to down bad sunghoon, pet names (baby, doll, love, etc.) ✿ synopsis: Park Sunghoon, one half of popular rock band Into Eden, is on thin ice with his management and the general public. What does his manager Jay decide to do? Set him up with the leader of rising pop girl group PrismHeart. And while it starts as two stubborn people living in a lie, growing feelings cannot hold anything but the truth. ➸ This one's dedicated to my lovely betas: Ley @pars-ley), Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, Kiki @wonwovy, & Lola @monamipencil)! I'm so grateful to y’all and the love you’ve given this story; I hope everyone else loves it too 🤍 Also the ending song and inspiration for the title is from Boys Like Girls's song "Lost in Wonderland"!

“PARK SUNGHOON: ANOTHER HEARTBREAK UNDER HIS BELT?”

“IS HEESEUNG TIRED OF HIS BANDMATE’S GAMES? IS ‘INTO EDEN’ IN TROUBLE OF DISBANDING?”

“DID SUNGHOON RUIN ANOTHER GIRL GROUP, AND HIS EX’S CAR?”

The sound dies on Sunghoon’s tongue when he sees Jay’s displeasure pervade the older man’s entire face. His arms are crossed, and Sunghoon can see the veins in Jay’s neck tighten.

“You think this is funny?” Jay asks, his voice even-keeled, but his body language anything but.

“No, Mr. Park.”

“Hoon.” Jay says his talent’s name with admonishment. He sits back down in his chair across from Sunghoon, the large desk separating them. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“What should I call you, Mr. Park? Bro? Dude? J-Man?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “She has nothing to say, besides the fact that it ended mutually.”

“You call making out with Lia ‘ending mutually’?”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t know what you were told, but that happened after we broke up.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jay takes the multitude of tabloids and throws them in the trash next to his desk. “The label is going to chop my balls off if I don’t fix the problems you created.”

Sunghoon likes to live without restrictions or red tape. If he has to be judged for that, constantly not measuring up to the pedestal his best friend lives on, so be it.

“It’s time for Plan B,” Jay says, breaking Sunghoon from his thoughts.

“This is Plan B?” Sunghoon asks, releasing a breathless laugh.

“No.” Jay points to you in the center of the LED screen. Your hair billows in the wind as your face shines with the same quality of the cameras capturing your essence on the red carpet.

Sunghoon is taken aback by you without hearing you speak a single word, and he suspects something devious brewing behind his manager’s eyes when he says, “She is.”