#fall bass challenge

[dynamic-power]

Steve is mostly deaf by the time he is 20. One more concussion during the last stand against the upside down stole his sense from him.

It's a struggle. But his friends are amazing. Robin and Dustin and Eddie learn sign language with him, and eventually, all of the party knows enough that he never feels left out of conversations.

He can still hear some low sounds. Robin's voice is lost to him, but Eddie's is low enough that he can still hear the timbre of it. He can still hear music with low pitches, too; he develops a new appreciation for rock and metal music.

It gives Eddie an idea. One afternoon, he drags Steve to Gareth's garage, where he sets up Jeff's bass guitar and an amp. He shows Steve how to hold it, how to pluck at the strings, and how to play a basic scale. Half an hour later, Steve is laser focused, sitting on the amp and listening and feeling the low thrum of the guitar.

A week after that, Steve drags Eddie to Indy to buy one of his own.

He sets it up in his garage, and he and Eddie spend hours playing together. Eddie teaches him as much as he can, but there is a lot that Steve has to figure out for himself. He's never had a challenge quite like this one, and he finds himself loving it.

He finds himself loving his time with Eddie, too. Eddie is funny and awkward and talkative, even with his hands. He's passionate about music and is an eager and enthusiastic teacher. They add dinner nights to their routine afternoon jam sessions, and Steve discovers Eddie is also very physically affectionate when he doesn't have a guitar in his hands.

One evening, as they are reclining on Steve's couch with the radio turned up way too loud, Eddie starts to sing along with the song. Steve doesn't really think about it. He just leans over and presses his ear to Eddie's chest, listening to the low pitch of his voice. If Eddie thinks it's weird, he doesn't say anything. After a while, his arm wraps around Steve's shoulders and holds him close. The song changes, but Steve doesn't move, and Eddie doesn't stop humming along.

It's easy after that. Easy to exist in Eddie's personal space, easy to fall for his goofy smile, easy to realize his new favorite spot is sitting in his garage beside Eddie.

And when Eddie's hands are flying as he tells Steve about this new song he's writing, it's easy to lean over and kiss him.

#steddie #hoh steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #dyno writes

[earthtooz]

x : POCKY GAME ! :*+ﾟ

in which: you play the pocky game w/ various bllk boys!

warnings: gn!reader, ooc for some, fluff, lots of kissing, suggestive but not nsfw, 300-600 words depending on which blurb :p, the writing is better in some parts than others forgive me i was fighting for my life trying to get everything right >.<

a/n: if you enjoy pls like or reblog!!! okay sorry back to ur regularly scheduled content, but pls consider reblogging!!!!! have a lovely day !!!!

CONFIDENT AND COCKY. he’s the one who taunts you into it, placing the confectionary sweet between his teeth and staring at you mockingly, daring you to take the other end.

“c’mon, sweets. what’s the worst that could happen?” he jeers, sitting back in his seat. you scoff at his egotistical show. you can’t stand him, really, you can’t.

you curse that he knows this trait of yours: that you could never say no to a good challenge. you know that he’s got you cornered, unable to contain his smirk when you roll your eyes and latch on to the opposite end of the pocky. at least he was considerate enough to take the breadstick end for himself.

both of you ignore the way you step in between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders for stability before the game begins, but not without a wink sent your way first.

you hate his guts. he knows it, but he wants you so desperately it hurts. 

he tries to contain his eagerness yet he can't stop his hands from snaking up to loosely hold your hips, fearing that this was just another daydream of his imagination. you, on the other hand, remain unrushed, taking your time and not falling for his bait.

you love watching him suffer, don’t you? pushing then pulling back when he gets too close, leaving him in a lovesick haze. 

he loves that you know exactly what to do every time to send him spiralling. 

after what feels like an eternity yet no time at all, his heart stutters at the gentle hover of your lips over his before going into overdrive when you press against him, leaving no biscuit or space untouched. with little control, he gives himself fully into the kiss, conveying every pent up feeling of desire that you leave brewing within him. he has longed for this moment for ages. 

and somehow, you feel it. despite his playboy appearance, you can tell with this one kiss that he’s fully devoted himself to you. as ridiculous as the notion may sound, it's evident through the bruising embrace of his, the way he’s trying to commit your lips to memory, and the way that he's tilting his head to access more of you.

it’s enough to make your heart flutter. 

but. you knew you couldn’t give in to his wants. not yet.

abruptly parting from him, he quietly whines at the loss of contact, frowning when you push his hands away with that pretty smirk of yours. so unabashed in rejecting him, aren’t you?

“you’ve gotta work harder next time, pretty boy,” you whisper against his lips before lowering your head to press a quick kiss against his neck. “i’m not that easy to impress, especially not with a stick of pocky.”

he watches longingly as you walk away, a new fire of determination burning in his veins. 

oliver, KARASU, KAISER, SHIDOU, kunigami (after… yk) 

DOUBTFUL BUT REALLY WANTS THIS. the party is in full swing, the bass of the music is buzzing through the speakers, groups of people are getting drunk, and you? well, you're playing a game for prepubescent teenagers.

“truth or dare?” one of the party goers asks the soccer player whom you’ve harbored feelings for for a while. your stomach flips in anticipation at which option he’ll choose. 

his face twists into a split second of contemplation before the answer slips out of his mouth. “dare,” he answers confidently, returning the asker’s smug expression with one of his own.

“i dare you to play the pocky game with the person who you think is the most attractive in this room.”

everyone lets out a collective ‘ooo’ at the dare and you try to ignore the way your heart drops to your stomach, your nerves crawling all over you. the soccer player laughs before accepting it, catching the strawberry pocky box that is thrown in his direction.

who just casually has pocky as a party snack? 

you don’t get to spend long dwelling on your query because your eyes suddenly lock with his and he stands up, never breaking eye contact as he walks over to where you sit.

the group erupts into cheers of encouragement when he bends down to be eye-level with you, holding the box of pocky in his hands with a small, shy smile. he was so cute- hold on. he thought you were the most attractive person in the room? oh my goodness, where you about the kiss the man you’ve been pining after for months?

“wanna play?” he asks, sounding a little uncertain.

the only response you can muster is a stupid nod, blissful expectancy settling heavy in the air as he rips open the packet and fishes out a stick. 

“let me know if you’re uncomfortable with this.” his voice is low, murmuring something that he only wanted you to hear.

“it’s fine,” you reassure before latching your mouth to the opposite end, trying not to show the flurry of emotions whirlpooling within you in this very moment. 

was this real? are you dreaming? 

when your noses lightly bump into each other, you wake up to reality because this was real. you weren’t dreaming and his face was now mere millimetres away from yours. his eyes glance up from your lips to meet your eyes and you feel a spark occur, one that wasn’t unwelcome.

there’s just one little bit left, you can practically feel his lips against yours, the gap tormenting the two of you as one of you waits for the other to make the first move. he shakily exhales. you're going to go insane from anticipation.

fuck it. you’ve come this far.

he jolts a little in surprise at your boldness before melting into you, smiling into the kiss as all tension seeps out of his shoulders. distantly, you hear cheers and whoops from everyone, too caught up in the feeling of finally having him against you, blissfully relishing at the way your arms wind around his neck, embracing him like you've been meaning to for a while.

he smiles against you when noticing how eager you are, relieved and delighted at the same time.

"you're perfect," he whispers when he reluctantly breaks away, eyes droopy yet filled with desire.

you’re caught off guard when he tells the person next to you to move aside before sitting down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as everyone else watches. 

thank goodness for truth or dare.

isagi, yukimiya, REO, SAE (ik he’s like a ‘cool’ guy or whatever but i think he’s a total dork so let me have my moment),

DOES IT BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU. he could not care less about some stupid game and he sure doesn’t need a fucking game to kiss the love of his life. he could do that whenever he pleases; a luxury that he will never take for granted.

but when you looked so happy and excited to try it out, how could he say no? 

“this is ridiculous,” he mutters, making his opinion known for the umpteenth time before connecting his lips to the end of the pocky stick. after a small countdown, the game begins and he starts without hesitation, biting down on the breadstick with an unmatched pace, quickly crossing into your territory.

before he could reach you though, you pull away, unsatisfied with his impatience. he groans at the sudden lack of contact, especially when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

“could you at least try a little harder?” you ask, unimpressed as he finishes the snack.

“i’m trying very hard, isn’t the point of this game to kiss one another?” he counters.

“well, yeah-”

“-if anything, you’re losing right now, love, so why don’t you try a little harder?” he asks in a low tone, nearing his face towards yours as his voice turns a little more sultry at the end. 

you push his face away, grinning to hide the effect he still has on you. “oh shut up, creep. what if i proposed a challenge?” 

“i’m listening.”

“let’s play it so that we try not to kiss, how about that, pretty boy? loser does whatever the winner wants.”

he straightens up a little at the nickname usage and the prospect of a prize. quirking a brow out of fascination, he relents. “fine. ass deal, but whatever you want.”

you keen at his willingness before grabbing another stick to set up the game once again. when you glance back up at him, a shiver runs down your spine at the darkened, lidded look he was giving you.

he prompts you to do the same when he takes a bite from the snack. 

this time, he’s slow and methodical with his actions, taking small bites to meet you in the middle where you enter a stalemate. here you can feel his breath against your lips, fanning against you ever so gently. 

this is going to be a lot harder than you anticipated because he’s really good at resisting temptation and urging you at the same time. it’s almost unfair how he keeps nearing your lips, threatening to close the gap before leaning away, leaving you to chase after him, all whilst holding a delicate piece of breadstick between his teeth. you can’t exactly make out if he’s smirking or not, but the mirth is evident in his eyes. 

he’s luring you in and it’s working.

next thing you know, you’re surging up to meet his lips in a clash of teeth, passion, and desire, all in one. it’s messy, but he wouldn’t want it any other way, especially when he’s the one who got what he wanted.

oh well, this wasn’t too bad for you either.

“see,” he says, pulling away, breathless and panting, his swollen lips forming into a smile. “this is way better than some stupid game.”

“shut up and make out with me.”

he keeps it to himself how you bought his least favourite flavour because it tastes better with you.

RIN, niko, chigiri (hear me out on this one: i’m right)

HOW DID YOU GET HERE? you were enjoying your packet of pocky, really, you weren’t expecting anything exhilarating. however, that changed when he snuck up beside you, peering over your shoulder to see what you were eating.

you don’t miss the way his eyes light up upon seeing the branded snack in your hands and immediately asks if he can have one. when you glance inside the packet to see how many you have remaining, you tell him that there’s only one left which you tauntingly put in your mouth to gloat in his face.

what you were not expecting at all was for him to take a bite of the opposite end and you're immediately stunned into silence.

if that wasn’t enough, there was no shame when he began nibbling on it, closing the gap between your faces as he concentrates intensely on eating the confectionary sweet. 

you’re quite literally frozen, not having it in you to merely blink, too scared to move or retract away from him lest your poor heart give out from how it thunders in your chest, reverberating with the might of a thousand suns. 

if that wasn’t bad enough, the way he gently grabs your face with both hands to keep you cemented where you are only worsens your current predicament. warm palms holding either side as he stares determinedly at your lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

was he always this pretty?

then, when you don’t think he can get any closer, he snaps the stick, pulling back with a satisfied grin, hands lingering where they’ve sought purchase before returning to his side.

“thanks for sharing, y/n. best pocky i’ve ever had in my life,” he says before turning around, walking away to leave you on the verge of a meltdown. 

NAGI, bachira (but with more excitement), otoya, 

#will not accept criticism on this one bc i am fragile rn #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #kaiser x reader #bachira x reader #isagi x reader #reo x reader #karasu x reader #otoya x reader #niko x reader #chigiri x reader #nagi x reader #oliver aiku x reader #aiku x reader #itoshi sae x reader #yukimiya x reader #shidou x reader #kunigami x reader #shido x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin x reader

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 01

Here's where she meets prince charming.

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 5.2k ⤑ warnings: DEPICTIONS OF READER IN A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (i.e, manipulation, domestic/verbal abuse, threats, degradation, violence toward reader), bullying toward reader, the "gaston" character is a straight-up asshole lmao, hyrbids are treated as second-class humans, description of bodily harm, sexual harassments, minor violence, based off 2013 namjoon in this chapter lol. please be mindful of the warnings!!⤑ note: happy birthday, namjoon!! while i was taking a break from magic shop, i've been working on a couple other projects and i finally finished one. it's truly a coincidence that i completed this story today lol. this story is loosely based off beauty & the beast but with hybrids.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

It was a dark and stormy night.

Flickering fluorescent lights. The heat of the jeering crowd. Grey concrete in the old warehouse. Speakers reverberating a deep bass that fills the room. Thunder is drowned out as two amateur rappers spit lines on the small stage, eliciting reactions from the audience before them.

One of the contestant’s attention drifts to the crowd until he makes eye contact with you. It seems like he was looking for you. The moment you raise your hand to offer a tiny, half-hearted wave, the corners of his lips tug to a haughty smirk. Then, with the microphone to his lips, he puffs out his chest, turns back to his opponent, and begins rapping.

You’re less than impressed when he finishes his turn and is declared the winner of the round.

To be fair, however, this isn’t your scene. It’s too loud. Too rowdy.

If it were up to you, you’d be at home. Safe and cozy in your warm bed, curled up to a good book or movie. Initially, you didn’t even want to come, complaining that the weather is awful, the venue is too small, the floors are sticky, and that there are too many people.

But he insisted that you come tonight. For him.

One of his friends has her arm linked with yours, anchoring you to her. Her eyes are bright with excitement as she screams in your ear, “Fighting! Kangdae!”

The one you’re all here to see stands on the stage, relishing in the audience’s attention. There’s a smug look on his face when he meets your gaze, as if checking to see if you’re just as impressed with his performance as the rest of the audience is.

Politely, you clap your hands, not quite sure what the etiquette for these types of things are.

The host continues to rile up the crowd, daring any of the other contestants to step forward and challenge Kangdae.

No one does.

Except for one.

Silence follows as a lanky, tall contestant comes onstage. One that no one has heard from yet. Sunglasses cover his eyes, but you can make out some of his predominant features: his full lips, the deep dimples in his shy smile, his tanned skin.

“Okay, kid,” the host says, intrigued. “Show us what you got.”

The kid is handed a mic. Kangdae looks him up and down and scoffs.

The difference between the two is telling. 

Kangdae lives for the attention, wildly gesturing and getting into his opponent’s face. He encourages the crowd to cheer him on like that. Their hoots and hollering pumps the adrenaline in his veins as he verbally attacks the guy ballsy enough to challenge him.

His opponent, to your surprise, stands quietly as he’s thrown insult after insult. Then, when it’s his turn, the room falls in awe. His flow makes him sound professional, even though he sounds quite young. You’re impressed with his wordplay, how he keeps up with the rhythm, how he delivers the lines.

He’s by far your favorite of all the ones you’ve heard tonight.

There’s a clear winner after the boy with sunglasses is done, though rather than shove his victory at his opponent’s face, he holds out his hand to Kangdae and offers a dimpled smile.

Rap Monster.

That’s what they call him.

And as Kangdae bitterly shakes his hand, stunned at the turn of events, you’re beginning to see why they call him that.

In your small, provincial town, Kangdae has it all. He’s a handsome young man, athletic and popular. His family is well-off; so much so that he can indulge in expensive clothing brands, own the newest models and gadgets, and party every weekend at some bougie club or resort. Guys look up to him. Girls are in love with him. He lives off the attention and praise from his big circle of friends.

And yet, for whatever shallow reason, he seems fixated on you.

Unlike Kangdae, you hate being in the spotlight. It makes you shy. It makes you feel nervous. You tend to keep to yourself because of that, reading books or watching animal videos on your phone. You feel like you hardly have any friends in the town.

Then, one day, seemingly out of nowhere, Kangdae declares he wants you to be his girl.

And suddenly, you’re on everybody’s radar.

Why would someone so brilliant and outgoing even be interested in a boring and quiet person like you? 

That’s a question even you often wonder.

Finding the answers to that, however, becomes unwarranted.

People start to talk to you. People you’ve never spoken to before suddenly act friendly toward you. People who’ve never spared you a glance suddenly want to know all your dirty secrets. People who don’t even know you begin to spread rumors.

“The whole town already knows you’re my girl,” Kangdae tells you one day, while you’re sitting on the steps of your house, eyes red from tears of a recent bullying incident. He doesn’t seem to care about that though. In fact, you’re certain he’s even laughed about it at your expense. “Why don’t we just make it official? You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” you ask him seriously.

He shrugs. “Yeah, you’re hot. I heard quiet girls can get quite freaky too.”

“No way,” you cut in, repulsed by his insinuation. You stand on your feet, turning to go inside. “I’ll never–”

Before you could open the door, you’re suddenly shoved against it. Kangdae towers over you, anger burning in his eyes. He’s never been rejected. He always gets his way. 

It’s something you learn the hard way.

“Then I’ll make sure your life continues to be a living hell,” he threatens before he releases you.

More than before, unwanted attention is thrown at you. As soon as you enter the classroom, people stare and sneer. You hear them whisper about you in the hallways. You’re confronted in small groups. Accusations that you think you’re too good to be dating someone like Kangdae. How there must be something wrong with you.

In the eyes of many, Kangdae is perfect. Objectively handsome. Popular among his peers. Comes from money. All the guys you know want to be him. All the girls you know want to be with him. What makes a nobody like you think that you can do better?

You hardly had any friends in the town, but not once have you ever felt this isolated. You’ve never felt this singled-out. It feels like the whole world is against you.

You can’t take it.

“Kangdae,” you call out to him, stopping as he’s about to head to the field. He’s dressed in his sports uniform, about to go into a match against another school. “One date.”

A Cheshire smile spreads across his face. “I knew you wouldn’t resist, babe.”

You try not to cringe when he plants a wet kiss on your cheek.

Maybe you’re naïve. But maybe that’s why Kangdae is after you.

You’re quiet, soft-spoken, and incredibly shy. You don’t have a lot of friends, and you haven’t had a serious relationship before him. You don’t know anything about what love really is. Yet, despite what an odd loner you are, you’re a beautiful girl. Innocent and loyal to a fault. An easy target for Kangdae to walk all over. 

With his hand around your waist, you feel like an accessory. Before you ever considered dating him, he already declared you as his girlfriend, telling even strangers that he passed by that you would one day be his.

“Right from the moment I saw you, I think I fell in love,” he admits on your first date, taking you to a nice, upscale restaurant. It’s different from anything you’ve experienced in your small town. The menu items are so expensive, it doesn't list pricing, and each course that is presented at your table is like a work of art.

What’s most interesting about this restaurant, however, isn’t just the food. But the staff.

Gorgeous women in white blouses and black skirts that show off their voluptuous curves and long legs. Poking at the back of the skirts are tails. And on their heads are pairs of animal ears. Some of them have stripes or spots on their skin, some have nails as sharp as claws, and some have unique eyes like cats and reptiles. 

Hybrids.

Neither human, nor animal. But something in-between.

In your town, coming across them is rare but not unheard of. They usually dwell in the cities, where sanctuaries housing them are. Some are adopted into families or are hired to do difficult and dirty work with an employer willing to work with them. But most aren’t as lucky, and are treated as sub-human. Worse than how some people care for their beloved cat or dog.

“What makes you say that?” you ask Kangdae as a bunny hybrid brings out the next course. She, like the other hybrids, is quite beautiful.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” he simply states as he sips on some liquor. Then, suddenly, he smacks the hybrid’s ass. “Hey, isn’t my girlfriend gorgeous?”

“Kangdae!” 

“Yes, sir,” the hybrid quickly answers before practically running away from the table. You feel awful, but Kangdae cackles as if it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all evening.

“Babe, don’t be mad. She’s just a hybrid.”

One date turns into another. He showers you with expensive gifts, and takes you out to luxurious places. Sometimes, it’s nice. You never imagined you’d be leaning against the railing of a yacht, feeling the salt air against your skin as the boat cruises through deep blue waters. Or fine dining at rooftop restaurants in the big cities with a breathtaking view of the skylines.

You find yourself watching underground rap contests, and witnessing the skill and poetry of a particular contestant that caught your attention once. A tall boy with a thick pair of sunglasses and a dimpled smile.

Other times, it can feel overwhelming. Like you’re undeserving all the things that he bombards you with, and you owe it to him for one more date. One more party he wants you to come with him too. One more ‘this is the last time’ before he asks you again.

He introduces you to his friends, showing you off to them despite how out of place you feel among them. He texts and calls you all the time, wanting to know where you are and who you’re with, and letting you know that he’s thinking about you in persistent, long messages. He posts about you on his social media, calling you his girl, as engagements of likes, views, and comments fill underneath it.

People tell you all the time that you’re lucky though.

Of all the girls he could’ve been with, he picked you. Someone handsome, rich, and popular fell in love at first sight with a boring, quiet, lonely girl like you.

And maybe that’s why you stay. Who else would love you if not him?

Next week, you find yourself in the same, abandoned warehouse. Another night, another show. Another chance for Kangdae to redeem himself.

One thing about him is that he hates to lose. His pride just wouldn’t allow it.

Yet, once again, he doesn’t stand a chance.

This time, Rap Monster seems to be the crowd favorite. Everyone cheers for him once he steps onstage, wearing the same dark sunglasses over his eyes. He seems a bit more confident as he raps, his flow and rhythm even better than last week.

You feel like a fan as you and your group stand close to the stage. Although you’re supposed to be there for Kangdae, you can’t help but cheer his opponent on. Your heart jumps when you see Rap Monster catch your eye and give you a dimpled smile, bowing like a prince when he ends his round.

A shift can be felt once it’s Kangdae’s turn with the mic. People in your group and some of the audience make some noise, but the majority of strangers in the crowd are merely nodding along or quietly listening. 

Until the first heckle comes. Followed by someone else yelling at him to get off the stage.

Mean laughter fills the room, and you almost feel bad for Kangdae.

Had it not been for what he does next.

Gasps and exclamations of shock are followed when he suddenly punches Rap Monster.

“Hey, no! You can’t do that shit!” the host yells as the security guards make haste to handle the situation. They pull Kangdae away, trying to de-escalate, but it’s too late. The crowd gets riled up, shouting and egging him on. Two men have to hold Kangdae down, but he’s strong. He nearly manages to break free and get to Rap Monster’s face a couple times. Rap Monster’s sunglasses are knocked off, and he’s holding his face with one hand, covering an eye.

Because when he opens the other one… it looks strange.

It doesn’t look human.

A couple people up front scream in terror as they point at him. “A monster!”

“He’s one of them!” another shouts in disgust. “He’s a hybrid!”

Suddenly, the room seems to quiet down as they all look at him, stunned, horrified, disgusted. You could see him trying to hide his face as the host snaps at him, “This event is for humans only!”

The sunglasses have fallen near you, and without thinking, you quickly grab them and climb onto the stage. You don’t know what’s gotten over you. You hate attention. You hate being in the spotlight. You’re often shy and insecure, and always stay in your lane.

But you have to help.

“Here,” you tell him gently, pushing the broken sunglasses toward his hand. Up this close, you feel so small standing next to him. “You should get out of here.” 

He nods his head and takes them from you, seeming grateful and a little scared. His eyes look reptilian like a serpent, but they’re pretty. You feel like you can’t forget them.

In the innermost area of the iris, near his slightly vertical pupil, is a hint of warm brown, but the rest is a mix of deep blue and purple. The color of indigo. 

“Get away from her, you beast,” Kangdae commands, but Rap Monster is already walking away from the stage. Away from you.

Somehow, the rain outside seems to pour harder as he leaves.

It’s been years since that night.

Kangdae seemed over it, wanting to chase his fifteen minutes of fame elsewhere. And while you were interested in one of the rappers, you aren’t keen enough to keep going back. It isn’t like that Rap Monster would be welcomed at the future showings anyway.

However, you start listening to hip-hop music more than other genres these days. Secretly hoping that, if you’re to meet him again, maybe the two of you could talk about some of the artists you like. Books that you’ve read, movies you’ve seen.

But you haven’t seen him since.

You end up working for Kangdae’s family. In such a small, provincial town, there isn’t much of an option. His family seems to own and have connections to everything.

To the point where even your family tells you how lucky you are. Kangdae is a catch. Marrying him would guarantee a well-off life with someone objectively handsome, who thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in town, who you’d be out of your mind to leave or break things off with.

Although your father and your siblings mean well, you could only nod in defeat. You can’t bear to tell them how miserable you are with Kangdae.

The same man who tells you you’re the one for him, but flirts with other women in front of you. Who gets angry over little things and takes it out on you, screaming at your face, throwing things that nearly hit you, punching holes in walls and doors, or leaving you confused and worried for days without a word until he finally decides to come back. He’d shower you with expensive gifts and affection to make up for it, but his sweeter side never stays long before the cycle repeats.

And you can’t seem to find your way out of it.

The constant pressure to be with Kangdae has you wishing you could just disappear from the town.  To run away from it all and never go back.

But you’re a coward, and you don’t know where else to go. Everyone in town likes Kangdae, and even your family wouldn’t believe what a monster he really is.

In the apartment you share with him, it’s dark and empty. Empty bottles of soju and beer are on the coffee table, dirty dishes are in the sink for you to clean, there’s still a gaping hole in the pantry from an argument a couple weeks ago that hasn’t been fixed. But Kangdae’s shoes aren’t by the door, and you don’t imagine he’d be back anytime soon.

With a quiet, defeated sigh, you take off your shoes and your coat, place your purse down, and begin cleaning up the mess. You go through the motions of it, exhausted from work, from having more to do once you get home, and as you gather the bottles, you see that he’s placed some on top of a book.

A fairy tale story about a far-off place, daring sword fights, and a prince in disguise.

It’s your favorite. The local librarian gave it to you as a gift, and Kangdae is using it as a coaster. And one of the half-empty bottles has spilled over, soaking through the pages.

Angry, you drop the bag on the ground, letting the bottles clatter against each other, and pick up the book, trying to salvage the ruined cover. But rings of liquid stain the front, and the pages are wrinkled from the liquid, blurring the texts so they’re unreadable.

Even before, the book is already a bit worn-out when it was gifted to you, but it still makes you want to cry. Kangdae doesn’t seem to care about you at all anymore.

How much longer are you going to put up with this? Shouldn’t you deserve your own happiness? Shouldn’t you deserve to be loved? 

You have to leave him. You don’t know when. You don’t know how. But you have to. 

That much you know.

Your plans are foiled by a single question.

“Will you marry me?”

Horror strikes your face. Down on one knee before you is Kangdae with a beautiful diamond ring. You could feel every person in the room staring at you, waiting for an answer. All his friends, your family, and even random strangers at the venue are gathered unexpectedly and witnessing his proposal. Wide smiles and excited looks surround you, as if they already know you’ll say yes.

Do you want to say yes?

Are you going to tell him no? In front of all these people?

“Kangdae, I—” you start to say, your voice trembling. You could feel the pressure weighed upon you, setting you close to a panic.

Your boyfriend doesn’t notice how uncomfortable you are. He’s busy flashing a bright, charming smile at the anticipating crowd for his big moment. His smile starts to falter when you take too long to respond.

Behind the smile, you could almost sense it. The heat of his anger.

You have to say something. You have to decide.

You have to tell him no.

“I…” you begin again. Your gaze catches Kangdae’s family, and how they nod their head, encouraging you to continue. Your voice is very soft and almost defeated when you say, “Okay.”

“Yes? You’re saying yes?” Kangdae exclaims loudly as the people around cheer and clap. You even see some girls start to burst into tears. Girls you know Kangdae frequently talk to. Your family seems relieved, worried that you’d reject him, that you’d shame and humiliate them with your refusal.

But it’s when you look at Kangdae’s family where your blood runs cold. They whisper to each other and nod, gauging the reaction of those witnessing the proposal. It feels like they’re in a business merger, and it occurs to you that maybe, to them, it is one.

You feel numb as Kangdae pulls you into a kiss and a tight embrace.

You’re engaged now.

And it makes you want to throw up.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Kangdae whines, trying to pull you closer to him. “Why are you upset? We’re engaged now!”

“Is it because you want to marry me? Or because your family made you?”

He scoffs. “What are you saying?”

It’s been years since the two of you have been together. Years of you being compliant, years of you arguing behind closed doors, of you silently suffering and hoping that things will get better. That, perhaps, one day you could convince yourself that he’ll change his ways. That he'll love you.

Perhaps in front of your family and friends, the two of you act like a happy couple.

You’re the girlfriend he brags about. Arm candy that he can show off because you’re the prettiest girl in town. Someone that his parents approve of, and often question when he’ll pop the question to you. A question, you suspect, puts his inheritance on the line if he hadn’t proposed so soon.

“Kangdae, do you even love me?”

Kangdae laughs. It’s a dark, biting chuckle that makes your skin crawl. “For a pretty girl, you sure say a lot of stupid shit. What kind of fucking question is that?”

Your mouth snaps shut. Until he snaps at you to answer him. “Kangdae, I…”

“Didn’t I propose to you? What more do you want, huh?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you realize how lucky you are to be with a guy like me? I spent so much money on you! I buy you nice things. I take you to beautiful places. I’ve helped you get a job at my parents’ company. I’ve bought you a home. And this is how you repay me?”

“Kangdae, please, just hear me out,” you plead, but the guilt and fear are already eating at you. It’s true that he’s provided you with so much. Are you being foolish? Ungrateful?

“Don’t forget, stupid bitch,” he threatens, his voice low as he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his grip. “You will be my wife. You’re nothing without me. I will make your life a living hell. If you think this is the worst, then you’ve seen nothing yet.”

He storms out. 

And as the door slams shut, you slowly sink to the floor, trembling as his words of a very bleak future run through your head. Crying in misery and frustration that you, once again, couldn’t stand up for yourself. That you still feel too scared to just leave him and all you know behind. That his anger and selfishness will continue to wear you down.

That, soon, you’ll be married to a monster.

It’s after a long day at work when you see Kangdae again. However, he isn’t alone.

“What’s going on? What is this?”

You frown at the sight before you. Kangdae is on the couch, and kneeling by his feet and wrapped in a ribbon is a young man.

No, a hybrid. A bunny hybrid.

He’s very muscular, with bruises and scratches covering his golden skin. His hair is dark, matching the long, black ears on his head. And his eyes are big, round, and full of fear as he stares back at you.

“Don’t you like him? Watched him in a fight last night. He’s pretty tough for a bunny, but lost in the final round. His owner was pissed! Nearly knocked him out himself!” Kangdae cackles with laughter, seeming to have found it amusing. "But babe, remember our first date? Remember those hybrid servers you kept staring at?”

“Yes,” you reply with a frown, not really sure what he’s getting at. What do they have to do with the bunny hybrid currently in your living room?

“I convinced the owner to let me borrow his hybrid for the night. As an apology gift,” he states with a proud smile. “Had to fork up a lot of money, but the guy wasn’t too pleased about his prized fighter losing the match anyway.”

“I-I’m not… he’s…” You’re at a loss of words. How could he explain this to you so casually?

“I wanted to make it up to you, babe. Girls dig shit like this, right? Owner kept bragging on and on about how obedient he is and how much stamina he has.” Kangdae can see you’re not into the idea and comes up to you, touching your arm. “I don’t mind. I’d love to watch. Hell, I might even invite the girls over to give him a try.”

“Stop. You’re disgusting.”

How could he think you’d be okay with this? How could anyone?

Hybrids often get treated like pets, but they’re still human. 

“Ungrateful cunt. Can't you see I’m trying to do something nice for you?!” Kangdae roars, and you feel the sting on your face before it registers what happened. He just slapped you.

You’re still in shock and a bit of pain as he grabs his car keys and a jacket. You cradle your cheek as you numbly ask, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a drink. Don’t wait up for me.” He slams the door on his way out. You blink back the tears as a deafening silence follows the roar of his engine, the squeals of his tires as he takes off.

Is this all your fault again? Are you being ungrateful?

No, no. Kangdae is the one taking things too far. And you’re so fed up with it.

You've always been afraid to speak up for yourself. You’ve always been a coward, and wanted to play things safe. You’ve always let him walk all over you. You could never save yourself from such a miserable situation.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts, you almost forgot you aren’t alone. The sound of rustling catches your attention, and you see the bunny hybrid trying to unravel himself from the ribbon binding him.

“I can help you,” you offer, and he flinches at your voice. You soften your tone and try again. “Would you let me? I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

He thinks about it for a moment, glancing at you with suspicion and weariness. But he nods his head. Despite how bruised up he is, he probably figures he could overpower you if you really intended to harm him.

The two of you are silent as you untie the long ribbon from his wrists and slip it off his torso. But being this close to him also gives you a good view on all the cuts and sores he received from the fight.

Your heart sinks for him. Not only is it highly illegal, but this one is a prey. They’re not supposed to fight in the first place.

“Wait here,” you tell him once he’s free from the bondage. He rubs his wrist, but continues to sit on the floor. Nothing is really stopping him from leaving on his own, so you hurry to find a first-aid kit.

When you return to the living room, the bunny hybrid is still there. He hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. He eyes the little box in your hands, seeming to recognize it.

“I think this should help with some of your wounds. Is it okay if I help you with this too?”

This time, he nods his head more eagerly.

Again, a silence falls between you two. But it isn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve been in the presence of someone else and the silence felt natural. Every now and then, you’d give him a head’s up about the sting of a topical spray or ask him if the bandage you’re wrapping around him is too tight. And he watches you the whole time, nodding and shaking his head when prompted, seeming used to this. You wonder how often he has to treat his own wounds after being thrown in battle.

The silence is cut when his stomach growls loudly. He looks incredibly embarrassed as you offer a small smile. “I have some food in the fridge if you’re hungry. Let me just finish doing this.”

It doesn’t take too much time at all to treat his wounds and wrap fresh bandages on his injuries. You’ve only encountered hybrids a couple times, so you’re not entirely sure what he’d like to eat. You assume fruits and vegetables, but would that be enough?

You start to pull them out and you’re startled when you see the hybrid standing over your shoulder. You see him eyeing a jar of kimchi and take that out as well.

“Does kimchi fried rice sound good to you?” you ask him, and he nods his head more excitedly. His eyes look brighter too, as if you guessed exactly what he’s craving.

Endeared, you begin to get to work. You pull out the leftover rice, sauces, and the ingredients needed to cook it. The hybrid watches as you chop the vegetables and first cook out the onions before adding in the other vegetables and rice. In another pan, you fry a couple eggs to serve over the rice, and sprinkle some toppings of sesame seeds, nori, and sliced green onion. You ransack your fridge for some side dishes you could pair it with, serving some yellow pickled radishes, pickled cucumbers, and seaweed salad in small bowls.

The hybrid watches with big, round eyes and a jittering leg as you set the food before him. You tell him to eat and you barely take a bite of your own dish before he picks up his bowl and devours it like he hasn’t eaten in days. His brows are furrowed and he starts huffing, but he’s quick to grab the side dish closest to him and cleans that as well.

“Is it good?” you ask him tentatively. 

He gives a brief nod, mouth too full to answer, and fills his bowl with seconds.

“I’m glad. I would’ve made more if I had known you’d be this hungry,” you tell him, heart full just seeing him eat well.

You can’t help but feel sorry for him. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and you don’t want him to be sent back to his owner. You don’t want him to be put in another dangerous and exploiting situation.

“I’m sorry about him. That guy that was here earlier,” you begin. You’ve barely eaten, but you push your share toward him. “He’s not a nice person.”

The bowl he takes from you covers his face, but his ears twitch toward you. They show that he’s listening to you.

“Your owner isn’t a nice person either, huh?”

The hybrid freezes at the mention of his owner. He lowers the bowl a little and he looks terrified. For the first time, he speaks to you. His word is barely a whisper. “Don’t…”

This time, your eyes widen. “What?”

“Please…” he begs, putting the bowl down. Grains of rice stick around his mouth as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “Please don’t let me go back to him. Please help me.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist | Next

#to be loved #namjoon x reader #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #hybrid namjoon #hybrid bts

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

would love to see a fic with saerom :) her abs are just heavenly 😍

🍄 anon

Smut Dump 2: Saerom

A/N: Hello there, mushroom anon! Sorry that I took so long to get to your request. I don't know whether you're still here or not but if you are, I hope you like it. Since I don't know what kind of smut you want, I went with the regular one judging from that wholesome emoji, lol. No tags because it's just the basic stuff.

The club's pulsing beats reverberate through your body as you nurse a drink, scanning the crowd. Your eyes lock onto a vision of perfection; Lee Saerom, the famous K-pop idol, her toned abs peeking through a blue top. She moves with feline grace, swaying her wide hips full of allure.

As if sensing your stare, Saerom turns and your eyes meet. A wicked smile plays on her full lips as she saunters over. "Well, hey there, handsome. Enjoying the view?" Her voice is low and sultry.

You gulp, unable to tear your gaze from the alluring curves of her body. "I… You're stunning." That's all that manages to come out of your gaping mouth. 

Saerom chuckles. "I know." She leans in close, her breath hot on your ear. "Why don't you buy me a drink and we can get to know each other better?"

Your mouth goes dry as she presses her lithe form against you. The scent of her perfume - jasmine and melon - overwhelms your senses. You nod dumbly.

Smiling, Saerom orders two shots of liquor. She licks her pink lips slowly before downing the first one. You watch, transfixed, as her slender throat works with each swallow.

"Your turn," she challenges, pushing the other shot towards you.

You drain it, the fiery liquid burning your throat. Before you can react, Saerom grabs your collar and crushes her mouth to yours. Her tongue slips past your lips, exploring hungrily as she grinds her pelvis against your growing erection.

Breaking the scorching kiss, she murmurs, "Let's take this somewhere more private."

You can only nod as she takes your hand and leads you through the crowd to the VIP lounge. The heavy bass thrums through the plush couches as Saerom pushes you down onto one. 

Her eyes smolder with lust as she straddles your lap, tantalizingly rolling her hourglass hips. "You've been a good boy… And I love a good boy.”

Saerom's hands roam over your solid chest as she claims your lips in another wild sloppy kiss. Her tongue dances, both of you moaning into each other's mouths. The heady scent of her arousal fills the air, making your cock throb painfully in your pants.

Breaking the kiss with a wicked grin, your shirt is gone in one pull. Saerom slides off your lap and onto her knees between your spread thighs. Her nimble fingers make quick work of your belt and zipper, freeing your rigid cock. She licks her lips slowly as she wraps her hand around the thick shaft.

"Fuck, you're big.” She gives you a few firm strokes. You groan at her touch, your hips bucking involuntarily. Saerom tutts and pins you down with one hand on your stomach while the other continues pumping your cock. 

"Be a good boy and hold still," she reprimands. "I want to taste every inch of this delicious cock."

Her pouty lips part and she swirls her tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the beads of pre-cum. You fist the couch, fighting not to thrust into her warm mouth as she slowly takes you deeper. 

Saerom hollows her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobs up and down your shaft.

"Oh fuck… Saerom..." you groan, your head falling back.

She hums in approval, sending delicious vibrations along your length. Her free hand fondles your balls, gently massaging them. You're in ecstasy, drowning in the incredible sensations of her mouth and hands.

All too soon, you feel that telltale tightening in your loins. "Saerom… I'm gonna… Oh fuck!”

Rather than pull away, she only increases her suction, cheeks hollowing obscenely. With a strangled cry, you explode, your release pulsing down her eager throat. Saerom swallows every drop, licking you clean with broad strokes of her tongue.

"Delicious," she commends, rising to her feet and straddling you once more. "But I'm just getting started with you."

Saerom rises from your lap, her toned abs rippling with each suggestive movement. She slowly peels off her fuzzy top, revealing her pert breasts spilling over a lacy black bra. Your cock twitches, already stirring back to life at the lewd sight.

"I guess you like what you see?" she teases, running her hands over the ridges of her chiseled abdomen.

"God yes..." you rasp, drinking in every inch of her flawless body.

Smirking, Saerom turns around, giving you an unobstructed view of her back muscles flexing. She bends over slowly, the curves of her ass straining against the tight denim of her jeans. You can see the outline of her pussy through the fabric and you swallow a big chunk.

Saerom's glances over her shoulder. Her dark eyes sparkle with mischief, and the corners of her lips curl into a proud smile. "I've been working extra hard on my body," she says, her voice husky with desire. "You know me so you must know how much I love showing them off."

She arches her back, accentuating the defined ridges of her abdomen. The dim lighting casts sensual shadows on her taut muscles, drawing your gaze to them irresistibly. 

"Touch them," she commands, her voice husky and filled with need. "Run your hands all over me."

You don't need any further urging. Your fingers tremble as you reach out and trace the grooves of her heavenly abs. The firm muscles lie beneath her silky skin, inviting your touch. As your palms roam freely over her toned torso, a low moan escapes from Saerom's lips.

"That's it, baby," she breathes, her voice a seductive whisper. "Worship my body with those greedy hands."

The scent of her arousal grows even stronger, mingling with the air. You notice a damp patch spreading on the crotch of her jeans, evidence of her dripping pussy. Unable to resist, you slip one hand lower, cupping her molten heat through the jeans.

Saerom gasps, pushing her ass back against your palm, shamelessly grinding against you. "Fuck… I'm so wet for you,", her voice filled with need. "Get these jeans off me and put that mouth to work."

A low growl escapes your throat as you quickly unfasten Saerom's jeans and peel them down her toned thighs. To your delight, she's not wearing any panties, her glistening pussy bare before you. Its flushed and slick folds beg to be devoured.

Unable to resist any longer, you bury your face between her legs from behind, inhaling the intoxicating musky aroma. Saerom cries out as your tongue licks over her dripping slit in one long, broad stroke.

"Oh fuck yes!" she exclaims, her voice filled with pleasure. "Eat me out, you filthy boy."

You eagerly obey, your tongue lapping and sucking at her sensitive flesh with wanton abandon. Saerom's thighs quiver as you swirl your tongue around her clit, lavishing it with kitten licks before plunging back into her heating cunt.

"Oh God, hng~ You were made to please me with that mouth," she pants, grinding her crotch against your lips and chin.

Your hands roam freely over the heaving of her belly, feeling the muscles clench with each brush of your tongue. Saerom's back arches sharply as you seal your lips around her throbbing pearl, sucking hard.

"Yes! Just like that! Don't stop… I'm so close," she moans, her voice filled with urgency.

Her throaty moans and the heady tang of her nectar spur you on. You slip two fingers knuckle-deep into her sopping canal, curling them against her spongy front walls, making Saerom's velvet walls flutter around your invading digits as you work that sweet spot.

"Oh god! Oh fuck! I'm… I'm coming!" she wails, her whole body convulsing.

A rush of her tangy essence floods your tongue as Saerom's orgasm crashes over her in shattering waves. You eagerly slurp it up, savoring her exquisite flavor and reveling in her broken whimpers of bliss.

Finally, her tremors subside, and she collapses bonelessly onto the couch, her chest heaving. Saerom looks utterly debauched - sweat-slicked skin, tousled hair, and eyes glazed with satiated lust.

"Get over here and let me taste myself on you," she orders, beckoning you with one finger.

You can hardly believe your luck as you crawl over to where Saerom lies sprawled, her eyes heavy-lidded with thirst. Her toned abs rise and fall with each ragged breath, glistening with a sheen of sweat. The scent of her sex hangs thick in the air.

Without preamble, Saerom grabs a fistful of your hair and crushes your mouths together in a bruising kiss. Her tongue thrusts past your lips, hungrily seeking the taste of her own climax. She moans lightly, tasting the remnants of her juice.

Breaking the kiss with a filthy groan, Saerom pushes you onto your back and straddles your hips. Her smoldering gaze rakes over your body as she grinds her dripping core against your rigid length.

"You've been such a goodboy, pleasuring me with that wicked tongue," her voice filled with desire. She trails her nails over your chest, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. "I think you deserve a reward."

With a sweet smile, Saerom rises up on her knees and holds your throbbing cock in her small hand. She gives it a few steady strokes, spreading the beads of pre-cum over the swollen head. Then, without hesitation, she sinks down on your shaft in one smooth motion, impaling herself.

Both of you cry out at the scorching heat of her tight depths enveloping you completely. The fullness Saerom experiences makes her tremble. Her inner walls wrench and pulse around your thickness as she slowly begins to ride you. Her toned thighs tense with each roll of her hips.

"Fuck… You feel so good stretching me open! Ahh, so big!" she moans, increasing her pace.

You groan incoherently, overwhelmed by the exquisite sensations of her tight, molten sheath. Your hands find purchase on her waists, fingers digging into her flesh as she bounces on you hard. The lewd sounds of flesh smacking together blend with your ragged pants and moans.

Saerom's breasts bounce enticingly with each downward plunge, straining against the lacy confines of her bra. Unable to resist, you reach up and cup the generous mounds, rolling the stiff peaks between your fingers.

"Yes! Ohh~ Play with my tits while I fuck you stupid," she growls, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

You obey with relish, squeezing and kneading these firm globes as Saerom's movements become more frantic. Her inner walls convulse and milk your cock, driving you rapidly towards the edge.

"I'm gonna come again," she whimpers, increasing the frenzied grind of her hips. "Fill me up, baby… I want to feel your hot load painting my womb."

With a guttural roar, you obey, your own climax crashing over you. Thick ropes of your cum flood Saerom's spasming channel as she screams through her own shattering peak. She slams down hard, grinding her pelvis in tight circles to milk every drop from you.

Finally, utterly spent, Saerom collapses forward onto your sweat-slicked chest. You both lay there for long moments, hearts pounding and lungs heaving as you bask in the afterglow.

"Mmm...that was incredible," sounding satisfied, nuzzling against your neck.

You can only hum in agreement, still dazed from the mind-blowing pleasure. Still cannot entirely believe what just happened. Saerom chuckles hoarsely and presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

"This was just the start, baby. I have so many more delicious plans for you…"

Saerom rolls off you with a naughty grin, her toned body glistening with a sheen of sweat. She crawls onto all fours on the fancy couch, presenting her round ass and dripping pussy to you in an utterly shameless display.

"I'm not done with you yet," she states over her shoulder, arching her back to accentuate the delicious curve of her spine. "Get over here and fuck me like the little slut I am."

No questions are asked - none needed, you move behind her and grasp her hips in a bruising grip. Saerom gasps as you grind your still-rigid cock against her sticky slick folds, coating yourself in her juice. Then, with one decisive thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt in her wringing pussy.

"Oh fuck yes!" she cries out, pushing her ass back to meet your thrust. "Pound me hard, baby...I want to feel it for days."

You are all too happy to oblige, slamming into her over and over. Saerom's tight yet shifty tube quivers around your pistoning cock. The harsh sounds of flesh smacking together mingle with her unrestrained moans and whimpers.

"Harder! Fuck me harder!" she demands breathlessly.

Increase the brutal pace, feeling her firm ass jiggle with the force of your thrusts. Saerom throws her head back in rapture, dark hair spilling down her arched spine. Her sweaty-toned back flexes and swells, every muscle standing out in sharp erotic relief.

"Oh god… I'm getting so damn close… Don't stop!" Her ragged cries urge you on. 

You reach around to roughly palm her breasts, rolling her nipples between your fingers, causing Saerom's inner walls to squeeze tight around your cock.

Huffing, you bury your cock completely inside her depth and unleash your load in thick, bursting spurts all the while Saerom's soul-shattering climax crashes over her in wrecking tides, her whole body writhing.

"Yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck— Fill me up!" she wails, grinding back to take you deeper.

You collapse in a sweaty, panting heap, utterly spent. The idol’s pussy continues to wring  around your over-sensitized shaft, coaxing out the last feeble twitches.

Then you slip free with a low squelch, your combined juices trickling down her thighs. Saerom rolls onto her back with a satisfied groan, not bothering to cover her glistening wet pussy.

"Mmm… I'm going to be feeling that pounding for weeks," she says, lazily trailing her fingers through the mess on her cunt.

You just stay quiet, watching what she's doing. Saerom shoots you a sly smile, then slowly brings her slick fingers to her lips and licks them clean with a shameless look on her face. Slowly pushing herself up, she suddenly shoves you onto your back, climbing your hips once more. Your dick twitches, still sensitive from your previous wild escapades.

"Looks like someone needs a little help getting hard again," wrapping her slippery hand around your half-erect cock.

You hiss as she starts jerking you off, her skilled fingers working your shaft with practiced ease. Saerom leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and chest. Her free hand roams freely, her nails raking over your nipples.

"That's it, baby, get nice and hard for me," she breathes against your skin.

True to her skills, you soon find yourself fully erect once more, throbbing and aching for release. Saerom smirks triumphantly and shifts her position, straddling your thighs with her back to you. She reaches behind to grasp your rigid cock, guiding it to nestle in the cleft of her firm ass. She begins to slide her hips in a slow torturous grind.

Your cock slid through her folds with each roll of her hips. Saerom's toned stomach grazes mere inches from your straining cock as she works herself into a frenzy. Her heavy-lidded gaze burns into yours, daring you to join her in utter debauchery.

Grasp her hips in a desperate grip and begin thrusting upwards, matching her movements. Saerom moans out in blissful rapture, increasing the frantic pace as the head of your cock slides through her needy cleft.

"Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes!" she keens, grinding down hard.

Your discharge rapidly builds, a white-hot coil of tension in your loins. Saerom seems to sense it, her movements becoming more erratic. She palms her breasts roughly, pinching the sensitive nipples as her inner muscles clench.

"Do it! Cover me in your cum!" she demands. "Mark me as your slutty fucktoy!"

You obey, grunting, your cock shooting thick ropes of cum. Saerom throws her head back with a moan as the first few spurts paint her stomach. She continues working her hips, draining every drop from you until her tummy is utterly drenched.

"Look at this mess you made.” She rubs her dainty fingers through the pearly streaks coating her stomach. "I'm absolutely filthy."

Maintaining eye contact, Saerom brings her soiled digits to her lips and slowly licks them clean, moaning at the taste. Your spent cock twitches feebly at the sensual display as she savors every drop.

"Mmm... I think I need a shower when I get back to get nice and clean," she mutters, shooting you a heated look. "Care to join me and get dirty all over again?"

#kpop smut #saerom #saerom smut #smut dump #male reader

[suugarbabe]

Rockstar!Sirius Black has me in a chokehold. I’m obsessed with my wife @finalgirllx and thankful for the work she put in for me for these two edits and I hope everyone is pulling their hair out at them as much as me.

This little blurb is for my second wife @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge.

Prompt: fire whiskey / are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk

Warnings: fluff; mentions of bar/drinking;

You don’t really know how you got here. At this party that is. One day your muggle friend is begging you to come to a concert with her. Two weeks later she has you sleeping on a side-walk waiting to get in. “I really want to get barricade,” she says. And you love her so you comply. When you manage to get it, you’re just as shocked as she is. Arms crossed on the bar, elbows hanging over the barricade as music plays from the speakers while everyone waits for the band to appear.

You assume it’s a four person group; you see a drum set, a keyboard, a guitar with a mic stand and a bass guitar. You’re wracking your brain for the name of the band, your friends mentioned it probably a million times in the last hour alone but you’ve been so focused on not a Avada-ing any of the other millions of girls around who seem to want to keep pushing against your back to get closer to whoever this band seems to be.

It’s when the curtain falls that your heart nearly stops. It had to be a coincidence, right? The fact that this band happens to have the same name as the infamous group of pranking boys from your school years. But all your nervous fears are confirmed when they start strolling on to the stage, you recognize the others in an instant, but the one that catches your eye most intensely slings the guitar over his shoulder, a shit eating smirk gracing his lips as his tucks his hair behind his ear.

“Blimey, what a turn out, yeah lads?” The guitarist turns slightly where he stands, glancing at his friends behind him who are all nodding and shouting, pumping their fists in the air with the screams of fans in front of them. The guitarist turns back towards the crowd, eyes scanning over the sea of people until they come to the front and lock with yours. Your friend besides you starts shaking with giddy excitement as he speaks his next words into the mic, her arm hooking with yours. But you can’t tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze, “In case any of you’ve forgotten, we’re The Marauders and-”

Being barricade had its benefits because you heard the drummer shout, “Oi, Pads, get on with it, will ya, let’s give em a show, yeah?” Sirius laughs into the mic and your thrust back to being seventeen and pining after the long haired boy at the back of your advanced potions class. “Alright, Prongs, don’t lose yer head, mate. Who’s ready to fucking rock out?” Sirius strummed his guitar and the crowd erupted in cheers and screams. The entire concert was a bit of a blur. One because you didn’t know any of their songs, but two because it seemed like any time Sirius looked towards the front of the crowd, he looked right at you, and your friends and the girls surrounding you seemed to lose their mind at the concept.

When the concert finally ended you watched your old classmates take in the cheers and praise. James threw both his drumsticks into the crowd, Remus tossed a few picks as well. Reggie stepped from behind the keyboard, taking his setlist with him and passing it to the security guard to give to a random girl. Sirius, however, seemed to have a different plan. The girls around you seemed to be panting with anticipation as Sirius took a marker from a stage hand and laid down on his stomach, pulling the cap from the marker with his teeth before writing on his setlist on the ground. Capping the pen, he pulled the setlist off the ground slowly, folding the tape over the edges before folding the setlist into fours.

What really made everyone around you go into a frenzy was Sirius jumping down from the stage and walking straight up to you at barricade and holding the paper towards you with a smile. “Here,” Sirius grabbed your wrist, placing the folded setlist into your hand, “open it when you leave the venue. Was nice seeing you again, love. S’been too long since the last time.” Sirius then turned his attention to the people around you, shaking hands and signing a few autographs but it all sounded muffled to yours ears as it seemed like all the blood was rushing to your head as you were rushing out of the crowd, you friend close behind.

“Uhm, hello? Are you gonna tell me what the fuck that was back there?” You were walking as fast as you could without sprinting, your friend hot on your heels. “Y/n/n!” You turned abruptly to face her, her stopping roughly in her tracks. “What!” You were nearly screaming before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, erm, I’m sorry. I just…I haven’t seen those guys in a long time and it was just a little…overwhelming.” Your friend nodded, the grin never leaving her face, “How do you even know them, can we open the letter now, what does it say?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the note from your pocket. Unfolding it you finally answered her questions, “We went to school together, believe it or not they were very popular and I was…well…not. I had a few classes with the others and well Sirius was…friends with some of my friends, let’s say. Honestly I didn’t even expect him to recognize me once I realized they were the band we were seeing and…” your thoughts and words seem to die on your lips as your eyes scanned the setlist in your hands, Sirius’s sloppy scrawl strewn across in black marker. Your friend raised her eyebrows impatiently, turning your hands towards her so she could see what had you at such a loss, a gasp leaving her as she did so. “Is that a fucking address…”

So maybe you did know how you got to this party, your friend begging and pleading until you agreed to go. “It’s only polite, he did invite you after all,” she had said. You knew her agenda was more so to gain an opportunity to see the boys up close, so you didn’t argue when as soon as you entered the private bar she immediately went on the hunt. You, on the other hand, went straight for a drink, or two, or four. You were working on yet another firewhiskey when a rough voice spoke your last name from behind you. Turning around, you attempted to control your blush, “Black. Long time no see.” You did your best to keep your tone casual, like your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

Per expected Sirius was nothing but charming and smooth, “I didn’t expect to see a friend in the crowd tonight, you caught me slightly off guard I have to admit.” You clasped onto your drink with both hands, hoping the coolness of the glass would offset the heat that was rapidly spreading through your body, “You consider us friends? I didn’t even think you’d recognize me.” Sirius’s gaze turned what you could only describe as tender, “I would’ve failed Advanced Charms if you hadn’t put up with me for two whole terms. If spending endless weeks in the library didn’t make us friends, what then developed between us, nothing?”

No, just my raging school girl crush on you is all. You shook your head, mouth opening and slightly stammering, no explanation coming to mind. “Pads, you’re not scaring y/n/n away are you? Gonna make us not see her for another three years again?” Sirius huffed a slightly annoyed breath, “Yeah, Moony, the reason we haven’t seen her is strictly my fault, not that our band took off or anything.” Sirius jabs a thumb over his shoulder as he glances back at you as if to say, the nerve of this guy. “She didn’t even think I’d recognize her, or considered us friends! Can you believe that?”

The taller boy greeted you with a warm and familiar smile, the scar stretching over his top lip thinning with the action, “Well I certainly don’t blame her for the latter. But we’re still friends, aren’t we, dove?” Remus took a step forward, wrapping you in a tight and friendly embrace. “Hi, Rem,” you mumbled just loud enough over the bar music. Remus was gruffly pulled away from you to reveal a pouting face with glasses and a mop of curly hair, “Not consider us friends? Did seven agonizing years of potions together mean absolutely nothing to you?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics, “Hi, Jamie. ‘ve missed you.” You open your arms for a hug and are quickly embraced in a bear-like squeeze, “Missed you too shortcake. Been too long.” A second body joins your hug from behind, “Yeah, it’s been too long.” James pushes him off before letting you go, “Whydya have to do that Reg, you ambushed my hug.” Regulus opens his mouth to argue when a throat clearing catches all of your guys' attention. You turn to see your friend clearly doing her best not to freak out at the scene before her. You turn the the boys, pushing your friend slightly in front of you, “Guys this is my friend Órlaith. She brought me to your show. Big fan, her. Órlaith, this is Reg, Jamie, Rem and Sirius.”

The four boys all flashed award winning smiles while your friend managed a meek ‘hi’ and a slight wave. “So you didn’t just have classes with them, you were friends with the fucking Marauders,” Órlaith wacked your arm, causing James and Regulus to burst out in laughter. Remus leaned in close to your friend, a hand shielding one side of his mouth while pointing a thumb back at James, “Y/n/n, here actually helped make sure this one graduated on time.” James crossed his arms in mock offense, “Is he talking shite love? Moony, don’t fill her head with lies we’ve only just met.”

Sirius slung his arm over her shoulder, whispering in her ear, “Actually, I’d like to catch up with Y/l/n. You mind if I steal her for a moment? Think you can watch these gits, keep them in line for me while I’m away?” She gave a timid nod and Sirius flashed her his knee weakening grin. Remus shot Sirius a knowing look, one you completely missed as you were too busy focusing on Sirius lacing his fingers in yours and dragging you towards a roped off section of the bar. You tried to will your palm to not be clammy as you downed the last of your drink, setting the glass on a passing table. As Sirius led you up the few steps and past the velvet rope he settled you both down at a table in the corner.

With a wave of his wrist the music and sound of the crowd disappeared. “See? A perfect silencing charm. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without your help in years past, friend,” Sirius emphasized the last word, wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed slightly, eyes rolling, “Yes, I’m very proud of you. However, that hasn’t stopped the gaggle of girls staring at us.” You motioned toward at least four women you could see clearly shooting daggers your way at a private talk with the leading man. Sirius shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving your direction, “I don’t care about them, my focus is on you.”

Your face seemed to stay in a permanent state of blush with Sirius’s full attention solely on you. “Now tell me, sweetheart. Did you really not consider us friends all those years? I mean, I thought we were pretty close. If I recall we’ve drunkenly fallen asleep on a few couches and floors together. Who else does that besides very good friends?” You nervously summon a drink before you, taking the glass and trying to hide half your face behind it while you take a long gulp. Your eyes scan over Sirius’s face, taking in the changes, or lack thereof, from the last time you saw him.

He still has that same boyish charm, that grin the tends to sneak onto his face when he knows he’s being charming. His hair is still gorgeous, long and flowing, though maybe slightly greasier than your school years, but you’re sure that’s part of his rockstar aesthetic. His forearms now adorn multiple tattoos and from what you know of Sirius there’s probably more hidden elsewhere. He had a few more piercings now, and his jawline was more refined now that he was no longer a teenager, but what remained exactly the same was always your favorite part of him; his eyes.

Sirius always had the most captivating eyes; a deep russet brown that seemed to change with his mood and whether he was telling the truth or not. Either that or you had just spent so much time staring at him you began to figure out his tells without anyone else realizing. “You’re telling the truth, you really considered us good friends didn’t you?” Sirius laughed lightly, looking down at his lap before meeting your eyes once more, “Yes, I’m telling the truth.” You shook your head, “That wasn’t a question, it was a statement, I can tell when you’re lying. I just can’t believe you’re being serious.”

“Well I’m always Sirius, darling.” You rolled your eyes at his favorite pun, going to bring your drink back to your lips. Sirius, however, had other plans, stealing to glass from your hands and downing the rest himself. You opened your mouth to scold him but he got his words out first, “How can you – blimey, love no mixer really? Merlin’s fucking beard – how can you tell when I’m lying? I like to think I’m quite subtle at hiding the truth.” You sat up a bit straighter, tucking your legs underneath you on the couch. Normally you would never admit anything, especially not to Sirius himself, but your filter seemed to be turned off thanks to the many firewhiskey’s now running through your system.

You leaned your elbow on the back of the couch, facing Sirius now with your head resting against your fist, “Your eyes turn a shade or two darker when you’re lying. Normally they’re just this beautiful deep brown color that looks like the sun is shining directly on them, even when you’re inside and there’s not even a window in sight. But when you’re lying it’s like all the mischief you’ve got cooking in your brain is overheating and it deepens the color.” If you weren’t feeling so tipsy you probably would’ve noticed the deep blush that spread over Sirius’s cheeks. But being himself he couldn’t let you stop there, “What else have you seemed to notice over the years, huh sweet girl?”

Subconsciously you knew you’d regret it in the morning, but your ability to stop your mouth from rambling seemed to be null. “You tend to chew on your top lip when you’re concentrating, not the entire thing, just one of the corners. You did it tonight during your guitar solo, which was actually pretty fantastic. I'm very proud of you, Siri. And I only noticed you do that because it’s different from other people, usually people bite their bottom lip, but you bite your top,” Sirius touched his top lip with his fingertips as you continued, “And I know when you’re laughing just to be polite and when you’re laughing for real because your fake laugh is this polite little chuckle where you nod your head to make the other person think you’re really paying attention, but your real laugh is so much better. You throw your head back, and your hair falls from your face and it’s real hearty and deep and your smile stays bright for moments afterwards.” You let out a long sigh, your eyes keeping this distance look to them like you were recalling an exact moment for each aspect you just described. “Merlin, I was just so in…I just had the biggest crush on you back then.”

Sirius blinked a few times in disbelief, shaking his head and trying to clear his thoughts because there was definitely no way he heard what he just thought he heard, “I’m sorry, love. Are you speaking parseltongue or am I really that drunk?” You scoffed slightly, “Excuse me?” Sirius quickly held his hands up in defense, “No, no! I just meant that – oh for Godric’s sake, I’m gonna muck this up I just know it–” You grabbed his wrists, effectively stopping his spiraling tangent, “Sirius!” He looked up at you, eyes meeting yours and just like you said, they looked like the sun was hitting them directly despite being in the back corner of a dark bar, “I never needed help with charms.”

Your face contorted in confusion, “Sorry, erm, what?” Sirius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes once more, making sure you were looking back at him so you would see he was telling the truth, “I never needed help with charms, I would fuck up spells on purpose because I wanted to spend more time with you.” You shook your head, “But Remus said…”

“I lied to Moony,” Sirius cut you off, “Well, I tried to lie to him at first. I told him I was failing and I asked him to ask you to be my tutor but the bloody git knows everything, saying shit like ‘I know you’re at the top of our class Sirius meh meh meh’, so I asked him to lie for me.” You shook your head, “Why would you do that?” Sirius placed his hands on either side of your face, your hands still holding his wrists, “Because I had an insanely huge crush on you that I kept trying to deny and Moony could see it a mile away. I’m surprised you missed it with everything else you seemed to notice.” You smiled at him, a real genuine relaxed smile, then he spoke again, “Past tense probably isn’t the right usage. After seeing you tonight, I can humbly admit that all those feelings are very much still here. You believe me, don’t you?”

Sirius tilted your head up so you were looking directly at him. He widened his eyes dramatically, staring at you intensely and causing you to giggle. You squinted your eyes at him briefly, making it look like you were really studying him, “Hmm..clear as day. Yes, Siri, I believe you.” Sirius let out a long breath, “Thank merlin, because I’ve been dying to do this since I was on stage.” Sirius’s lips met yours with a gentle fervent, intensifying only when you fisted the front of his t-shirt, pulling him harder into you. You pulled apart only when you were short of breath, both panting heavily. “Remus is going to lose his mind,” Sirius chuckled, grin never leaving his face. You glanced over his shoulder, flicking your wrist and breaking the silencing charm only to be met with cheers and whistles so loud they floated over the rustle of the bar, “I think he already has, they all have.” Sirius turned, seeing his friends and bandmates making their way over. He turned back to you, a cheeky grin on his lips, “Okay, kiss me again, just once more before they get here. Once they do I just know James is gonna talk your ear off about the whole thing.” You giggled, biting your bottom lip before grasping the back of his neck, pulling his lips towards yours once more.

#hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #rockstar!sirius black #rockstar!sirius #rockstar!remus lupin #rockstar!james potter #rockstar!regulus black #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #Remus Lupin #James potter #regulus black

[bloodynereid]

hey i was wondering if you could write a warren rojas x reader fic where the reader is an absolute rockstar and what their relationship would be like since they’re two musicians dating one another while living with the six

i love ur writing

tyyy 💕💕💕

Rhythm of Our Love

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem! reader

a/n: hi! tysm for ur request and hopefully I fulfilled it the best I could. also u didn't specify if you wanted fem or gender neutral reader so i kind of just went with fem if that's okay. also this fic kind of ran away from me so I guess you just get to spend 5.3k words falling more in love with warren (I personally like longer fics). oh and there's a lot of billy bashing in this, which wasn't really intentional but yk it happens. oh and btw i hadn't watched the new episodes yet when i wrote this so this is really just mixed with some book events so book spoilers (!!) - reader is kind of like female pete if that makes sense

tw: drug mentions (mescaline, weed, pills), addiction mentions, billy bashing (don't know if that qualifies as a warning lmao), swearing, cigarette smoking, mentions of cheating (billy and camila - not warren + reader)

description: the rise to fame of a band and the love story between the drummer and bassist that accompanies it.

Y/N (bassist for Daisy Jones & The Six): Is this on? Yeah okay right. So where do you want me to start? The beginning. Geez okay let’s start at the beginning then.

You grew up living next to the Dunne brothers and ended up taking up bass after listening to Queen and The Beatles. John Deacon and Paul McCartney made those songs what they were and you were proud to be able to play something similar to them. So it was only natural that you ended up joining the Dunne brothers after Graham accidentally heard you playing one summer night.

Y/N: God I can remember the first time I played with them so clearly. They had become a pretty established band in Hazelwood but Chuck had quit, wanting to go to dental school or some shit like that, so they were going to give the bass part to Eddie, until Graham found me.

Eddie: Y/N was a lifesaver. I would have to play bass if Graham hadn’t gotten her to join. Plus she was one of the best things that could have happened to the band.

It was a chilly night but you rocked up to your neighbor’s garage wearing a pair of flared jeans and a butterfly top. Your bass slung over your shoulder and a cigarette between your lips. 

Warren: Y/N was a total rockstar from the beginning. And the way she carried herself that night, man, she was the most attractive woman I had ever seen.

“So are we ready to get this show on the road? I’ve been working on the sheets that Graham gave me yesterday.” You said as you entered the small room where all the boys were already tuning up and Warren was playing a random rhythm on the drums.

“We’re opening for the Winters in two days. Make sure you aren’t still ‘working’ on those sheets.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You gave him a little salute whilst rolling your eyes which learned a few laughs from the group and a frown from Billy.

“Whatever, let’s just get this going.”

Graham: Billy was an asshole when he first met Y/N. Similar to how he was with Daisy, but he knew we needed her. 

Eddie: Y/N handled Billy better than I think anyone ever has. She met his challenges with blunt sarcasm and humor. Anyone who could deal with his bullshit made an instant friend with me.

Warren: I don’t think she knew how hot I found her at that moment.

Y/N: I knew. I mean I had been harboring a little crush on Warren since middle school. I wanted to impress him and I would say I succeeded.

Warren: She had a crush on me in MIDDLE SCHOOL? If I had known that it would have made things a hell of a lot easier.

Y/N: Fast-forward two days, came the night that changed everything. I mean my first gig was the time we opened for the Winters. My fingers were cramping and I had a horrible backache from the amount of practice I had been doing. On a plus side I got to meet Camila. She was just… incredible. God knows that Billy doesn’t deserve that wonderful woman at all.

You were running on a total of 2 hours of sleep. The past two nights had been spent practicing the pieces over and over again by yourself. And then the days were filled with practice with the boys. The band needed this to be perfect and you understood the weight of that completely. You were a rockstar. You were meant for this. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself as you walked into the performing area, staring wide eyed at the space.

Y/N: All I was thinking was: “You better not fuck this up.” That was the night we also met Karen. Karen Karen, my soon to be best friend. She was the keyboardist for The Winters and let’s just say Graham fell in love at first sight.

Right before we were about to go on stage a sudden crushing feeling started to encompass your chest. You were actually going to do this. Oh fuck.

Warren: I could tell she was having a freakout. I mean if it was my first time playing with a new band AND I had only had 2 days to practice I would have been hyperventilating. So I went up to her.

“What’s your favorite fruit?” That silky voice brought you out of your spiral with the most absurd question that had ever been uttered.

“Uh what?”

“What’s your favorite fruit? Mine personally are strawberries.”

“Oh umm I don’t know, I kind of like Y/F/F (your favorite fruit).”

“Cool, you good?” That was when you realized what he had done. You sent Warren a blinding smile and leaned to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Yeah thanks I owe you one.”

Warren: Call me a sap or whatever but I can still feel that kiss. I treasured that for a long time. Anyways, she was incredible that night. 

Y/N: There was like this electrifying feeling of being on stage and playing to all those people. I wanted to feel like that forever. Maybe it was also pure exhaustion but I swear it felt like I was on a high.

Billy: She played really well, I mean for a person who had two days of practice.

Y/N: We met Rod Reyes after our set. The man was a douchebag but he planted that LA dream in all of us. I was probably too exhausted to have been making decisions of that kind but…

“If you all will have me, I say fuck it let’s go to LA!”

“Let’s go to LA!”

Y/N: None of us stayed for the Camila and Billy drama, so Warren dropped me off last. We smoked weed for a while. We talked about all that weird philosophical shit that you talk about when high. Then I crashed for a few hours.

It was raining buckets. You pulled up in your dad’s car outside of Warren’s house. You had those weirdly unattached parents who really didn’t give a damn about what you did. They already had their hopes pinned on your older brothers so when you asked if you could move to LA, your parents couldn’t have helped you pack up faster.

“Bye dad.”

“Bye sweetheart. Don’t forget your bass.” He gave you an uncomfortable hug before passing your last suitcase filled with small remnants of your life.

“Hey Mr. L/N. I can take that.”

“Thanks Graham.” He quickly put up your few suitcases on the roof and you waved at your dad as he disappeared into the blankets of rain.

“Ready?”

“Definitely.” Warren helped you into the van and you got situated in a comfortable spot. You lit up one of your cigarettes and opened up the pages of your slightly damp book, waiting for a while until finally everything seemed ready to go. Well not everything.

“Got room for one more?” Camila got into the van and sent you a little smile before cosying up next to Billy.

Y/N: That road trip was one of those things that was both horrible and incredible at the same time. But when we got to LA man wow it was like we were transported and then we met Rod Reyes, again. He was such an asshole but at least we finally had some gigs lined up and a house, but calling it that might actually be a bit generous. 

Warren: Graham insisted we kept the haunted room for Karen. And obviously Billy and Camila got a room. Which meant Y/N was either stuck on the couch or rooming with one of us. And… Graham and Eddie already called the bunks.

“This is so fucking unfair! Why does your non-existent girlfriend get a room and I don’t?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Fuck you Graham. Where the fuck am I meant to sleep then huh?”

“Uh well Eddie and I are sharing the bunks.”

Y/N: It was like a really bad romance movie.

“You have got to be kidding me! Did any of you even think to count the rooms in this house?”

“Guys just shut the fuck up. Y/N you’re going to sleep in Warren’s room and that’s final. You’re all acting like children.”

Y/N: That was also one of the many times that Camila basically acted like our mother, in a good way.

“You know what, fine! I hope you’re happy Graham.” You said as you slammed the door to your new room and unpacked in a furious hurry. 

Warren: There was a king sized bed that took up basically the entirety of our room. Honestly it was one of the worst rooms in the house, but at least it wasn’t haunted! 

Y/N: Warren wanted to take the floor but if you saw that room you would know that the floor basically consisted of like a slab of wood. The closet and the bed took up the entire space and then there was this huge window. It didn’t even have curtains! Whoever designed that room was an idiot. But we didn’t have the money for anything else.

Warren: I tried to be a gentleman about it but like I would never have been able to sleep on the floor and I wasn’t sleeping outside.

Y/N: Not going to lie after that first night I was kind of grateful to Graham. Don’t tell him I said that though. Anyways we played so many gigs and were getting nowhere. And we were slowly running out of money. Oh and Karen did end up joining the band and she got the room.

You were all seated in some random diner with Camila counting out all the money you had gotten from gigs and your little part-time job working at a movie theater. On your side of the table sat Karen, Warren, you and then Eddie.

“Why are we still called the Dunne brothers, anyway?” That ended up sparking up a rather loud discussion of our side of the table against Billy. You rolled your eyes and leaned your head on Warren’s shoulder. You could see his stupid smile as he looked down at you so you just poked him in the ribs and he laughed.

“I for one am for changing the name.” You said as you took a drag of your cigarette, adding to the already thick cloud of smoke that surrounded the band.

“You see, Billy, basically the entire band is against you on this one.”

“No, no. The band name is what gives us credibility if we change it then all of our reputation goes out of the window.”

“Oh our Pittsburgh reputation really? Or maybe the reputation of not being able to get good gigs.” You barked back at the already angry man which made Eddie send you a grateful smile.

Then came the barrage of horrible name ideas, including one from Warren that made you look up at him from his shoulder in confusion and slight disgust.

“Look okay, the seven of us will never agree on the name.” That’s when it came to you.

“What about The Six?”

“Huh?” Everyone turned to you as you sat up and took a sip of Warren’s coffee.

“I mean no offense Camila but you aren’t technically part of the band so there’s six of us. We can be called The Six. The Five is used too much and The Seven sounds like way too many members so how about The Six?”

“You know what, I like it.”

“Me too.”

Y/N: So we had a shiny new band name, my relationship with Warren had gone from band mates to really good friends. And no I don’t mean that in an innuendo way but you get really close to someone you have to share a bed with every night. We had some good nights.

Warren: I always thought that Y/N would end up moving in with Karen after she joined but she didn’t. I think she knew that that room was haunted.

“So who do you think the most attractive person in the band is?” You and Warren were lying on the bed in a drug addled haze after taking some mushrooms he had gotten from one of his hippie friends.

“Huh?” You sluggishly turned to look at his face, finding that his eyes were already on you.

“Who do you think is the most attractive in the band?”

“Hmm I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean Graham and Billy aren’t my type. Eddie is hopelessly in love with Camila-”

“Wait what?”

“Dude are you blind?”

“No? I mean I know Graham likes Karen but she doesn’t like him.”

“That is like the most obvious observation I have ever heard.”

“Hey! So that just leaves… Camila, Karen and me. Wait, is Camila the person who you find most attractive? I’m not judging if she is.”

“I can’t lie she’s really pretty and Karen is absolutely stunning but no not the person I find most attractive.”

“Me?”

“Yes dumbass. Now it’s your turn to answer the question.”

“Oh that’s easy, you obviously.” You smiled bashfully at him as his mischievous smirk grew.

“You are too charming for your own good.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” That was when you both fell silent. Maybe it was the confidence the drugs gave you but you quickly gave him a kiss before backing away.

“You like me back?”

“Obviously you dumbass, I've liked you for ages. Why do you think I’ve been cuddling with you for the past few months? I don’t do that with every single person I know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Y/N: As I said, a really cheesy romance movie. But I found Warren and we fit like puzzle pieces.

Warren: We were high on shrooms when she kissed me. We didn’t do much else that night, other than kissing and then sleeping.

Y/N: I may have loved Warren but we weren’t sleeping together until I knew he was serious. I had seen him with the small amount of groupies that we had. I’m not a jealous woman but that right there boiled my very core.

Warren: I stopped hanging out with the groupies after that night. Y/N became the light of my life, I wasn’t going to ruin the only good thing going for me that wasn’t the band.

Y/N: Then Billy convinced Teddy Price to listen to one of our songs. I have no idea how he did it. The next few months after that song were the most anxiety I had ever experienced but they were also the happiest. I was doing what I loved and I was doing it with the person I loved. Then we got to record the album. 

Karen: Y/N and Warren went official a few weeks before we got the album deal. They were the most obnoxiously cute couple I had ever been around. And they complemented each other incredibly well.

Graham: Honestly I take it as full credit to my genius that those two first got together.

Camila: Oh Y/N and Warren… god they were one of those strangely healthy couples. They were living the life, they had each other, the band and the drugs. They were insanely happy together.

Y/N: We were going to go on tour! That was huge for us and for me. A few days before we went though, Camila told us she was pregnant. They got married that night.

Warren: The wedding? Oh I don’t remember it that much. Mescaline… well it’s a powerful drug.

Y/N: Did Warren tell you we were on mescaline the entire night? Yeah. God, I wish I had been more present in that moment but we truly were having the time of our lives. Camila being pregnant also put things into perspective for us. Protection wasn’t a big thing in the 70s but I had been taking birth control after I read a few books. I wasn’t taking any chances. 

Warren: Yeah we had a deep discussion about that. I think that was one of the many times where I realized how shit it was to be a woman of that time. I supported whatever she wanted to do fully.

Y/N: We went on tour. It was fine. Billy was an asshole but he went off the rails. I mean Warren and I were a bit out of control cause you know… fame. But Billy, he went hard on all the drugs and the groupies.

Warren: We were there to have a good time but I also recognized something in Billy that I never wanted to be. I stayed away from the hard drugs and sure we hung out with groupies but I would never betray Y/N like that.

Y/N: Then Camila arrived, heavily pregnant and she found Billy getting it on with some groupie. Fuck, I really tried to call her but you never want to hurt someone like that you know. Fast forward a few shows and well we found out Camila had given birth. Teddy put Billy in a rehab center. We cut the tour short and that fucked it up with the label. I think it also made me realize how incredibly lucky I was to have found Warren.

Warren: The next few months the band was idle. Y/N and I did a ton of mushrooms and we helped babysit Julia. It was actually really nice and domestic.

Y/N: I was bored out of my mind. I wasn’t suited for an idle lifestyle. When Billy decided to stop being an idiot and rejoined the band, things finally started to look up. And then we all met Daisy Jones.

“Why can’t we just have Karen or Y/N sing this stuff? If you want an edge we have that already.”

“Oh no way, Billy. I don’t sing, I’ll help with backing but that’s it.” You said as you stamped out your cigarette on the tray.

“I’m with Y/N. Plus I agree with Teddy, it will give us a new sound.” Billy stormed out of the room at that leaving you and the rest of the band to chuckle at his dramatics.

Y/N: We were all enraptured with her when she first walked into the studio. She was wearing a button down shirt and no pants. That made one hell of an entrance. And of course, Billy wasn’t pleased.

“Hi nice to meet you Daisy. I’m Y/N.” You said as she walked into the recording studio while Warren’s arm was secured around your shoulders.

“You too. Thank you all for having me.”

“You’re welcome.” Graham answered.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” You and the rest of the band left the room and went into the production booth.

Y/N: She was incredible. Even if she did try to change up Billy’s song. Personally I always liked her version. After that recording session it all kind of blew up. Billy wanted to keep the song as it was and obviously he did that until Daisy showed up to one of our shows at The Whisky. We then headed out to our world tour, The Numbers tour as it was dubbed featuring Daisy Jones.

Warren: We were making money, a ton of money at that. Sold out shows everywhere we went.

Y/N: I’m pretty sure that was the tour that Karen and Graham started hooking up. Warren didn’t believe me, he had his own theories. Like he thought Bones, our lighting guy… *cue you breaking out into laughter*, sorry sorry, but geez yeah Warren was honestly the most clueless guy I had ever met and I loved him for it. Then came the show for Rolling Stone, that was an incredible show but Eddie… that man had basically become my brother at that point. What Billy did was one of the worst things he could have ever done to him.

Eddie: I couldn’t take it anymore so I had to do something.

Y/N: I understood why he smashed that guitar. I would have done the same thing. But my bass was also something I had basically built all by myself. I wasn’t going to hurt my baby.

After all of the drama, you quickly made your way over to Eddie before Jonah Berg came down. A cup of water in hand and a cigarette dangling from your lips. 

“Ed?” You walked up next to your best friend and gave him a little shoulder nudge.

“Oh hey Y/N.” His voice sounded thick with underlying rage. One that you recognized all too well.

“I’m really fucking sorry.” And you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Y/N: When you spend a long time around someone you kind of learn their tells. Warren and I were incredibly good at reading each other. And I was just incredibly similar to Eddie, so I knew how to help him… we both have really horrible tempers. Warren and the drugs had been helping but Eddie didn’t have a Warren.

Eddie: What Y/N did after that show… she knew I didn’t want to talk about it. She became my sister at that moment.

Y/N: I think Warren and I should have probably stopped Daisy. But we were sort of mooching off her stash. We promised each other to not go on the hard stuff but I think I was getting addicted.

Warren: Drugs were a normal thing in the 70s and we were having fun! But yeah I was feeling like I was starting to depend on pills.

Y/N: I was getting sloppy with my playing so I knew I needed to start weaning myself off it. We didn’t know much about addiction back then so it was hard to stop but we did the best we could. Well for one thing we didn’t go cold turkey.

Warren: When she told me, I understood her completely, I was feeling the effects of it too. We kind of talked through it a bunch and decided we should probably lay off the heavier psychedelics. Being rockstars meant you were down to have fun but if she wasn’t happy then I was going to try and remedy that.

Eddie: I think after the whole Glasgow thing I saw Y/N become more level headed. The same with Warren. I think they made some decision to get like moderately clean. They were still smoking pot and stuff but stopped with the pills and harder stuff.

Karen: I swear I thought they were either trying to get pregnant or Y/N already was. The fact that after that Rolling Stone interview they suddenly stopped taking anything stronger than weed is probably what made me suspicious.

Y/N: I ended up sitting next to Eddie for most of the flight back, leaving Warren to sleep. I think we were the only two band members that weren’t consulted about Daisy, but I honestly didn’t give a damn. It was nice to have another girl around and… I was probably feeling the withdrawal.

Warren: When we got back to LA, I bought a one-bedroom Gibson.

Y/N: Warren bought a boat and I bought a little house which has a boat dock, it was kind of like a perfect compromise. 

Warren: I kept my boat mostly at Y/N’s house but we occasionally went on little trips. Mostly we drank beers on it and spent nights at the house. Y/N took up sports for some reason but I wasn’t going to complain, she looked hot.

Y/N: Yeah, I took up surfing, boxing and got into soccer. I was still practicing bass daily but without the band getting together much that summer, Warren and I kind of just did whatever. We smoked a lot of weed too. We were moderately clean and we were happy but I think deep down we missed life on the road.

Warren: Neither of us were ones for settling down. That’s probably why Y/N got into sports and I bought that boat. Oh and Eddie was around a lot. At first I thought he was trying to get into Y/N’s pants or something but they have this weird bond that reminded me of how my sisters and I acted.

Eddie: I visited Y/N and Warren A LOT. I don’t think they minded me being there, I basically took up permanent residence in Y/N’s spare bedroom. Y/N and I actually wrote a lot of songs during those days and we both got into surfing. And the LA surf scene was something else but I was itching for the road and they were too. So when the call came in from Graham we were all ready to leave. 

Y/N: We got together in The Rainbow and that’s where everyone just started to talk about everything and what parts they wanted to play. I mean I was already writing my bass lines so I was fine in that department. Warren and I mostly stayed out of the conversation, just smoking and making little jokes.

Graham: I think this was one of the only times that Y/N was completely silent around Billy. I mean Warren and her had always been pretty independent but they seemed like they were in their own little world. Well that was at least until Eddie stepped in.

“Look I don’t want us to turn into some kind of pop group dynamic.”

“You know what I agree with Eddie.”

“Oh so you’re finally going to talk.”

“What the hell?! I didn’t have anything to contribute and was making it easier for you and now you’re getting mad at me for actually pitching in?”

Billy: Y/N and Eddie hated me. I don’t know what I ever did to them but they got on my nerves constantly.

Daisy: Y/N was a spitfire. Eddie and her kind of had this team dynamic that was based on ganging up on Billy. Not that he didn’t deserve it but there was always underlying tension.

Y/N: I never hated Billy. He just wasn’t someone I particularly liked. He thought the world revolved around him and he loved trying to be the boss. He never once listened to my ideas, even if I had been there from basically the beginning. Eddie and I were just getting fed up.

“Okay, everyone just calm down. Billy, Eddie does have a point.” Teddy Price was always the peacemaker in these things. You scoffed and leaned in closer to Warren who had taken to rubbing circles on your arm to calm you.

Y/N: We walked out of there with a new name: Daisy Jones & The Six. I guess you can call that the beginning of the end. While Daisy and Billy went off to compose, the rest of us worked on Aurora together. By the time we were going to play it for Billy I think it sounded pretty incredible but… he hated it. You could see the revulsion on his face but Teddy convinced him to keep it. Oh but Daisy loved it! I knew I liked her for a reason.

Warren: Daisy got on really well with Y/N and I during the entire time we made Aurora. We had that easy way of suggesting things for each other and giving feedback that we all followed.

Daisy: I wish I had a relationship like those two. They respected the other person in a way I had never seen before and they were so hopelessly in love with each other. I knew it was only a short time before they would get married. I was honestly jealous of what they had.

Y/N: I never went to one of Daisy’s infamous parties. Not because I didn’t want to but because I was happier. Which sounds really fucked up cause everyone else wasn’t doing that great around that time. I think the fact that I stopped taking drugs helped A LOT. Warren and I were enjoying life so you know we obviously took the next step. We got married.

Warren: We didn’t tell anyone we were getting married. And no one really knew until the band broke up.

Y/N: We got married in a little chapel on this hill near Long Beach. I refused to do a Vegas wedding even if we were eloping.

Warren: She was insanely beautiful that day. We both showed up in pretty casual wedding clothes.

Y/N: I was wearing a long sleeve all-white prairie dress that I had bought the day we decided to do it. It wasn’t my style at all.

Warren: We spent our honeymoon at our little house. And we didn’t answer the phone for like a solid four days. Good times.

Y/N: The band was freaking out by the time we came back to rehearsals on thursday. They thought we died or something.

Eddie: We thought they went on some kind of bender or disappeared into the horizon with Warren’s boat but no they arrived on thursday with these huge smiles and a new car.

Y/N: We extended the honeymoon after the band broke up. We went to Hawaii with Warren’s boat. I don’t think that was safe but we did it anyway.

Warren: Oh, the car. Did Eddie mention that? Yeah we put some of our money together and bought an Aston Martin. You know the James Bond car.

Y/N: We had some money left over from royalties and stuff so when we pooled it we had just enough to buy that car and start putting some more of it into retirement.

Warren: We still have that car. And we still live in that same house. And Y/N hasn’t made me sell the boat yet so we’re doing pretty good.

Interviewer: So how did the band react to you two getting married?

Y/N: Well, I told Eddie first. He obviously reacted as expected.

Eddie: I was happy for her but mad that she didn’t let me be at the wedding. Y/N made up for it though when she allowed me to officiate their vow renewal.

Graham: I found out a few weeks after the band broke up. I was obviously not doing well after all the Karen drama. But I went up to their house to see them and when I walked inside I saw the rings on their fingers and the rest is history. I got to be Warren’s best man at the vow renewal, I mean it was my entire genius that got them dating in the first place, it was the least they could do.

Karen: I knew when I met up with Y/N and Camila for drinks. She showed us the ring and honestly we were both very shocked.

Camila: I didn’t think she would go through with it but wow I couldn’t imagine a better match. When she asked us to be maids of honor for her wedding, I obviously accepted.

Daisy: I didn’t go to the vow renewal. Being around Billy was going to be a trigger and I knew that. But I still meet up with them a lot. Their kids love being around mine.

Billy: Yeah I was happy for them, sure. Camila told me after they went out for dinner I think.

Y/N and Warren Rojas live in that small house on the coast of LA with their three kids, Lily, Vivienne (Viv for short) and Javier. Y/N went on to be the bassist for many well-known artists like Kate Bush, Billy Idol and even worked with members of the Beatles. They are currently celebrating their 20 year anniversary, which was marked by a vow renewal a few months ago.

this is very much self indulgent - i will be writing a bunch of angst next so prepare yourselves.

taglist: @pinkdaiisies @yesshewrites1 @lisbeth122605

#daisy jones and the six #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #daisy jones #camila dunne #daisy x billy #warren rojas #warren rhodes #eddie roundtree #taylor jenkins reid #amazon prime #warren rojas imagine #warren rojas short story #daisy jones and the six imagine #djats fanfic #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes x reader #djats #daisy jones and the six x reader

[chemevan]

evan don't draw literally everything fob does ever challenge impossible!

[Image ID: a digital drawing of pete wentz from fall out boy. he's playing a blue bass guitar with 8 balls printed over it. he has his tongue out./.End ID]

#fob #fall out boy #pete wentz #so much (for) stardust #2ourdust #ms paint #fob art #fob fanart #described #my art #fanart

[permanentswaps]

The Party Pt. 3

Inspired by @swapping-caps1-deactivated20220 The Party Pt. 1 and The Party Pt. 2

Oct. 31st Halloween 9:00 PM:

Mr. Thompson POV:

Approaching the Sigma Chi house with Xander, the pulsating bass reverberated through the street. A sea of people in funny costumes walked towards the entrance. I guess we were the only ones to get the message to show off tonight.

Flashing a smirk at Xander, I asked, "Are you ready?"

"Let's do this," he said.

Entering the house, we turned just about every head in the room. We attracted jealous stares from some of the frat guys and lustful looks from everyone else. Our destination was clear - the beer pong table.

Effortlessly sinking shots, we quickly found ourselves enjoying a pleasant buzz. Before I knew it, Xander and I had won 5 games. Xander, feeling the effects, started to get a bit handsy. Running his fingertips around my sweaty bare torso, and flirted, "Hey, you're on fire tonight," before biting his lip and turning away.

I shot him a playful "you're crazy, dude" as I blushed and then turned to the table, sinking my next shot.

Eventually, we migrated to the dance floor. As I danced, I could feel the lights playing across my face and the strength of Mitchell's body coursing through my veins. For the second time today, I looked down at my body and thought to myself “this is my body.”

Xander, Spiderman costume that clinging to his pumped-up muscles, danced up next to me. He flashed me a goofy smile as he playfully grabbed my bicep. He looked irresistibly cute.

Teasing him a bit, I flexed my arm, causing his hand to loosen its grip. Then, I reached down and pulled his waist toward me with one hand as I reached behind his neck with the other. Shocked for a moment, his lips were frozen, before he then pushed them back against mine as we hungrily embraced.

"Wow, I didn't think you swung that way," he said, almost out of breath, "but you have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that."

Looking back at him with a cocky smile, I replied, "I can't believe I waited so long … and I've got more surprises in store for you tonight."

Mitchell POV:

Freaking out, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control. Racing towards campus, I pushed my car's limits, the clock read 11:03 pm. I know my dad had said that he would swap me back when I finished all my work, but I don’t think we had time for that. The old folklore story said that the swap could be permanent if it lasted longer than 24 hours. I don’t know exactly when my dad swapped us, but I couldn’t have that much longer.

Arriving on campus, I rushed towards the Sigma Chi house. Bursting through the door, I quickly scanned the room, desperately looking for my dad or Xander. The sea of costumes made it challenging, and I had no idea what my dad would be wearing.

Amidst the laughter and thumping music, I couldn't spot them. Panic set in as I weaved through the crowd, desperately searching. Every passing moment heightened the urgency.

Suddenly, a frat bro stepped into my path. "Hey, old man, what are you doing here?" he sneered.

"I'm just looking for someone," I replied, trying to maintain composure and look around behind him.

He laughed mockingly, "I don’t think you’re on the guest list. Get lost, grandpa!"

Frustration bubbled within me, but I kept my cool. The frat bro, with a smug grin, pushed me towards the exit.

The door slammed shut behind me. leaving me standing outside in the cool fall night. Time was slipping away, and the unsettling realization that I might be trapped in this body forever.

Mr. Thompson POV:

After a few crazy hours at the Sigma Chi house, Xander and I decided to make our way back to his apartment. Stumbling through the doorway, we quickly made our way towards his bedroom.

Xander, still in his Spiderman costume, turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Well, well, well, look who's ready for more surprises," he said, his voice low and suggestive.

"I did promise you more surprises, didn't I?" I replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

As we tumbled onto the bed, Xander traced his fingertips across my chest, playfully circling them around my nipples.

I quickly peeled off his costume, leaving him in just his briefs before straddling over him in the bed. Bending down to make out with him again, I moved one hand to the elastic strap around his waist, slowly teasing it before finally taking off his underwear and then my own.

I reached down for my pants, which I had discarded on this floor, and fished out a condom. As I went to unwrap it, Xander looks up to me and says, “No need. Tonight, I want all of you.”

Greedily, I rubbed my uncut cock against his hole, lubed with precum and spit. As I slid myself in, I stared thrusting in long, slow strokes, whispering to him “fuck yeah baby, you’re so hot.”

It wasn’t long until I started to feel a familiar pressure growing in my cock. Just as Xander was about to push me over the edge, I activated my power. Suddenly, a familiar surge of energy burst out of my chest towards Xander’s body. Simultaneously, he felt himself launch into my body.

Now, from our new perspectives, I looked up at my face and gave the same cute smirk that had been driving me crazy all night. That was enough to send us both into a powerful orgasm. I felt Xander instinctively bend down and give me a kiss as he coated the inside of my borrowed hole.

Basking in the afterglow, I quickly swapped us back and laid down next to Xander, stroking the inside of his thigh.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Oh, just a little something I picked up from my father,” I responded. “We come from a long line of swappers.”

Xander, still confused, looked back at me.

“You were so sexy, I thought you deserved to know what it was like.” I flirted. “But I’ll be sure to ask you next time.

“Next time?” he said inquisitively. “Well, I like the sound of that.”

As Xander snuggled back up to little spoon me, I reached around his waist and gently kissed his neck. “I thought you might,” I said.

What he didn’t know was that that I locked in my future in this sexy body. You see, the folklore says, “In worst situations, swapper may never return to there original body especially if the swap last longer than 24 hours.” That’s true alright.

However, what the men in my family also found is that, if the swapper swaps with a third person while they were already swapped, they cannot return to their original body ever again.

As Xander and I drifted off to sleep, I reveled in my new sexy form. I thought to myself “this is my body now, and I deserve every inch of it.”

[supertuna-sideblog]

🍓Pairing: Dance Teacher!Jung Hoseok x F. Reader

🍓 Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

🍓 Word Count: 9.2k

🍓Warnings: negative self thought/talk, swearing, dirty talk, smut, kissing, heavy marking, fingering, unprotected sex, some degradation, requited pining (please let me know if I missed something)

🍓Summary: It's been a year since you started dancing at Hoseok's studio, in that time an easy friendship has bloomed between you both, and maybe a bit more on your part. But Hoseok's just a friend, and there couldn't possibly be more there, right?

🍓 Comments: From the first time I heard Hozier's Eat your young I knew I had to write something with J hope for it. So here we are! Please enjoy!

“5, 6, 7, 8–” his voice carries over the pounding bass that hums through your muscles and bones. 

But you can’t think about his voice, you can’t think about anything. Right now you’re focused on the music on the next steps Hoseok planned in the routine. Not the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to the muscles on his back as he moves from one energetic step to the next.

Your tongue, definitely, doesn’t slip out of your lips to trace along the bottom as your eyes watch a bead of sweat slide down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt. 

You’re focusing on the dance, on the way your body moves in time with the tempo, and how the riffs of the guitar send shivers down your spine when they harmonize just right with the bass. Making sure your hands stay on beat.

Shoes squeak against the polished hardwood. You risk a glance at the girl beside you. Her movements are effortless, fluid, and graceful. A bolt of jealousy heats through you, but your eyes close and you focus again on just you and the music. Hips swivel in time to the chorus. Hoseok’s voice calls out over the music, “final stretch, make it count!” 

His favorite thing, to shout in the last measures of the song, the final encouraging push that gets everyone through the last grueling set of an hour long practice, because Hoseok loves to challenge his students and this one, an intermediate class, is no exception. 

Your hips chant to the side as your eyes slide open to catch Hoseok’s last moves. Drawn to the way his hands go from fluttering in the air to caress his inner thigh.

Your breath hitches as for a second your mind stalls. Gaze memorizing the way, his lithe fingers trace along the muscle there up to the seam of his hip, where his hand cups a subtle bulge. 

Before tracing up the line of his lean body, even in baggy sweats, he looks perfect. His shirt shows just enough skin to get your heart racing, the collar loose enough it’s slipped off his shoulder, the tender flesh stretched over his collarbone tempts you.

As your hungry ogling finishes its course and meets those intense brown eyes, you pale. Fuck, you’ve been caught.

You stumble on the last turn, but catch yourself just in time to face the right direction. Kae-in snickers behind you as heat blooms across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears.

Thankfully, though no one else has caught your blunder. But pray that Hoseok hadn’t seen it... he didn’t make a comment.

Then again, the last time he’d caught you gawking at him during practice. He’d give you a cheeky wink before cackling at your dumb-struck expression. 

The dance finishes with a quick pose. Your legs quiver for a moment, unsure if they can hold your weight. You pushed yourself today, and your body is feeling it everywhere.

Not the smartest move, considering you have your private studio session after this. Other dancers around you pant and huff, catching their own breath. The music cuts and Hoseok claps, along with everyone else.

You manage a weak clap with the others.

“Great work everyone!” 

Hoseok's voice is energetically gleeful as he wanders over to the cabinet where the audio setup sits. Like he hasn't been dancing for 8 plus hours.

His fingers move effortlessly as he turns off the music. Shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. The sweat clinging to his golden skin making it to glow under the fluorescent studio lights. 

“Amazing as always class, remember to practice for next week. We’ll have auditions for the spring recital and all that jazz. I hope to see all of you there!” 

Everyone takes their time packing up. A gaggle of students having rushed Hoseok to ask about audition ideas. Most of them vying for the last few minutes of class, for his undivided attention.

He’s happy to converse with all of them, girls fawning over him, a few guys in there too. Eagerly asking for advice on their movements and audition ideas.

Which he happily responds with a critique that’s just the right amount of brutal and constructive.

You make it to your bag, a slight wobble in your step, manage a painful kneel, find your water bottle, and take some healthy swigs from the plastic container. Your throat is grateful for the cooling fluid.

Kae-in is beside you in a second, her hoodie already on. She’s put on the hood but left her ears out. She has that look on her face that tells you she saw the entire last measure debacle. Her eyes crinkled in a shit-eating grin as she grabbed her things to leave. 

“So wanna go over your little stumble in the last steps?”

You level a glare at her, half tempted to throw your sweat-rag at her, but you resist. Rather, rubbing it along your neck and face, sighing softly as you dry yourself. While you loved dancing, you hated the sweat that came with it.

“I tripped, I do that all the time–” she snickers, leaning close enough that the others packing up don’t hear her. 

“I saw the way you were eating him up, not that I don’t blame you–” now the sweat-rag comes out, as you shove the offending thing at her, Kae-in lets out a squeak falling on her butt.

You glare down at her. She has the audacity to pout, like she’s the victim of this!

“I was not, I tripped, and that is all you need to know,” you respond with a mocking pout of your own.

She gets back up and hits your shoulder. You turn to continue the fight sweat-rag at the ready, but she holds up her hands in mock defeat. 

“It’s not like you're the first girl to do it, certainly not the last. I mean, look, he’s still being swarmed and I know he’s answered their questions 20 times.”

She smirks as she glances over to the far corner where Hoseok still stands with his gaggle, smiling and laughing. 

“I didn’t–” she hushes you and winks. 

“You didn’t look, I know, you’ll have plenty of time to do that in the next hour–” you clap a hand over her mouth. 

“Kae-in, I love you, but you are a pain in the ass, you know that?” 

She smiles that squinted eye smile that makes you laugh. You give her one back before standing, removing your hand from her mouth, taking another few drinks of your water before glancing at your phone. 

A couple of messages, both from…Hoseok. 

How the hell did he send the texts while dealing with all the questions? But you’re checking them before you think to stop yourself. 

I’m undecided on food, stuck between bulgogi or jajangmyeon 😛…do you have a preference? 

Also if you’ve already eaten no worries. :3 

You can’t help the small smile that lifts the corner of your mouth. 

“Ohhhh dinner and a show–” 

“Kae-in, I swear if you don’t leave I’m shoving my sweat rag in your mouth and Jin Ho can help you fish it out,” she laughs as she skips just out of your reach. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” 

She’s gone with the last few stragglers from class. The flock has left with Hobi, probably to get food. You type a quick reply. 

I will love you forever if you get me some jajangmyeon <3 

As you glance around the studio and check the windows to make sure everyone is gone your phone buzzes in response. 

If I knew getting your love was that easy I’d have offered sooner ;) 

His texts always make you laugh, and while some small, tiny, insignificant part of you hopes he’s actually flirting you know he isn’t.

He’s your teacher, and yes, you’d consider him a friend at this point. After all, you'd been coming to the studio for a little over a year. 

You’d run into him hanging a flier at the local rec center and after a short conversation, he’d handed you a neon pink flier and given you a wide heart-shaped smile before going on his way.

You’d signed up the next week for a beginners class, needing another outlet besides working out on a treadmill. 

It’d been a year, discovering a love for dancing you’d never known you had. Also…getting the last hour of the studio all to yourself for a private session didn't hurt.

Especially when Hoseok had offered it to you when you’d mentioned wanting more time to dance besides just doing group work. 

“I think you have a talent, and I think if you went out for some competitions you’d surprise yourself,” you’d almost choked on your coffee when he’d mentioned competing. He’d laughed as you coughed. 

Hoseok was kind, it was one of the many reasons you’d stayed on with dance, even after being so self conscious about everything. The way you moved for a start, in the beginning the beat just seemed out of reach.

It seemed like your brain would command your limbs to move and it would be just a step off from everyone else. You liked to joke, you had two left feet, but through Hoseok’s diligent, and patient work you’d bloomed…At least you’d like to think you have. 

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts. 

At the restaurant, jajangmyeon is gonna be a bit D:

You smile again at his use of emoticons. He texts like a teenager. But you’re quick to reply, so that you can work on your set. 

No worries, you know how long I’m here till, also I’m not leaving till I get my promised food ;)

You stand taking your water to the front of the class, the mirrored wall reflects your tired self back at you. You don’t look too long, putting your water down to go to the stereo cabinet.

Phone in hand you find the aux cord, hooking up the device the speakers connect with a loud pop. 

Getting into your music app you ponder on what to dance to first, it doesn’t take long before you’re settling on some low and slow music. The songs are just mixes, without vocals.

Just music and beats to focus on, rather than lyrics to muddle your mind, thinking about what steps would go best with them. A deep bass pounds through the amps, vibrating the room with their depths before the subtle electronic chords join the hum.  

A cooldown from Hoseok’s fast-paced, hyped music is a welcome change your muscles need. Your movements are slow and languid, letting your body stretch into each move rather than a quick jab and jolt to the next. 

You loved Hoseok’s dances.

They lit up something inside you, got your heart pumping. His dances were a mixture of a work out and sex as Kae-in loved to joke. Hoseok put everything into his routines and asked his students to do the same. 

You tried hard not to think about all your recent classes with him, in the last few sessions when he’d done an observation he’d come so close to you, watching your every movement.

No matter how many times you’d danced in front of him you felt like a beginner all over again. 

Could feel the way his eyes assessed every maneuver. How his hand was quick to correct a move. Quick to straighten your posture, his fingers lingering against the swell of your hip as he demonstrated how to move your hips in the choreo.

Your skin tingled from the touch, your cheeks warm at the thought, the wish that his fingers had stayed on your skin, that they’d moved lower. 

You attempt to shake off the thoughts, trying to focus on your dance, matching your made-up choreo to the music. Your hands start at your hips, legs spread wide as you lower into a squat.

Palms cupping your thighs as you spread them for the imaginary audience, or just a singular audience member. A quick bounce and your back up hands trail up your body again, fingers card through your sweat-soaked hair.

Pulling the strands out of the messy bun, slipping the hairband onto your wrist.

You risk a glance to your form in the mirror, again a wave of insecurity takes over. Even as you try to avoid making eye contact. Rather just watching your body move in time with the bass, a roll of your hips that follows the line of your leg to the tips of your toes. 

Your body is like water, let the music flow from it.

Another memory, when you first started dancing, and Hobi had started letting you use the last open hour of the studio.

The one-on-one time helped immensely, but also made everything so much worse. From Hobi’s unwavering attention, to his many assisting touches.

How easily he’d stop you during a session to maneuver you, how he’d demonstrate a move you just couldn’t get the hang of.

The heat from his hands all but burning through the loose clothing you wore normally to practice. How you refused to look him in the eye when he had you practice a move in the mirror. 

Just watch yourself, that will help. 

Sure you try watching yourself in the mirror–

I do it all the time. 

You’d made the mistake of looking him in the eye at that moment, in the low green light of the background LEDs they were shadowed and intense.

The way you felt pinned and devoured in that moment, the tension rose and for a moment something stirred inside of you. Your knees shook, stomach swooping, mouth going dry.

The moment broke when Hobi’s lips pulled into his signature smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But that instance had you refusing to look him in the eye for a month.

The remembered conversation heats your cheeks as you try focusing on the last steps of your sultry choreo. Twisting your arms in a spin that ripples down through your body.

Muscles tense and release, the ache from the previous rehearsal is gone. Replaced by the heat of wanting to get started on another.

The song comes to a soft close and your cool down has done nothing to lessen the heat you feel beneath the oversized t-shirt you liked to wear to practice.

As you stretch you consider the time on the wall clock, the cool down took a couple of minutes. Hobi would still be out getting food. And you really hadn’t accomplished much in your session, besides frustrating yourself further.

You huff as your body throbs, in both exhaustion and restlessness.

Like it can’t settle on one feeling over the other, and that adds to your mounting frustration. Walking over to the soundbooth you stop the next track.

Phone in hand you pause over the playlist, not really sure what to dance to next. The usual playlist for you is slow and steady. It helps loosen you up after a hard class and sets you up to relax when you get home. 

But tonight none of the songs on the playlist are calling to you, so you leave the usual and venture out into the ever changing mood of your music library. You don’t know what starts it, but there is a song you’ve had in mind for a while now. A few flicks of your thumb brings you to the album. 

Another tap and flick, and there it sits. Eat Your Young by Hozier had taken vicious root in your mind ever since you’d heard the beginning scat. The sinful chord riffs and the melodic mournful husk of Hozier’s voice had awakened something, primal, in you. 

The lyrics certainly hadn’t helped, the grit and grime to them. Hozier’s music hit all the places in your brain that you needed while dancing. And you just wanted to dance. Not focus on how you are dancing and certainly not focusing on someone else watching you dance. 

“Let’s see if you can get me out of my head,” mumbled to yourself, setting the song on loop. You pause though considering the brightness of the dance studio, intent on getting the mood for this song.

Remember Hobi mentioning that sometimes all it takes is a change in lighting for inspiration to strike. This song called for something dark, something carnal. 

Taking the remote you turn off the main lights, the fluorescent bulbs flicker off, and with another push of a button the LEDs glow to life.

Hobi was quite proud of his LEDs; he'd spent an entire weekend sticking them to every inch of the ceiling, making sure they were perfectly aligned so that the room would be filled with the glow of the multicolor lights. He’d left them on a cool blue, probably when he was setting up for class earlier. A few clicks and blue bleeds into a deep red. 

Basking in the lights for a moment, your fingers toy with the hem of your oversized shirt wanting to just throw the thing off. Overheated from class, and relief seems like it’ll only come from losing the garment.

You consider for a moment, Hobi won’t be back for a bit. You get the dancing out of your system, and the heat off of your skin. Before you can talk yourself out of it you're shucking the sweat coated fabric off. 

Your skin cries in relief as it’s exposed to the chill of the studio, in only your sports bra and loose sweats you let the music overtake you. 

You let the first bangs of the drum move you, your shoulders jolting with the bass. Rolling into a leisure sway as Hozier's voice echoes in the small studio. The bass ripples through your body, you feel your heart matching its hypnotizing beat. 

I’m starving, darling, let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Your fingers trace the edge of your lips. You take a soft bite of your fingertip, before tracing it down your chin, throat, between your sport bra covered breasts to wrap around your abdomen where your hips sway in a lazy pattern. 

Start carving, darling, I wanna smell the dinner cooking 

Wanna feel the edge start burn

You keep more to the middle of the room, exploring the small space around you. Your legs widen their stance as you dip down from your waist dragging your clawed hands over your legs back up your body to your throat. 

Honey, I wanna race you to the table

If you hesitate the gettin’ is gone

You close your eyes, just enjoying the movement of your body and the intensity of the song. As the violins pitch higher and their notes grow frantic your breath pants as you meet their dissonant call. 

Get some

Pull up the ladder when the flood comes

Throw enough rope until their legs have swung

Seven new ways that you can eat your young

Moves become more turbulent but there is still that underlying calm and control to your dance. Hobi is about precision in his seemingly erratic movements, yours have a much less practiced feel to them, even as you lull from one move to the next.

You’re so close to losing focus, letting Hoizer’s honeyed voice wash over your mind, the tickle of his falsetto sending a shiver down your spine. So close to losing inhibition, be free of the cage that is your mind, just dancing, instead of judging and stalling.

But you stumble a move not hitting at the time you’d hoped it would, and then like a line of dominos one move then another starts to crumble your resolve.

You huff, eyes scrunching in frustration as you attempt the movement again, a simple move, you’ve done it a thousand times in class, but your muscles won’t obey and your hips feel off, like they’ve slipped out of joint for a moment. And again while your brain signals to your body to move, nothing listens. 

You growl in annoyance, sweat dripping from your scalp, drops slithering their way down your neck, pooling uncomfortably in your bra. As you miss one beat then the next and now you’re behind in the music.

Left foot forward, sway your hip, let the movement flow from your hip to your knee to your ankle. But fail again as your joints lock and refuse to flow as they once did, your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, wanting so badly for this stupid move to hit.

For muscles to relax and just get this dance done. 

Hands settle easily on your hips, and everything halts, a soft gasp leaves you. Music fading to the background as all you can hear is a high pitched chime in your ears. Your hands come up out of reaction, nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands in a panic.

Hobi grunts softly at the sudden pain of your blunted nails in his skin. But the panic ebbs as you recognize those long fingers beneath your own. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, you had time, your mind races.

“Come on,” his voice is soft in the shell of your ear, “you know this move.” 

Hobi’s hands are solid as they keep your hips trapped between his palms. His thumbs settle just above the band of your sweats, the heat of him sparks across sensitive flesh. He maneuvers you with ease, rolling your left hip forward and letting the right follow.

The grip of his fingers as they press into the fat sends a shock of pleasure coiling up your spine. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he mumbles again, his breath is warm as it fans over your ear, cheek and neck. Skin prickling as goosebumps rise in its wake. The smell of him overwhelms, the sweet spice of a cologne you can’t name.

You finally muster the courage to open your eyes. Glancing down at Hobi’s hands still there on your hips. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, as you look down then up. Meeting his eyes in the red glow, your breath hitches, and your gaze drops again. 

“Oh no,” like lightning, he strikes, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger. His grip forces your face up, body tensing as he presses himself against you.

Your hand chases his grasping at his wrist. Your fingers find purchase on the multitude of bracelets there. Fingernail catching on the beads of a bracelet you know one of his younger students made for him. 

“Hobi–”

The fabric of his t-shirt does little to defend against the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest contouring to the curves of your back. Your mind can’t ignore the way he so effortlessly molds into you. Two puzzle pieces connecting together so easily, but while your bodies contour so easily, you feel trapped beneath his steely gaze.

You refuse to look at him; you feel exposed, judged and assessed by those eyes. 

“Look at me.” 

The order is spoken low in his chest, feel the vibration of his voice against your shoulder blades. The tone makes you shiver, another bolt of warm pleasure strikes you. Warming your cheeks, and sending your mind reeling.

You follow his command slow, and unwilling, your heart beats against your ribcage, a wild indeterminable pattern. His fingers clench, digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. You wince a bit at the pain, but finally you meet his eyes again. 

In the red light they look black, taking you in, those dark eyes burning a trail from your toes up your left leg, pausing at your hip, the hand there clenching for a moment. Thumb brushing along your skin above your hip bone sending a new wave of goosebumps along your skin.

Tracing the curve of your waist, pausing at the swell of your breasts, covered by your sports bra. Up to the dip of your collarbone, you watch as he leans forward his lips so close to your skin. His breath warm before he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

A weak gasp leaves you as the touch of his lips sends a throb through you. A heat grows in your innards, muscles clench, breath hitching as he meets your gaze. 

“Hobi, what–”

“No hiding from me tonight.”

Mouth agape as you struggle to find your voice, Hobi smiles. It’s a slow pull of lips over teeth, the glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze. His thumb rubs along the edge of your jaw.

The touch sparking a new sensation with every stroke against your skin, his breath warm over your cheek. You’re aware of every touch, every atom of him that’s against you beside you. You’re greedy for more.

“’m not hiding,” you finally mumble and he chuckles, another warm huff of breath over your skin, his lips brush against your neck. 

“You’ve been hiding every class,” he mumbles as he presses closer, the hand on your hip sliding along the edge of your sweats, slipping from under your hand, though you don’t stop it, coming to a stop over your abdomen.

You swear your heart stops as you feel the heat of his palm just beneath your belly button. Fingertips toying at the hem of your sweats, so close to slipping beneath the fabric.

“Thinking I don’t know you’re watching my every move, where your eyes linger a bit too long.”

He chuckles into your neck the tip of his nose traces along the length of skin. His lips find your pulse and he laughs softly as you whine, distantly you catch that the song has looped. The deep bass starting again. “Not that I mind.” 

“Who wouldn’t watch you,” a breathless retort as Hobi smiles, considering you in the mirror for a moment.

His eyes shine and then his smile turns sinister, his nuzzle pauses and then he’s biting your neck. A shriek of pain leaves you and you leap from his grip. He lets you get away, though by the clench of his fingers you sense he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

The distance helps, your mind clearing as you turn backing up into the studio mirror wall. Pressing yourself against the cool surface, fingers finding the bite mark on your neck. Pulse hammering against your fingertips.

The jolt of pain ebbs into a lingering throb. One that doesn’t help the pulse between your legs. It makes you want to tense your thighs to relieve the ache there. 

Leveling a look at Hoseok trying to get your bearings. He’s quiet, those eyes shadowed by his long bangs, you see his jaw shift as he considers you. You're teetering on the edge of something. Backed up to the cliff's edge and you're not sure if you’re ready to plunge off.

“Hoseok–” 

“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.” 

His voice is soft, beneath the croon of Hozier’s voice, for a moment he looks like the Hobi you’re used to. The one you can handle. The friend who is always eager to laugh, the one you fall into easy conversation with, the one you figured would never consider you like he is now. 

“I–” your voice hitches, confusion clouding your mind as your fingers trace the mark of his teeth in your flesh.

You lean your head back, your head meets the mirror with a soft thud, the music swells again, eyes closed as you consider for a moment what continuing this means. 

I won’t lie, if there’s something still to take

There is ground to break, whatever’s still to come

You don’t hear him move over the thrumming bass. He cages you in, his hands rest above your shoulders as he encompasses you. His breath is warm as it glides over your face. 

Your eyes flutter open and take in the man before you. The chiseled perfection that is his face, the sharp jut of his chin, the soft rounded apples of his cheeks.

His lips, usually pulled in that sweet heart-shaped smile are drawn together in a firm line as those dark eyes watch you from under the curled mess that is his bangs. He’s still in his practice outfit, the same baggy t-shirt, and even baggier sweats. They overwhelm the lithe frame that you’ve so badly wanted a chance to see. 

It makes you want to squirm away to avoid his gaze as you’ve always done, he leans down nose brushing against yours. 

“Don’t hide away from me, I’m tired of trying to make you look.” 

His voice is soft and your heart stutters. As you look at him, truly look at him. The longing in those dark eyes, the downturn of his lips. The little freckle on his cupid’s bow.  You want him, hell you’ve wanted him since the day you took the neon pink flier from his painted fingers. 

“Hoseok, I–I want you–” 

It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates, he’s dropping down lips finding yours in the dim red glow of the lights. At first the kiss is soft, like he’s worried you’ll change your mind, pull away that you spoke before you could voice what you really wanted to say.

But no, you press into the kiss. Slot your lips against his with a fervor you haven’t felt for someone in years. Your fingers thread through the curled locks of his hair, pulling him closer. 

He groans into your lips, tongue slipping out to trace the bottom, asking entrance which you easily grant. The way his tongue swirls into your mouth has you whining, knees locking as your mind thinks for a moment how that tongue would feel against your clit. Which gives a painful throb in response. 

His tongue dances with your own, easily slipping along the appendage with ease, he chuckles as your tongue chases him as he pulls back. He presses closer, body molding to yours as you press back against the mirror. 

He huffs softly into the curve of your neck, where he bit you only moments before. He chuckles and presses a kiss into the mark. 

“Sorry, heard the lyrics and, well, I couldn’t help myself–” 

Your fingers pull on his locks still trapped in their grip, the groan that leaves his chest makes you shiver. His eyes roll in their sockets as they look up at you, with his jaw dropping you whine seeing the tip of his tongue trace the path along his bottom lip. 

“Hobi, please–” 

“Please what?” He teases, his hands sliding down the mirror back to your hips where he presses you against the wall.

His thumbs sweep against the joint where hip and thigh meet. His mouth goes back to press kisses against your neck. Finding where you pulse beats and sucking another mark there. 

You feel him smile against your skin as you whine, hands leaving his hair to grasp his shoulders. To move him to do something, because your cunt is empty and aching, and only getting words as his mouth makes new marks along your collarbone and neck. You need something more than just the teasing he’s giving you. 

“Hobi–” 

“Use your words baby, I need to hear what you want.” 

His voice is a muttered groan against your throat as he kisses his way up to your ear. Taking the lobe between his teeth, he huffs a laugh as your nails dig impatiently into his shoulders. 

“Want to feel you, need to feel you–fuck,” you don’t know what you want to say, though your hips pressing into the palms of his hands are an indication that you need friction.

He sucks on the shell of your ear, nipping the cartilage and smirking when you moan softly. 

“Then be a good girl, and listen,” his voice is soft, and your eyes meet his as he pulls back. Hobi is gone, back is the Hoseok who makes every muscle in your body tremble after a hard dance practice. The one that makes you shiver. “Turn around, face the mirror.” 

He pulls back, his warmth leaving your skin makes you tremble, but you’re quick to comply. Turning and pressing yourself to the mirror, hands level with your shoulders. Your legs spread shoulder width apart. You risk a glance up in the mirror.

Hoseok stands back observing you, eyes traveling down the exposed flesh of your back, eyes lingering on the curve of your hip, that disappears into the baggy expanse of your sweats. Before they drag back up and meet your gaze in the mirror. You’re quick to look away. 

“Uh uh, no looking away tonight baby, eyes on me.” 

You know he means it, the threat is clear in his voice, and all you want is for Hobi to touch you, to do something. So with reluctance your eyes come back up, meeting his gaze even as it makes you squirm. 

“Good girl, listening so well.” 

You preen at his praise, half tempted to spread your legs wider, but you resist as he returns to press against you. His lithe body molds, again so perfectly, into the curves of your own.

His hands find purchase on your hips, slipping forward to a stop over the ties of your sweats. His index finger curls the tie around toying with the simple knot.

Your gaze is still locked with Hoseok's in the mirror, watching his lips pull into another smirk as he leans forward pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Eyes never leaving yours as your hips press back into his, feeling the weight of a bulge between the globes of your ass. He lets out a grunt, grinding himself into you.

A breathy laugh leaves him. 

“So eager, aren’t you?” 

He whispers into your ear the hand not toying with your sweats, drifts higher. Fingers trace patterns along the curve of your waist stopping to tease the edge of your sports bra. The material is thin, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you as his finger traces up the swell of your breast.

The tip of his finger finding your nipple and swirling around the bud. He groans into your neck as he feels the flesh pebble beneath his touch. His lips and teeth attack your neck and shoulder. Marking the skin with nips, and then soothing the sting with his tongue and lips. 

His hand gropes at your breast enjoying the softness of your flesh as it molds to his hand. 

“Hoseok,” your voice is soft, a needy whine as your fingers flex against the mirror surface and your eyes watch his hands. Wanting so badly for him to loosen the tie, to slip beneath the waistband and delve lower. 

“What baby?” He mumbles into your ear giving the lobe another nip which you gasp at the pain of, your hips press back and you smile as he moans into your hair the bulge growing as he toys with you. “What do you want?” 

“Please, fuck, your fingers–” your plea is silenced by another bite, this one sinking into the meat of your shoulder. A wispy whine leaves you, and Hoseok soothes the mark with another kiss. 

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.” 

Another command and you obey. 

“Need to feel your fingers on my cunt, or just fuck - in my cunt, please,” the noise he makes has your knees locking, fingers curling, nails scraping against glass.

It’s like lighting a match, his fingers yank the tie, the hem of your sweats sag, loose enough he’s able to slip under the fabric. 

He cups your mound, the moan that leaves you is guttural, your body humming with need. Gasping as he cups you through your panties. The thin fabric soaked, his finger easily toying with your clit through the cotton barrier. 

“Fuck, if I’d known you were this wet, wouldn’t have taken my time.” 

He breaths into your ear, the tip of his finger swirling in indiscernible patterns around your clit. The friction is nice, but his touches are soft, delicate.

Not what you need even as you whine and attempt to grind into his hand. The hand at your breast teases and pinches your nipple. The pleasure and pain mingle in your mind. Your eyelids flutter closed as your fingers curl against the mirror. 

“Eyes,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Ever obedient you obey, eyes peeling open, finding his dark hazel gaze. Your innards stir, cunt clenching as you take in Hoseok’s appearance. 

His hair is disheveled, the brown locks curling around his face, the bangs sweeping over his brow, giving him a shadowed look.

Darkening his eyes, sending another throb of need through you, as his intense gaze burns every inch of you. 

His tongue flicks out every now and again wetting his bottom lip as he presses more kisses along the expanse of your shoulders. He leaves marks in his wake, the spots sting, but Hoseok is always quick to soothe them with a soft kiss or a kitten lick of his tongue.

You know you’ll be covered in his marks by the time he’s done. It makes your cunt flutter at the thought and you moan, pressing your forehead to the mirror.

You find Hoseok again, his gaze still locked onto yours. In the red glow of the lights he looks otherworldly, the shadows of his face almost black against the blood red of the highlights.

A demon you’d happily sell your soul to for nothing if only to gaze at his face a bit longer. 

You're pulled out of your musings when Hoseok’s fingers with a quick flick push aside the barrier of your panties to finally touch your clit. The soft stroke of his finger along the neglected bud has you keening. The sudden spike of pleasure makes you jolt away from the sudden onslaught.

But Hoseok’s prepared for your retreat pressing you up against the mirror, he traps your hips with his own. The hand at your breast moves to grasp at your hip, pinning you to him. Huffing a laugh into the column of your throat giving the skin there another bite. 

“No running away either,” he growls, his finger traces along the hood of your clit, before delving lower and pressing against the bud. The pleasure zaps through you, your cunt gushes, your knees quiver as you buck into his hand with another yelp of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Hoseok–” 

“Feel good?” He asks, watching his lips pull into a wicked smile as you mewl and pant against the mirror. Breath fogging over the smooth surface. The chill of it helps to alleviate some of the heat coming from both of you.

His pattern changes again, pressing again on your clit as your cunt throbs and your breath comes out in a quivering pant. 

“Yes–fuck yes, feels so good–”

Hoseok presses more against you, rutting his hips into your ass, the hard length of his shaft nestled perfectly between the globes of your ass. He pants softly into your ear nuzzling another kiss into the corner of your jaw. Groaning as you press back into him meeting his every movement. 

“Fuck baby, feel so good and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” 

You whine in reply as his fingers venture lower, the feeling of his finger slipping into your folds teasing your wet opening. He chuckles into your neck. 

“So fucking wet,” he whispers and you feel his lips sucking another mark onto your neck. Another gush of slick and Hoseok groans.

“What do you want?” 

“Please–” 

“Words, baby, I need to hear you say it.” 

“Need your fingers in me, please, please stop teasing–” 

He doesn’t wait for your plea to finish thrusting one long finger into you, your plea dies with a soft whine. He starts a slow steady pace, your cunt fluttering around his finger.

Just when you think you’re used to the first finger he adds another, your hips grind into his hand and his hips. All of his focus on fucking you open with his fingers. 

“F–fuck, so tight,” the whisper of his voice makes your cunt clench, the twitch of his cock against your ass makes you moan. Your eyes struggle to stay open, as Hoseok’s own bore into you, watching the way your jaw drops open your eyes roll back as the tip of his finger rubs just right against that spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again and again.

The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. 

“Fuck Hoseok, fuck your fingers feel so good–” You babble, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The one you’ve been hanging on to for the last hour.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling the way your body tenses, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and feels the warm slick dripping down his fingers, and your thighs, soaking your sweats. 

“You gonna come, huh?” 

He rasps against your ear pressing a kiss to the shell, the sounds of his voice makes your cunt flutter again. As his fingers thrust in again, he scissors the digits, there's a hint of pain cutting through the pleasure, but it only serves to push you closer.

As you gasp, fingers scramble against the mirrored wall. You whine, pressing desperately against him, he responds in kind, rutting his clothed cock against you harder.

“I’m so close, please,” your voice is a soft mewl as your hips grind desperately into his hand. Hoseok’s voice is breathless as he speeds up his hand. The wet noise of his fingers fucking you open mingle with the song still looping, again and again. 

“Come for me,” he growls, fingers flexing into your hip, and his teeth find the meat of your shoulder again.

The sound of his command, the tension breaks, your body stills mouth dropping open in a silent cry as your body twitches. Cunt quivering around his fingers as he fucks you through your release. He groans, fingers slowing, the heel of his palm coming to rest against your oversensitive clit. 

You let out a soft whine, as his palm grinds against you, fingers curling and rubbing against your walls. You pant, coming down from your high, finding Hoseok watching you in the mirror. 

“Fuck, so pretty when you come.” 

His praise makes you embarrassed, you go to hide from him again. The hand on your hip is quick grasping your chin and keeping you pinned beneath his gaze. 

“No hiding,” his fingers flex against your neck. You shiver finding his dark gaze, those deep pits devouring you whole. As you greedily do the same.

“Hoseok,” you whisper his name, and he groans softly pressing into you. His fingers still buried in your cunt, the movement makes you gasp. Still sensitive from your first climax. “Hoseok, fuck me, need to feel you–” 

He doesn’t let you finish, his fingers turn your head enough that he’s able to press a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. You follow his lead, pressing messy, needy kisses to his lips, wanting badly to reach more of him. But he only allows so much movement from your prone position against the mirror.

You jolt as his fingers slip from you, how empty your cunt feels without them. His hand leaves your neck, slipping down your back to grasp at the hem of your sweats, the other hand still wet with your slick goes to your other hip. 

With a quick jerk your sweats and panties are pulled down, you gasp into Hoseok’s kiss as your cunt is exposed to the cool of the room. His foot slips between yours and with a soft nudge he coaxes your legs further apart.

You try to ignore that you can feel the slick clinging to your folds, and trails of it dripping down your thighs, you're still soaked and quivering for more. 

Hoseok’s hands leave you for a moment, the soft rush of fabric, and then the heat of his cock settles between your ass cheeks again. He’s big and your eyes flutter at the thought of him filling you, Hoseok chuckles against your lips. 

“What’s going on in that mind baby?” 

You whine, pressing another messy kiss into his lips, as his hands find their way back to your hips, one slipping forward and finding your clit again to trace soft patterns into the bud.

“Need your cock, fuck, need it so bad Hoseok,” you gasp into his mouth, tongue slipping out to trace along his bottom lip, his own slips out to tangle with yours. He doesn’t reply, instead he maneuvers you both.

Backing up he pulls at your hips. Your front still pressed to the mirror, this new position forces your back to bow, and your legs spread, cunt all but on display for him. 

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, a groan of appreciation as his hands wander over the curve of your ass, and his fingers toy again with your weeping folds. You whine and buck into his hands. Wanting so badly to be filled again.

Hoseok chuckles before sliding behind you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the head of his cock press between your folds. A sharp smack to your ass has you jolting, a pained grunt leaving you as your eyes snap open to glare at Hoseok, who gives you a wide smirk back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Eyes. On. Me.” 

He gives a smack to your ass, punctuating every word, your ass cheeks sting from his strikes, soft needy whimpers leave you. Hoseok groans as he feels more slick drip onto his cock. 

“Gonna fuckin wreck you, baby,” he huffs and you nod, he presses in, the head of his cock stretches you like his fingers couldn’t.

A moan catches in your throat has he takes his time, fucking into you inch by slow inch. Feeling every quiver, throb and flutter of your cunt around him. Hoseok is panting above you as he finally bottoms out. He’s thick, his cock filling you deliciously full. 

Your eyelids flutter, but you refuse to look away, watching as Hoseok’s jaw drops, the groan that leaves him as he fucks fully into you. The delicious sensations overwhelming him for a moment as your cunt clenches around him. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck you feel so good,” he pauses, whether to let you adjust to him or to just feel you.

You don’t know, his fingers flex, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he presses himself into you.

“Fuck–wanted this for so long.”  

His mumble has you jolting, but before you can ask him what he means, his hands grasp your hips, fingertips digging into soft fat, finding purchase as he pulls out. Slow again, you both groan as the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room.

Your cunt clenches around him, needing him to fill you again. He pulls out till only the head remains inside, before fucking back in. Faster now that you're used to him. The slap of his hips against your ass echoes in the practice room. 

“Fuck, Hoseok, please, faster–need you to fuck me,” you beg him, tired of the foreplay. You need him to destroy your cunt. Need to feel that unhinged energy you’d witnessed so many times in class, been so close to tasting in the year you’d been dancing with him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice baby,” he growls, and it’s all he needs.

His grip tightens on your hips and his lips bare his teeth in a feral snarl as his hips set a fast, rough pace. 

He fucks into you with the abandon you’ve seen him dance with.

Taking his lower lip between his teeth as he thrusts hard and fast. Jolting you against the mirror, Hoseok pants and grunts with every thrust. 

“Fuck look at you,” he mutters, voice a panted growl as he fucks harder into you. The length of his cock fills you again and again. The head of his cock grinding just right against your soaked walls.

“Look so good up against the mirror creaming all over my cock, fuck knew you’d look so pretty getting fucked on my cock.” 

His words has your cunt gushing, and you answer his praise with little mewls and moans as he fucks you stupid against the mirror. His cock strokes against every part of your cunt, as he fucks you full.

The slap of his hips against your ass punctuate between lulls in the music. Your skin glows with sweat, your back arches as you press your hips back to meet his thrusts. 

Moaning, and crying as he fucks you. Hoseok answers your noises with grunts and growls of his own. Gasping when your cunt flutters around him, signaling you're close again. Hoseok wants to bring you there again, to watch your body give everything to him. 

“You close baby?” He growls between thrusts as his fingernails bite halfmoon marks into your skin. The pain only serves to pull you deeper into pleasure. 

“Yes, fuck, yes–I’m soclose–”

He leans over your form one arm wrapping around your waist, the other placing a hand above you on the mirror, and with another quick kiss to your shoulder he ups his pace. Fucking into you with a speed none of your previous partners had ever reached.

Your climax hits you suddenly, as his hips piston in and out of you, you come around his cock with a sudden broken cry. Your cunt convulsing around his cock as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, his hand slithers down between your legs finding your clit.

Rubbing the little bundle of nerves you keen. 

“Fuck! Hoseok!” Your body writhes attempting to get away from the sudden onslaught of pleasure as he keeps pistoning into your abused cunt. The pleasure rises again suddenly as your knees lock, and Hoseok’s cock throbs in your still pulsing cunt.

He gasps, as your cum again, sudden and blinding, white flashing before your eyes as you writhe in the prison that is his body. Warmth drips down your legs, and onto his. 

“Fuck–” Hoseok groans as his cock twitches in your cunt, the warmth of his release painting your walls. He buries himself inside of you, both of you softly moaning as you feel his come fill you. 

Your body shudders as you both remain there, your legs quivering, the only thing keeping you up at the moment is Hoseok’s solid arm around your waist. Muscles screaming for rest. Your mind rebooting as you process what the fuck just happened. 

Hoseok’s breath is warm as he remains hunched over you. His cock softening, as it weeps the last few drops of his release into you. When he pulls out you both gasp, you shiver as you feel the mixture of your releases leak from your abused cunt.

Hoseok pulls back from you.

There’s the rustle of fabric, Hoseok tucking himself back into his own sweats. You linger for a moment, your body unwilling to move just yet. Also, unwilling to look at Hoseok head on.

The sounds of his footsteps going to the cabinet. The bass of the song interrupted as he pauses your phone. He’s brought the original lights back on as the darkness behind your eyelids brightened.

You know you need to address whatever the hell just happened, but another part of you just wants to bury your head in the sand. Not think about this, maybe move to an entirely new town.

You jolt as you feel Hoseok’s hands on your sweats, pulling them up and covering you from the chill of the room. You don’t mind that your panties will be ruined…hell your sweats probably are too. 

“Come on, you gotta open your eyes at some point.” 

He speaks softly as he finishes getting your sweats back to their original position, you almost want to play dumb. You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want. But you also just want to get this over with.

Opening them you finally look at Hoseok in the mirror. 

He’s watching you, though this time not like before. Those soft hazel eyes looking at you like he’s waiting for the worst to happen.

You blink before turning around to actually look at him, he’s standing a bit back from you. Hands twisting behind him, so different from the Hoseok you’d very much just enjoyed fucking moments before. 

“Listen–” 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Hoseok shuts you up before you could even formulate a sentence. You blink at him, speaking before thinking. 

“What do you mean you’ve–” 

“Since I handed you the flier and you started coming to class.” 

He looks guilty, like he just pressured you into something, for a second your mind stalls, because you are a grown adult and you wholeheartedly consented to what just happened.

You don’t think as you step forward to press a kiss to his mouth, one he is quick in reciprocating. His hands find their way back to your hips as his tongue swirls with yours. You pull back your mind going fuzzy again. Your cunt is already wet at the thought of another round.

“I wanted to do that too, but fuck Hobi, you could have been a bit more obvious–” 

“Obvious!? I was all over you in class, my dances got a lot more risque when I knew you were watching.” 

You jolt, blinking up at him with something akin to the surprise Pikachu face. Hobi can’t stop the sudden laugh at your expression. But you’re melting into his hands as his thumbs rub circles into your hip bones. Your fingers clutch onto his arms as you blink owl-like in your confusion. 

“You…were?” 

“Oh my gosh girl,” he laughs leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “I was trying so hard for you to see me.” 

“Hobi I see you, you’re all I see, your dancing, your laugh…everything.” 

 Both of you standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Just ruminating on what’s been spoken. His hands are warm, as he pulls you closer nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist. 

“So…where do we go from here?” You mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He smells wonderful, the musk of his sweat mixed with the heady spice of his cologne. You would stay here forever if you could. You sense he’s about to answer, but the loud gurgle of your stomach interrupts.

The laugh that leaves both of you echoes in the dance studio. You look up and meet those hazel eyes again, as he shoots you a wide heart-shaped smile and gives you a soft peck on the forehead.

“Let’s eat first and then we can figure out the heavy stuff, though I recall you stating your undying love to me if I got you jajangmyeon.”

His smile somehow widens as you laugh, fully intent on showing him how appreciative you are for the jajangmyeon, and for everything else.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #j hope x reader #j hope x you #jung hoseok smut #j hope smut #j hope #bts fanfic #j hope imagine #jung hoseok #bts x reader #jhope #j hope bts #bangtan jhope #jhope fanfic

[charlosvibesonly]

Racing Hearts - Part 2

A Max Verstappen Imagine

Part 1

pairing : max x fem! reader/driver

the aftermath of their unexpected kisses is driving the racing world crazy. and y/n can't help but fall for him.

please lmk if you want this to be a series!

The night air was filled with anticipation as you and Max stayed there, lingering in the aftermath of the unexpected kiss. As days passed, you found yourself inexplicably attracted to Max in a way that surpassed the excitement of the racetrack. The articles and headlines about your growing connection were impossible to ignore, and soon, even you were caught up in the romance that they portrayed.

Snippets from articles read,

"From fierce rivals to unexpected lovers, Y/N and Max's story is straight out of a Hollywood script. Once a battleground, the racetrack is now the backdrop for their burgeoning romance."

"Fans can't get enough of the unexpected chemistry between Y/N and Max. Is it love or a strategic move to keep the competition on track?"

"In a surprising turn of events, the racetrack has become the stage for a love story that transcends the finish line. Can these racing rivals make it work off the track?"

The tabloids and fans alike speculated on the authenticity of your relationship, dissecting every shared glance and lingering touch. Amid it all, you found yourself genuinely liking Max, a realization that both thrilled and terrified you. The thrill of racing was now accompanied by the happiness of stolen glances and the gentle brush of hands during press events.

It was the Silverstone weekend. Y/N went to a club at her friends’ persuasion. The dim, pulsating lights cast a hazy glow over the dance floor, where bodies swayed.

However, the vibrant energy took a swift downturn when you stumbled upon Max. His presence stood out amidst the chaotic dance floor, his sleek black attire making him an unmistakable figure in the sea of people. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of him, his arms wrapped around another girl, their laughter blending with the bass-heavy music.

At that moment, the world seemed to slow down, the rhythmic beats of the music fading into the background. Hurt and blindsided, you felt a sudden weight in your chest, and a knot tightened in the pit of your stomach.

His eyes met yours, you could see the realization dawning on his face. Without a word, you turned away, determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

Max hurried after you, pulling you back.

"Where are you going?" he asked a mix of concern in his eyes.

"Somewhere I don't bother you and your date," you replied, your anger palpable.

“Must have been so fun right? Playing with me.” your voice breaking.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you left without giving him a chance to explain. 

Arriving at the hotel, you retreated to the solitude of your room, hoping the night would make you hurt less. 

It was race day. And you wanted revenge. Max and you were in a very close fight for the championship, this win could give you an advantage. And you wanted it. 

Rain was forecasted. The downpour was obviously in Max’s favor. You cursed your luck. But decided to give him an equally tough fight. You weren’t the kind to back down.

As the cars navigated the treacherous turns, the rain intensified, challenging even the most seasoned drivers. The spray of water, illuminated by the headlights, created a dazzling display that added a layer of drama to the already high-stakes competition. The race unfolded like a dance between machines and elements, a battle not only against each other but also against the relentless forces of nature.

Amidst the chaos, Max executed a surprising move, a strategic decision that played a pivotal role in helping you secure the lead.

“Y/N wins the British Grand Prix!”

The noise was deafening.

But you weren’t celebrating. A thousand questions ran through your head. Your eyes searched for Max. Making your way towards to garage, you stood in front of him.

So many things you wanted to know, but all you could say was, “Why?”

"You stopped talking to me, Y/N," Max began, his voice cutting through the chaotic symphony of the rain and engines. His gaze bore into yours, seeking understanding. "You just went away. I wasn't playing around, and I certainly wasn't on a date. She was just a fan, a little too eager. You have to believe me; I'd never mess with you like that. I think I like you too much for it."

As he spoke, Max's emotions played out on his expressive face. There was a hint of regret for the misunderstanding, a touch of vulnerability in the admission of liking you, and a determination to set things right.

In the midst of it all, the call to the podium interrupted, leaving Max's explanation hanging in the air. 

On the podium, with rain still pouring down, the fans eagerly anticipated a kiss. The scent of wet asphalt mixed with the sweet champagne hung in the air as you stood next to Max. Your racing suits, now drenched, clung to your bodies, creating a scene that echoed the intensity of the race you both had just conquered.

In that charged moment, emotions swirled within you like a storm. The recent hurt and confusion from the club scene were still fresh, an ache in your chest that begged for resolution.

Seizing the moment, you took Max's face in your hands. Your eyes revealed a mix of emotions – anger and hurt were there, yes, but underneath it all, a burning desire to set things right, to redefine the narrative that had spiraled out of control. The kiss that followed caught Max off guard.

Surprised by your sudden boldness, Max responded with eagerness. He pulled you closer, the racing suits sticking to your bodies like a second skin. Max lifted you into the air, clearly showing how eager he was. As you hung in his arms, Fernando, sharing the podium, grabbed a bottle of champagne and poured it over both of you. The kiss continued, undeterred by the rain, and crowd.

As you broke away, you realized that you were no longer rivals; instead, you were something undefined, something that went beyond the racetrack.

The post-race interview was a chorus of questions about your evolving relationship. 

"Y/N, Max, can you confirm if this is a real romance or just a publicity stunt?" one reporter asked.

You exchanged a glance with Max, and laughing you replied, "It's as real as the rain pouring down on us."

Another reporter jumped in, "How did this happen? Weren't you arch-rivals just a while ago?"

Max, a playful smirk on his face, responded, "Well, sometimes, the best races happen when you least expect them."

The other drivers were caught equally off-guard. Charles said in his interview, ”I thought I was the only one with a surprising performance today, but clearly, I underestimated those two.” And he chuckled while watching their kiss being replayed over and over again.

During the interview, your phone buzzed with a text from Max, "Meet me at 9?"

Your smile was his answer. 

Clearly distracted, a reporter tried to grab Max’s attention, "So, are we going to see more public displays of affection in the future?"

Looking at you Max answered, "Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're just getting started."

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1

[xtra7s]

Could you write a Leighton Murray x fem!reader, preferably in season two where Leighton is out of the closet and she meets R who she falls for but R is in the closet? would love to see how Leighton deals with previously being SO closeted and now dating a closeted girl. thanks! xoxo

𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 ──── 𝘓𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Leighton meets a girl in her math class, and gets into more than she was expecting.

Content: Leighton Murray x Fem!Reader, really uncomfortable man interaction, fluff, closeted!reader, some angst, jealous!leighton.

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: REMASTERED BABY, decided to fix it up because I realized (with the help of @lovequinnins comment which i cant find anymore), that I should try a different approach with it. Really like how it turned out, let me know(:

masterlist | next part

Leighton Murray found herself in the new top-level math class at Essex College. Little did she know, this class would not only challenge her love of equations but also introduce her to someone who would change her for the better.

Y/N, a reserved and quiet girl, sat quietly in the back row, focusing on the formulas written on the whiteboard. As the days passed, Leighton noticed the mysterious girl with an air of intrigue. Leighton, never one to shy away from new connections, decided to make her move.

One day after class, Leighton approached Y/N with a warm smile. "Hey there, Y/N, isn't it? Mind if I borrow your notes? I think I was a bit distracted today."

Y/N looked up, surprised by the friendly approach. "Oh, sure. Here you go," she replied, handing over her notebook.

As Leighton flipped through the pages, she couldn't help but notice the meticulous organization of Y/N's notes. "Wow, you're really thorough. I wish I had your dedication."

Y/N blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thanks, I just like to stay organized."

Leighton chuckled, "I'm Leighton, by the way. Leighton Murray."

"Pretty name, Leighton," she replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Leighton continued to engage in friendly conversations with Y/N after classes, discovering common interests and shared passions. As the weeks passed, their connection deepened, and Leighton found herself captivated by Y/N's intelligence, kindness, and, unknowingly to her, the subtle signs of a shared attraction.

One evening, after a particularly challenging math assignment, Leighton invited Y/N to grab a coffee with her. They found a cozy spot in a nearby cafe, Sips. The atmosphere was filled with the warmth of brewing espresso and soft conversation.

As they sipped their drinks, Leighton leaned in, breaking the barrier of friendship. "You know, Y/N, I feel like we've become really good friends. But there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Y/N looked at her curiously, her heart pounding.

Leighton smiled warmly, "Are you seeing anyone? Because I can't help but feel this connection between us, and I don't want to assume anything, but..."

Y/N looked around quickly, her eyes narrowing at Leighton. "What?" she spoke quickly, noticing a few eyes on her. She chuckles awkwardly, leaning back from Leighton.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment. The fear of exposing her true self and the potential consequences rushed through her mind. In a moment of panic, she stammered, "I am not gay, Leighton. I'm gonna go" She spoke with a forced laugh, standing up quickly and packing up her stuff, heading out of the cafe without glancing behind her.

Leighton looked around embarrassed, wanting to chase after Y/N but not wanting to seem desperate. 

Leighton sat there with a frown on her face, Kimberly walked over and sat down after seeing the interaction. "Are you okay?" She asked softly, her eyebrows furrowed at seeing Leighton upset.

___

The thumping bass of the music echoed through the crowded frat party, creating an energetic atmosphere. Leighton, enjoying the night with friends, spotted Y/N across the room. Excitement flickered in her eyes as she made her way through the sea of people, eager to talk about what happened with Y/N.

However, as Leighton approached, she couldn't help but notice Y/N actively avoiding her. Confusion clouded Leighton's expression as she tried to understand why Y/N seemed to be purposefully keeping her distance. Determined to address the situation, Leighton maneuvered through the crowd, attempting to catch up with Y/N.

"Hey, Y/N! Wait up!" Leighton called out, her voice barely audible over the music.

Y/N turned, a brief flash of panic in her eyes, before she quickly changed direction, disappearing into the throng of dancing bodies. Perplexed, Leighton picked up her pace, determined to get to the bottom of the sudden avoidance.

Several attempts later, Leighton managed to corner Y/N in a quieter corner of the frat house. "Y/N, what's going on? Did I do something?"

Y/N, visibly flustered, avoided eye contact. "No, Leighton, it's not you. I just... I need some space, okay? I'll catch up with you later."

Leighton left her alone after that, finding herself soon surrounded by her roommates, – Whitney, Kimberly, and Bela. As they navigated the lively atmosphere, Leighton noticed Y/N at the makeshift bar, downing a few shots.

Curiosity flickered in Leighton's eyes as she observed Y/N from a distance. However, her intrigue turned to hurt when a guy approached Y/N, his intentions written all over his face. Leighton exchanged glances with her friends, and they collectively decided to keep an eye on the situation.

Leighton's brow furrowed as she watched the guy engage Y/N in conversation, leaning in with a flirty smile. The atmosphere around them became tense as the guy tried to make his move. Leighton couldn't help but feel a knot forming in her stomach.

The guy's attempts escalated, and, to Leighton's dismay, Y/N seemed to be going along with it, albeit reluctantly. The situation took an unexpected turn when the guy leaned in and kissed Y/N. Leighton's heart sank as she saw Y/N reciprocate, a look of happiness evident on her face.

Y/N abruptly pulled back, a brief expression of disgust crossing her features before she masked it with a forced smile. Leighton exchanged glances with her friends, the concern etched on their faces mirroring her own.

Y/N, feeling weird about the situation and needing an escape from the persistent guy at the party, decided to create an excuse. She gently extricated herself from his hold and said, "Hey, I actually need to head home. It's getting late."

The guy, with a cocky grin, tightened his grip on her, clearly not taking no for an answer. "Come on, don't be like that. The night's still young."

Y/N, feeling increasingly annoyed, insisted, "No, really. I have to go." She attempted to pull away, but the guy complained, trying to persuade her to stay.

"We'll catch up later, okay?"

The guy, displeased with the situation, reluctantly released Y/N. However, before she could fully distance herself from him, he pulled her back in for another kiss. Y/N, feeling pressured, went along with it briefly. As they kissed, the guy's actions became more intrusive, as he groped Y/N's ass.

Y/N pulled back with a short smile, holding her arms around his neck. "I really gotta go now, I'll see you later." She smiles at him, silently celebrating when he lets her go. 

She heads out of the party quickly, walking home a little too sober for her liking. Leighton wants to follow her but decides to give her space for a bit.

Later that evening, Leighton found herself standing outside Y/N's dorm room, contemplating whether to knock or not. After taking a deep breath, she gently tapped on the door. Y/N opened it, surprised to see Leighton standing there.

"Hey," Leighton began, a hint of concern in her eyes. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something might be wrong. Can we talk?"

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded, inviting Leighton into her room. The air in the room was tense, and Y/N couldn't bring herself to make eye contact.

Leighton sat down, choosing her words carefully. "I noticed something changed after I asked you out earlier. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that, I guess I just read the vibes wrong. I genuinely care about you, Y/N, I'm sorry."

Y/N took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak her truth. "It isn't that, Leighton. My family is pretty uptight. I've been struggling with the fear of coming out to them, and it's making me hesitant about being open about me, even liking you. Especially around my cousin who came here with me" Y/N expresses quickly, getting worked up over the conversation.

Leighton hums quietly, "I understand, Y/N. Coming out can be really challenging, especially when you're uncertain about how your family will react. And with your cousin around, it adds an extra layer of shit I don't even know how to get into. I never wanted it to change my life, but Y/N it has never felt better. I'm still me, I never changed, I just get to freely love who I wanna love and not worry about it. It's gotta be hard with family around, but I wanna support you however I can. Some people suck, but those people don't matter, they come and go, your friends, me, I stay."

Y/N places her hands on her thighs, squeezing them for comfort.

"It's just that my cousin is pretty.. intense, and the thought of her finding out about us, me, it terrifies me. I'm scared of any public affection or behavior that might give it away. I feel like I'm hiding all the time and it's suffocating."

Leighton places one of her hands on top of one of Y/N's, smiling sadly at her.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this shit, Y/N. It must be really fucking tough for you. Just know that I'm here for you, we can figure this out together, if that's what you want?"

Y/N looked up, meeting Leighton's gaze, and for the first time, she felt a tinge of hope and acceptance. In that shared moment, the unspoken understanding between them deepened, setting the foundation for a connection that went beyond the surface and resonated with the complexities of being true to oneself.

In a sudden surge of courage, Y/N leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss on Leighton's lips.

Leighton blinked in surprise as Y/N quickly backed up, her eyes widening, panic flashing in Y/N's eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without asking. I am so sorry"

Leighton caught off guard but pleasantly surprised, couldn't help but smile. "Hey, it's okay. No need to apologize. I'm more than okay with it."

Y/N's eyes flickered up to Leightons, seeking reassurance. "Really?"

Leighton nodded, her smile growing wider. "Absolutely. If it feels right for you, then that's all that matters. I want this, Y/N."

Encouraged by Leighton's positive response, Y/N smiles shyly at her. "So, is it okay if we... you know, try that again?"

Leighton chuckled, "Definitely," and Y/N leaned in once more. This time, the kiss lingered, a sweet and tender connection forming between them. 

Leighton's smile grew during the kiss, leaning back to give her a quick kiss again. Y/N looked at Leighton with a newfound confidence in her eyes. "Thank you for being so understanding and supportive. I appreciate it more than you know."

Leighton reached out, squeezing Y/N's hand. "We're in this together, Y/N. No need to rush anything. Whenever you're ready, I'll be right here."

#leighton murray x reader #leighton murray #the sex lives of college girls #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #regina george x reader #mean girls #not my fault

[sinsandsweetness]

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

-

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#drunk tank #Daryl Dixon x reader #Shane Walsh x reader #shane walsh x y/n #Daryl Dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #Shane Walsh x you

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Eight Seconds

[Not quite an author’s note, but more so a confession: I went line dancing the other night… I wish it went like this 😮‍💨 This do be self-indulgent PWP below the cut :) ]

__________

“I feel like an absolute schmuck. I look like an absolute schmuck. Cowboy hats aren’t meant to be worn this far west, it’s just not a good look,” Danny laments aloud, then catches his girlfriend’s eyes narrowed at his comment and quickly amends, “Except you, my dear, look absolutely adorable in yours.”

“That’s because you’ve got Jersey written all over your ugly mug,” his best friend ever so kindly informs him before taking a pull from his second beer of the night. “Gimme that.”

Steve takes the felt hat off of the blonde’s head and dons it himself instead, adjusting the brim low enough to hide the way his gaze is fixed on one young woman twirling around the dancefloor.

You throw your head back with a laugh as your current partner in the circle dance spins you to the next, and you take your new partner’s hand without missing a beat. Steve is absolutely mesmerized by the way you move so effortlessly, gliding between the complicated steps without a care in the world, your ponytail swinging in the same rhythm as your tempting hips.

“Hey,” Melissa yells to be heard over the pounding bass of the country song, nudging Steve hard enough to break him out of his trance. He turns to her and she lifts the brim of the hat before challenging, “Why don’t you get in there instead of ogling her all night, Commander?”

He’s grateful the flashing lights turn red at that moment to accompany the song change and graciously hide the heat creeping across his cheeks. “Am I being that obvious?”

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t put out a restraining order yet,” Danny’s quick to jibe. “Although I guess you’re meeting the requisite fifty feet.”

“You’re a riot,” the brunette grumbles under his breath before downing the rest of his beer. He twists around to place the empty bottle on the table, then turns back to find his view of the dancefloor blocked by a pair of jean shorts and a crop top sporting the skeletal head of a bull, if he’s not mistaken.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” your sweet voice settles over him like the Hawaii sunshine after a cool morning swim, “but y’all came out on a line dancing night and have yet to get to dancing.” A finger tips the brim of his hat even further up, and Steve comes face to face with the vision he’s been silently pining after all evening. He opens his mouth to answer, but finds himself speechless for quite possibly the first time in his adult life.

Thankfully, you fill the silence by chatting with Melissa, letting Steve bask in the touch of warm southern drawl woven around your words, and a different kind of heat floods his face this time thinking about what that sweet accent would sound like calling out his name tonight. He zones out while you prattle on, indulging in his decidedly not-safe-for-work fantasy and appreciating the way the cuff of your shorts sits snugly on your thick thighs just below the curve of your ass. Of all the things he’s been jealous of touching you tonight, denim takes the crown for being the most absurd.

“Commander Cupid,” Danny barks, roughly swatting at Steve’s shoulder to get his attention. “She’s talking to you, you putz.”

He clears his throat before turning his focus to you with an apologetic smile. “Got lost in my thoughts there,” he says by way of an explanation, and the twinkle of mirth in your eyes tells him you have a pretty good idea of just what those thoughts entailed.

“I asked if you wanted to come dance or just sit here watching me all night,” you repeat, one eyebrow cocked playfully.

“Oh, I, uh-” He knows he’s caught, and he lets out a soft laugh while shaking his head. “Totally busted, huh?”

“Tell you what,” you declare confidently, letting your hair fall loose from its elastic confine before palming the felt hat and settling it snugly on your head with a smirk. “I’ll make the decision for you.”

You start your journey back to the dance floor, clapping along to the kick drum announcing the beginning of that one Luke Bryan song that everybody always seems to know. You throw a wink over your shoulder and Steve stands to join you, pausing mid-step when Melissa hollers his name. He turns back to find an elated grin on her face, and she calls out, “Do you know the rule?”

Steve raises one eyebrow and shakes his head, curious.

“If you wear the hat…”

__________

“...you ride the cowboy,” you exclaim breathlessly in the back of Steve’s Silverado, your thighs burning from exertion. “Never heard that one before?”

“Nu uh,” the brunette answers rather unintelligently, the second syllable morphing into a groan when you roll your hips against his, somehow slotting his length even deeper in your heat. His hands find your love handles of their own volition, kneading the soft, warm skin there while you mouth hungrily at the sharp planes of his stubbled jaw.

He plants his feet on the floor of his truck before using his bruising grip as leverage to buck up into you, your hips kissing with every thrust as his lips find yours once more. You moan into his awaiting mouth, every coherent thought in your head disappearing, replaced by a mantra of your devilish lover’s name.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve rumbles out his praise. “Take everything I give you like a good girl.”

“Fuck yes,” you cry out, your head falling back and giving him the opportunity to run his nose down your exposed throat, a light scraping of teeth following in its wake. “Bite me,” you plead, and he’s quick to obey, sinking his teeth into the dip where your neck and shoulder meet.

Your walls tighten around his cock at the pleasurable tinge of pain, forcing Steve to let out an involuntary whimper against your skin. You pull back with a gasp, cupping his cheeks between your two smaller hands and feeling his face grow hot beneath your fingertips. “Oh my god,” you manage to get out between incessant pants every time your hips meet. “Do that again.”

“You like th-” The incredulous question dies on his lips, cut off by another soft whimper when you intentionally flex your muscles around him.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard come out of a man’s mouth,” you declare, excited by the new discovery. “Don’t you hold back on me now.”

He doesn’t.

Spurred on by your praise and just how fucking hot it is for someone else to order him around for once, Steve allows himself to be vocal, all manner of delicious sounds escaping his kiss-bitten lips while you ride him for everything he’s worth.

“That’s it, baby,” you echo his words from earlier with a positively dangerous grin. “Take everything I give you like a good boy.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his cock twitching in response to your overt display of dominance. This is new for him, too, and he decides at that moment that he’s going to have to explore this side of himself more often.

“What is it, Steve?” you ask, your taunt coated by your honey-sweetened accent. “You need to cum? Need to fill this little pussy up?” An unintelligible noise works its way up from low in his throat, and he stares up at you, dumbstruck. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Steve nods desperately, not trusting his voice to form a response in a coherent manner.

“Oh, sweet boy,” you coo, carding your fingers through his hair, slowing down the torturous twisting of your hips, your other hand teasing your clit. He holds your thighs in a vice grip, his own quaking beneath your body in an attempt to stave off his impending orgasm. Then you tuck one finger under his chin and lift his gaze to yours, and the single syllable you utter shatters the last of his resolve. “Beg.”

Hot ropes of cum paint your walls as Steve lets out a debauched groan, his head falling back against the seat of the truck while you apply steady pressure to your clit, letting yourself crest over the edge moments after him.

You give Steve some time to recover, pressing gentle kisses to his sweaty skin and running your nails along his scalp until the heaving of his chest gives way to steadier breathing. “You okay, baby?”

“That-” He stops, shaking his head and opting to capture your lips in a tender kiss instead of voicing his feelings.

“I figured after the week you had, fighting with the FBI over jurisdiction on your case, you might like to give up control,” you offer by way of explanation, sinking further into his lap to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, you could say that,” your boyfriend laughs, in awe of your uncanny ability to read him so easily. His fingers trail up and down your spine and you settle into his warmth with a content sigh before cheekily adding, “Didn’t think you’d like it that much, though.”

A laugh rumbles out of him again and he admits, “I knew you were a switch, but I didn’t think I was, too.”

“Surprise,” you respond, and he feels your lips turn upward in a smile against his skin. “And here you and Danny were being resistant to line dancing. I told y’all it’s fun, didn’t I?”

He hums in agreement, then adds with a self-satisfied lilt to his voice, “Kind of you to save a horse tonight, sweetheart.”

You snort in response, clambering out of his lap to fix your clothes for the ride home. Finding the discarded cowboy hat in the truck’s passenger seat, you return it to its rightful spot on your boyfriend’s head. “I’ll turn you into a country boy, yet, Steve.”

__________

[A/N (for realsies): Don’t ask where this came from, tbh I blame WhimperTok for r u i n i n g me. And I just know this big, tough man is secretly a lil slut who wants to be Commander outside the bedroom but Commanded™️ in the bedroom, u feel me? I may have to explore this more 👀]

#steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett smut #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett x female reader #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #hawaii five o #hawaii five o imagine #hawaii 5 0 #mostly pwp #smut

[unbidden-yidden]

Jewish Song of the Day #12: Bellida

Comments:

Okay so at one point I went spelunking for more female Jewish singers singing in classical styles, and I stumbled upon this song, which is sung in Haketia, a Moroccan dialect of Ladino that also incorporates some Arabic.

It's a secular(ish) song, but very much culturally Jewish.

I'm not going to explain it well, so instead I'll simply quote from this article about it:

On October 25, 2019, Bloch and Zaaluk released their newest hit single Bellida. The song is sung in the traditional Haketia, an endangered Jewish Romance language also known as Djudeo Spañol, Ladino Occidental, or Western Judaeo-Spanish. Tamar is part of a new generation of young artists from Arab and Islamic countries who sing in their mother tongues. Her mother was born in Morocco. “I’m not involved in a preservation project and the social narrative isn’t what’s important to me. In my music I have found, after much searching, a real place for intimate expression �� a language that’s a home, ” said the singer in her interview with Haaretz Magazine. Bellida is “definitely a pop album. It’s not world music from a distant and inaccessible culture, which is being preserved. I bring the songs in modern arrangements in the understanding of how relevant this music is.” The song was arranged with the help of Roee Fadida. It is a humoristic women’s song that represents the tradition of women singing in everyday life. “It tells the story about a Jewish-Moroccan girl (Bellida) who falls in love and marries Pepe, a Christian man. The ladies in her village make jokes about it but comfort her with local food.” Although Bloch and primarily sings with the goal of inspiring audiences to sing and dance, she understands her creation bears social obligation. Specifically, it is the female responsibility aspect of Bellida that Bloch warmly embraces. “It is something that I really yearn for,” she says. “Jews assimilation is a very serious prohibition, yet Bellida is not ostracized. She is cared for by means of tradition and food.” Bellida is Bloch’s interpretation of secular feminine folklore. “I imagine these women dancing together. Music brings people together. In Morocco, you see everyone sitting and singing, and being familiar with the words,” she says. “In Israel music reflects the various cultural homes from which we came. The real challenge is to try to create a new sound from within every such home.” In sharing her story of how the heritage songs came into her life, Bloch explained that in 2014, Roee Fadida, a role model, invited her to join a band that plays contemporary Moroccan music. She described having a physical reaction to that music. It felt like I was “smelling a roll outside a bakery and I had to take a bite.” Bellida is performed alongside Bloch’s band Zaaluk, a trans-Mediterranean and North African ensemble that revive lost Haketiya women’s songs. Their age-old melodies are performed to inspire people to sing and dance together and embrace the heritage of the ancient Jewish community of Spanish Morocco. Their sounds are inspired by Andalusian, North African, and Balkan musical traditions. Their music is a combination of electric guitar, bass guitar, drums, percussion, and powerful vocals, performed in Israel and abroad. The name of the band refers to a local Moroccan salad and captures the group’s multi-cultural essence.

#jumblr #jewish music #Jewish Song of the Day

[lottiecrabie]

PLS WRITE A ROSS FIC I BEG

i wrote half of this by hand during one of my classes lmao. also, i know absolutely nothing about bass.

ross teaches you to play bass, but you need a little bit of motivation to listen.

warnings: 18+, fingering, edging, some praise

1575 words

You sit on the couch with Ross’ button up shirt hanging from your body. You strum lightly on one of his bass, mostly a rhythmless pluck as your fingers awkwardly press on strings at random. Ross finds you with a steaming cup of coffee. As you smile at him, thanking him, your eyes trail appreciatively over his shirtless frame, hair sprinkling over his chest and inching down under his gray sweatpants. 

“You’re almost playing something,” Ross says teasingly, falling onto a nearby chair. He takes a sip, licking the coffee off his lips. You feel traitorous heat climb up your spine. 

“Don’t challenge me,” you warn, pointing one playful finger at him. “I’m petty enough to get really good at this and steal your job.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Do you actually wanna learn, though?” You bite your lip. He reaches a hand towards you, beckoning you over. “Come here.” 

You grin, discarding your mug on the coffee table. Standing up, you prance over to him, sitting straight on his lap. His arms surround you, strong, heavy things. Warmth spreads throughout you. You nestle deeper into his body, nudging your cheek on his beard. 

“What do I do?” He takes your fingers, placing them around the neck. He presses your index over the string, then your middle. He plucks for you, the sound resonating in the living room. “Like this?” Ross nods, releasing you. You try again yourself, but it comes out creaky. You cringe. “What happened?” 

“You’re not putting enough pressure.” 

“I’m putting so much pressure.” 

Ross shakes his head, reverberating against you. You laugh at his exasperation. “Who’s the professional?” 

You smirk to yourself. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll be professional now.” As if to prove it, you sit straighter on him, moving around to settle better. Your hips rub against his, too long and too right to be unintentional. A groan slips out of him; you feel his head fall back on the back of the chair. You can’t stop yourself from giggling.  

He pinches your side. You fall into him again, laughing in his neck. He tsks. “I think you need motivation.” 

You nod eagerly. “Oh yeah. Give me a kiss. It’ll give me courage.” He smooches your cheek. “Come on, you can do better than that.” 

His hand finds the inside of your thigh. He grazes your skin, a delicate touch that sends you shivering. You’re not laughing anymore. “How’s that?” He whispers, voice suddenly hoarse. Your legs open wider, a switch reflex you don’t control anymore. His finger travels upwards a little; your hips up in plea. 

“Better,” you breathe out. 

“Yeah?” He bites your jaw playfully. “So play.” 

You try to shake off the greedy fingers of need over your brain. You frown at the bass, gripping it again. It suddenly feels so big in your arms, something protruding from your hands. 

Your fingers find the known strings. You strum a loose sound, but it still rings wrong amongst your panting breaths. 

“Tighter,” Ross blows in your ear, then finds the apex of your thighs. You close them instinctively, trying to trap him in the pinnacle of your want, moaning. Your hands clench around the bass, practically strangling the damn thing. “There you go. Try again.” 

This time, a perfect note blooms out of the bass. You smile happily, pride rushing your cheeks, an excited squeal about to leave your lips. It finds no time to do so because Ross rewards you with a tight circle on your clit. You gasp instead, rocking against him. 

“Good,” he whispers, continuing to stroke your bundle of nerves. You nod absentmindedly, biting your lip to hold in a string of moans. 

He moves slowly, lazily. It’s a beautiful morning, devoid of responsibilities. Time stretches before you like a cat. Hot pleasure builds inside of you. You feel tight pressure coiling around your belly, spreading down to your legs. Your thighs shake against his. You’ve stopped trying to keep your desperate sighs in entirely, practically mewling in his arms. 

Ross stops abruptly. You practically scream out. “Next chord.” He takes his wet hand out of your legs, going over your own trembling fingers. 

Your cunt feels impossibly empty; you clench against nothing, crying in dismay. You try grinding your hips against his for an ounce of relief, but your release is far away from you again, hiding just a little out of reach. 

“Come on,” you ask, too proud to beg. “Just—” You take hold of his wrist, trying to coax it back inside your thighs. Ross laughs goodnaturedly, and maybe a little mocking, too. “Ross.” The o trails from your lips, some frustrated complaint. 

“This is very unprofessional,” he teases. “Taking advantage of my position like that.” 

You huff. “Well, I’m trying, but you’re not making it very easy.” 

He snorts, kissing your neck. You tilt, giving him more access for beard burns. Instead, he says, “Come on, you said you wanted to learn.” 

You groan. “Fine.”

Ross moves you like a doll, puppeteering your fingers over the frets, forcing you to pluck through clenched fingers. In the off time, he teases you, rubbing your nipples and circling your clit until you feel fire living under your skin. You’re burning, especially inside his arms, sighing and whining, crying out when he finally dips a finger inside of you. 

He whispers the name of the chords in your ear, biting the lobe, making your whole body shiver. As if you had any mental capacity to remember it. You nod along just to please him, just to convince him to continue. It’s pointless. It always ends the same: on the edge of some mind numbing climax, panting and screaming and begging, rutting against his skilled hand, just for him to entirely stop. 

“Ross,” you yell, body convulsing on the memory of what almost was. It’s half a plea and half a swear. You want to destroy him; you want him to destroy you. 

Ross kisses your cheek, unbothered by your mumbled insults. “You’re doing so good, love.” 

“Please, I’m so close.” 

He nods along, agreeing with you. “Do you want to play me a song?” He doesn’t bother teasing this time, just slips two fingers inside of you. Already on the edge, you stifle a scream, rolling your eyes. Pleasure pumps along his finger, building to a staggering cliff you can’t seem to fall from. “I wanna hear you play.” 

“I—” Words escape your brain. You exist nowhere but the pure euphoria swimming inside your body, trembling your exhausted thighs. “I don’t know any,” you pant in the morning air. 

He bites your lobe. “You know Sex.” You moan just at the word from his mouth, dripping on his working fingers. “Can you play Sex for me?” 

You know what you have to say. “Yes…” Satisfied with your answer, he rubs at your clit. You open your mouth, letting embarrassing moans fall out of it without bothering to catch them. 

He repeats the chords for you. You open your eyes, trying to sit away from his feverish fingers just to make sense of all of it. He’s unwilling to let you go, pinning you down at your waist. Need is a blanket over your brain; you can’t seem to make it function like it usually does. His words come in one ear and then the other. You let your head fall on his shoulder carelessly. 

Of course, he calls you back to work, slowing his fingers menacingly. You grip the bass, shaking your head like it would be enough to make sense of the chords. You try one tentatively. 

“Wrong one,” he says, then pinches your waist. You squeal in surprise. You try another one. This time, no squeeze comes. You smile proudly to yourself. 

You hum as you play, trying to find the rhythm. Every wrong chord gets you a little squeeze to your hip, your thigh, your breast. Every right one gets a faster beat, a harder one. His fingers thrust out of you like he’s trying to split you open. Of course, the notes come out wrong; you’re barely holding the neck, just trying to get through the bassline while burning euphoria speeds through your veins. 

“You’re doing great,” Ross pants, clearly affected too by the show you’re putting on, chest out and heaving, legs spread, screaming as you badly play his bass. “You’re so close. You’re almost there.” You nod, clenching around him. “Just a few more chords. You’re right there. You’re the best. Aren’t you the best?” He passes a hand through your sweaty hair. “You’re beautiful. God, you’re beautiful.” 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, spreading through your body until it takes over your head. You think nothing, you’re nothing but bliss. With relief, your fingers play the final chord. Ross grins wide against your cheek. “That’s it. Come, baby.” 

You throw yourself down the cliff, head first, careless. A wrecked scream rips out of your throat. You drop the bass, gripping his forearm with two hands, furiously rocking your hips into him. Your brain wipes completely; all you think is yes, yes, Ross!

It takes a few seconds for you to come back to yourself. You’re dripping; he takes his fingers out, sucking them clean. You feel especially content, settling deeper into his arms lazily. Ross smiles, satisfied. “You’re my best student.” 

You laugh. “If you do this every lesson, I better be your only student.”

#ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #imagine #smut #request #writing #i hope ross feels in character!! #play me a song

[chrissshub]

LUST A.K.A THE HEART’S YEARNING

FT. KEN “DRAKEN” RYUGJI

PAIRINGS: Plug!Draken x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

cw: dubcon, use/mention of marijuana, public sex, vouyerism, slight exhibition, fingering, grinding, riding, overstimulation, premature ejaculation, cervix fucking

XOXO, CHRIS: I know it’s been a little minute since I wrote for tr but let this make up for it, ‘kay?

Within the haze of flashing lights and wispy spirits of smoke around the room or maybe even the weed baking in his system but…he swears you’re an angel.

In a room full of people, drinks, laughter, all he sees is you.

You in the pretty yellow dress standing from across the room, taking on the role of observer rather than a participant. That pert glossy pout that puckers whenever a free spirit wanders too close your way. It might even be the glint in your eyes begging to save you from the madness.

And maybe fate’s begging for him to play your knight in shining armor but for now, it’s taking a lot for Draken to focus strictly on you.

Left and right is all he’s got and both his left and right are compromised by pesky customers and drunken girls itching for a taste of him. It’s easy—too easy for someone of integrity to fall into the pit of content.

He needs a challenge, just the right person to make him question his very ways. It’s a gamble but he’s betting even the thought on you. His hands sink into the flimsy leather cushion, the six-foot-four hull of a man rising to the air. Just Draken’s presence alone is enough to turn heads.

 Yet should the sole of his boot even hit the ground, he’s suffering beneath the most sickening of stares. Hues of blue, green, brown, and not a single one could amount to what yours holds in stores.

He’s gaining on you, cutting into your world with just a few feet to spare. This isn’t like Draken at all—breaking his silence just to be known to one person. He’s usually okay with letting those that pique his interest pass him by—but for a special case like you, the risk’s worth taking. It’s that bet he’s made to himself, wishing that you’d be just what he needs.

Draken’s suffering beneath more than just those stares, he’s succumbed to symptoms of suspense. Waves of heat

Slicked with the sweat of nerves, his hand slipped deep into his pockets, clutching at the inner black cotton of his sweatpants. Ringing ears replace the shuddering bass of the stereo and his poor heart is laced with the heaviest pangs.

It takes your presence to ease Draken from his thoughts. Just to see you leaned against the room’s white wall, arms folded behind the curve of your spine without a care for disturbance—his disturbance.

Draken brings his tongue to the soft plush of his lips, a single wet drag combing at the shielded confidence. He has to talk to you. Being near you wasn’t enough to satiate that urge bubbling in the depth of his tummy. Words, a laugh, even a staged cough would do, just something had to escape him.

“Having fun?”

That’s the first thing that comes to his mind. It’s a simple question, one that actually holds more meaning than he’d expect. Draken’s anxious to pick at your mind, take you and whatever courses through that pretty brain of yours as his own.

And the very question he’s doubting wasn’t in vain—He’s gained your attention, your sights finally settling onto his. The twinkle in your eyes already soothes him, offering him a chance to drop that reinforced guard he wears. 

He can feel it, his heart slowing, his ears drowning out the world to take in yours. Your head falls into a tilt, lips pursed and prepared to offer him some reply.

“Fun?…gonna have to get back to you on that. It’s an experience, though.”

A smile ends your response to him but begins Draken’s intrigue in you. Your lips curl so perfectly that it’s almost breathtaking, an artwork he’s blessed to admire.

He’s sold— falling over himself over a smile. Draken’s made up his mind—you’re the one he wants. It’s shown all through his body. His shoulders finally lose that tense waiver of dominance, his eyes ease from his usual sweltering gaze just to match your own.

Now he’s really looking for the words, something to keep you inclined to him. “I kinda noticed you over here. Just leaning back and taking it all in. Thought I’d join you.”

“I will take the company…Draken, right?”

A brow perks at your words. To say he’s surprised is an understatement of sorts but that still won’t replace the truth from his mind. Truth is, Draken is shocked that you know him. He isn’t one to judge from looks but he knows someone like you shouldn’t know someone like him.

“You know who I am?”

“ ‘Course I do. Draken,” your lips curling into a grin. “You’re the campus plug who barely says more than he has to. I hear all the girls talking about you.”

There’s a certain delight that breaks across Draken. It’s all over his face. The frown he’s prone to wearing sheds into a grin and the pale sheen of his skin bleeds with an amusing blush.  

That’s all he needs to break character—to know that you’re aware of who he is. You know exactly what kind of business he’s set deep into, all the trouble that’s bound to find him…but here you are, giving the man a smile worth more than he’s ever sold.

It’s no wonder why he’s so anxious. You’re perfect, all he wants but shouldn’t have. It’s selfish of him to want you. The wandering eyes of others fall onto you both, selfishness turns protection at the flick of a switch.

He’s racking through his brain to find the next topic, something to keep you in his presence for just a second longer. But all it takes is the bat of your lashes to shatter whatever composure Draken held. Suddenly, he‘s craving the warmth of your thighs around his waist, your nails etching into his skin, the heat of your lips smothering against his own.

His mouth may have run dry with what to say but his thoughts are dripping with lust. Draken’s searching for some way to mark you as his own. All he can conjure up is breaking away from the scene, away from whoever and whatever threatens his intentions for you.

“You wanna…go outside with me? Better than being stuck inside this place?” The suggestion endowing his slender digits pointing towards the beckoning door.

“Sure,” you hum, offering the man another modest curl of your lips.

At your lead, Draken’s following right behind you. He feels driven to be in all honesty. He’s hanging on every inch of you, taking in the delicate sway of your hips, the soft mumbles of excuses and thanks blessing the air; everything. It’s something he’s only ever heard about from others caught in Cupid’s arrow, the tunnel vision befalling his blown pupils.

For the first time in his life, he’s in a room full of people and his attention is set on you alone.

The groupie girls, pestering customers, all disappear the moment he’s in reach of the front door. The frame becomes a portal to him, introducing Draken to another world. The night’s brisk wind pulls him from his reflections and right back into the reality he’s worked for—you at his side and away from all that wasn’t him.

He’s leaned against the house’s white beam just to watch you settle onto the porch couch, your body sinking into the plush cushions. Or the way your hands fall into a polite fold over your plump thighs, tugging at the clingy yellow dress adorning you.

“Y’know, you’ve been looking at me like that all night.”

“Like what?” the coy nature laces within his voice.

He can’t play dumb for long, he knows that. Shame crowds, faint prickles of heat surfacing at the highs of his cheeks.

“‘M sorry if I’ve been, it’s just that you’re so pretty I can’t help myself. I just like good girls, y’know?”

He’s managed to steal a giggle from your lungs, his eyes hinged over the toothy smile consuming your lips. Though, silence falls over you and Draken, leaving the bare flickers of stares to fill the space. 

He’s avid to keep you alone for as long as time wills it. You’re on a whole different level than what he’s used to. He understands it’ll take more than a few smooth words and smirks to keep your attention, a fact he’s prepared for.

“Mm, here, I’ve got something for us, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Draken’s got the better of himself with the haste he carries and the suggestion put into the air. He’s so excited to have you alone that the adrenaline’s made him nothing but a drunken fool. Setting himself beside you wasn’t the issue, it’s what he’s had yet to consider, what it means for him to move nothing but sheer instinct. 

You’re so much closer than before, so much that his brain can’t help but spiral on a dizzying spree. Your warmth brushed against his leg, the faint scent of your perfume reaching his nose.

To ground himself, Draken’s hand stinks deep into the pockets of his black sweatpants. The bare curve of his digits catch onto the sole remedy to the fool he’s made of himself thus far. The muffled ripple of the frail paper rattles in his hold, Draken perked onto the treasure he’s set to indulge.

“Uh…have you ever…smoked weed before?”

“No,” the tinge of reluctance clings to the last letter.

“Do you wanna try it now…with me? Only if you feel up to–”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been so interested in it lately, why not try it with the best of the best?”

You really shouldn’t have said that. Though, it’s not your fault that you aren’t aware of what you’ve done to the man.

Right before your very eyes, the college’s enigma plug…is blushing…at your hand. The swarm of red engulfs the tips of his nose and the high cushions of his cheekbones. He’s even shaking now as he dips back for the lighter.

“Y-You–uh– wanna take a hit?” he mumbles, flickering the sliver wheel of the lighter. The flare of flames brushe along the twisted head of the blunt, the heat catching onto its prey. The immediate smell of musk hits the air and fills your nose, violent stings attacking your innocent awareness. 

You can’t help but observe Draken from beside you as he places the tanned end to his lips. He’s so calm compared to you. Nothing’s interfering with him, not the heat consuming the blunt, not the smell that wrecks your senses, not even the thick cloud of smoke that threatens his very sight.  his to the trivial task.

Through all that, he still isn’t breaking.

“Put this end in your mouth,”  he directs, hovering the end about your mouth. You give a single nod of compliance before parting your lips around the filter, sealing it within the plush pout.

“Like this?” your muffled inquiry chiming towards his ears. Draken can’t hide his amusement. The chuckle that barrels from his lungs is great but the smile gracing his lips couldn’t begin to compare. 

You’re cute, the cutest girl he’s had at his side. Something so simple as your urge for assurance pulled more care from his heart than he believed to carry.

“Just like that, Gorgeous. ’M gonna light this part here again ‘nd when you feel even the slightest bit of heat, inhale and hold it in, ‘kay.”

At the sudden strike of the smoke building in your lungs, a heavy cough is all you can retract. Licks of staggering stings dance along your lash line, the webbing tears colling the roused heat beneath your skin. His hand lays along your hunched back, the pads of his thumbs softly swirling about your hunkered spine.  

Out of courtesy, Draken’s hand reaches to retrieve the blunt from the weary hold you carry over it.

“No, no sweetheart. Lemme show you.”

The tips of his digits set along the filter of the blunt, tugging the bit from the tight pout of your lips. With a grin, he welcomes to fill his hefty lungs, his chest rising only for the tunnel of his lips to push

In the corner of his eyes is when he’s noticing it, your lips grazing along his own. Just between the sliver of what sight his squint gives him, he’s blessed to see the thick cloud of smoke streaming from his mouth into your own. The dusting about your lips, down to the thinned glare of your eyes.

“Where’d you learn that at?” He’s spitting out, the lids of his eyes breaking their narrow glare.

“I saw it in a video once. I look pretty cool, so—”

The last bit of your thoughts have no chance of escape the moment Draken leans in. He’s finally at his limit, that slick move of yours bringing him to his own end.

At the alarming smother of your cushiony lips, he’s whimpering a song of relief. Soft, delicate, gentle is all Draken is, his lips catching onto yours. He’s doing his best to hold onto the lit joint, but only the heavens know how desperate he is to touch you.

Draken’s the first to pull away, capturing another drag of smoke with a jumbling statement.

“I’m gonna teach you everything I know, Pretty.”

He’s swift to invite you upon his thigh, pulling the arch of your spine to rest along his chest. His mind leads him to elsewhere, lust consuming his every move. He’s tugging at your dress with rich desire.

 All he needs is the subtle lift of your hips to continue his endeavors, bringing the hem to rest along your waist. Just as he’s got you right in his mist, Draken’s reminded of what his goal truly was, the very thing that’s brought you to him.

“I got you. Just breathe it in and out. ‘M all you need to relax right now.”

You decide to take him on for all he’s worth. The trust you put into Draken seals itself the moment your lips clasp around the blunt. The clouds of smoke flood your senses, striking every bit of your body into a new tune. A burst of heat swallows you in, consuming your body in waves of blissful adrenaline. Your eyes hang low, the muscles loosen from their trained form, and your thoughts are free of any true restriction. 

You can finally notice it, the world around you in a different light. The night’s wind cuts cleaner against your skin, and the strums of Draken’s fingers along your clit sank into the very depths of your core.

“Good, do it again fr’ me” he’s praising, burying his boyish smile within the crook of your neck. The fresh build of smoke from your lungs sweeps over his skin, free of laggard breaths or deathly heaves. He’s pleased—more than pleased with how quickly you’ve picked up the craft. He can feel it too, the change of your chest easing off the tension with each pull you take.

You’re a quick learner, a quality he can’t but admire. He has to do it now, show some gratitude for your quick ways. That’s why the heavy hold upon your hips wanders far off into forbidden places, dusting along the ridges of your black panties. His lips come to nip at the curve of your ear, the fan of his breath grazing over your flushed skin.

“See, it’s not so bad. Lemme reward you, it’s what you deserve.”

The pads of his fingers slip past the plush fat of cunt’s lips to rest heavily against your clit, the faint thumps of your heart melding into his touch. He’s lusting after you, yet reduced to using your pussy to satiate the hunger. He’s gentle with you, pulling at a lick of his force to tease your clit into a daring swirl. His digits pass over the cute bulb with delicate care, ensuring that every nerve beneath his touch knows of his care.

 Draken’s drinking it all in—the swelling heat of your clit, the cute twitches falling frail at his touch, all now finally in his grasp. He’s so far gone into his fantasy that he’s almost missed the little squeak cracking from your voice.

“D-Dra..Ken,” the slurs of your voice breaking the air. “Am I ‘pose to feel…like this?”

Draken’s trail of pecks breaks away from the pulse of your neck, his lips needing to rest right along your jaw. His kisses come with a smirk, the very curve of his lips etching into your skin.

“Aww, like what, Baby? Gotta tell so I can fix it.”

“Heavy, like I really need something…now.”

Chuckles burst from Draken’s chest. The pads of his fingers slip from the honeyed warmth of your walls to cup at your clit, bestowing a flutter of pinches upon the raw bud.

“Feelin’ it here, right? That’s what it does to you. Don’t you think I’m feeling it too?”

All it takes is a second for you to fully compute Draken’s words. He’s right, he is  feeling that same longing pull, that same sensation of all his blood rushing to fill out every inch of his cock. That alone could explain the sitting snug between the plush curve of your ass.

He’s pulling you to face him, that same greed driving him mad. You’re forced to press the swells of your chest against his own, closing any and all space existing between you both. 

The look on his face has you eager—dark eyes blown with lust, a grin smeared from corner to corner, all with his skin thrown into a blushed fury. It’s a cute display for him to put on, all his wants and desires laid bare. You’re eager to accept his offer, unsure of how strong your own urges were set to grow.

“Now, I can fix it for the both of us. You just gotta tell me what you want, and it’s all yours.”

“But what if someone sees us?” you offer as a rebuttal.

“So?” He scoffs heavily. “ They’re just gonna know you’re all mine. No other way I’d have it.”

That’s all you really needed to hear, Draken’s word bringing some sense of reassurance. Lithe hands are quick to settle along the broad strip of his shoulders, joining the melding silhouette your bodies create. It’s almost mindless how you move about the man. 

It’s a heavy daze but you can’t help it, the ache sitting between your legs is for Draken to ease and him alone. So when your fingers inch to tug at the waistband of his sweats, he isn’t set on denying you. He’s helping you, dipping his hips until the constricting band sits midway of his thighs.

The heavy curve of his cock strikes the lips of your cunt, sinking through the puffy mounds. He’s nuzzled so deep between your folds that you can feel everything he’s enduring—every twitch, every pulse, even the fizzing heat consuming the fat tip.

The thought alone is too much for you to handle, knowing that the plump lips of your pussy are babying every bit of Draken’s throbbing fat length with messy kisses. 

Restless is the first to set in, leaving guilt to follow. It’s a picture-perfect moment for you, sitting in the arms of the most coveted man on campus. Yet with the weight of his length smothering your clit like this, time could only ever be your worst enemy.

Friction is what you’re chasing, desperate to relish the sheer heat of all that is Draken. It’s no wonder that your hips press against him, burying himself within the fat of your pussy. You can’t look him in the eye for what’s to come, but you can’t help it. That same heat he’s feeling is ruining your composure, leaving you to search for some quick alternative.

Your hips pick at the slowest and taunting of paces, pitting your puffy pussy to strum along Draken’s length. You can’t help the gasp that escapes from your throat, selfless whimpers dribbling into the crisp night air. Your folds cling to the plumped veins, the slicked sheets etched with the thickened curves.

The vast palm of his hands crash upon the curve of your ass, his digits gripping onto the rippling fat. He’s forced to ground you, pinning you still upon his bare thighs. Amidst the heavy huffs and gasping whimpers comes the realization, your eyes falling in line with Draken’s.

“S-Shit, slow down Y/N! Just gimme a sec –fuck!”

He’s red. It’s the first thing you notice. He’s red with the blend of lust and exhaustion left to consume his visage whole. He’s almost sensitive to the touch, his skin roused by the slightest fan of your breath.

It’s embarrassing of him to admit it too, the reason why he’s caught in such heat. Draken’s enthused by you, the anticipation thick across his mind. Reality’s never been so good to him, blessing the likes of him with fantasy like you.

“W-We can sit like this all night, but we both know how it’s gonna end…right? I mean, your pussy’s just begging to be stretched. ‘M not even inside and you already feel so good like this.”

His voice comes as a form of rapture for your eased self of mind, the deep slur of words guiding you deeper into your high. A flurry of nods spill from your head. The drunk sobs of misery rip from your lungs. The lust inside you is reaching its breaking point, a point where only bubble babbles and whimpers give way to your true desires.

“I want it, I know I do. Fuck me, Draken…please?”

Draken’s hand gravitates to comfort you, his digits cupping at your chin. He’s pressing just one last kiss over your swollen lips for good measure, a blissful sigh slipping from his chest.

“Shhh, don’t go crying on me. Gonna put it in...just like this…”

He’s easy with you, handling your body with the utmost care. His hands bring your hips to hover above the dribbling slit of his cock, the fat tip plugging at your entrance. His hips fall into a mindless habit, coaxing you to open up to him with lazy bucks. 

Bit by bit, you’re easing to his advances, your slit latching onto the head at last. A single drive of his hips is enough to close the distance between your bodies, the clasp of skin crackling through the air. His cock’s dragging inside you, licking your walls into a roused flutter.

“I can feel it, ‘m stretching you out, aren’t I, Pretty girl?”

It’s a fact he knows too. Truth is, he is stretching you out well, bullying your walls to take every bit of him. He’s aware of what he's asking of you. He knows just how fat his shaft can be when he’s like this, how thick his veins can become utterly flushed with blood, even the pretty pink crown that’s grazing past your sweet spot.

There’s a hellish burn crowding at your poor slit, the pricks of heat melding into the sweetest pleasure. You’re inviting him to fill every inch of your pussy apart, so much so that your back’s taking comfort in the enduring arch befalling your spine. It’s so much to take and too much to hold, but all the little cute noises of your pussy gargling around Draken’s cock make up for all the hardships he’s laid before you.

Hunger leaves you without a lick of patience. He’s already so deep that you can’t help it, the urge for relief looming near. Your hips are left to fall into a gentle rock, pitting his girth to writhe against your sticky walls. Each swirl of your hips pulls him deeper, so deep that the fat head has no choice but to nuzzle at your cervix.

“Oh, just look at you. Takin’ me so well, Baby. But shit…I wanna fuck you too, y’know,” he’s muttering in ear. You can’t even form a word before Draken slams you down to the flat of his lap. He’s sneaky now, wearing the very grin he’s met you with. He has you wrapped around his finger, his pretty muse longing for some form of relief.

His motive’s simple, really; to fuck you so good that he becomes all you ever want.

So it’s no wonder that he’s playing with you like this, using the hold upon your ass to lazily bounce you on his cock. It’s nowhere near what you need but having the heavenly fat of his underside grazing past your sweet spot came close enough. 

He’s desperate to get you drunk off him before he’s started with you. Before he can slouch back against the green paisley patterned cushion, before he can lift your hips just high enough in his care.

A passing glance is all Draken can afford to give you in his fleeting moments of composure, his darkened hues taking in the rare sight before him—you hanging on by the very hair of reality.

“I’m gonna fuck you so full,” is all the words Draken lets you hear before he’s back to plugging your pussy to the brim.  At the very curl of his hips, he’s sinking deeper and deeper inside you, flushing out the latent rush of heat within your walls. His hips impose fluid rolls to overwhelm you with a reaching endeavor, his cock dressed in feverish drive.

He’s snapping back into you with timely haste, pulling the lewd crashes of skin through the heightened air. You’re just too tight for his mind to handle, too warm for his true self to remain hidden any longer. He’s overwhelmed your poor pussy with each stride he takes, a pushing tide settling in tune with his hips, burying himself to the hilt.

Whether he’s willing to admit it or not, there’s something about you that mentally breaks Draken. Maybe it’s the cute pout you’re wearing, the cries of his name rolling off your laxed tongue, or the way you squeeze at his aching cock that has the man cracking under the heat of it all. 

He’s grown insistent on drowning you in everything that’s him, every stride to strip along your walls, every circle his thumbs draw into your skin, even down to the very breath he’s fanning across the crook of your neck.

He’s even going as far as to ditch his known persona of few words for sobs and uncontrollable songs of groans for the night. All he can do is blame you and that pretty pussy he’s falling for that’s sucking him for all he’s worth. 

At your touch, Draken’s reduced to a shell of himself. The heaving breaths, uncontrollable twitches seizing his thighs, that knot in his belly begging to come undone.

Draken knows you’re close. He knows the signs all too well—your lungs barely grasping air, your eyes settoff onto a rolling tour, the tremors that quake throughout your strained spine. 

He’s also keen on that fact of how close he is too, the heat in his veins fizzling to the surface of his skin. The gummy clasp you hold over his cock pulls a twitch deep from within the heavy bloat of his balls. Yet, all it takes is for the single flutter of your walls to bring his wishes to fruition. 

“‘M…’m gonna cum…holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, Y/N!”

It’s taking all of Draken’s strength to part with your pussy. All the warmth dressed around him is gone the moment his hips drop from your own. He isn’t given a bit of mercy before waves of ecstasy break across his body, forcing the thick ropes of white to gush from his throbbing tip.

The shimmering fat of his length tells all that needs to be known, the tanned skin glistening with sheets of your essence and his cum. Even the heaving hulls of air he’s longing to grasp furthers the story.

However, curiosity gets the better of you, guiding your hand to slip between both your bodies. The tips of your fingers drift about the messy fixture that’s been made of Draken’s poor cock. It’s not until your touch reaches the base of laid hairs that you finally take charge, lithe fingers building a fist around the slicked girth.

“C’mon, I was so close too. Just go a little bit longer, please?”

Your woes catch onto Draken’s ears. The guilt’s clouding his heart. He can’t take it, seeing you bat your dewed lashes in misery he brought upon. By his own hands, he’s planning to make amends. The grip he sets along your ass drifts to cup beneath your legs, bringing the supple fat of your thighs to bracket his own.

“I know, I know. G-Go on then…fuck yourself, Beautiful.”

A whimper cuts through the grit of Draken’s teeth. He’s weak at the infallible bliss your pussy holds. He’s barely gotten hold of his crumbling reality but the pumping drive of your fist had any and all integrity tossed to the wind.

“W-Wait, Wait, I just need a sec—”

In your ears, you’ve heard all that needs to be said. It’s greed that compels you to teeter above his poised twitching bellhead, brushing the sensitive tip with the webbed gasp of your slit. 

Your own anticipation wasn’t near enough to prepare Draken. With a sudden drop of your hips and he’s introduced to your lustful warmth all over again. He’s fitting in with such ease now, that rich burn reduced to a messy squeal of rushing slick.

It’s almost unbeknownst to you how keen you’ve become for release. You have yet to notice, how every drop of your hips snuffs the bullying chub of Draken’s cock, or the wreckage you’ve made of him. He’s sobbing, tears of an empty bliss spilling down his cheeks. It’s only joining the steady streams of drool dripping from the puffy pout on his lips.

He can feel it, the swift rush of blood flooding his veins once more. He’s growing inside you, carving your walls to match every bit of his length like his personal toy. He knows you feel it too, your widening eyes shattered at the breaking realization. You’ve become sloppier with the pivoting falls too, your hips bearing a perilous cadence.

“F-Fuck, right there!  I’m cumming, Draken. I-I’m–”

It’s a timely manner when you finally reach that deserved high. Just when he’s finally filled his cock with lust is what brings your pussy to a stumbling shudder around Draken, encasing him in a fluttering hold. A stripping wave consumes you whole, leaving your legs numb in its wake. 

And just like that, you’re mocking his very own tremble, a tremor so strong you can’t do anything but fall into his beckoning warmth. You’re like putty in Draken’s care, your body limp and spent from every ounce of recoverable energy.

Draken’s hand rips from your ass to brace his cock, the uncaring fist breaking the shared bond from your messy cunt. He can’t believe it, how just a few strides of your hips strokes has him fucked dumb and ready to cum all over again. 

As badly as he’d love to ruin your womb, he’s settling for the cute pucker of your hole to lay waste to the ropes of white ripping from his slit.

“S-Shit, look at what you did to me, Y/N. Made me cum so soon,” he’s shivering with a weary grin. He has all rights too, considering the mess you’ve made out of each other. Streaks of white dripping between the mounds of your ass, his thighs coated in the heavenly gloss of your essence. It’s a beautiful mess, one that he couldn’t have made without you.

Your hands paw at the curve of his shoulders, calling upon what force you had to meet his drowsy dark hues with your own.

“I’m sorry, did I overdo—”

Your words are cut short by the sight your eyes fixated themselves onto. It’s simple, Draken expressing the very peak of his exhaustion. Yet, it’s everything you’ve had yet to see from the enigma he’s known as.

 It’s Draken with a selfless smile on his lips as he hums to himself. It’s Draken, the campus plug with the feathery black strands of hair cascading along the curve of his jaw and the prominent bulb of his throat bobbing with each breath he pulls into his lungs. It’s shameful to admit it but just having the raw form of him beneath welcomed a familiar heat to swell at your tummy.  

“I could…um…go for more…more of the blunt of course,” you mutter slowly, your eyes catching onto the bright grin curling at the corners of his lips.

“Oh yeah?” He’s chuckling as he picks his head up from the couch’s frame.

His sights land him, you cradled in his arms and the very blunt still clinging between his fingertips. With a sigh, he’s brushing off the built column of ash attached to the joint. 

Whether it be lust, love, or none of the above, all Draken knows is that he’s far from finished with you. Not after tonight, not after tomorrow, and maybe not ever. But for now, all he can do is bring the bud of his blunt to his lips, welcoming fate with a single inhale.

“Let’s finish this blunt off together then, yeah?”

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