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daswarschonkaputt · 2 years ago

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so a few select people know that i've been working on these bad boys for a few weeks now. this collection started because @mortimerlatrice had the audacity to try and tell me that fem!kinn wouldn't wear skirts and dresses and i pretty much broke my tablet pen in the rush to prove her wrong. also i felt like redesigning my fem!kinn and fem!porsche ideas. beneath the cut are my thoughts on these outfits plus the fashion collections they're inspired by/referencing.

fem!kinn businesswear looks

fem!kinn i feel like is the type of person who weaponises her gender expression. every part of how she presents herself is a carefully cultivated power play. she smokes cigars and drinks scotch and can talk at length about stocks and cryptocurrency, but she wears high heels even though she had to teach herself how to run in them, has long hair even though styling it is a nightmare, and is never seen without make-up, because every part of her must straddle a line of being masculine enough to be respected without being dismissed as butch, or a transgressor of gender norms. so: power suits and heels.

most of these are just riffs on the show's suits, so no real reference images, though hilarious @elnotwoods and i managed to parallel brain the exact same corset + suit look bc we are bloggers of TASTE.

fem!kinn occasionwear looks

the product launch -- upon rewatching clips from this episode i realised that the product launch apparently has a roaring 20s theme? which be wildin'. i spent so long looking at pictures of 20s style dresses until i found eliza jane howell who is a tiny british designer who has an entire collection of 20s inspired gowns. the inspo for kinn's dress was the miranda dress from her eveningwear collection.

the diamond auction -- i've drawn fem!kinn in this dress before, and i stand by it. this is a dress from ralph and russo's fall 2015 couture collection, specifically look 12. i first saw this dress months ago when i was looking for clothes for a project i was working on and it's lived in my brain rent free since.

date night i and date night ii -- both of these dresses i saw on pinterest somewhere and forget to save the link bc when i do art i usually have abt 50 billion tabs open. (i make firefox weep each time i open a new one.)

looks that almost made it in: michael cors rtw fall 2022 look 24; and schiaparelli couture spring 2022 look 24.

fem!kinn misc looks

okay so the theme for this one was actually "iconic kinn looks" and you know what? the towel was iconic. there i said it.

the sleepwear look -- *cries in detail work* yes all that lace is hand-drawn YES MY WRIST ACHED SO BAD AFTER FINISHING IT, this one is just conjured out of my head, no inspo look

the suspenders -- real ones know which kinn look this one is based off. just google kinn in suspenders or something i guess because we were ROBBED that it wasn't in the show. ROBBED.

the towel -- since drawing it multiple ppl have told me that they think fem!kinn would just wear the towel on her hips, tits out, no shame, and they are all so valid.

family portrait -- when i was drawing this, i got sent a look by siv that i initially discounted because it was a skirt suit and fem!kinn all about those power suits. and then i was looking for thai designers and i saw the same look and i was like, "okay but she'd only wear this in a family portrait," and then i was like hhrrrrnngngn family portrait outfits for all of them, so now it's a category. this is a recoloured version of poem bangkok's fall 2022 rtw collection look 19.

fem!porsche "pre-kinn" looks

okay so my thoughts on fem!porsche are as someone for whom gender is almost an afterthought, whose main friends are all guys, who drinks bear and kicks ass and cuts her own hair whenever it gets too annoying, who buys male toilettries because they're cheaper, who's made a career out of being rich girl's experimental whirl into lesbianism, and who can get them off real easy but isn't so good at getting herself off. she's hooked up with her fair share of guys, and considers herself more of a male-leaning bisexual. like, girls are fun and all, but she tends to have a better time when she hooks up with guys. (kinn's gonna blow that out of the water, hahaha.)

the fighter outfit -- originally this was going to be just a sports bra + jeans, but then i saw a pic of a cropped hoodie and my brain just sort of blanked out and when i was done the art was finished. porsche's abs are very important to me. as are her arms. and her thighs. she's an itty bitty titty committee member tho and i stand by that.

the bartender outfit -- i've drawn this one before, but yes! all the buttons undone! cheapest black shirt and slacks! converse!!! YESS

the casual outfit -- bike shorts, big t, big shirt? yes. fem!porsche sits somewhere between jock and gonna-fix-your-appliances on a fashion basis and i am here for it.

fem-porsche "kinn era" looks

one of the big ideas i had going into this project was the idea that porsche feels divorced from her femininity in a way that she's not altogether satisfied with and that kinn helps her reconnect with it. because, like, let's be real: porsche has no major feminine influences in her life growing up, and she's literally always got bigger concerns. she defo plays up the idea that she's above it all, whilst also completely lost as to how to get to there. kinn is probably both an object of envy and attraction for her.

(also i have in my head that the sauna conversation goes something like: porsche: do you have a boyfriend, then? kinn: i've never once found a man that truly wants a powerful woman. porsche: huh, that's weird. i've had no trouble finding guys who want me to hold the up against a wall.)

anyway it's important to me that kinn makes porsche feel dainty and feminine.

the bodyguard look -- hrrrrngngng waist. that is all.

clubbing with tankhun -- you know how i said somewhere between jock and owns a monkey wrench? meet porsche out clubbing. love it for her.

first public date with kinn -- so the background i had imagined for this outfit was that porsche and kinn are going public, and kinn sends her a box with a dress to wear plus heels, only porsche can literally not stand for more than two seconds in the heels and hates them, so she wears her converse instead. this is almost a direct copy of look 12 from monse's spring 2021 rtw collection.

black tie date with kinn -- obvs this is a dress that kinn picked out for her, so i thought long and hard about what kinn would choose. in the end, i figured kinn would probably want her to look regal. i looked at so many dresses for this one, esp bc there was a secret requirement where i wanted the skirt to be loose enough that kinn could eat her out in it. look, i just think it would be gender if kinn dressed porsche up in this dress and porsche felt all pretty and feminine and then kinn ate her out in the bathroom at the event or something. you know. girl things. this dress is look 6 from valdrin sahiti's spring 2022 bridal collection and i had to download a pdf to get a reference picture, so appreciate my work. also shoutout literally the only time porsche is wearing heels. kinn had to give her like three hours of walking lessons.

fem!porsche minor family head looks

michael kors collection saved my bacon here. i really struggled to figure out what fem!porsche's overall aesthetic would be for her minor family head position. i wanted something distinct from kinn, but didn't think she'd go full androgyny. in the end i settled on a well-tailored suits with a military flare in their cut.

first business look -- this one is based on look 19 from michael kors collection's fall 2022 rtw collection. dem arms.

second business look -- same song, different verse. same collection, but look 7. the thigh-high boots were added by me, though. i wasn't drawing lesbian kinnporsche without putting one of them in thigh-high boots.

visiting mum -- a couple of things. this one is based on this photo i found on pinterest, because i just really liked the neckline. details you might miss: this is arguably porsche's most femme outfit here, but she doesn't have the perfectly styled hair that she has when she's on mafia business, and she's still wearing her ratty beat-up converse. she's feminine, but trying to be authentic. it's a specific kind of messaging she's trying to get across to her mum. she probably agonised for hours over what to wear. kinn definitely really likes her in it.

family portrait -- again, plucked from my own imagination. the original inspiration for this look was look 9 from altuzarra pre-fall 2020 but if you click that link you'll probably be able to tell i went completely off-script. the more i drew it, basically, the more the altuzarra look looked too japanese, which is understandable, because that collection's whole thing was about blending modern and traditional japanese fashion. in the end, i pivoted, and brought it more in line with kinn's look, because i really did want them to have similar vibes. (couples outfits? couples outfits!!)

near misses -- these ones almost ended up involved: altuzarra pre-fall 2020 look 6 for the family portrait; michael kors fall 2020 look 60 also for the family portrait; michael kors fall 2020 look 30 for minor family mafia business; look 17 from alexander mcqueen's 2011 pre-fall collection also for mafia business; this look from pinterest for mafia business that got discounted bc i was going in a different direction; and this dress from rouba.g's spring 2019 rtw collection for the black tie dress which literally only avoided inclusion here because i couldn't make the sheer fabric look right.

anyway the takeaway here is don't get into an argument with me because i will bring receipts. mort learned their lesson, don't worry.

also @yeetlegay i gave you adequate warning. you knew it was coming.

#kaputt suffers in art #kinnporsche #kinnporsche art #fem!kinnporsche art #look i was good i drew only men for like literal months #so i think i deserve some pretty women for my hard work #also this set almost got derailed bc i started drawing fem!zhou zishu from woh #and zzs's face is so fucking hard wtf #oh and before people ask #yes i do have a plan to do fem!kim and fem!chay and also fem!vegas and fem!pete #select people have been let in on some thumbnails #but in the case of kimchay i have very few ideas #feel free to send me ur fem!kimchay fashion hcs #currently all i have for chay is just ''dungarees?????'' written in a discord chat somewhere #i don't tend to post my art but i figured you guys deserved this one #it's all just flat colour bc shading would take too long #anyway i'm going to bed now

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pinkprettycure · 2 years ago

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tangentally about your art, do you have any tips for drawing hands and faces?

for faces im not really sure how i can explain it since faces tend to be like the first things people learn to draw, so ive been drawing htem for yrs yk? In real life though, faces arent symmetrical. but in anime and cartoons we tend to prefer them to be perfectly even, for front facing images its easy to just flip the canvas or even flip the lineart i youre working digital. if youre on paper using a mirror or taking a photo can help.

eyes GENERALLY should be one eye apart from eachother but they dont have to be in all art styles. to keep the eyes looking focused you should be a little more in the middle, not too much because theyll look cross eyed, but slightly in the middle

right here, in the first pic is what im talking about, her eyes are closer to her nose. then i took dianas eyes and moved the irises to be centered in the eyelids, she looks like her eyes are looking in diferent directions lmao.

for noses it really depends on your style but it is 100% possible to translate different nose shapes into even anime styles, the best advice i can give is to just practice drawing different faces and trying to translate them into your style, you'll figure out what looks cutest to you.

and then after i said this i actually remember making a specifically regarding black people that had a section on noses hold on

for hands it again you gotta do a lot of referencing. unfortunately for me, i have chunky fat baby hands, so when i reference myself the hands tend to all be fat baby hands too lmao. but it does help at least in figuring out the composition of a hand and where all the joints go

for my projects ill be honest and say i heavily rely on a lot of assets and stocks, these are all made for artists to use freely and are even okay to trace. Adorka stock has literally been carrying a lot of my art lmao I also use Hato Kings hand references and CSP 3d models for really hard poses. speaking of Hato king they have a book for kindle that has even more hand references and lots of information on how to draw them, in both english and japanese so if you like their references please buy the book

Although when it comes to tracing stocks its very important imo that you adjust it to suit your style, use it as a tool but also a reference for learning. if your art isnt going for realism you dont want to have a perfectly realistic hand and then a toony body lol

#asks #Anonymous #tutorial #art tips

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3-aem · 2 years ago

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im so sorry you got hate :(

sending you free hugs if that’s okay! your art is the most fascinating I’ve seen, I’m serious. the strokes? the colours? i am deeply in love. you are amazing.

Thank you. This means a lot to hear rn.

EDIT 3. Since I felt peeved that someone was asking me to delete an old piece i actually did reach out to one of the artists (cannot currently figure out a way to contact the other). Permission was granted to keep it up.

I'm going to use this as an informal address of the issue if you do not mind. And i may delete it later.

Firstly i want it all to slide. I'm not a person who handles drama very well and I think I've already been made out to be some villain for some folks. I think there's already too much stink in the air but I'm here only to defend myself up to a line. This is long because I want to try and leave no stone unturned and cover all spots.

Skip to the bolded HERE for my direct address to that artist (skip my defense)

I do art for enjoyment. I enjoy when I learn. A crucial step for me has been learning from other artists. When I enjoy an artist or heavily reference their work I will call them out, credit them to the best of my ability. This is a track record you can observe. When I do not it's often because the reference is not exact, there reference was some generic pinterest pose/stock image esque/magazine esque photo, reverse image search and saucenao returned no hits (usually this means I am forced to link the pinterest instead).

I don't believe pose theft, pallette theft, concept theft is a thing, I think it's a form of gatekeeping and elitism but I will concede it can be a courtesy to call it out at will. Yet there are people who literally draw mannequin poses for share. If it inspires it inspires. I will not heavily debate this as I understand every artist feels differently about it but anyone in art understands implicitly the value of studying other art. Which is why I found that artist to be acting rather maliciously (*).

I know everything I've said thus far gets bungled when I start selling pieces and suddenly it appears I have a monetary incentive. Art does not pay my bills. The store is more so people who kept asking for those prints can get them. And I feel silly admitting this, but I only use the store promos on twitter to promo my piece (like on the timeline). It's a tactic I saw other artists using and i was like oh don't mind if i do too. It hurts my pride to admit. I do not make as much as anyone thinks I make and many Many prints do not sell. Inprnt takes half the earnings.

I personally upload almost every single piece so that I may purchase them or give them to friends. You will notice I do not have every single piece for public sale on store. There was an incident where a piece i did not intend to sell publicly was not rearchived and I failed to notice. I have a number of pieces up. The color schemes in a couple are very similar. Things get overlooked when you are not deliberately looking. Only two copies were sold during this time and if I had the option of knowing who bought it and how to issue a refund I would. I don't. I am sorry. This should not happen again.

HERE(*) I now want to address the way that artist framed their post and follow up discussions. First i take tremendous issue with the "big g*jo artist" lingo. My numbers do not dictate where i am as an artist and it is Absurdly infantile to think that bigger numbers means more mature, more seasoned, peak performance artist. I have worked years to get to where i am, and I am still working. I've complained about this. I've talked about this at length here on tumblr, how I get frustrated when I find myself stagnating skill wise, regressing. I don't understand how the thread could be so lost that this artist thinks I have made myself as an artist solely on a select few referenced pieces and that my goal is purely socmed growth.

Next, there's an impression that I blocked the artist on first contact. I did not. There was a full discussion where I brought up many similar arguments and when it reached the point where I no longer felt like any meaningful discussion could be had i made it clear I would be blocking but no hard feelings. It became clear at the end that the artist was truly just pressuring me to delete a couple Old pieces for what I assume was their own pleasure and to satisfy their righteous indignation. I did not and do not want to play that game.

Now the credit issue. There is a belief that I chose to issue credit on two pieces using a burner acct because i did not want that credit to be seen. As I mentioned these posts were old, specifically by 2 months. I post a lot. I have grown a lot in that time. There's a belief I don't feel shame for doing a poor credit job. I do. I feel tremendous guilt. I did not want those Pieces Themselves to be seen even if I refuse to delete (out of spite) If I had used my main art acct to reply there would be no doubt that those pieces would have be replaced onto the timeline and seen new traction, which would very much Not be the desired outcome. Was this the perfect solution, No. The perfect solution would be for me to have gotten the credit right the first time or update my standards for crediting to include the exceptions i listed at the start. The first part which I suspect is what is really being asked, is simply not possible though.

I apologize for those who may feel hurt re those two pieces. I mentioned this in my conversation with the artist that it was Not my intention to discredit, profit or hurt anyone. Obviously they left this out when they plainly said I blocked them and then liked a follow up comment that called me a coward.

This has been long. Thank you if you read all this. I will work to ensure nothing like this happens again.

#unfortunately bc i blocked or bc they blocked me back #i don't have receipts by tumblr wiped the message logs and I can't seem to get them back #also as a Very personal note #to bring this to my doorstep on christmas eve was fucking Foul of that artist #it put an immediate damper on my weekend #and the lack of consideration for the holidays when ppl are enjoying time with loved ones blows my mind.#so malicious #do not reblog

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gandalfsbignaturals · 2 years ago

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your post about fair use is entirely incorrect; fair use is intended to protect those doing reviews, critique, parody, and analysis of other pieces of media. it does not mean “i found this online so i’m allowed to use it however i want”. do some actual research into copyright law before spreading lies to support literal art theft

let me ask you something about art theft.

i have a lovely collage that was made by a friend for me. its a collection of magazine cutouts mostly. none of the images in it were drawn by a human hand; they were created by printing presses reproducing a pattern. there are likely a thousand copies of any of those images available to anyone willing to look for them.

is it stolen art?

now a different question. say i input a command for an ai to generate an image. when i input those commands, it is going to attempt to generate a unique image by collating its data from a large set of other images, and its going to place and color pixels based on its statistical modeling of the concepts contained in my prompt. it is, on a conceptual, essentially a computer-generated collage. none of the pixels were placed by human hands, no, but they were placed based on parameters set by me using statistical models that already exist.

is this stolen art?

another question. i learned to draw by copying art that i saw. mostly comic books and animation. i actually spent about a year where most of the drawing i was doing was done by first tracing over a screenshot of BTAS or a stock image, and then redrawing it without tracing, usually a few times. it allowed me to create models in my head of how human bodies move, look, and act. now, when i draw things, how they look is very much influenced by the art that i studied and trained myself on. in fact, sometimes i still reference images when im drawing, and in fact i often use screenshots of shows i like. the other day i did a whole series of thumbnails that were all based on magic the gathering card art.

am i stealing art?

you may think my questions pedantic, but i think theyre important. these ai image generators arent doing anything a human couldnt do. they just do it faster, because they are computers, and computers are made to do things that humans can do but faster.

so why is it considered art theft? is it art theft because they arent fully original images, but cobbled together based on a database? is it art theft because they are referencing other images? is it art theft because the people using them didnt have to devote hours holding a pencil to make them?

i do not think that ai generated images are any more "art theft" than any other sort of image. obviously they can be used for art theft--copying someones work and changing a few things around is kind of a dick move. but thats not inherent to ai art. just as easily as i could copy an artists style with an ai, i could trace over a piece of art or a photograph and try to pass it off as my original work. in fact, because of my particular skillset, it would probably be easier for me to do that than to try and wrestle with an ai prompt for hours trying to produce a decent looking image.

next time you accuse someone of art theft, ask yourself something. are they actually trying to pass off another artists work as their own? are they making money off of the image? are they trying to copyright the image? are they actually doing anything that a very determined human couldnt accomplish on their own?

#this post got long but ive got a lot of opinions on this subject

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cyarskaren52 · 11 months ago

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100 - 8180 - 6160 - 4140 - 2120 - 1

YEAR IN REVIEW

The 100 Best Songs of 2023

Lana, Drake, Miley, Tyler, and many more

BY ROLLING STONE

DECEMBER 1, 2023

KYLIE MINOGUE RACED back to the center of the dance floor with a viral smash. A surprise Shakira track broke the internet. Sexyy Redd owned every summer DJ set. And NewJeans rode a drum-and-bass beat to pop heaven. It was a massive year for música Mexicana and Afropop, for noisy guitar bands, left-field hip-hop, and fearless country storytelling. Taylor Swift had a pretty good year too.

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Stormzy feat. Fredo, ‘Toxic Trait’

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U.K. rap scion Stormzy didn’t let the year go by without giving listeners a reminder as to why he’s one of the biggest artists in the world. “I’m the black Kate Bush,” he raps. The song rides a menacing U.K. drill rhythm reminiscent of the type of marauding production Pop Smoke, and more recently Ice Spice, made popular in the states. Meanwhile, Stormzy’s in perfect form, rapping the kinds of boasts you get to rap when you’re at the top. But it’s not all braggadocio, Stormzy’s taking stock of his toxic traits, they just happen to carry a hefty price tag. —J.I.

Katie Von Schleicher, ‘Cranked’

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Someone let Katie Von Schleicher down, but she’s doing her best to forget it on this highlight from her delightfully titled, even-more-delightfully composed A Little Touch of Schleicher in the Night. “Oh, once it’s gone, it’s beautiful,” she sings as six violins and violas and a pair of saxophones assist her rose-colored revisionism. Exquisitely melancholy chamber pop can feel like a lost art these days. Not when Katie’s in the house. —S.V.L.

BLP Kosher and BabyTron, ‘Mazel Tron’

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You’d be forgiven for thinking rapper BLP Kosher was something from an SNL skit. The South Florida MC is keen on referencing his Jewish faith in his raps and has a clear sense of humor that extends even to his inventive hairstyle. But as a rapper, Kosher’s sensibility is closer to his fellow Gen Z rap favorite BabyTron, known to spin densely packed cultural reference in his raps. It’s why the two make such a perfect pairing on “Mazel Tron.” The track is an extended display of BabyTron’s dexterity, but BLP Kosher very much holds his one, effortlessly sliding slick references between his rap’s infectiously bouncy cadence. The song’s video was inescapable for some time on TikTok, and rightfully so, you sort of have ot see it to believe it. —J.I.

Seventeen, ‘Super’

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For their victory-lap single “Super,” Seventeen found inspiration in the supernatural tales of Chinese mythological figure Sun Wukong. Finding his journey a fitting metaphor for the group’s persevering eight-year career, members Woozi, Vernon, and S.Coups (alongside Pledis hitmaker Bumzu and Filipino-Canadian producer August Rigo) embedded images of flying clouds and magical staffs into a drum-heavy EDM anthem that evokes militarism through Jersey club rhythms. As the boys chant, “I love my team/I love my crew,” it’s a proud affirmation of how Seventeen reached their current success: There’s strength in the collective. —M.H.K.

Allison Russell, ‘The Returner’

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The mood on Allison Russell’s 2023 album, The Returner, is quite light compared to 2021’s Outside Child and often feels downright celebratory and joyful. The title track is a soulful groove that never seems in a hurry, just drifting happily along with little pockets of electric guitar, piano, and some truly gorgeous string work. “If you think you’re alone/Hold on — I’m coming,” Russell sings at one point, a chorus of voices chiming in behind her as she promises to help you along. Put it on when you need a little lift, or really for any reason at all. —J.F.

Baby Keem and Kendrick Lamar, ‘The Hillbillies’

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While Baby Keem spent much of the year starring on Kendrick Lamar’s Big Steppers Tour, fans hungry for a sequel to his bestselling 2021 album, The Melodic Blue, made do with this vibrant sequel to their “Family Ties” collaboration. “We gon’ fuck up the world/Excuse me but is that your girl?” they boast on “The Hillbillies,” an EvilGiane production defined by the duo’s frizzy flows, slowed-and-chopped samples, goofy ad-libs, and Jersey club vibes. It’s a fun track that reaffirms their partnership as a place of comfort for the globe-trotting Lamar, and a spotlight for his younger cousin on the come up. —M.R.

The Beths, ‘Watching the Credits’

LINDSEY BYRNES*

The Beths are power-pop ninjas on parr with Big Star and Cheap Trick. “Watching the Credits,” from the expanded edition of their 2022 album, Expert in a Dying Field, is a song about trying to direct your life as if it was a movie, fixing the stuff in post you didn’t quite get right in the moment. The irony is that such formal mastery and invention is at the heart of what these New Zealanders do so well. “Watching the Credits” is power pop as grand orchestration, and more proof that few bands pack in the cleverly turned hooks with such joy. —J.D.

Young Thug feat. Drake, ‘Oh U Went’

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Even from behind the wall, Young Thug gave the people what they wanted this summer. On “Oh U Went,” a single from his Business Is Business album, Thug unfurls his boundless vocals over an enchanting mesh of keys and a soigné vocal sample. The lyrics don’t stray much from him asking rhetorical questions in a laundry-list format, but he does it with such a compelling presence that it doesn’t matter. Drake follows up with a fiery verse where he lets us know, “I got more stones than a cemetery/I got more streams than y’all in February.” Drake and Thug have an impeccable chemistry, which is why many fans hope Thug can come home to keep the streak going. —A.G.

Margo Price, ‘County Road’

JASON KEMPIN/GETTY IMAGES

The centerpiece of Margo Price’s Strays is a devastating six-minute ode to the past. While it’s technically about her late friend who died of colon cancer, lines like “Hey kid, where ya goin’ with those brand new wheels you got?” could also apply to a younger Price — a musician who struggled for so many years before she finally got her due. “I wish I could have back what I didn’t know were the best years of my life,” she sings, over the kind of piano and pedal-steel combo that brings you to tears. According to Price, she does, too. “It gets me choked up,” she said. “Every time I play it.” —A.M.

Indigo De Souza, ‘Smog’

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“I just sit down and shut up,” Indigo De Souza sings, “I hope they don’t notice me.” That’s gonna be tough when you’re making relentlessly catchy songs like this. The North Carolina indie-pop artist delivers ambivalence you can bob along too on “Smog,” building from worried verse to explosive chorus as she turns tension into transcendence, singing “I come alive in the nighttime,” over a geyser-like synth whir and low-fi dance-pop thwump. She’s so rattled by the rush of her own epiphany you’d think she was the first person who found freedom in the wee small hours. —J.D.

Central Cee and Dave, ‘Sprinter’

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If American hip-hop listeners had any aversion to U.K. rap in the past, Central Cee’s recent run has firmly put those qualms to rest. The London MC is responsible for a spree of viral tunes, including last year’s “Doja,” which featured a hook so infectious Doja Cat herself took notice. This year, Central Cee teamed up with fellow U.K. rap heavyweight Dave, firmly introducing the world to their region with the short-and-sweet EP Split Decision. That project’s standout single, “Sprinter,” is a case study in what makes both rappers so compelling. With an almost literary knack for storytelling, Cench and Dave trade braggadocious quips about the life of a young bachelor in their prime. —J.I.

Beyoncé, ‘Cuff It (Wetter Remix)’

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Beyoncé’s Renaissance era has been the gift that keeps giving, or at least keeps giving everything other than visuals for the album. “Cuff It (Wetter Remix)” arrived alongside the icon’s stadium tour announcement and reimagined the original album track with the sensual and sultry undertones that paint the rest of the record. Over an interpolation of Twista’s 2009 hit “Wetter,” Beyoncé delivers plush, pitch-perfect harmonies and affixes an extra verse that finds her rapping about just how lustful she’s feeling in case it wasn’t clear already. —L.P.

Ayra Starr, ‘Sability’

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Ayra Starr is the Afropop princess that can do it all — she can cut soaring vocals; she can make curt and playful tracks; and as her breakout hit, “Bloody Samaritan,” and most recent single, “Sability,” show, she’s got a knack for steamy dance music too. “Sability,” a made-up word pulling from West African pidgin and meaning the ability to sabi — to know what’s up — is Starr’s ethos. Fittingly, she flips a sample from a beloved hit by Congolese Soukous singer Awilo Longomba in a way that marries Gen Z cool with timeless rhythm to creates a union all her own. —M.C.

Skrillex, Fred again.., and Flowdan, ‘Rumble’

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“Yo, listen, you here that? Killas in the jungle,” warns British rapper Flowdan on “Rumble.” Initially a collaboration with British producer Fred again.., “Rumble” eventually became a breakout cut from Quest for Fire, one of two albums Skrillex released within days of each other, as he announced his return to the front of the EDM pack. The track wobbles with bass drops, dread vibes, and chirpy sped-up vocals from Elley Duhé — a killer party in the jungle, indeed. —M.R.

Dua Lipa, ‘Houdini’

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How does one follow up the disco phenomenon that was Future Nostalgia? If you’re Dua Lipa, you call up Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker and former PC Music artist Danny L Harle. The final product is an edgy, clubby slice of psychedelic-pop heaven. Lipa likens herself to the escape artist the song is named after, warning her lover that she’s a slippery paramour to hold on to. It’s all accompanied by a meaty beat that is certain to get anyone on the floor. The centerpiece of the track, however, is the tempo switch toward the end, leading to an electrifying synth solo that makes this much more than just your average dance-pop bop. —B.S.

Big Thief, ‘Vampire Empire’

MATTHEW BAKER/GETTY IMAGES

This is Big Thief’s Adrianne Lenker with the gloves off, her heart-starved warble cutting through a raggedy grandeur Big Thief are able to wield as effectively as anyone this side of Planet Waves era Bob Dylan. “I wanted to be your woman/I wanted to be your man/I wanted to be the one that you could understand,” she sings as the music seems to ascend and come unglued at the same time, perfectly mirroring lyrics about physical desire and fulfillment so intense it’s almost deliberating. One of this decade’s very best American bands has rarely sounded so intense. —J.D.

Quavo feat. Takeoff, ‘Patty Cake’

CHRISTOPHER POLK/VARIETY/GETTY IMAGES)

Throughout 2023, Quavo paid tribute to Takeoff, his nephew and costar in the Atlanta trio Migos who was murdered in November 2022. He honored him at events like the 2023 Grammy Awards and joined a group of anti-gun violence activists for a meeting with the Congressional Black Caucus. Quavo also included Takeoff’s voice on several songs from his second solo album, Rocket Power, such as “Patty Cake.” Produced by DJ Durel and TheLabCook, it opens with horn-like fanfare and Takeoff’s familiar stentorian voice. “I made an M today, thank God, it’s time to celebrate,” Takeoff proclaims as Quavo laces the former’s bars with ad-libs, re-creating their famed magic once more. —M.R.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, ‘Cast Iron Skillet’

ERIKA GOLDRING/GETTY IMAGES

On this song, Jason Isbell turns memories of a pair of neighborhood tragedies from his North Alabama youth into a parable about the dark pitfalls and embedded close-mindedness of small-town folk wisdom. As he unfolds the devastation of bigotry and violence over its three minutes, each aphorism (“don’t ask questions; just believe it”) takes on a new, deeper level of disorientation. The result is one of Isbell’s most profound pieces of storytelling, up there with “Elephant,” “Cover Me Up,” and “Outfit” as a song he’ll be remembered for decades from now. —J.Bernstein

Rosalía and Rauw Alejandro, ‘Vampiros’

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Few pleasures in contemporary Latin music compare to basking in the electricity of Rosalía’s furious rapping. Culled from a three-track EP celebrating her partnership with neo-reggaeton star Rauw Alejandro, “Vampiros” thrives on the Spanish diva’s exuberance and a menacing synth line that pushes the tension forward relentlessly. The track’s tribal drums, exotic ambient collage in the bridge, and sudden ending evoke the bravado of Motomami — Rosalía’s visionary masterpiece. —E.L.

Reneé Rapp feat. Coco Jones, ‘Tummy Hurts (Remix)’

Renee Rapp and Coco Jones

HUNTER MORENO*

Mean Girls star Reneé Rapp’s debut full-length, Snow Angel, was one of 2023’s standout pop releases, its biting lyrics and indelible hooks surrounded in dense, rewarding production. This rework of “Tummy Hurts,” a sparse ballad about the conflicted pit-of-stomach feelings conjured by a miscreant ex finding a new boo, brings in R&B belter Coco Jones for an exacting verse that adds heat to the song’s complaints about “boys being boys.” —M.J.

Luke Combs, ‘Fast Car’

JOHN SHEARER/GETTY IMAGES/CMA

Thirty-five years after Tracy Chapman first released her ballad about speeding away from a bleak existence, she became the first Black woman to have a Number One country song as the sole writer, and then became the first Black songwriter to win the CMA Award for Song of the Year. Luke Combs, of course, helped revive “Fast Car,” recording an exquisite (and faithful) version for his album Gettin’ Old. But the country star knew the credit all goes to Chapman: When Combs won Single of the Year at this year’s CMAs, he started by thanking her by name for “writing one of the best songs of all time.” Fans just now being introduced to the song tend to agree. —J.H.

Omar Apollo, ‘3 Boys’

DEREK WHITE/GETTY IMAGES/WARNER BROS. DISCOVERY SPORTS

Among Omar Apollo’s stacked discography of soul-pop ballads about unrequited love, “3 Boys” is one of his most smoldering and tortured. Over swirling steel-guitar licks and doo-wop-inspired background vocals, the singer-songwriter questions non-monogamy during a time when it’s more popular than ever, asking: What good is being able to have multiple partners if you’re still hung up on one person? Though it’s an intimate take on a modern problem, Apollo’s nostalgia-inducing palette and emotive R&B vocals make his heartbreak sound eternal. —M.H.K.

Karol G and Shakira, ‘TQG’

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Two vengeful baddies come together on “TQG,” singing to their shitty exes over an ominous reggaetón beat produced by Ovy on the Drums. The song opens with a tinge of sadness from Karol G, before the Colombiana’s haunting vocals join Shakira as the duo embraces the fact that perhaps te quedó grande la bichota. These bichotas were just too big and good for their past lovers. Karol told Rolling Stone she asked Shakira to join the track after hearing her song “Monotonía.” “Listening to that story and where she was at, the song ‘TQG’ made a lot of sense,” Karol said. “She loved it.” —T.M.

MJ Lenderman, ‘Knockin’

“Knockin’” has been (sorry) knocking around the MJ Lenderman catalog since 2021, when it was released as a very low-fi demo. Even then, the song’s sweet, slightly weird brilliance was clear, as Lenderman used a characteristically offbeat reference to golfer John Daly’s bizarro cover of Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” as a jumping-off point for a simple, tender love song. Most crucial, though, is Lenderman’s assured vocal performance. When “Knockin’” completes its own roundabout circle, with Lenderman’s own half-cover of the Dylan original, it’s delivered not with a croon, but a ragged howl.—J. Blistein

Carly Rae Jepsen, ‘Shy Boy’

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Over a decade after “Call Me Maybe,” CRJ is making the best music of her career, and lots of it, which probably isn’t the narrative too many people had in mind back in 2012, except maybe Jepsen herself. “Shy Boy” is a wonderful highlight off The Loveliest Time, an LP of top-shelf leftovers from her 2022 album, The Loneliest Time. Carly sings about getting a her shy boy to come out of his shell, head downtown, and hit the dance floor over a heaven-sent disco groove that exemplifies her gift for putting her own fizzy, spin on classic pop sounds. —J.D.

Doja Cat, ‘Paint the Town Red’

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She sure did. This fuck-the-haters anthem, a global chart-topper that continued smashing glass ceilings for female rappers, is built on a juicy sample of Dionne Warwick and Burt Bacharach’s everlasting “Walk on By,” flipping the original’s sentiment with even more shade than The Stranglers. With her chirpy sneer darting between the sample’s signature trumpet notes, Doja Cat defends her hairstyle and social-media swag, and owns her current reputation as a “demon lord” with such giddy pleasure, we’re bracing ourselves for a cover of “Sympathy for the Devil.” —W.H.

Paramore, ‘This Is Why’

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Hayley Williams and her razor-sharp band made paranoia and agoraphobia sound like a blast in the oddly danceable title track to their first album in six years. Propelled by a Blondie disco beat and some Space Invaders guitar tics, “This Is Why” finds Williams spelling out all the reasons she refuses to leave the safety of her four walls. In short, because it’s a shit show out there. Live, “This Is Why” is somehow even more powerful, thanks to the magnetic stage presence of Williams — arguably the best frontperson of 2023. —J.H.

Sexyy Red, ‘Skeeyee’

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When one decides to describe breakout St. Louis rapper Sexyy Red’s appeal, they could pontificate on her pension for subverting patriarchal sex standards, or they could just simply belt “SkeeYee!” at the top of their lungs. Together, producers Tay Keith, DJ Meech, and BanBwoi‎ crafted Sexyy the perfect high-octane canvas for her song of the summer contender, where her effortless charisma, braggadocious lyrics, and a fun call-and-response hook coalesced to become a mainstay at the peak of any DJ set worth a damn. —A.G.

Megan Moroney, ‘Sleep on My Side’

NATASHA MOUSTACHE/WIREIMAGE

That this album track — buried on the country singer’s impressive debut, Lucky — never even became a single didn’t stop fans from zeroing in on the 26-year-old country singer’s standout sing-song tearjerker. “Sleep on My Side” is a classic country lament, but Megan Moroney delivers this dark tale of someone who’s had enough of their no-good cheating partner (who doesn’t even like John Prine) with an almost cheery “over it all” disaffection that somehow makes the sad song even sadder. —J. Bernstein

Grupo Frontera and Bad Bunny, ‘un x100to’

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Bad Bunny embraced the promise of música Mexicana early: In 2019, he jumped on Natanael Cano’s prickly corrido “Soy El Diablo,” putting a spotlight on the growing movement. This April, as these sounds ballooned into an even bigger global phenomenon, he joined forced with the rising outfit Grupo Frontera for “un x100to,” a wistful cumbia hit haloed with heartbreak and longing that flew to Number One on Spotify’s Global chart. The song starts with the Frontera frontman laying down a silky, sorrowful verse, and soon, Bad Bunny steps in to brood in his distinct baritone. Together, they strike a perfect balance — and score yet another triumph for música Mexicana’s nonstop ascent. —J.L.

Kylie Minogue, ‘Padam Padam’

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There is a moment right before the chorus in “Padam Padam” (titled after Kylie Minogue’s onomatopoeia for the sound of a beating heart) where she speaks the word with a question mark: “Padam?” Then she gets her confidence: “Padam, Padam, I hear it and I know … I know you want to take me home.” But before she feels the bliss of true love, it’s that moment of hesitation — the hair-raising, goose-pimply half second when she doesn’t trust the padam-padam to be her ticket home with her lover for the night — that helps an otherwise Kylie-by-numbers dance-pop song transcend into something sexy and special. —K.G.

Taylor Swift, ‘Is It Over Now?’

KEVIN WINTER/GETTY IMAGES/TAS RIGHTS MANAGEMENT

Part of the joy of 1989 (Taylor’s Version) was revisiting the unabashed, euphoric pop from the era, and the vault tracks are no exception. We noted in our review that all five vault tracks are her best yet, but one must give a standing ovation to the magic that is “Is It Over Now,” a song that manages to pack in more imagery in three-and-a-half minutes than even a great novelist could work into an entire book. Takeout coffees! Snowy accidents! Models! Unbuttoned blouses! This one has it all. Last but not least: those grandiose, gorgeously glossy synths. —A.M.

Chappell Roan, ‘Red Wine Supernova’

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Songs about lust at first sight can often capture the dizzying highs, but rarely is an artist bold enough to show the salivating stupefaction that’s actually involved. Enter Chappell Roan. “Red Wine Supernova” is a queer hookup anthem as unabashed and libidinal as you can get. It’s the pop equivalent of the cartoon wolf who can’t stop smashing his head with a hammer while watching a sexy cabaret singer. Its glamor is messy and relatable, punctuated with vibrator puns and the most blissed-out, dumfounded distillation of what wanting to fuck is really like: “Baby, I will cause I really want to.” —J. Blistein

Davido feat. Musa Keys and Latto, ‘Unavailable’

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It takes exactly 33 seconds to get this song stuck in your head. That’s how irresistible the chorus is from Davido, the Afrobeats hitmaker. The chorus alone would be enough to put the track on best-of-2023 lists. But then Davido starts to glide over that rhythm, with Amapiano’s signature synths gurgling underneath. Finally, Latto comes in over the top — and that’s when you know the track is with you forever. And the sounds of Johannesburg and Lagos and Atlanta have become one. —N.S.

SZA feat. Doja Cat, ‘Kill Bill (Remix)’

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“Kill Bill” has become the signature single from SZA’s landmark 2022 album, SOS, a raging success on the charts and the epitome of what makes Solana Rowe one of this generation’s greatest songwriters. She consistently manages to roll contemporary pop culture, personal turmoil, and scathing critique (often of herself) into brief, engrossing worlds of color and truth. This year’s remix is opened by a vivid scene of revenge rapped by Doja Cat, whose classic hip-hop sensibility unearths the boom-bap base of “Kill Bill.” —M.C.

Latto feat. Cardi B, ‘Put It on Da Floor Again’

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Cardi B shows up on Latto’s already tantalizing record “Put It on Da Floor” for a revamped remix that dumps an ocean’s worth of gasoline on an already-blazing fire. The Bronx rapper’s signature one-liners stack up within seconds and include some hall-of-fame level entries, like the homage-paying declaration, “I’m sexy dancin’ in the house, I feel like Britney Spears,” and the flooring takedown, “Got her lurkin’ on my page before she feed her kids.” It’s a record that calls for maximum volume in both the car and the club in order to match the blown-out bass that thumps, especially as Latto declares: “Big Latto, Big Bardi, it’s a real bitch party.” —L.P.

Mannequin Pussy, ‘I Got Heaven’

Manequin Pussy

CJ HARVEY*

When Mannequin Pussy first showed up about 10 years ago with invitingly titled tunes like “Clit Eastwood” and “Pissdrinker,” their songs went off like hardcore nail bombs. But in the style of classic noise bands like Hüsker Dü or Sonic Youth, they’ve kept getting better and better at writing heroically great songs with real emotional clarity without losing any of their outsider fury. The verse on “I Got Heaven” is streamlined violence, the chorus is downright angelic, and singer-guitarist Marisa Dabice’s demand to be taken seriously as herself for herself is punk-rock wisdom at its most inspiring. —J.D.

Boygenius, ‘Not Strong Enough’

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The indie supergroup’s full-length debut has no skips, but you can’t help but go straight to this highlight every time. With a title that nods to Sheryl Crow and exhilarating riffs inspired by Frank Black, it’s the song on The Record with the most communal effort by Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker, and one of the greatest songs in the boys’ catalog. “The two wolves inside us can be self-hatred and self-aggrandizing,” Bridgers told us this year. “Being like, ‘I’m not strong enough to show up for you. I can’t be the partner that you want me to be.’ But also being like, ‘I’m too fucked up. I’m unknowable in some deep way!’” —A.M.

Miley Cyrus, ‘Flowers’

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The lead single from Miley Cyrus’ Endless Summer Vacation captures that moment when post-breakup depression shape-shifts into acceptance of a new reality. Over hazy guitars and synths, Cyrus muses on a relationship gone south (“we were right, ‘til we weren’t,” she recalls, summing up months of fights and tears in rueful, succinct fashion) but then, as the music gets more muscular, she rediscovers her inner strength. “Flowers” had staying power because it told the type of love story that often gets overlooked —the romance one has to kindle with themselves in order to survive. —M.J.

The Beatles, ‘Now and Then’

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The chorus says it all: “Now and then, I miss you.” The final complete song with input from all four Beatles was recorded now (with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in the past couple of years), and it was recorded then (with John Lennon’s original Seventies demo tape and some guitar George Harrison added in the Nineties). And it captures a unique longing each Beatle has felt. Whether or not Lennon was singing about his fab former bandmates is immaterial since they perfectly latched onto his yearning, adding to a bittersweet and beautiful capstone to one of rock’s greatest legacies. —K.G.

Victoria Monét, ‘On My Mama’

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It’d be tempting to call “On My Mama” a throwback, with its blaring horns, live bass, and declarations of looking “fly.” But a more apt description for would be: timeless. The verses are catchier than most choruses; the chorus has this little pause in it that forces your shoulders to dip; and the lyrics (“I’m so deep in my bag/Like a grandma with a peppermint”) keep the song fresh after a couple dozen listens. Victoria Monét has been known for years as one of the industry’s best songwriters. Turns out, she saved the real classics for herself. —N.S.

Billie Eilish, ‘What Was I Made For?’

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True to form, Billie Eilish turned existential trauma into one of the year’s most flooring songs in “What Was I Made For.” It poignantly capped Greta Gerwig’s socioemotional blockbuster Barbie. But while soundtracking a huge cultural moment, “What Was I Made For” also spoke to concerns Eilish has raised about herself–about her sense of her own femininity, and about feeling more like a commodity than a soulful person to the world around her. These crises are set against Eilish’s ephemeral, glassy lilt and devastatingly sparse piano. turning the feeling of being disconnected from oneself into art that connected with millions.–M.C.

Lil Yachty, ‘Strike (Holster)’

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There aren’t a lot of people you could say had a better 2023 than Lil Yachty. The 26-year-old rapper firmly solidified himself as one of music’s major players, dropping a rock album, a slew of viral hits, and a podcast to boot. All the while one song, made famous by a clip of Yachty’s sister singing the hook, stands out as a singular achievement. “Strike (Holster)” felt like a culmination of Yachty’s admirable explorations. His patient, slow-rolling cadence makes for a certain magic over the song’s glittery production. “Strike like I missed it, strike like I hit the pin/Strike like I’m not goin’ to work, strike, strike,” he raps, managing to pantomime the sound of a protest. —J.I.

Olivia Rodrigo, ‘Get Him Back!’

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There’s nothing Liv loves more than a double-entendre. Except, maybe, revenge, which she gets plenty of on this Guts highlight. She flips from both meanings of “Get him back” so quickly it all morphs into one blissful pop-punk rager, and it’s all the proof you need that this is a 20-year-old pop star who is having the time of her life — heartbreak is just a footnote. Plus, “get him back” contains the best couplet of the year: “I wanna key his car/I wanna make him lunch.” —A.M.

NewJeans, ‘Super Shy’

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NewJeans have been enjoying viral hits for awhile, but “Super Shy” was a breakthrough for the Korean girl group, reaching Number Two on the Billboard Global chart. It might’ve deserved even better: The song is one the purest pop thrills of the year, with a dreamy melody; a bright drum-and-bass beat; and Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein sharing crushed-out lyrics you can’t help but sing along with. In true K-pop fashion, the accompanying music video is just as captivating, with synchronized choreography that experiments with the Seventies disco style waacking. —K.K.

Shakira and Bizarrap, ‘Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53’

PEDRO COLMEIRO*

Nothing could’ve prepared the world for the grenade Shakira dropped with her off-the-cuff collaboration with up-and-coming 24-year-old Argentine producer Bizzarap. The rising star had been teaming up with a host of Latin artists over the past several years, creating sessions with them performing over one of his original beats. Getting a legend like Shakira was a major coup, and it was just the fire she needed to write and record her most explosive music yet. Over the course of the electro-pop track, she takes aim in playful but absolutely not subtle ways at her ex Gerard Piqué, calling him out for cheating on her. It broke the internet so much that it gave Shakira her first Top 10 single on the Billboard Hot 100 since 2007’s “Beautiful Liar.” —B.S.

Zach Bryan feat. Kacey Musgraves, ‘I Remember Everything’

ERIKA GOLDRING/GETTY IMAGES

“Strange words come on out/Of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broke,” Bryan sings on “I Remember Everything,” displaying the kind of emotional realism that’s at the heart of his songwriting. The highlight of Zach Bryan’s breakthrough self-titled record was this understated gut-punch duet with Kacey Musgraves. The details do most of the talking on this remembrance of summer romances past: a pawned ring, an ‘88 Ford, sandy hair. But it’s Bryan’s and Musgraves’ complementary vocals, the former providing the melodrama and the latter singing with her guarded reservation, that best tell this story of two lovers who remember a far-gone summer fling all too well. —J. Bernstein

Lana Del Rey, ‘A&W’

CHUCK GRANT*

“A&W” is maximum Lana Del Rey: a sweeping, seven-minute epic that follows the sunburned, SoCal folk rock she’s perfected on recent albums back to the hip-hop-inspired pop productions of her early discography. That musical scope is paired with a narrative that’s no less ambitious — vulnerable and lurid, nostalgic and hopeless, funny and utterly bleak. “A&W” tells a story, paints a picture, communicates something ineffable about sex, identity, perception, power, exploitation, girlhood, womanhood, and class. s. And the bow tying it all together? The name of classic root beer brand, “A&W” used as shorthand for “American Whore,” because no one bends American iconography to their will like Lana Del Rey.. —J. Blistein

PinkPantheress feat. Ice Spice, ‘Boy’s a Liar, Pt. 2’

Ice Spice and PinkPantheress

MIA TERESA*

“Being Gen Z ‘It’ girls of the internet era, I feel like we had a lot in common, even though we’re from two completely different places,” PinkPantheress said of herself and Bronx rapper Ice Spice. Assembled via DMs and co-produced by Mura Masa, their remix of the British singer-songwriter’s “Boy’s a Liar, Pt. 2” reflects the duo’s rising stock in the Zeigeist with a fluffy blend of hyperpop energy and 8-bit melodies. Pink’s winsomely girlish voice floats over the beat, while Ice Spice’s boasts add necessary edge. The result feels like it belongs in a time capsule for life in 2003.–M.R.

Eslabon Armado and Peso Pluma, ‘Ella Baila Sola’

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As música Mexicana scaled new heights this year, the cultural phenomenon became impossible to ignore — and its chart-busting success is one of the biggest and most global music stories of 2023. Perhaps no song captured the movement like “Ella Baila Sola,” the standout sierreño by breakout group Eslabon Armado and newly anointed star Peso Pluma. The first strums of a prickly requinto clear the way for a burst of chugging charchetas and trombone that give the song a rich, rounded sound that hooks into the listener immediately. That, paired with the contrast of Eslabon’s silky verses and Pluma’s gritty rasp, meant instant ubiquity: After getting a boost on TikTok, “Ella Baila Sola” quickly dominated the charts, becoming a global Number One on Spotify and landing in the Billboard Hot 100’s Top Five — the latter a history-making feat that only proves the full power of música Mexicana. —J.L.

CONTRIBUTORS: Jon Blistein, Jonathan Bernstein, Tim Chan, Mankaprr Conteh, Jon Dolan, Brenna Ehrlich, Jon Freeman, Andre Gee, Maya Georgi, Kory Grow, Will Hermes, Christian Hoard, Joseph Hudak, Jeff Ihaza, Maura Johnston, CT Jones, Michelle Hyun Kim, Kristine Kwak, Ernesto Lechner, John Lonsdale, Julyssa Lopez, Angie Martoccio, Tomás Mier, Larisha Paul, Clayton Purdom, Mosi Reeves, Brittany Spanos, Noah Shachtman, Simon Vozick-Levinson

IN THIS ARTICLE:

Beatles,

Beyonce,

Billie Eilish,

Boygenius,

direct,

Drake,

Lana Del Rey,

Lil Yachty,

Miley Cyrus,

NewJeans,

Peso Pluma,

Shakira,

Taylor Swft,

Victoria Monét,

Year in Review

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karahalloway · 1 year ago

Text

Okay confession time. Every time Chris says mate, I read it in an Aussie accent... DON'T JUDGE!

Hahahahaha! That's funnuy! 🤣🤣🤣 But I 100% get where you're coming from bc he says it in an Auzzie accent in my head as well! Even though this is a turn of phrase I stole from my hubby (who's British 🤣)

Lol, I probably would be too scared to enter a place like that.... even if it smelt like good bacon!

So, fun fact - this dive is 100% based on an actual place I went to in Vancouver. I arrived on the first flight in and needed breakfast, so I googled 'best breakfast places' and this place came up - went to it and was like 'erm... this can't be right...' (exactly as I described in the fic) but the food was sooooo good 😆 So, never judge a book by its cover!

How on earth did they get him through the door?!?! lmao!

Max probably shoved/dragged him in 🤣

I love how they all start trolling him, haha!

Their banter! Actually, Drake's snark is hilarious alongside pretty much everyone. Especially, Leo, Max and Tariq

Thanks! This entire sequence pretty much just wrote itself 😆 I love it when the guys just get to be guys and piss around lol

And Leo...I just can't! How are he and Chris even from the same stock?!?!

Leo is a helluva lot more laid back than Chris is - and I HC that he's had a lot more extra-curricular experiences (e.g. like the volcano climbing, the camel episode in the desert that I referenced in the previous chapter, etc.) so he just has a very different approach to life in general

Leo is referring to Harper as Swifty? Becuase he thinks she looks like Taylor Swift? Yeah, this has likely come up already, but my memory is bad

Yes, it's Leo's nickname for Harper (primarily bc they are both blonde lol) Introduced in the karaoke chapter 😇

You've already had more than your fair share this MORNING, Walker!

Or not... you know... 😅

MAX! I thought you were better than that!

That gif 🤣🤣🤣 In my mind it's not bc Max is pervy or anything - he's just an exhibitionist and documents everything that he does with photos and videos (even sex - especially when it's kind of out of the box sex like in this case lol)

I'm also a little disappointed in Chris, Never took him for the hit-n-go type.

It's not by choice - it's kind of referenced in the interaction with Drake when they're waiting for the lift in the hotel, but Chris doesn't really want to say good-bye to Hayley, which is why he doesn't wake her. Because the convo would be awkward and heart-wrenching. Bc at this point, it hasn't occurred to him that he could ask Hayley to come to Cordonia (bc he has been raised with the expectation that he would have to choose a wife during the social season, and she would be a noblewoman).

YES YOU HAVE!!!!!!

🤣 Good thing Drake is fictional, otherwise I feel you'd be coming after him with pitchforks and knives right now!

That mental image!

Lol this whole sequence went down with a few people 😆

Although, it would have been hilarious if they had left him behind!

Agreed - and that was the plan... but the guy decided to show up at the last minute, much to everyone's disgust lol

NO NO NO! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?!?!? Now the series is almost finished and he's never gonna see Harper again!

Those gifs....!

...but we have one chapter left... and anything could happen!

Thanks so much for reading, liking and emoting! 🥰

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: This is a short-story series written from Drake’s POV that explores an AU where Drake meets Harper (my OC from (Un)Common Attraction) by himself before the boys come to the bar on the last night of Christian’s bachelor party.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The time has come to fly back home... but who won the bet?

Word Count: 6,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, references to graphic images, references to sex, references to bodily functions, toilet humour, motive for murder, way too much caffeine)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Thank you so much for bearing with me! This chapter was supposed to be done quickly but then it suddenly exploded into the almost 7,000-word monster that you see before you (I blame Leo 😆). Hopefully, the contents make up for the longer-than-planned wait! There will be one more chapter.

A/N2: As an FYI, everything that is mentioned is true/correct/accurate. Yes, everything! You'll know what I mean when you get to it! 🙃

Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

"Mmm... You're right... These pancakes are heavenly...!" enthuses Max 'round an overstuffed gob.

"I have to admit, I may have been skeptical at first, given the somewhat... dated nature of the décor," admits Chris, skewering the last bite of his own stack, "but I am very glad that I did not allow first impressions to sway me, and to instead let the delights of the fare speak for itself."

I throw him a sidelong glance. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"That you did, mate," Chris chuckles good-naturedly. "That you did."

"Drake always finds the best food," sighs Max as he closes his eyes in blissful appreciation.

I shrug nonchalantly. If you know where to look...

Having hit up Times Square and snapping the obligatory pic or two — it's the end of the trip... fuck it — I'd heeded Chris' final request for this trip by tracking down somewhere we could fuel up before our fast-approaching flight home.

And given the questionable-looking nature of our chosen venue, Chris' initial trepidation had been more than understandable.

Because from the outside — but for the tell-tale smell of bacon wafting out onto the street — this joint looks more like an illicit drug den than a bona fide restaurant. The single-paned window that faces the street has a massive crack in it, the doorway stinks of stale urine, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dead body or two had ended up in the dumpster 'round the back.

The inside's not much better, either. It's a cheap, no-frills galley-kitchen kind of set-up manned by a single, overweight chef who pumps out eggs, bacon, pancakes and hash browns in massive portions while you sit on the other side of the greasy, Lino-covered counter on creaky, '60's bar stools, sipping fully-leaded coffee from chipped mugs.

In short, the complete antithesis of the polished and slightly over-glammed feel of the retro, 1950s diner we ate at yesterday.

And that's why I picked it. Because after having been up the whole night, we need something to sub-in for our lack of sleep, and nothing tastes better than comfort food when you're craving a calorie hit. Plus, Chris had wanted a 'classic' Stateside breakfast experience, and it doesn't get much more Americana than this...

"What is all that sticky goop that it's swimming in?"

...except for the fact that I have Tariq sitting on the other side of me, complaining loudly about every-damn-thing that offends his toffee-nosed sensibilities.

Because as per usual, I can't seem to take two steps in this goddamn city without the Almighty crapping on me.

Our butts had just hit the stools when Chris' phone began lighting up with a million-and-one messages from Max asking where we were, what the plan was, and was there any food anywhere.

So, Chris (being Chris), had extended the breakfast invite to not only Max, but to the rest of our band of noble misfits, meaning that our laid-back outing has now morphed into a real-life rendition of The Breakfast Club.

I suppress a groan as I take another swig of my scalding coffee, careful not to move my mouth too much, given that — on top of everything — my jaw has set into exactly the kind of contused stiffness that I'd hoped to avoid.

My own damn fault for not icing the damn thing down when I had the chance...

The only person missing is Leo.

Not that I really care. I've had enough of that guy and his BS for one trip. And the main reason I haven't decked him yet for the shit he pulled last night is because I haven't actually seen him since Gale and I got booted from the club.

And I don't want to ruin Chris' last hour in the Big Apple by knocking his brother's teeth out.

The same can't be said for Tariq, though...

"It's maple syrup, Besnard..." I grunt at him, trying to maintain my focus on the viscous caffeine in my hand, and not the half-a-dozen ways in which I could smash the asshole's face into the countertop.

Because after the steady stream of crap that's hit the fan in the past 36 hours, the only thing keeping me on this side of sane right now is the free-refill mugs of coffee that I've been pouring into myself since we sat down.

Which means that my mood's dancing on a hair trigger, and I'm one stupid comment away from committing violence.

The chef'd probably thank me, though...

Tariq flashes me a disgusted look. "Maple syrup...? You mean tree sap? That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!"

"A lot of things come from trees, dipshit..." I mutter, forcing myself to keep staring at the wall ahead.

Tariq scoffs. "Why would—?"

"Cinnamon is obtained from the inner bark of various South and South East Asian tree species," Chris reminds him.

"And cloves are the dried aromatic flower buds of the clove tree," adds Max, chewing loudly on a ketchup-coveted tater-tot.

Tariq glares down the counter disdainfully. "What are you lot? Walking encyclopaedias...?"

"We just know where our food comes from, Besnard," I grind out around the rim of my mug. "As would you if you ever bothered to step outside."

"Where it comes from is irrelevant," comes the derisive clap-back. "The only thing that matters is the price tag."

"Even when it's been through the digestive tract of a wild animal?" interjects Max with a perfectly straight face.

Tariq nearly spews his over-steeped tea across the room. "What!"

"Certain brands of coffee demand a premium price because of their somewhat... exotic processing process," affirms Chris. "For instance, Kopi Luwak is the most exclusive coffee in the world primarily because it comes from beans that have been consumed and then excreted by the Indonesian palm civet."

Tariq's eyes bulge. "Excreted... As in—?"

"Pooped out," confirms Max gleefully. "Through tiny little butt holes."

Tariq looks like he's about to puke.

"That is correct," continues Chris. "The bile in the civet's digestive system causes the fermentation of—"

Tariq bolts from his chair.

"Lemme guess..." I drawl, turning to face the other two. "The fuck stick's just realised that he's willingly subjected himself to this fancy ass coffee."

"Ass being the operative word..." sniggers Max as he mops up the escaped yolk from his sunny-side-up eggs with a piece of over-buttered toast.

"Yes," laughs Chris, reaching for his own mug of coffee. "He accompanied his father on a business trip to Indonesia last year where he was given the 'Holy Grail' of coffees as a gift..."

"...not realising what it actually was," I snort. "Typical."

The door of the dive creaks open.

"Speaking of typical..." I muttered under my breath as I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the familiar figure who's just stepped through the entranceway.

"Hey, hey, hey, party people!" greets Leo as he saunters up to us like he doesn't have a care in the world...

...Oh, wait. He never does.

"Glad you could make it!" smiles Chris as he gets up from his stool to clasp his brother's hand in his own. "I was starting to think maybe you lost your phone again."

"I did, as a matter of fact," confirms Leo with a lop-sided grin, fist-pumping Max as he flops down into Tariq's now-vacant seat.

Chris frowns. "But then how—?"

"DiCaprio took pity on me and gave me a new one he had lying around his flat... Which, I have to say, is pretty sweet."

Max is gaping in starry-eyed admiration. "You got to go to famous Leo's apartment? Jealous!"

"No party like the after-party! And that man knows how to party. Oh! Bacon!" the elder Rys exclaims, suddenly laying eyes on Tariq's abandoned plate.

Chris still looks confused. "But if you lost your phone—"

"The magic of the eSIM, baby!" declares Leo with a full mouth as he brandishes a brand-new iPhone into the air. "Been using it for years! Why d'you think my number never changes?"

Chris opens, then closes his mouth. "Fair point."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Walker," continues Leo with a shit-eating grin as he elbows me in the ribs. "This place is the perfect spot to get daytime murdered in!"

"Careful what you wish for, Rys..." I mutter under my breath.

"Good bacon, though!" he quips, filching another rasher.

"We can order you a helping if you're hungry..." offers Chris.

"Nah, I'm good," replies Leo, dunking the bacon into some syrup. "Grabbed a bagel on the way from this awesome little Jewish place. Do you know that they even—?"

"Oh, dear God...!" gasps Tariq, bursting back into the dining area with a horrified look on his face. "That restroom is disgusting!"

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus give me strength...

"I admit it smelled a bit funky," concedes Max, "but nothing worse than when Bertrand—"

"There is excrement floating in the toilet bowl!" Tariq all but shrieks.

"Lemme guess..." I murmur to Chris under my breath. "He didn't know how that shit got made either."

Chris' eyes bulge as his coffee goes down the wrong way.

"That is generally what happens when you take a dump," Max tells him prosaically.

"It wasn't mine!!"

"Hate to break it to you, old sport," intones Leo, laying a hand on Besnard's shoulder, "but not every pisser flushes itself. So, you're going to have t—"

"No!" interjects Tariq, shoving Leo's arm away. "I refuse to go back in there! In fact, I've had it with this entire establishment, this entire city, and this entire bloody trip! Everybody is rude, nobody respects me, and I have suffered enough denigration to last me a lifetime! I am leaving!"

Throwing his nose into the air, he turns on the heel of his treadless Ferragamo loafers to stomp out of the diner.

"Christ!" huffs Leo as he jerks a derisive thumb in Tariq's direction. "Who pissed in his Earl Grey?"

"Oh, he's just miffed because he knows he lost the bet last night," supplies Max 'round a mouthful of toast.

Leo perks up. "What bet?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I groan.

I'd completely forgotten 'bout the stupid bet...

"He does know that the hotel is in the other... direction..." coughs Chris, having finally managed to clear the wayward coffee from his lungs. "Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I mutter, watching Tariq nearly get run over by an early morning cab as he tries to cross the street. "If we're lucky, he'll end up in Brooklyn again."

Chris starts hacking all over again as he tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "You're a...horrible person..."

"But I'm not wrong," I tell him, pointedly lifting my mug to my mouth again.

"Screw the sour-arsed sod!" cries Leo. "I want to know about this bet! And why I wasn't included on it!"

"You weren't there," I tell him tersely. "Plus, you'd've been ineligible anyway."

"Why would I—?" The proverbial lightbulb clicks to life in Leo's head. "Ooh! It was a race to fourth base, wasn't it?"

"Congrats, Sherlock," I grunt. "You've graduated to deductive reasoning..."

"Not just a pretty face, Walker," winks Leo in reply.

I roll my eyes as I return my attention to my coffee.

"But who's the winner...?" Leo continues contemplatively, eyeing the rest of us.

Max opens his mouth...

"No! Don't tell me!" decrees Leo, shoving a hand into the Beaumont's face. "I wasn't included in the bet, so I demand some vicarious recompense! I'm going to guess!"

"How—?" starts Chris.

"By using my incomparable situational awareness, sprinkled with just a smidge of mind-reading!"

"Sounds mystical..." admits Chris.

"Oh, it is! Prepare to be amazed!"

"I'm ready!" shouts Max like an overeager five-year old.

My head falls down between my arms with a pained groan. Somebody just shoot me...

"Alrighty, then," declares Leo, rubbing his hands together with an ungodly dose of perverse satisfaction. "So, we know for a fact that Toss-Pot Besnard never made it out the gate, and—"

"How are you so certain?" asks Chris with a frown.

"For a start, it's Tariq," I mutter at him from the greasy countertop. "Plus, if by some miracle he had managed to pull, he'd've been bragging about it as soon as he walked in."

"True..." Chris concedes with a laugh.

"But, more importantly," adds Max, "Lucy and Jamie — the two girls he'd been after — ended up taking me home last night."

My head snaps up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash. "They fucking what?"

"You heard me!" grins Max like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

"Hayley and Harper's friends..." reiterates Chris carefully. "You slept with both of them?"

"Yup!" comes the cocky affirmation.

"Well, fuck me running..." I scoff with a shake of my head.

Though I can't seem to stop an involuntary smirk from pulling at my mouth. Because that shit? That's impressive.

"Yes, gold star to Baby Beaumont," agrees Leo with a grin, slapping Max on the back. "But did he seal the deal before my little brother? That's the million-dollar question..."

"What about Drake?" interjects Chris. "He and Harper—"

"Oh, Walker didn't score!" laughs Leo.

Chris' eyes widen as he turns back to me. "You didn't? But you were the first to leave."

"Not by choice..." I admit sourly.

"Captain America here got his arse handed to him by a couple of beefcakes..." Leo explains.

"Fuck you, Rys!" I snap. "It was five against one and I still held my ground!"

"It was you who got caught up in that fight?" gasps Max. "That looked brutal..."

"It would certainly explain the bruises on your face," muses Chris, eyeing me critically. "And the ripped shirt."

I make a vague noise by way of reply. But I don't bother to correct him. The details aren't important. They lead to the same result.

Not that that's anybody's business...

"...and promptly got tossed out the club with Swifty in tow," continues Leo cheerfully. "Which I'm guessing is the reason why she wasn't willing to put out, because—"

I shoot off the stool, shattering the mug in my hand in the process. "Mention her one more time, Rys, and I swear to God—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interjects Max with a frantic wave of his hands. "If he left with Harper, how do you know that he didn't—?"

Leo jabs an uncompromising finger into my face. "Does this look like the expression of a man who'd spent the night warmly cocooned by the soft embrace of a woman's supple and welcoming thighs?"

I slap his hand away with a growl.

"Hmm..." muses Max, narrowing his eyes at me. "Now that you mention it... He does seem surprisingly grouchy this morning. Even more so than he was last night..."

"Beaumont..." I warn.

"Whereas my little brother is positively glowing!" continues Leo, fanning his hands around Chris by way of illustration. "Tell me you don't see the difference!"

"Fuck you, both," I grunt, slinging myself down into the barstool again.

A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, as if by magic.

I grab for it tersely. Where's the whiskey when you need it...?

"I rest my case," declares Leo smugly. "Which means, it's down to Lord Three-Way Beaumont and Prince Pull-Hard Charming. But who took their ladies to Heaven first...?"

"It doesn't matter," I grunt abrasively. "Max isn't in the running."

"I am afraid he is correct," Chris agrees after a second's reflection, glancing at Max. "No one backed you, so—"

"Rubbish!" objects Leo loudly. "The sheer act of the ménage à trois should guarantee him a spot in the champions' league, if not the entirety of the pot outright!"

"Except he's not the one who gets the money," I point out. "It's the person who ponied him."

"Christ, if it's that much of an issue, I'll punt him!" declares Leo. "What were the stakes?"

"Eight hundred ducats," Max tells him.

"Done," Leo declares, pulling his wallet out to drop a handful of Ben Franklins on the counter.

Chris meets my eye. "Your call, Drake. It's your money on the line."

I flick my eyes between Max and Chris, before letting out a low breath. "Fuck it. Let's make it interesting."

Pulling my own wallet out, I slap the requisite cash down as well.

Because worst case? I'm out of pocket $500. But best case? I net four times that. And I'm my book, that's a play worth making. Especially when my money's on Chris.

"That's my man!" whoops Leo, punching me enthusiastically in the arm.

"Careful, Rys," I warn him as Chris and Max add their contributions to the purse as well. "It's your dough I'm about to walk away with..."

"Eh..." shrugs Leo unconcernedly. "Money's relative."

"Spoken like a born-and-bred fat cat," I reply dryly.

"And now for the big reveal!" shouts Leo, clapping his hands together. "The stakes are set. The buttocks are clenched. Who takes the crown of Don Juan?"

Chris and Max exchange wry looks.

"What time did you get back to the hotel?" Max asks.

"Just after midnight, I believe..."

"Twelve thirty-five," I tell him.

Max's feet start dancing beneath him. "Oh, this is going to be close! We got back to the girls' flat around half-past as well."

"Sod all that!" cries Leo. "Get to the climax, gents! We want to know who got slob on their knob first!"

"Well, after we got back to the suite, we shared a drink before we..." Chris clears his throat. "...retired to the bedroom. So, perhaps 1am?"

"Yeah-yah!" enthuses Leo with a snap of his fingers. "Bring it home like a pro, bro!"

"Not sure why you're rooting for him," I scoff.

"I am permitted to share in my little brother's sex-tastic accomplishments!" he counters. "Especially when I'm the one who taught him everything he knows!"

"Except now, it's about to leave you out of pocket," I smirk, reaching for the pile of cash.

"Hold on!" interjects Max, scrolling furiously through his phone. "I think I have Christian beat!"

I frown. "How in the—?"

"Watch it and weep!" the Beaumont exclaims triumphantly, thrusting his phone out.

Leaning in towards the device — from the speakers of which spew the unmistakably pornographic sounds of sex — Leo, Chris, and I are greeted with a bird's eye view of Max balling Lucy from behind while she went down on Jamie's spread-eagled form on the bed.

Leo's jaw drops. "You filmed it?"

"Would've been rude not to," smirks Max.

"You dirty bugger!" laughs Leo, grabbing the Beaumont to noogie him.

I pull my eyes away from the X-rated spectacle. "Okay, but how does this—?"

"Look at the...time stamp," prompts Max from beneath Leo's arm.

Glancing back at the screen, I focus in on the tiny numbers at the top.

12:52am.

My shoulders slump. "Goddamn it."

"Looks like we have our winner," Chris concedes with a wry chuckle.

"You're not even going to contest it?" I demand, throwing an accusatory hand out at Max.

"I am not sure there is anything to contest," replies Chris. "The numbers speak for themselves. And since Maxwell is the only one out of the two of us who had the foresight to record the exact timing of the event, I think it is only fair that he takes the pot."

"Yeah, baby!" whoops Leo, jumping off his stool with outstretched arms to thrust out an in-your-face victory dance à la Ace Ventura. "Can you feel it? Can... you... feel it?! Damn, it feels good!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I grunt with a roll of my eyes.

But, Leo's asinine antics aside, I have to hand it to Max. Not only did the guy manage to go above and beyond, but he somehow managed to beat the clock as well.

So, I can't begrudge second place too much.

"I believe this is rightfully yours, big brother," declares Chris, graciously handing the pile of bills over.

"Why, thank you, little brother!" grins Leo as he accepts the winnings with a mock bow...

...before studiously dumping the cash into Max's lap.

The Beaumont's eyes widen in disbelief. "I— But you— I didn't—"

"Hey, I wasn't the one with my pants down on the front lines last night," he says. "So, if anyone deserves the spoils of war, it's you."

Max is still gawping like a stupefied goldfish. "But—"

"Spend it well, kemosabe," the elder Rys incants somberly, laying a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Th-thank you," stammers Max, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion.

"Ehh... Don't mention it!" shrugs Leo with a grin. "I'm just here for the memories. Though... speaking of, if you want your lasting memories of this trip to be anything other than dear Father sending a squadron of Guards after you to haul you back across the Pond, I suggest you get your tushes to the airport."

"Oh, shit..." I cuss, glancing down at my watch. "We gotta move." Necking the last of my coffee, I signal for the cheque.

"Are you flying back with us?" asks Chris as he pushes himself off his stool.

"Nah," demurs Leo, reaching across his brother to grab the final piece of bacon off Tariq's plate. "As much as I'd love to steal your thunder by gate-crashing yet another fancy ball that I don't have an invitation to, you know Regina still hasn't revoked that shoot-on-sight order she put out on my head last year."

Chris laughs. "I'm sure it's not all that bad..."

"You'd be surprised!" insists Leo with only a touch of sardonicism. "Plus, I promised Katie that I'll bring her back a box of cronuts. So, I got a few errands to run before I jet out."

"Well, in that case," replies Chris, reaching out to envelop his brother in a hug, "thank you for coming, and we'll hopefully see each other soon!"

"You can bet on it, matey," confirms Leo, giving Chris a heartfelt thump on the back before pulling away. "At the Coronation, if nothing else."

Chris' eyes widen. "Father signed off on your attendance?"

"Not yet," the elder Rys admits. "But I'm slowing wearing the old man down."

"Well, I — for one — certainly hope you succeed!" laughs Chris.

"I have faith in myself," winks Leo. Leaning past Chris, he reaches out to bump knuckles with Max. "Beaumont. Say hi to Bert for me."

"Will do," nods Max. "And thank you. Again. You really didn't—"

"Like I said," Leo deflects with an arrant smirk. "Don't even mention it."

Max nods gratefully.

Finally, Leo turns to me. "Walker."

I meet his eye impassively as I draw myself up to my full height to face him. "Rys."

"You got his six, right?" he asks, inclining his head almost imperceptibly back towards his brother, who — true to his earlier promise — is in the process of intercepting the bill before it can make it to me.

"Come hell or high water," I affirm.

"Good," he nods, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "'Cause there's going to be both. And he'll need someone to help pull him through."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Leo," I remind him, watching Chris trying to figure out which greenback was which with Max's help as he sought to pay for our breakfast.

"I know," acknowledges Leo, his face tightening as the memories of the fallout from the assassination attempt flash through his memory. "But I still appreciate it. He is my only brother, after all."

I meet his eye. "Then you know why I'm doing it."

Leo holds my gaze for a long moment before extending his hand. "You're a good friend, Drake."

"Someone's gotta be," I tell him with a wry smile, reciprocating the gesture.

Leo might grate me up the wrong way with his bad jokes and juvenile attitude, but we are — and always have been — on the same page when it comes to Chris.

"They're rarer than you think," Leo murmurs softly. Dropping my hand, he turns back to Chris and Max, who have finally managed to settle the bill, plus tip. "Ciao, amigos! It's been a blast!"

"Have a good flight!" Chris tells him with a wave.

"I always do!" Leo assures him. "Stay safe, little brother. Give the ladies a fair chance, don't do anything I wouldn't—"

I scoff. "Is there even such a thing?"

"—and remember," Leo continues unabashedly, "if you're ever in doubt, there's always the balcony!"

Chris stifles a laugh. "I'm sure it won't come to that..."

"Never underestimate the beauty of a Plan B!" Leo hollers over his shoulder as he pulls the rickety door open, and steps out onto the street.

Max stares after him with a perplexed look. "When he said 'balcony'... Did he mean you jumping off it, or you throwing the lady off?"

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I advise as I grab my leather jacket to pull it on. Turning to Chris I ask, "You good?"

"Yes, I think I managed to sort the bill..." he replies, pulling his own jacket on as well. "Fifty percent gratuity is acceptable here, right?"

I nearly dislocate my shoulder putting my arm into a non-existent sleeve. "Erm... Yeah. Sure. More than acceptable."

Christmas definitely came early for this waitress!

But at least the hefty tip would help smooth over any wayward resentment left in the wake of Tariq's ass-like behaviour.

Chris' face visibly relaxes. "Oh, good! I wasn't sure of the correct etiquette."

"Trust me," I drawl, opening the creaky door. "You ain't never gonna fall flat in that department."

"If you say so," concedes Chris with a smile as he and Max follow me out onto the street.

"I know so," I assure him, leading the way back to Broadway.

At just gone 7am on a weekday, the city is already a hive of activity with cyclists, taxis, and pedestrians vying for position on the thoroughfares against the buses, garbage trucks, and private vehicles, as everyone tries to get where they're going just that much faster.

My gaze tracks west almost on auto-pilot. Wonder what Gale's doing... Is she still asleep, or—?

I yank myself forcefully back from the precipice of that dead-end drift.

The only thing that matters right now is getting Chris and Max (...Tariq could go fuck himself) back to the hotel and then getting 'cross town to Teterboro in time for scheduled departure.

Leo hadn't been joking when he'd said that Constantine would not hesitate to unleash a squadron of King's Guard on our tails if we didn't arrive back in Cordonia by the agreed time.

That had been the agreement.

Because the first event of the season kicks off tomorrow with the Masquerade Ball, and Chris has a full week's worth of engagements penciled into the twelve hours beforehand.

Which means that there can be zero deviations, zero slippages. We have to be on that plane...

...even though that's the last thing any of us want to do right now.

Because glancing back at Chris and Max as we make our way up back to the hotel, it's clear that New York has been a much-needed escape for both of them. Not just from the daily grind of court, but also from the strictures of expectation. As here, you weren't your name, or your title, or your birthright.

You were just another guy on the street, trying to make your American dream come true.

And despite — or rather, because of — their stations, that's a privilege that neither Chris nor Max have ever had the luxury of experiencing before. Because even though they may have all the money in the world, one thing they could not buy with it is freedom — true freedom. As money garnered expectations and expectations choked you out like chains around your neck.

And that was life's unfair trade-off...

...unless you were Leo, who somehow managed to screw the pooch into laying him a golden egg by finding a woman who was apparently not only worth abdicating for, but who also turned out to be loaded in her own right, thanks to a very generous inheritance provision in her grandmother's will.

And because that money came with zero strings attached, the lucky bastard got to have it all: living it up large, while also getting to flip the rules and regulations that he's always hated the bird.

But, unfortunately for the rest of us mere mortals who weren't born with the luck of the devil, the best we can hope for are those rare moments in between when the constraints of your usual life fall away, and you're rewarded with a much-needed breath of levity.

And maybe that's why I'd fallen so hard and fast for Gale. Because irrespective of the magnetic pull she had on me, she wasn't just some hot girl I'd happened to hit it off with. And while undeniable, the deep seated attraction went beyond the mere physical... or even the personal.

Because beyond the fact that she was gorgeous, funny, and knocked me for six at every turn, she was more than just simple perfection. She was the sweet promise of possibility. Tantalising me with a taste of what could've been in a world free of obligation. Where I was just me — not an undercover Guard, not a duty-bound friend to a prince, not a jaded outsider confined to the sidelines, always looking in.

But as entrancing as the experience had been, I know it couldn't last.

Because such moments are — by their nature — transient. And like a pre-dawn mist on the water, they dissolve with the first light of the sun.

Just like our time in the States.

Which means that it's time to return to reality. Whether we want to or not.

Because duty always calls.

Arriving back at the hotel, I see that the pre-arranged limo is already idling next to the curb.

Detouring by the driver's side window, I have a quick word with the chauffeur to let him know that we'll be back down in a sec with our bags.

Turning to lope into the hotel, I catch up with Chris and Max just as the lift arrives in the lobby. The doors ping open and we pile in to make our way up to our floor, each of us lost in our respective thoughts.

The elevator arrives on our booked-out floor and we disperse into our rooms to throw our shit together. While packing, I send a text to Schweitzer to let him know that we're bugging out, so his team can start the clean-up and check out.

Zipping my duffle up, I do one last sweep of the space before grabbing the keycard and exiting the room for the final time.

Stepping back out into the corridor as the door clicks shut behind me, I find Chris already waiting for a lift.

"You were quick," I say, coming to a stop next to him.

"Wasn't much to pack," he admits.

"Hayley still there?"

"Yes, she's sleeping," he confirms with a ghost of a smile. "I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

I nod wordlessly. Good-byes suck. They're either gut-wrenching, or awkward, or both. Best to just—

"Will...you be back?" "I wouldn't hold my breath." "Maybe I want to."

The ding of the elevator knocks me back into the present.

Shaking my head, I step into the car after Chris. But for some reason, I can't seem to duck the sudden sense of emptiness that's dropped into my guts. Like I'd forgotten something... Even though I know I haven't.

I rub my eyes. I'm just beat...

I'm about to hit the button for the lobby when Max careens in out of nowhere to throw himself through the wedge between the doors, Gucci backpack dangling haphazardly from his arm.

"Oh, thank God!" he pants, falling gracelessly into the small space. "Thought you'd left already!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving without you, dear friend," Chris assures him with a laugh.

"Speak for yourself," I grunt abrasively as the doors finally close. "You fall behind, you get left behind."

Max's eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I meet his gaze impassively. "Try me."

"But Tariq—"

"—can find his own damn way home," I cut in flatly. "If he ain't buckled up by last and final call, that plane's not waiting for him."

Max flicks his horrified gaze from me to Chris.

Chris shrugs. "Drake is correct. It is unfortunately too short notice to modify the flight plan and—"

Throwing his head down, Max begins typing away furiously on his phone.

"You're wasting you're time, Beaumont," I tell him with a low exhale. "Regardless of where the fuck-wit is, he'll still need to come back to the hotel to get his passport, if nothing else. He ain't gonna make it."

"But we can't just abandon him!"

"He's a grown-ass man," I grunt dispassionately in response as we hit the ground floor again. "If he can't be bothered to look at his overpriced Rolex, then that's his problem. Not mine."

"Chances are he is waiting for us at the terminal already," advises Chris optimistically.

"But—"

"Drop it, Beaumont," I grunt, grabbing my duffel to march out of the elevator car without a backwards glance.

I have no clue why Max is being so hard up about waiting for the dipshit who wasn't even supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Especially since that same dipshit also happens to be in possession of a gold credit card.

So, I really couldn't give a flying fuck if Besnard missed the flight. He can pay for his own charter home.

I'm not about to jeopardise Chris' commitments for the benefit of a self-absorbed prick.

Exiting the lobby, I beat a straight line to the back of the waiting limo. The chauffeur spots my approach and scrambles to open the door, but I've already beaten him to it.

Popping the trunk, I toss my duffle in before making my way to the front to grab the shotgun seat while Chris and Max offload their own bags.

A slam of doors, a click of seatbelts and we're pulling out onto 57th St., only ten minutes behind schedule.

I try to settle down for the half-hour drive, but I find my knee jackhammering impatiently. I know we have plenty of time to spare before takeoff, but I hate running late. Even if it's only by a minute.

Because you never what kind of shit's gonna hit the fan — roadworks, lane closure, freeway pileup — and you can't mitigate if you ain't got any time in the bank.

I can only hope and pray that we don't run into any last-minute surprises on the 15 or so miles to the airport.

Chris strikes up some kind of conversation with the chauffeur, but I'm in no mood for small talk. Folding my arms, I try to tune out whatever it is they're saying by watching the skyscrapers flick past as we head west, then north to pick up the George Washington Bridge to Jersey.

And apart from a brief wait at the toll plaza on the other side of the Hudson, the journey passes quickly and uneventfully.

Arriving at the airport concourse, we exit the limo and make our way into the main terminal building. Luckily, at this time in the morning, there are not too many flights, so we pass through customs without any hang-ups...

...except for the fact that Max remains glued to his phone, obsessively-compulsively checking for texts from Tariq every two seconds, even as we board the jet.

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asks as he stows his bag in preparation for the flight.

"At least ten times," confirms Max, glancing anxiously out the window in the over-keen hope that Tariq will magically appear.

"Maybe his phone ran out of battery..." offers Chris hopefully.

"More likely he got mugged," I grunt, falling into one of the leather seats.

Max throws me a disbelieving look. "That's a horrible—! Oh. You're actually serious..."

"Guy like him... Prime target," I reply dispassionately.

Max's face drains of colour. "We have to call the police!"

"And say what?" I snap abrasively. "That the bell-end got himself lost somewhere in Manhattan? They'll laugh us off the call."

"But—"

"If Tariq really is in trouble, he can hit up the Cordonian consulate," I declare uncompromisingly. "But it was his bright idea to throw a hissy fit and stomp off in the wrong direction when—"

"You ungrateful ingrates!"

My eyes snap past Max. "For fuck's sake..."

Tariq is stood in the doorway of the jet, looking like he'd literally battled his way through the nine levels of hell to get here. His over-gelled hair looks like it's been zapped with a Taser, his clothes are somehow drenched and filthy, and he's wearing only one shoe.

"Would it have killed you to wait?!" he shrieks, throwing his Louis Vuitton man-bag onto the closest seat.

"Yes..." I reply.

Tariq shoots me a murderous expression. But before he can open his mouth again, Max has crushed him into an over-eager bear hug.

"You made it!" he enthuses. He pulls back suddenly. "But why were you not picking up your phone? And also, why do you smell like a wet dog?"

"Because I was robbed!"

"Told ya," I smirk across the aisle at Chris.

"It's not funny!" shouts Tariq, jabbing an irate finger at me. "If you only knew of the horrors that I have been subjected to, you would think more than twice about making light of my plight!"

"Pretty sure I wouldn't..." I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

"What was that?" demands Tariq imperiously.

"Nothing," I grunt as a steward appears next to my seat.

"Can I interest you in a pre-flight refreshment?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," I shrug.

She hands me something pink and bubbly in a champagne glass. "Enjoy!"

"I doubt it," I mutter, grabbing the flute to throw it back in one swig.

I grimace as the sour mix of grapefruit and Prosecco hits the back of my throat. But alcohol's alcohol, and at this point, I would've downed windscreen wash if it'd've helped drown out Tariq's high-pitched info dump of his trials and tribulations.

Kinda wish we had left the bastard behind...

But I couldn't seem to win on this trip, so I'm just going to have to suck up the next twelve-or-so hours locked up in an airtight fuselage with the bouchebag and pray that there's enough whiskey on board to keep me from choking him out.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to help distract myself, I shoot off one final text to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it to the airport and we're about to take off.

I'm about to do the same for Bast when the over-taxed device finally gives up the ghost and the battery dies halfway through the text.

"Great..."

Reaching into my duffel with a sigh, I extract the phone's charging cable and plug it into the seat's USB port so it can get some life back while we're airborne.

As Tariq continues to piss and moan about nearly getting run over, having his phone stolen right out of his hand as he tried to call a cab — followed shortly thereafter by his watch — tripping and falling into an open excavation hole as he tried to chase after the pickpockets, the cabin crew shut the aircraft door and complete their final cross-checks in preparation for departure.

A quick intro from the captain, and the jet starts rolling. After a short taxi, we're out on the runway, where we idle for a couple of minutes waiting for the go from the tower.

As soon as we get it, the pilot revs the turbines and the jet lurches forward. We hurtle down the runway, wheels bouncing and jet engines whining before jumping into the air to start our climb to 41,000 feet.

Glancing out the window, I watch the ground fall away as we ascend over Jersey, my ears popping from the rapid altitude change.

The plane banks sharply to the right and I catch sight of the Manhattan skyscape...

...but there must've been something in the mimosa because I’ve crashed out before the plane fully levels off.

The story continues in Chapter 13 (Coming Soon)

A/N: As another little bonus, here is a pic of Chris in Times Square:

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Breakfast - New York - Diner - Chris - Tariq

Max, Leo, and Drake were generated using the AI art app Wonder

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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

---------------------

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

--------------------------

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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