#VIP(Very Important Parties)

[its44intheehouse]

pairing: lewis hamilton x Wolff!fem!reader

author’s note: GOD this might be awful but please keep in mind that it’s my first story and english is not my first language :) WILL most probably go through major adjustments.

summary: in which her father, Toto Wolff, has always told her to stay away from the young drivers. He never said anything about the older ones though…

warnings: 18+ smut/nsfw, masturbation(f), oral sex(f receiving), fingering, cursing, size kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, age-gap, praise kink, bit of choking.

Being the daughter of a Formula 1 Team Principal never failed to be exciting.

Always VIP treatment, lots of traveling to beautiful countries, numerous job opportunities and getting to meet famous people. You were always grateful for your privileged life but never took advantage of it in a selfish way, although you enjoyed the things it had to offer from time to time. You always refused being treated differently just because of your status. You just weren’t that type of person. You liked working for the things you desired. Your adventurous side always loved a challenge, and that was also the thing your father admired and feared the most about you.

He always encouraged this side of you, ever since you were a kid. If you wanted to learn how to skate, he’d buy you a skateboard. If you spontaneously wanted to spend the next 3 months away from home in another country, he’d book your flight. One day you showed up at his office to show him your first tattoo. You always said you’d never get a tattoo, you didn’t think it would look good on you. But one day you randomly found yourself in front of a tattoo salon and couldn’t resist the curiosity. Your father was never a big fan of tattoos, but he laughed anyway, called you crazy and snapped a few pictures of the tattoo before sending them to your mom.

Toto didn’t have a lot of rules for you. He always told you “Just don’t get yourself in jail, maybe.”. But the most important and unwritten rule was “never involve yourself with the young drivers.”.

He thought they were immature boys and walking red flags, although he deeply respected them for performing in such a dangerous sport as Formula 1. You, on the other hand were never interested in any of them anyway. You befriended a few of the drivers, sometimes partied with them, but no one really caught your interest. No one besides Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was your father’s most prized possession in the team. 7 times World Champion (or 8 if you ask me), a genuine person, an expert in what he was doing and the best he could get.

Lewis Hamilton emanated power everywhere he went. He always took his work and image very seriously, always told it as it was and his charming personality never failed to impress everyone in the room. Even the drivers looked up to him, hoping to one day be as great as him. Your first encounter with him was when you were only 15 years old, and to say that you were immediately intimidated by him was an understatement.

The nervousness you constantly felt when you were around him was originally a reaction to all the things you heard about the driver. But as time passed, you found yourself intimidated for others reasons. Maybe it was because you were a teenager and your hormones were going crazy, or because of all the books and fanfiction you used to read at that time, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him anymore. Everything about him drew you in. His tall and muscular body, his numerous tattoos that gave him a dangerous and playboy vibe, his soothing but rough voice adorned with the most beautiful british accent, his braided hair and smooth skin… That man was basically sex on legs. One of God’s finest pieces.

He instantly took a very protective role in your life. To him, you were basically a child, especially due to the big age-gap between you. But you were also his boss’s daughter so he naturally felt the need to protect you.

Now, at 23, you managed to keep a close friendship with the driver. He was always there if you needed advice for something, always there to rant to about your crazy life and always there for a good time. You spent a lot of vacations with him and his friends. Went to a lot of road trips, skateboard dates, dinner or breakfast dates, countless movie nights, sometimes just the two of you. And although your crush on him never went away, in fact the adoration and attraction only deepened, he not once tried anything with you. He always kept things friendly between you two, decent.

And it frustrated the shit out of you. Sometimes you would catch him staring at you, or even touching you for a minute longer, but never more than that. And you slowly began losing hope that one day he’d see you as more than a friend and his boss’s daughter.

————————————————————————

It’s Friday night. Since you didn’t have any plans for today and were bored out of your mind, you decided to call Lewis to ask if he would go out with you tonight. He apologized and told you that he wasn’t really feeling like doing anything crazy tonight, but insisted that you could come over and spend time together, maybe watch a movie or something. You accepted immediately.

So here you were now, 1AM in his living room, with your head on his lap and eyes closed. You didn’t mean to fall asleep really, but your fucked up sleep schedule was beginning to take a toll on you, making you doze off at very random times. Plus, the way his hand was mindlessly running through your hair felt too good.

You slowly open your eyes when you feel Roscoe licking at your hand. With a groan, you try to sit up and take in everything that’s going on. How long have you been asleep for? “Suits” is still playing on the TV, the room is almost dark except for the light of the television, Roscoe is sitting by the couch, looking back at you with his tongue hanging out, and Lewis is on his phone, probably reading through his emails.

“Thought you’d never wake up.” He chuckled, locking his phone and throwing it on the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Lewis.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands in hope of getting rid of the sleepiness and the headache you just woke up with. “I didn’t mean to, lately I’ve been having trouble with sleep. Maybe it’s because of school, I don’t know. My schedule doesn’t really allow me a healthy bed time anymore.”

He looks worried as he reaches out to you, shaking your arm a little.

“You can sleep here if you want. It’s late, you’re obviously very tired. I don’t want you driving back home in this state.” He proposes.

“Yeah? I can?” You chuckle, placing your hand on his. Your stomach flutters when you feel his soft, warm skin.

He looks rather angelic in the low light. His eyes are shiny but tired, his lips look soft and juicy, and his body is comfortably spread on the sofa.

“You know you can, bunny.”

Bunny. He loves to call you that. Ever since you were a teenager, he’d always call you that. You found it cute.

“Okay, then. Can I borrow some clothes, though? These jeans aren’t the most comfortable thing in the world to be honest.” You say, getting up from the couch.

“Yeah, sure.”

You follow him to the guest room. The bed looks cozier than ever, and you quickly find yourself hopping into it, groaning at the feeling of the comfortable and soft mattress. Lewis laughs and leaves you for a moment, but comes back a few seconds later, throwing some clothes on the bed beside you.

“Got you a shirt and some pants. But I’m not sure the pants are gonna fit though. You’re… a lot smaller than me for sure.” He spoke, crossing his arms to his chest. “Sorry.”

“No, Lewis. It’s all good.” You giggle, waving your arm lazily. “Thank you.”

You take a moment to look at him again. He has a soft smile on his face and his body is leaning against the door frame, the dim light in the room accentuating the muscles in his arms. He looked huge. And delicious.

Jesus.

“Good night.” He gently whispered. You say it back and then he finally leaves the room, leaving you all alone. And frustrated.

With a deep sigh, you grab the clothes he gave you and inspect them a little. A simple tie dye t-shirt(he loves these), and a pair of shorts, probably the smalest he had in his wardrobe. And they still looked big. Making a decision, you throw the pants on a chair and only keep the t-shirt, then start to change out of your clothes.

Once that was done, you floop back on the bed and check your phone real quick, before turning off the lights and pulling the blanket over your body.

————————————————————————-

You woke up sweaty. With a groan, you quickly pull the covers off your hot body to try and get some air. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the massive headache you just woke up with already makes you irritated.

Stretching your body a little, you reach for the phone sitting on the nightstand to check the time. 4AM.

“God dammit.” You curse under your breath, rubbing your face with your palm.

You could feel the faint smell of Lewis’s cologne on the t-shirt he gave you. Le Labo’s Rose 31, his favorite. Biting your lip, you bring the material to your nose and inhale the scent. A moan almost escaped you. You could basically feel him, it was like he was in the room with you again. And that definitely didn’t help your current state.

You start wondering what he might be doing right now. He’s probably sound asleep, spread on his king sized bed with nothing but his boxers on, quietly snoring, like he always does. You wish you were there to see him. Admire him. Touch his skin.

Subconsciously, you let your hand travel down your chest and under the shirt, touching at your hot skin. A shiver hits you, and you curiously start to feel around your stomach with your fingers. With eyes closed, you imagine Lewis touching you like that.

It wasn’t unusual for you to think about him like that. But in your defense, you just couldn’t help it. Everything about him felt masculine. His energy, his body, his voice, his gestures. He was basically the man you always dreamed of having, even for one night. You always wondered what he would be like in bed.

Maybe he’d whisper softly in your ear, call you “sweetheart”, take his time on making you feel good, praising you for how good you are for him. How good you take him. Or maybe, he’d manhandle you, make you do whatever he asks, put you in any position he wants while choking you with his big arms and mockingly slapping your face, degrading you for being such a whore, as his cock would slide in and out of you at an abusive pace, making your juices drip out of you with every deep, harsh thrust.

You don’t even remember the exact moment your fingers started rubbing your clit through your panties. You were definitely soaked, the wetness making a faint noise everytime your middle finger would flick at your pussy down to your enterance. A needy whimper escapes you. You needed more.

With the other hand, you quickly grab at your boobs, softly massaging them one by one and pulling on your sensitive nipples. It was all too much but still not enough. The material of your panties was drenched at this point, so you quickly moved them aside.

Circling your awaiting hole a few times, you insert a finger inside slowly.

“Mm, fuck.” You moan, hiding your face into the pillow so you could hopefully hide the sounds you were making.

You imagined Lewis doing this to you. Sitting between your thighs so he can have a clear image of your creamy pussy as he is pumping his fingers in and out of you. He’d have his mouth on you from time to time, sucking your clit harshly and moving his tongue from one hole to the other. His deep brown eyes would never leave your figure, trying to take in every single inch of you and memorize it, so he can always remember how desperate and ruined he makes you.

“Such a pretty pussy. U’re doing so good for me.” He’d praise.

The squelching sound of your cunt momentarily takes you off the trance. Your hand is wet and you’re working one more finger inside of you now, as your other hand desperately rubs at your sensitive button. You can’t believe you’re doing this in Lewis’s house, especially when his room is so close to yours, but you shamelessly don’t care enough about that right now, not when you’re so close to your orgasm.

“Mphh, Lewis…” You cry out, eyes shut.

As your back arches off the mattress, you start scissoring the fingers inside your pussy faster. You gasp for air as your legs begin to shake violently, your swollen clit throbbing uncontrollably. You moan louder than expected as you come all over your fingers, and the thought of Lewis hearing your needy sounds almost excites you more.

After a few moments, you remove the fingers from your pussy. You needed a shower so bad, maybe it would wash away the shame you were feeling at the pit of your stomach. Were you too loud? Did he hear how pathetic you’ve been, just from his scent and a few scenarios of him fucking you with his mouth and fingers?

Sitting up, you scrunch your face in disgust at the feeling of your drenched and cold underwear. You curse in your head for not taking them off early on. What the fuck were you supposed to wear now?

Deciding to swallow your shame, you finally get up from the bed to make your way to the bathroom that was connected to your room. After washing your hands twice with the expensive soap bar, you look into the mirror to see just how messy you really were. Your cheeks were flushed, your mascara was smudged, skin was glowy with sweat and your hair looked like a bird nest. Basically, it was as if you had just taken part in a gangbang.

With a sigh, you take off your panties and run them through the water, trying to wash away the sin you had just committed. Getting lost in thoughts, your stomach almost startles you as it begins to growl loudly. The little amount of energy you had left and now you felt hungry, and incredibly thirsty. Balancing your options, you wonder if you should leave the room to go get something to eat from the kitchen. Your panties were still wet and you couldn’t imagine wearing them now, but you knew you’d never be able to fall asleep again if your stomach constantly demanded food. Plus, drinking tap water was never an option.

“Fuck.”

Slipping your underwear back on, you inspect yourself in the mirror a little and pull on Lewis’s t-shirt, making sure that it covers enough, just in case.

The whole penthouse is silent as you walk to the kitchen. A few lights are still on, but that’s just how Lewis prefers it. You assume Roscoe is in his room fast asleep as well, because you don’t run into him on your way. Opening the fridge, you immediately grab a bottle of water and place it on the counter, before scanning for some food. The indian takeout boxes were really calling your name right now, so you grabbed two of them before closing the door with your foot.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You almost drop the boxes from your hands when you hear his voice. Turning around, you find him staring at you, with a little smirk on his face.

“You almost shit your pants, bunny. Did I scare you?” He laughs, approaching you.

“Jesus, Hamilton. Almost gave me a heart attack, could’ve died right here on your kitchen floor.” You exhaled, dropping the boxes on the table and placing a hand on your chest, trying to see if your heart was still beating.

“I’m sorry. Won’t do it again.” He chuckles and briefly massages your shoulders, before pushing past you to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. After he takes a few sips, he speaks again. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” You bite back, drinking from your own water, almost gulping down the whole thing.

The thought of what you just did a few moments ago creeps into your head again, and you suddenly wish the ground would swallow you. What if he heard? You get self conscious remembering that you’re only wearing his shirt and your destroyed pair of panties that were still wet and uncomfortable, so you pull on the hem to hopefully try and cover yourself as much as possible.

His top lip twitches for a second, then he smiles and shrugs. “Was thirsty.”

He looked absolutely delicious now, with nothing on but a pair of grey shorts and his braids down. His abs were shining underneath the dim lights, and all you wanted right now really was to drop down on your knees and lick them. You couldn’t look further down though, you feared you might pass out if you saw the imprint of his dick in his pants.

You had the opportunity to take a peek, though. Multiple times. Especially on race weekends, when he would just grab his dick in his hand and struggle to readjust himself through the racing suit before hopping in the car. You knew he was big. You fantasized about how he would feel on your tongue, heavy and large. About how he would fuck your throat rough, making you choke on his cock. About how he would hardly be able to slide into your tight, warm pussy, but when he would finally make it, he’d rip you apart with it until you were left a crying, overstimulated mess.

“Why are you so red, bunny? Are you ill?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

When you finally snap out of your filthy thoughts, he’s already in front of you, checking your temperature with the back of his hand, looking concerned.

“N-no.” You almost sound unsure, your voice cracking a little.

“No?” He shakes his head, cupping your flushed cheeks in his hands.

You couldn’t make eye contact with him, even though you knew he was intently watching you. He was so close that there was almost no space to breathe anymore, and you couldn’t take it, so you hesitantly backed off.

A cheeky smirk was plastered on his face though, and he quickly looked you up and down before grabbing a fork and digging into the food left on the table. You just stood there, petrified. No thoughts behind your eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He spoke again.

Well, the hunger disappeared, that’s for sure.

You shake your head then clear your throat. “Not hungry anymore. I think I’ll just go back to bed.”

“Hm.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you grab the bottle of water and make your way past him, whispering a “good night” softly. After a few seconds, he speaks again.

“Maybe this time you’ll be able to get some sleep instead of moaning my name while you’re touching yourself.”

Your stomach drops. Maybe you’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve gone crazy. But there’s no way this was happening right now. This can’t be real.

You’re stuck in your place for a few moments, calculating your possibilities of escape. Throwing yourself out the window sounds like a good idea now. But you feel cornered, and you can’t think of what to do or say. You were doomed, for sure. But you choose to play dumb instead, so you anxiously turn to him and speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been asleep the whole time.”

He says nothing, and that worries you even more.

Then he throws the fork in the sink and finally faces you. He lifts his eyebrows and leans on the counter, with his arms folded to his chest.

“No, you weren’t.” He spoke. “Come here.” He gestures with his hand.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you decide to listen to him and get closer.

“Please don’t tell dad.” You beg. There was no point in denying anymore. He knew.

He chuckles then, and furrows his brows, looking at you funny. God, you just wish all this would be over already. It felt humiliating.

“You think I’d tell Toto about how his daughter is pleasuring herself to the thought of me?”

His words come out as a whisper as he carefully moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know…”

“What were you thinking about?”

You finally get the courage to look into his eyes then. You’re not sure you heard him right.

“What?”

“I think you heard me just right, princess. What were you thinking about when you had these pretty fingers deep inside your pussy?” He asks, lifting your hand and pressing a few kisses to your fingers.

A whine almost escapes your mouth while you’re watching it happen. You’ve never heard Lewis talk like that, especially towards you, and it both sexually frustrated you as well as made you impossibly shy. A deep shade of red is present on your face and you seriously don’t know if you should just risk it all and tell him about your little fantasies or act dumb about it.

“Y/n”

You snap out of it. “I-I don’t know what to say, Lewis. This is so humiliating.” You sigh deeply, covering your face with your hands.

“Hey, hey.” He shushed you, pulling you into his arms. He smelled so good, and his skin felt hot pressed against yours, even with the t-shirt you were wearing as a barrier. “No need for that, bunny. It’s just me.” His words come out as a whisper as he is moving his hand up and down your back. “…Just us.”

Lifting your head slowly, you look into his eyes and bite your lip. This was all you ever wanted. For him to want you back. And now that he finally hinted that he might be into you in that way, had you at a loss of words and action.

Fuck it, you thought. It’s been too long. Too much time spent on secretive glances, crushing, overthinking, masturbating to the thought of him. Maybe you could finally get something out if it.

“I was thinking of you… Touching me.”

“Good girl. How was I touching you, hm?” The praise goes straight to your core as his head falls to your neck to press a few wet kisses, and you swore you could die right there on the spot. His hands squeeze your waist a little before traveling down to your ass, massaging patiently, waiting for you to respond to his question.

You moan at the action, getting lost in the feeling of him touching you like that. In a second, he lifts you up by your thighs and you unconsciously wrap your legs around his waist. He sits you on the counter then positions himself between your bare legs. His warm hands touch the insides of your thighs, making your breath hitch. You still can’t believe this is happening.

“You look so good in my clothes…” He mumbles, lifting one of his hands to your shirt and squeezing your skin a little. When he reaches your breasts, he squeezes harder.

“Mm… Lewis…” You whine pathetically, waiting for more.

“That’s what you were moaning a few minutes ago, baby?”

You look up to find him staring at you intently with his teeth pulling at his lower lip. His eyes were darker, full of lust. You enjoy having him like this, you realized. A man, the man you dreamed about, about to pleasure you.

“Yes.” You confess sincerely, batting your eyelashes at him.

“You’re such a naughty girl…” He whispers, touching your soft cheek with his finger.

His other hand starts wondering further underneath your shirt, and you find yourself opening your legs wider, waiting desperately for his touch. You can feel one of his fingers pressing against your clit only a few seconds later, and you can’t help but moan already. He rubs tight, circular circles on your sensitive button and groans, pushing your body back. You lean back and let him lift your legs on the counter.

“Shit, bunny. You look so delicious right now."

He reaches the band of your underwear and pulls on it urgently, leaving you bare in front of him. Normally you'd get self conscious everytime a man saw you naked, but for some reason that wasn't the case now. The desire to have Lewis eat you out was much bigger than any insecurity you may have. You grow impatient already just thinking about it and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing. He notices.

“I’m going to eat this pretty pussy.”

“Please.” You say immediately, eager to feel his tongue on your most sensitive spot.

He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and gets on his knees, holding onto your shaky legs. You played this scenario in your head over and over again so many times, and you craved to see it finally happen. You really need to see him.

Standing up a little, you think you might just pass out. There he was, propped between your legs, licking a fat stripe of your pussy. He makes eye contact then and moans, connecting his lips to your puffy clit and sucking, hard.

Your body twitches on instinct and you whimper, pushing your needy pussy into his face. He moans and starts licking up and down your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you from time to time.

“Yes… Just like that.” You manage to say.

He’s hungrily lapping at your cunt like he hadn’t eaten in days, collecting all your sweet essence with his eager mouth. You can’t help but yelp a little when you feel two of his thick, long fingers pushing inside your tight pussy. It stings a little, but he doesn’t let you adjust, instead he pushes them deeper and curls them, making your eyes roll and your jaw drop.

“Oh my god." You gasp, arching your back so hard that you think it might break in half. His mouth is still attached to your sensitive clit, pressing torturous licks on it.

He pulls away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers push in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were glued to your pussy, like he was hypnotized by the sight. And he was. Suddenly, his eyes snap to yours and you think you’d never seen something hotter in your entire life.

“Look at you, baby… Hear the sounds your pretty pussy is making for me? You’re so fucking wet.” He humms and gives your puffy clit a sharp slap, fucking his fingers faster inside you.

You scream his name, like you always dreamed of doing. You’re desperately trying to hump his hand to get more, already feeling the familiar tightness in your lower stomach building rapidly. He doesn’t like that, so he quickly pushes your hips down with his free hand, keeping you in place. You don’t get to protest, because then he curls his fingers right on your g-spot, having your body tense immediately. You’re almost breathless and trashing your tiny body on his counter, and when he gets his hand on you and starts to flick your clit with rapid movements, you know you’re done for.

“That’s it. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You don’t hear anything for a few seconds after that. Your ears are tingling, your toes are curling and your whole body is shaking violently. Your orgasm washes over you in an instant, your pussy clenching down on his two fingers.

While you’re busy trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t stop. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, a bit slower now, and he reattached his mouth to your pussy, licking it slowly.

Feeling overstimulated, you immediately jerk away from his touch, twitching uncontrollably.

“N-no… too much!” You whimper, pushing his head back.

“Mm.” He slowly removes his fingers, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. He’s chasing a trail of cum that your pussy is pushing out with his tongue and moans. “Such a sweet pussy. Sweetest I’ve ever had.” He praises.

You don’t say anything. Mostly because you can’t. Your whole body feels like jelly, still shaky from the powerful orgasm you just had. But you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. No, he gets up and grabs your chin forcefully, smashing your lips together. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes your head spin and your pussy leak. Again.

When he finally pulls away, he takes a moment to look at your fucked out expression and humms, licking his lip.

“Was it good, bunny?” A smirk creeps out on his face.

“Yes…” You reply, the shyness taking place in you again as you batt your eyelashes at him.

“Good…” He whispers softly, tugging slowly on your bottom lip. “God, I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

God, the things this man makes you feel. He just fucked you stupid with his mouth and fingers and now he wants to fuck your pussy? It had to be a dream.

You want to take advantage of this moment for as long as you can.

“Fuck me, Lewis. I want it.”

The way you just look up at him so innocently but so seductive at the same time, with lips swollen, slightly messy hair and smudged mascara, makes his dick twitch. It isn’t the first time he’s rock hard for you though. No. You never knew this, but he had his eyes on you too. For the past few months, at race weekend, everytime he’d see you, you’d have him losing his mind. Walking around in short skirts and crop tops, or those lovely sundresses you adore so much. It made his dick throb, and he had to make up some excuses a few times just to run back to his driver’s room and touch himself. But he wasn’t only attracted to you because of those things. Your energy captivated him completely, and he knew he wasn’t the only one dreaming about having you. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid. He saw the way the other younger drivers or random people in the pit crew looked at you. How they smiled at you or tried to make you laugh, subtly touching you. It made him feral.

Toto was his boss. They go way back. Lewis admired your father, in many ways, and the bond they formed through working together was tight, for sure. He knew about the stupid rule he had for you, about dating or messing around with the drivers, and he respected that. Up until recently, when he started looking at you in a different light, and the rule suddenly frustrated him deeply. He never had a problem staying away from you. The need to protect you was the only thing on his mind. Then he started to finally see you.

How smart you were, how much joy you bring when you walk into a room. How everyone stops to look or listen to you when you talk. How adventurous you are and openly emotional without a care about what other people might think of you. The way you’re always there for people, the warmth you possess. Your unintentional seductiveness. Your charm.

Now, he had you exactly where he wanted. He wasn’t sure at first if he should tell you that he heard your sweet sounds when you masturbated to the thought of him, but he became desperate. All he needed was confirmation that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you. And he got it. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away this time. And he was done thinking about how complicated the situation is with your father.

Grabbing at your hand, he helps you get off the counter. You look at him confused, scared that he might realize that everything was a mistake and he’d changed his mind. But the thought quickly vanishes when he starts kissing your neck and nipping at your skin, lifting your shirt with his hands.

“I’m not gonna fuck you in a kitchen. My sweet baby deserves a bed, no?” His raspy voice sends goosebumps on your skin and you nod, letting him walk you backwards to his room, as he finally manages to get rid of the only material left on your body.

When you get to his room, he carefully pushes you on the bed, with him on top. The cold air in the room hits your sensitive flesh and makes your nipples harden. Licking your lips, you raise your head from the soft pillow to look at him. His gaze is darkened and his bottom lip sits between his teeth, pulling at it desperately, like he was trying so hard to keep his control. You wanted him to lose it. All of it.

“Please, Lewis… Fuck me. Wanted this for so long.” A whine escapes your lips and you pout, caging his body between your legs as your legs wrap tightly around his torso.

Your confession made him groan. He wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever. How needy you are begging for him to fuck you, how pretty you looked all spread out on his bed, with your hair tousled on his pillow, your lips puffy from his kisses and your eyes glossy and dazed.

Finally, he gets rid of the shorts he was wearing, pulling them off along with his boxers. You're left speechless as you shamelessly stare at his very erect cock. It's thick and you can spot a few angry veins almost popping, running up towards the head. It's standing proud and tall glued to his pelvis, almost reaching his belly button, and it has your mouth water.

He notices how you stare at him with your cheeks flushed and your lip between your teeth and smirks, tapping your thigh a few times to get your attention.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"It's so big..."

"Yeah? Never had a real man before, princess?" He asks, raising your leg to his shoulder and pressing soft kisses on your soft skin while maintaining eye contact with you.

You shake your head timidly.

"Gonna make you feel so good. You trust me?"

"Yes." You respond immediately, squirming under him.

"Just hold on for a sec. I gotta have some condoms in here." He lets go of your leg and leans towards his nightstand to search for the condoms.

"W-wait." You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest. You were anxious when your next words left your lips. "I... I'm clean, and on birth control, so if you want, there's no need for that."

He turned his head to look at you and stopped in his tracks.

"Want me to fuck you bare, bunny?" He reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you lovingly, with a grin on his face.

"Mhm." You mumbled, nodding your head. "If that's okay with you, of course!" You rushed the words out.

"I'm more than okay with that." He hummed, caressing your hip with his thumb. "Come 'ere."

He pulled you lower on the bed and leaned forward, gripping your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours. He kisses you slow at first, taking his time to taste you. Then, as his hands start to explore your naked body, it turns wild. You feel dizzy as you wrap your hands around his neck to bring him even closer and your hot bodies stick to each other. It feels so intimate, you've never experienced something like this with someone before. His erection is standing right between your legs and it makes you raise your hips eagerly. You want him inside already.

"So eager." He whispers and smirks, pulling away a bit.

You glance down and lick your lips as he lines himself up, watching him tap your clit a few times with his cock, then pushing his head through your sensitive folds to collect all your juices. It sends jolts of electricity through your body and you whimper, spreading yourself a bit more. When he finally slides in, it's so overwhelming that you let your mouth hang open with a loud moan. The stretch is stinging a lot, but there's another sensation that comes with it that makes it so pleasurable at the same time.

Lewis watches you carefully and stills his movements, to let you adjust to his size. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed as you try to relax as much as you can to accomodate your thight walls around him. Once you feel the pain diminuate a bit you nod your head, letting him know that he can move further.

He slips in a little more then and lets himself moan at the heavenly feeling of your bare, tight pussy squeezing him tightly.

"Doing sooo good, baby. Taking me like a pro." He praises, moving your damp hair out of your face.

He bottoms out inside you and you whimper. He's so deep that you could swear you felt it in your stomach, but you want more.

As if he could read your mind, he slowly pulls out a bit then pushes himself inside again, making you let out tiny mewls and moans as you got to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. Lewis humms and buries his face in your neck, leaving wet, hot kisses all over it before going down to your breasts and taking one of them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around your hard, sensitive nipple. He starts to thrust his hips in a steady rhythm while taking your other breast in his mouth and all you can do is arch your back and whine, overwhelmed by the intense feeling.

"So fucking tight." He hissed, leaning back to grab your thighs and lift them on his shoulders, the new position allowing him to hit your spot better. You felt so full of him, and you were ready to cry from the pleasure.

"Lewis." You let out a loud moan and touch his abs, scratching them as he suddenly surprises you with a rougher pace that makes you roll your eyes back and let out a cry.

“Shit.” He curses, groaning when he feels your pussy clench around his fat cock. “Thought about fucking this pretty pussy every single day lately. And now look at you, all fucked out on my bed.”

His words make your head spin. You had no idea he thought about this just like you did, so many times.

“Y-you thought about me?” You manage to ask between moans, looking down for a second to catch a glimpse of his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

He went in for a messy kiss then pulled back a little, looking at you with half closed eyes. “You have no idea.” He mutters, grabbing your neck softly.

The sounds in the room are intoxicating. It’s filled with heavy breaths, moans, skin slapping repeatedly and the filthy sound of your impossibly wet pussy getting filled to the brim by Lewis. Your gaze is locked with his and it feels like there’s just the two of you left in this world. Nothing matters anymore. Not your dad, not your age gap, nothing. It’s so intense and intimate that it almost has your heart burst out of your chest.

Your thighs are trembling as he folds them to your chest, and your hands are frantically searching for something to grip onto, while incoherent sounds are dripping off your lips.

“You wanna cum, princess?” He asks, smirking down at you.

“Yes! Yes, please please don’t stop.” You beg, shaking your head as short screams leave your mouth.

He’s quick to drag a hand down to your pussy and starts rubbing your clit harshly with his thumb to force your release. The added pleasure makes you pulsate rapidly around his cock and you find yourself arching your back off the mattress again, struggling to breathe as your orgasm is nearing quickly.

“Come on, want you to make a mess on this cock, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head pathetically and yelp when he pinches your swollen clit, letting out a loud cry as your orgasm washes over you. It hits you so quickly and so violently that it makes your breath get stuck and your eyes squeeze shut while your legs are uncontrollably shaking. Your juices are dripping down Lewis’s cock and onto the mattress underneath you, and it’s a sight to die for as he watches it all happen.

“Good girl. Did so good f’ me.” He coos, but doesn’t stop the movements of his hips, although he slows down a bit to let you come down from your orgasm.

When you open your eyes to look at him, you find him already looking at you, with an enamored expression on his face. His hand is softly caressing your thigh while he is admiring the post-orgasmic glow of your skin.

Soon enough, he is picking up his pace again and you whine in discomfort and overstimulation, furrowing your brows.

“Can’t. Please. Can’t.” You squirm underneath him.

“You can, baby. Come on, just a little bit more.”

Using his arms, he spreads your legs wider so he can have more access to you. His thrusts quicken again and his fingers attaches themselves to your clit again, pressing into it in circular motions. You were squeezing him so tightly that he could barely move inside you but he pulled through, ramming his hips into yours with brutal force, trying to chase his own release.

“Oh.” You gasped and glued your eyes down to where your cunt was greedily sucking him in. Your milky essence is visible at the base of his cock and the sight is downright filthy.

“Fuck.” He grunts, also watching where you two are connected before he lunges towards you and grips your neck more tightly and yanks you forward a bit. You prop up on your elbows and look at him with wide, doe eyes, moaning uncontrollably. “Where do you want it, bunny?”

“Inside!” You respond immediately, placing one of your hands around his wrist. “Want you to come inside me. Please.”

Your eagerness to take his cum inside your tiny walls makes him shiver with enthusiasm. His tip hits your g-spot with every powerful snap of his hips and it made you part your lips in bliss. Lewis takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you messily. You suddenly start to feel a different kind of pressure at the pits of your stomach and you wince, pulling back from the kiss.

“Lewis… I think there’s something wrong. Feels different.” You slurred, your eyes widening in fear.

“It’s alright, baby. I’m here. Give me one more, yeah?” He grunted, flicking at your clit with his palm rapidly.

The bed is moving with the rhythm of his aggressive thrusts and you feel your muscles contract and twitch with every move. You’re fluttering around him desperately as you scratch down his back with your polished nails and he moans deeply.

“Fuck. Gonna stuff this cunt. Come on, come for me. again, baby.” You know he is close by how much you can feel him throb inside of you.

With a particularly sharp thrust your orgasm washes over you, and you scream, letting your back fall on the mattress as you squirted, your juices making a mess on both you and Lewis. The sight makes him burst instantly and he groans, throwing his head back while he stills inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

You’ve never done this before. I mean, you definitely heard of squirting, but no one was ever able to get you to this stage. You quickly become self conscious. What if he didn’t like it? What if he found you disgusting now? Terrified, you look up to him only to find out how wrong you were. He is already looking your way, with a huge smirk on his face.

“Look at that. My girl squirted all over the place.”

You blush deeply at his words and cover your face with your hands, but he is quick to grab them and pin them to the bed around your head.

“Why are you hiding? What’s wrong?” He chuckled, amused by the childish action.

“I… I’ve never done that before.”

“Did it feel good though?” He asked with a smug grin.

“Mhm…” You bite your lip and writhe slightly, making him moan at the sudden movement.

He carefully pulls out of you and leans back on his heels, only to see both of your releases slowly drip out of your cunt. He humms and brings two fingers there to massage around your hole, and then he pushes them inside, fucking the cum back into you.

You whine and he stops, looking back at you.

“Wait here for a second, hm? I’m going to draw you a bath.”

You nod and thank him quietly, watching him lovestruck as he gets up from the bed, collects his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, then disappears to the bathroom.

Few minutes later you’re both in the tub, your back is pressed against his chest and your eyes are closed in relaxation while he is lazily running his hand through your hair.

Even though the silence is comfortable, you can’t help but start to overthink. What was he thinking about? You didn’t necessarily think he regretted what you did, but what did it mean? Was he going to ghost you after that? Act like nothing ever happened? You wouldn’t judge him, especially considering the situation with your father, but you hoped that it wouldn’t be the case. Part of you was convinced that he wouldn’t just leave you in the dark like that. That wasn’t Lewis. Could never be Lewis. But your insecurities are still eating you alive.

Then he takes you by surprise again by reading your mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was actually wondering what were you thinking about.” You chuckle, leaning your head back a bit to look at him. God, how can this man be so beautiful?

He smiles softly and nuzzles his nose along your cheek, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to it.

You let out a breath and sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. “I was just asking myself… what now, I guess.” You shrugged, with a heavy heart.

He furrows his brows and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “What do you want?”

You gulped and licked your lips, looking at him through your lashes. “I want you.”

“Then you have me. And you know I want you too. But it’s going to be a lot more complicated than that.” He whispers to you and you feel your heart drop on the spot, afraid of what he might be insinuating.

Noticing the broken look in your eyes, he quickly places his hands on both your cheeks and leans forward. “What I mean by that is, that we should be careful. I know keeping things a secret isn’t healthy, but giving the circumstances, I don’t think it would benefit either of us right now if someone found out about what we have going on. I promise that it won’t last forever, I would never keep you a secret, but for now that’s just the way things are.”

You take in his words. You know he is right. And you’ll take anything as long as it means that he’ll be finally yours. Even though the thought of keeping a secret like that, especially from your dad, makes you feel uneasy. But you’re so ready to give it a shot, just for him. What if everything turns out alright in the end?

“I know. And I understand.” You nodded, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss.

When you pull back, he gives you a quick wink and a smile, tapping the inside of your thigh lightly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི slow down • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • every week you find yourself in one of chuuya’s club, one reminiscent of a speakeasy. as his subordinate, you know of each and every one of his establishments. what you never expected was for him to show up to one of your performances. lucky for you he shows up to reward you handsomely for a successful show.

warnings • (buckle up this is gonna be a long one) fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, dubcon, intoxication (both parties), use of the pet names “doll” and “baby”, ņsfw, hair pulling, chuuya is a tease, power imbalance, grinding, very slight exhibitionism, fingering, finger sucking, oral (f -> m), unprotected sex, dacryphilia, wall sex, creampie, cockwarming, i cannot be blamed for what i wrote that wasn’t me

wc • 9.4k

a/n • this has been sitting in my drafts for so long waiting for me to find the will to finish the smut (⌒_⌒;)

the atmosphere is warm and inviting. a mixture of expensive perfumes, liquors and smoke builds an aroma that, although slightly suffocating, is also surprisingly delightful. it’s busy, just like every friday night, thanks to the main act. at least, that’s what chuuya’s been told. 

earlier in the week, his subordinates noticed that numbers for this club in particular, have gone up significantly. it’s now chuuya’s most popular establishment. friday nights, especially, are giving him high revenue. he isn’t complaining by any means, he just wants to know why so maybe he can bring that aspect of this business into his others — or at the very least thank whoever it is that’s responsible for these numbers. 

he’s come to realize that his sales have spiked strictly within the 9-10pm time frame—the peak of the friday night show. he allows performers, mainly singers, to take the stage at night. it’s somewhat of an experiment on chuuya’s end. speakeasies are far and few between; he wants to know if that’s due to the lack of interest or just the lack of organization. he’s happy to see that there’s still interest. 

chuuya wants to see it for himself. that’s what led him here, at his own club in the vip section. he’s sat forward, leaning on the table, his hands folded in front of his face as he anticipates the curtains parting to reveal the subordinate rumored to have captivated this entire club and its patrons. the ginger wasn’t given much to go by, but he knows it’s someone that works under him, it’s supposedly how they managed to get the most coveted slot. 

it’s clear, however, that their talent is what allowed them to keep the slot.

you’re nervous. it’s the first time since your very first performance on this stage that your palms are sweating underneath the leather short gloves you wear. you were told earlier this evening that you had a special guest tonight. when the stage manager told you “no pressure” your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the knife you kept holstered and hold it up to his throat. those two words always had the opposite effect and something told you the bastard knew that.

you take in a shuddered breath as you look at the backstage clock. it’s nearly time. those curtains are about to open and reveal you to whoever it is that’s so important on the other side of the heavy red velvet cloth. you shake your arms and take a few calming breaths as the lights dim further than they already are.

it’s showtime.

you make the decision to not look. you train your eyes to the ground as the curtain rises from the floor, slowly revealing you in your fitted black floor length dress. the thigh slit that reaches your hip leaves you feeling far more vulnerable and exposed than you’d like to admit. as you look everywhere but at the vip section you realize you may be revealing far too much skin with an important guest in the audience. the top half of this dress wasn’t any better either. the short sleeves felt as though they were simply a decoration — hanging off your shoulders exposing not only just your shoulders, but your collar bones and cleavage as well. 

you’re hyper aware of your appearance and now so is chuuya. his breath hitches when the curtain reveals you. you looked devastatingly beautiful, the kind that could ruin his life and he would thank you for it. how did he not know it was you? you’d always piqued chuuya’s interest. he paid closer attention to you than his other subordinates and he had noticed you were always busy on friday nights, but he never would have imagined in a million years that this would be the reason. chuuya didn’t even know you could sing but here you were, singing like a siren and ensnaring the executive in your trap. he was absolutely mesmerized, hanging on to every word you sang.

the executive desperately wants you to look at him but he quickly notices you’re adamantly avoiding the vip section — his section. do you know he’s here? does he make you nervous? the thought of making you nervous stirs something inside of him. something he thought he had suppressed a long time ago because it’s entirely inappropriate of him. chuuya desires you, deeply, desperately, dangerously. watching you on that stage, in that dress has him clenching his jaw. his self control is waning quickly. 

you get through the first song with a surprising amount of ease. your rigid muscles relax as you melt into the melody. your nerve endings igniting with the reverberations of the instruments behind you. you feel electric, everything buzzing as you make it to the last song.

luckily, for you, it’s only supposed to be a short set tonight, 3 songs total. so, when you reach the end of the final song you finally allow yourself a glance. your eyes widen and lips part in utter shock to find the very bicolored eyes that have been haunting your thoughts since you first laid your sights on them. as the curtain drops you reel at the fact that the important guest was none other than the club owner himself, your superior in the port mafia, and executive. chuuya nakahara. your vision tunnels and ears ring as you pretend to listen to whatever praises are being handed over by the crew. you manage to accept them with grace easily then dismiss yourself to your dressing room.

you don’t think much time has passed since the curtain dropped, but you’re proven wrong when you walk through the threshold of the dressing room and the door is promptly shut, revealing your superior. your posture turns rigid and chuuya watches you intently as you swallow thickly. you think the look in his eye is something akin to a predator gazing upon its prey. chuuya doesn’t miss your change in demeanor and the way your throat bobs anxiously. it’s all he needs to know that his earlier suspicions were right. he does make you nervous. 

you bow your head instinctively and offer him a respectful greeting, just like you’d normally do while at work. “i was told someone important was coming to watch my show tonight but i wasn’t aware it’d be you, thank you for coming, nakahara-sama.”

“chuuya. no need to be so formal here…” although chuuya would be lying if said you referring to him in such a way didn’t do something to him.

here you are, the most gorgeous woman he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his gaze upon and you’re being the respectful one. as much as chuuya wants to boast about you clearly admiring him as a superior, that’s not what he’s here for. now that he knows you’re the one that has brought his club popularity, he needed to reward you properly.

”you watch him carefully, making sure he means what he said — it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s being sincere. “right. then… thank you for coming, chuuya.”

oh. his name has never sounded so sweet. but when it falls from your lips like honey, he can’t help but to crave more. 

your voice is saccharine, a true gift from the angels. in fact, your superior isn’t quite convince you aren’t an angel after hearing that set. you truly must be otherworldly. it’s the only explanation.

“have to say, didn’t even know you could sing, let alone sing like that.” you watch as the ginger crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the door. chuuya adjusts his hat and peers down at you through his surprisingly long lashes. 

you’ve never been a skittish person, but chuuya nakahara makes you nervous as hell. “i wasn’t keeping it a secret. you just never asked.” 

“‘spose i should apologize for that then, huh? i just assumed i always made it obvious that i paid special attention to you. but i guess in this situation, that still wasn’t enough. how do you suggest i make up for not asking, doll?” his bicolored eyes scan your face, an easy smile stretching his lips. 

you blink once, twice, three times trying to comprehend what he’s asking you. his smooth honey-like voice entrancing you and making your mind dizzy at the utterance of the term of endearment. your mind is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow. you’re buffering in real-time. you try to snap yourself out of your stupor but it’s hard when the most gorgeous man is standing in front of you, gaze lidded and hungry and directed towards you.

you swallow thickly again and manage to rasp out, “buy me a drink?”

the ginger cracks a smile and before he can even say anything, there’s a rap at the door. chuuya pushes himself off the wooden panel and swivels around. he only cracks open the door enough for him to peek his head out and speak with someone in a hushed tone. you can’t see anything and you think twice about trying to peer over the executive’s shoulder. chuuya toes the door shut and turns around presenting you with a wide grin.  

“why don’t we move this conversation back to my section in the club? i have a surprise waiting for you there.” chuuya steps closer to and casually reaches out and holds the middle of your bare back to guide you.

you don’t have time to form a single coherent thought to even think about declining. you’re being gently pushed towards the dressing room door that chuuya manages to hold open. his hand doesn’t leave your back for a second as you both walk to his semi secluded section. your head is dizzy again. the feeling of the smooth leather from his gloved hand sends a shiver through your spine that you swear he notices, if the smile he’s wearing has anything to show for it.

when you get close enough, you notice two empty glass flutes and the most expensive bottle of champagne this club carries sit atop the table of chuuya’s booth. it’s probably the most expensive bottle of alcohol you’ve ever laid your eyes on. there was no way that was the bottle you thought it was. when you finally get closer you quickly read the label. sure enough you were right, a bottle of dom perignon plenitude 2, brut champagne 2003. your eyes nearly bug out of your head and your mouth moves before you can even second guess your words.

“this is not what i meant, chuuya, this… i can’t accept this.” you stare at the bottle of champagne carefully, it costs far more than what you make in a night singing here.

chuuya’s smile is warm and reassuring as he sort of chuckles through his nose. “don’t worry, doll, you deserve this. it’s no sweat, just enjoy it, okay?” his hand slides up to between your shoulder blades and down again just above the swell of your ass then he repeats that action a few times, clearly trying to sooth your anxious mind.

you involuntarily relax and eventually concede. “fine, i suppose if you’re offering… who am i to refuse at least a glass?”

the grin that you receive from the executive is nothing short of triumphant. the way his nose scrunches a tad bit and the way the dimple on his left cheek becomes more prominent makes him look much younger and full of energy than his usual demeanor does. his smile is contagious, you can’t help but to offer him one of the same value. it takes his breath away.

you take chuuya’s breath away.

the ginger sits in his thoughts and admiration just a little too long. you notice his sudden daze and tilt your head in confusion. “you still here with me? why don’t you do the honors. it’s embarrassing to admit, but i’ve never been very good at opening champagne bottles.”

chuuya lets out a chuckle and reaches for the bottle. you watch in wonderment as he pops it open with ease. you figured chuuya would want the first pour but after filling the first glass he hands it straight over to you. you’re not sure if it’s true but you’ve heard something about the first pour after opening a bottle of wine was the best. you wonder if the same applies to champagne. 

at some point during your walk over to the booth, chuuya had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. he must’ve gotten hot, you vaguely rationalize. you try, and fail miserably, to not ogle at the extra bit of skin and muscle the executive is displaying. maybe he had the right idea. it was getting hot in here.

 if chuuya notices he doesn’t say anything. 

he does notice, it’s hard for him not to. his lips curl slightly at the way your eyes not so subtly trail along his arms. you probably would have caught it if you weren’t so preoccupied. he thinks about making a remark but doesn’t want to embarrass you. so, instead, chuuya clears his throat and holds out his drink to make a short toast. 

you tilt your head with a look of curiosity, waiting for him to make his toast.

chuuya gets the memo and clears his throat almost as if he was nervous. “to your successful set tonight and to making this my most successful club.”

“this is your most successful club?!” you can’t help the obviously baffled guffaw that leaves your throat.

you knew this was a popular club. the public loves the idea of a speakeasy. an obvious difference in vibes from a modern day club — it was a welcomed change. after all, that’s what drew you to it in the first place too. 

to think that this club was so bustling because of you, however, was an entirely different thing. there is no way that this establishment is so lucrative based solely on your performances alone. you can’t possibly take full credit for it. somebody had to have come up with the idea of open mic nights. whoever that was, should be toasted to. not you.

chuuya chortles, clearly finding the shock in both your face and expression amusing. “yes, doll. friday nights specifically. they’re my best nights.”

oh.

yeah, you couldn’t exactly delude yourself into thinking the club's success isn’t because of you anymore. these were clearly your nights. the idea is far too much for you to wrap your head around. you never would have imagined that people enjoy your voice in general. so, to know they not only enjoy it, but they seek it out every week makes your head spin.

you need more champagne.

you finish off the last few sips you have left in your flute then reach for the very expensive bottle sitting next to chuuya. you’re not fast enough, though. chuuya’s nimble fingers wrap around the neck of the dom perignon to pick up the champagne. you think he’s trying to play keep away with you but you’re proven wrong when he tops you off — still with an amused lopsided grin gracing his features. 

you take generous and consecutive sips from your newly poured glass, downing almost all of it in one go. your eyes water and throat stings from the influx of bubbles filtering through your esophagus. the expression on your face scrunches up into a grimace, the sting from the champagne surprising you. you panic as you feel an air bubble traveling back up. you try your best to suppress the burp threatening to release from your throat. you're successful but in place of a burp you let out a squealed hiccup. it’s soft enough to where you think you may have gotten away with it but the look on chuuya’s face says otherwise.

the executive is clearly amused, displaying another wide smile. “thought you said you were only going to have one glass? you’re gonna end up too tipsy before i can even ask you to dance with me.”

you look at him in a daze. your face heats up and you come to the conclusion that it’s equal parts embarrassment and the alcohols affect. your whole body ignites, buzzing as the alcohol runs its course and makes your inhibitions loosen. 

this is dangerous. 

who knew all it took was two glasses of expensive champagne to have your head spinning and mind wandering to places about chuuya it shouldn’t. he is your boss, your higher up, your superior. it’s embarrassing, really, thinking the ginger would, in any way, reciprocate your interest. it had to be a ridiculous notion, right?

wait.

rewind.

he said dance with you. he wanted to dance with you? god, you now desperately wish you hadn’t drunk so much already. the thought alone of dancing with chuuya made your legs wobbly, add the alcohol in the mix and your leg muscles were turning to jelly. 

“dance? you want to dance… with me?” your mind clearly wasn’t wrapping around the concept.

chuuya gives you a curious look. “what? don’t think i can dance?”

you weren’t expecting his playful tone and that devilish smile that’s gracing his lips. as a matter of fact, this chuuya — the one here tonight — is a far cry from his usual self. although you suppose you’ve never seen the executive in a setting where he can be more relaxed. the port mafia doesn’t exactly allow chuuya much room to be a laxed 20-something year old. he’s the strongest ability user, after all. he’s also the port mafia’s most talented fighter, with and without his ability. he’s a forced to be reckoned with and it radiates off of him when he’s wearing his executive mask. a scowl is almost permanently etched onto his face. you actually used to think it was his resting face.

the aura he radiates is one of intimidation. stained red from the blood of his victims and scorching like a raging fire. you hate to admit it but you used to avoid chuuya. he terrified you. but the more you were around him and the more you saw of him that changed.

of course, every interaction you’ve had with him thus far has been strictly professional, naturally. yet, you won’t lie, there was more than one occasion where you’ve let your mind wander to what he’s like outside of his duties. you got glimpses of it in the way he interacts with those he’s truly close with. you think that chuuya it beautiful. a stark difference from the horrifying monster the lower ranks paint him out to be. 

but even when he’s with the people he trusts the most, he’s still at work. this is different. so, you decide this chuuya, here tonight, is refreshing. 

you’re not sure if the decision is solely based on your current inebriated state or not, but right now you could care less. you finally let yourself relax, nerves rolling off your body and evaporating. it’s a visible change that chuuya makes sure to take note of as you return his current energy.

“chuuya-san, that’s quite the assumption, don’t you think? what makes you think that i spend any time thinking about whether you can dance or not?” 

your lashes flutter almost flirtatiously (you blame it on the alcohol) as you tease him. you know well that he hates being referred to in such a formal manner — even by his subordinates. chuuya’s quick, though, and immediately catches on to your teasing. his bicolored eyes almost twinkle with amusement and he offers you a hand. the action is so smooth you don’t even question it, in fact, you don’t even react at first.

“first you question my dancing skills and now you refuse to dance with me? damn, doll, you’re breakin’ my heart.” chuuya snorts at the way your face twists in horror as you realize what’s going on.

“i- no! i’m not- that’s not- !” you stumble over yourself, words spilling from you faster than what your mind can keep up with. you take a breath and grab the ginger’s hand, quite aggressively, and pull him onto the dance floor. 

you’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of confidence comes from, maybe yet another thing to blame on the alcohol, but you roll with it. despite the look and feel of the club, it was still past midnight on the weekend. the speakeasy atmosphere has been replaced with a dj and modern music filtering through every conceivable speaker in this establishment. 

everything is vibrating, it makes it hard to discern whether your fingers are steady or not. god, you hope your fingers are steady as you guide chuuya’s hands to your hips — you also hope you’re not being too forward. the thought is distant and nagging, much like if someone was lightly hammering a dull nail to the back of your head. you let yourself slip into the anxiety spreading in your chest and for a split second, you think your fears are founded, because the gravity manipulator’s fingers ghost your hips, distinctly not finding purchase on your hips. 

the thought of him being nervous too isn’t plausible in your mind, so you don’t even entertain it.

just as you’re about to draw back and pull away, mortified by your own boldness, your breath catches. in fact it almost halts altogether because chuuya’s pulling you closer to him. with your back flush to his chest, you can feel the heat of his body emanating from him. distantly, you wonder if he just naturally runs hot or if it’s just the club, the people all around you, the buzz of the alcohol.

the heat is oddly calming, a reminder of his presence safeguarding your largest vulnerability. maybe that’s the reason he chose this position in the first place, the act of dancing was already exposing enough, you didn’t need to worry about your back being watched when chuuya is sheltering you so well. 

chuuya’s wandering hand splaying across your lower stomach and pushing down says otherwise, though. a pleasant chill courses through you, despite the humid air.

you need to steady yourself, his presence is entirely overwhelming, consuming you almost completely. 

all you can do, all you want to do, is breathe him in.

you need to ground yourself before you do something stupid. you reach up behind yourself and clasp your hand around the back of chuuya’s neck, fingers scraping against his skin lightly as you card your fingers through his hair. the tips of his own fingers on your lower abdomen bite into the fabric of your dress. his other hand grips your hip and guides you, moving you against him — with him.

it’s easy, moving your body in tandem with his. matching his movements was easy and you have to admit to yourself that he’s a really good dancer. chuuya has total control over his body and knows exactly how to move it. you don’t know why you’re so surprised, his extensive training in the martial arts and flexibility have to make for an excellent dancer and it shows. 

you’re so caught up in the feeling of him, the heat of him, against you that your source of intoxication shifts from the alcohol to him. you’re so drunk off the smell of him, off the closeness of him, off the way you can feel every hard muscle of his chest and abdomen against your back. your senses are so clogged up with him that nothing else is getting through.

it doesn’t help that your body is moving on it’s own.

or is it?

no. it’s chuuya, he’s guiding your body. your ass is firmly pressed against him, grinding into him and you hadn’t even noticed in your stupor. 

this is so inappropriate. he’s your higher up for god’s sake. this is wrong, right? but then again…the executive is the one that’s leading your actions, he’s clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. no harm in indulging yourself in him if he’s helping himself to you, right?

in the same moment, chuuya is dipping his head down, lips grazing and breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “you still doubtin’ me?”

you take in another shuddered breath. this man is killing you. he’s doing this on purpose, he has to be. you try to put the blame solely on his shoulders — you want this to be all him so badly. but you know that’s simply delusional because you’ve been drinking and you know very well how alcohol makes you act up.

chuuya teases you further by dropping his head down to your shoulder and nestling his face in your neck. you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin. electrifying every nerve ending in your body, making your whole being feel like it’s buzzing. you don’t miss the way his lips stretch into a satisfied smirk. it’s then that you realize — he’s doing all this on purpose. the executive is toying with you, creating a game out of making you squirm and seeing how long your self control can last.

how cruel. he knows how stubborn you can be, showing that side of yourself in almost every mission you two have worked together. but he’s never had experience with you intoxicated (luckily for you). so, chuuya also has no idea just how far you throw your inhibitions out the window when alcohol is involved.

the ginger is taken by surprise when a small noise akin to a whimper is released at the back of your throat. if he wasn’t so close to you, he would have missed the noise completely, but he caught it loud and clear, much to your embarrassment. chuuya is stunned further when your backside presses into his front and grinds down harder than your previous slight brushing. you’re absolutely shameless about it, fingers digging into the base of chuuya’s scalp. 

you move your head and match his lidded gaze. “pleasantly surprised…”

in that moment you both move without thinking. it’s like something possessed you both, swam into your brain and took control. it happens so quickly too. one moment you’re simply staring in to eyes and the next, your lips are crashing into the ginger’s, meeting him halfway. it’s surprisingly smooth, an easy kiss considering your slightly intoxicated state. his lips are so plush and soft. you don’t know what you expected. you’ve caught yourself on multiple occasions watching him apply chapstick regularly and each time you were caught in a trance at the action.

chuuya knows exactly what he’s doing, almost as if he’s thought about this before — kissing you. his movements are deliberate and surprisingly soft for how eager he seems. your lips move in sync, slotted together and fitting in a way that makes you think that maybe you were made for one another. it’s a ludicrous thought, you know, but that doesn’t stop you from relishing in it all the same. this must be what dying and then going to heaven feels like, light and elated. 

you’re both moving your bodies to the music around you. it’s quite impressive how chuuya is able to still lead you into moving in time with the beat reverberating through your bones. you turn your body so your chest is flush with his and you bring your other hand up to cup the executive’s face. he takes that opportunity to hold you closer and deepens the kiss. the ginger nips at your bottom lip then shamelessly swipes his tongues along it, eyes open to gauge your reaction. another whimper escapes you and you feel his lips curve once more into a satisfied smirk. 

instead of deepening the kiss further, like where you thought chuuya was leading this, the man in question pulls away. you chase his lips but he’s too quick and you can’t manage to recapture them. how frustrating, it was just getting good too. your face scrunches in confusion.

“chuuya, no-” you lean in and leave an open mouth kiss on his neck and then suck some of his skin into your mouth and graze your teeth across his porcelain skin. chuuya lets out a shuddered breath but keeps his composure, for the most part. “more…”

your whine elicits a breathy laugh from the executive and he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek. he watches as your pretty eyes flutter shut at the slightest of touches. his imagination starts to run wild as he thinks of the types of reactions he can pull out of you when he does more to you. the thought alone almost drives him insane. you two need to get the hell out of this club and away from prying eyes.

“we have eyes on us, doll. why don’t we get out of here?” chuuya hums at you questioningly.

your eyes clear from their haze when the ginger’s words register. “...and go where?”

“my apartment. it’s not too far from here. plus- i brought a driver with me tonight. what do you say?”

the executive, your higher up, detaches himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. your decision was made the moment you set eyes on him while on stage. you easily take his hand and allow him to lead you out to the car he had waiting for the two of you. 

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the car is nice, again it was something that costs far more than what your level at the port mafia could afford, but you’re still surprised. chuuya enjoys driving, so you never imagined him using a chauffeur. although you suppose he’s responsible and since he’s been drinking at a club…this is clearly the chuuya thing to do. 

the chauffeur does his duty and goes to open the door for you. the younger man, someone you don’t recognize so he must be lower in ranks than you, is stopped by chuuya. the boy, you’ve decided he’s much younger than you — somewhere between 18 and 19 years old — startles at the executive’s hand landing on his shoulder.

“you can return to the car, kid. i’ve got the doors.” chuuya’s tone is light, but still, his words come out as a command.

the chauffeur looks absolutely horrified, obviously thinking he did something wrong and scurries back to the driver’s side. the ginger, on the other hand, clearly pays it no mind as he opens your door for you and offers his hand for help. you let out a light giggle and chuuya can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.

“what i do now?” 

you shake your head at him in amusement. “that kid looks terrified. are you sure he’s even old enough to drive?”

“he is. taught him how to drive myself. trust me, he’s more than capable of driving us to my apartment.” he tilts his head to indicate that you should get moving into the car. 

instinctively, you do as he says and make your way into the car. your head is still spinning from the champagne you had earlier and suddenly everything is moving quickly. chuuya gets into the car and tells his driver to get moving before lifting the partition, separating the two of you from the boy up front. 

not even a moment later you find one hand gripping the armrest of the car door and the other gripping chuuya’s arm as he has his own ungloved hand shoved in between your thighs. his middle finger is toying with you, circling your clothed clit. your grip on him tightens when he shoves your panties to the side and gathers your wetness before focusing on your clit again. 

your hips stutter and head falls back. your hazy senses distantly warn you that maybe doing this in a car where you aren’t alone with chuuya wasn’t a good idea. what if the driver opens the partition to ask something of your higher up. once again you’re smacked in the face that this isn’t exactly right, you shouldn’t be headed home with your boss. 

you’re brought out of your thoughts when chuuya’s fingers dip down further and prod at your entrance. your breath hitches as he pushes his middle finger inside of you. his fingers are the perfect size, surprisingly long and not abnormally thick but not thin either. you’ve found yourself on multiple occasions staring at chuuya’s hands in the rare moments he actually removes his gloves.

you can feel a noise bubbling in your throat when he brushes his thumb across your clit. “chuu-“ you’re cut off when the ginger adds another finger.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying to not let any noises travel to the front of the car. chuuya notices and leans in, his arm reaching over to spread your legs open. his lips find yours as he does so and in that very moment he chooses to start languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. you can’t help yourself as you let small moans escape you but the man pulling them out of you makes sure to swallow them up.

when chuuya pulls away from you his bicolored eyes watch you carefully. “no need to hide your pretty noises from me, baby. ‘s soundproof.”

at that reassurance you let out a string of curses while his hand still works you skillfully. you don’t think a man has ever been able to make you feel this good with just his hand. hell, you don’t think even a woman has pulled you so close to the brink this fast with just her hands. it’s almost embarrassing how good he’s making you feel. what’s even worse? chuuya notices.

“‘m i makin’ you feel that good already? gonna be good and cum for me, doll?” chuuya’s fingers speed up, both the ones inside you and the thumb he has brushing against your clit.

you squirm at the increased intensity. your abdomen feels like it’s on fire, the warmth spreads and your vision starts to become spotted. your other hand on the car door now flies to his arm too and you brace yourself the best you can.

“mm fuck- chuuya- gonna- oh m- cumming!” you let out a silent squeal, mouth hanging open as your head is thrown back against the headrest. 

your body convulses lightly as you plummet. the same warmth building from earlier now spreading throughout your entire body. your vision blurs and everything sounds muffled. moans are falling from your mouth but you don’t even register them. chuuya is merciless with his ministrations. he continues to guide you through your orgasm.

once you’ve settled down, all of your tense muscles relax and you slump into your seat. you let out a whimper when chuuya finally pulls away, leaving you feeling distinctly empty. you loll your head around to look at the executive. it’s all you can muster in this moment while you’re still trying to catch your breath. 

the sight you’re met with almost makes you cum for the second time. the ginger looks over to you, catching your gaze immediately. as he maintains eye contact, chuuya brings his hand up to his lips and pushes his soiled fingers past them. you watch as his eyes flutter and throat bob while he drinks up the juices you left behind on his skin. he lets out a sinful groan and you swear it’s the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard. 

you sit up straight and brace yourself for climbing over the center armrest but you’re both startled by a knock on chuuya’s window. that’s when you realize, you must be at his apartment because the car had come to a stop. you reach for your door handle but the sound of the executive behind you clicking his tongue draws your attention away from it.

you peer over at him and he’s giving you a disapproving glare. “don’t you dare touch that damn door, be patient, yeah?”

you feel your face flush, you don’t think you’ve ever been scolded for trying to open your own door. unable to find your voice you simply nod your head. a gratified smile stretches across chuuya’s face. he opens his own door and before he slips out he looks back at you.

“good girl.”

you choke on your own spit. 

those two simple words are enough to have your thighs rubbing together, ready for him again. you’re blaming all of this in the two glasses of champagne you had back at the club. there was no way one man (derogatory) was pulling this kind of reaction out of you on his own. that would just be utterly ridiculous. 

that’s what you try to convince yourself of when your car door opens and chuuya offers you his hand again. you gladly take it considering this time your legs are a little shaky. the gravity manipulator politely dismisses the driver and guides you into the building. 

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the ginger has you attached to his hip as the both of you step through the threshold. the lobby is quiet and almost sparkling. you think that this lobby is nicer than the entirety of your apartment. the difference is almost jarring. the older man that’s sitting at the front desk waves politely at chuuya and the executive gives him a friendly wave back. 

“good evening, nakahara-sama. i see you’ve brought a guest.” the older man looks at you with a warm smile. “such a pretty young lady. it’s nice to see nakahara-sama with someone, he rarely has guests outside of his work colleagues.” 

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. if only the man knew. but who are you to spoil his fun? in fact, you find yourself joining in. 

“it’s nice to meet you…”

the old man blanches and looks almost mortified with himself. “how rude of me! my name is tanaka.”

you introduce yourself as well and give the man a mischievous smile. “thank you for boosting my ego, tanaka. it’s nice to know chuuya isn't bringing home many women.”

the older man’s eyes widen and he tries to stifle a snort. 

“alright. you two are dangerous together. have a good evening tanaka.” chuuya quickly ushers you away with a sour look on his face. “to clarify, there’s a reason i don’t bring other women around and it’s not for the reason you think it is.”

you snicker and can’t help the sardonic smile that’s plastered on your lips. “then tell me, what’s the real reason, chuuya?” 

you vaguely notice you pass a hallway of elevators and instead walk directly to a separate one with a key card pad. 

“you. you’re the reason i don’t bring anyone else around.”

his voice is surprisingly soft and timid, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything without full confidence. you blink, the switch in his demeanor is so staggering you buffer for a moment. that paired with the implications of his words has your mouth flapping like a fish out of water.

you try to attribute the fluttering in your stomach to your earlier activities and not his words, yet you’re unable to form a proper coherent thought. “what do you- what?”

chuuya finds your blanching absolutely adorable. the ginger lets out a short chuckle. he doesn’t explain himself. instead the ability user leans in and holds your face with his now gloved hand. he searches your eyes for a moment, you don’t know what he’s looking for but after a moment you think he’s found it because his face relaxes into a satisfied expression. 

he leans in all the way this time, capturing your lips with his own. the kiss starts off gentle but quickly turns fervent when he presses you into his and a wall. that’s when you feel a distinct bulge pressing on your stomach. the thought alone makes you whimper. 

you detach yourself from chuuya’s lips and press your head against the wall behind you, the ginger isn’t deterred as he starts to trail kisses along your jawline. “chuuya…have you been hard this entire time?”

you’re met with a grunt as chuuya all but ignores your comment and works his way down your neck. you let out an amused puff of air and look for the button for what you can only assume is his private elevator. all you’re met with is that damn keycard pad. your arm is snaked around his waist and you tap on his back to gain his attention.

“chuuya, call for the elevator.” your voice comes out far more strained and breathy than you meant it to and you watch as chuuya notices.

he pulls away from you, only enough for him to reach into his pocket and give you an amused smirk. “since when were you the one to give the orders, huh, doll?”

you give him a deadpan look, clearly not amused by his teasing. chuuya, however, evidently thinks he’s hilarious and chuckles to himself as he leans back and scans his keycard to call for the elevator. this was the port mafia executive everyone is scared of? the strongest ability user in all of japan, maybe in all of the world? to you, in this moment, he seems like just some regular 20 something years old loser. he’s so lame and somehow you find it utterly endearing.

the elevator dings and the doors open. a lightbulb goes on in your head and you have a brilliant idea. without wasting another moment you push chuuya into the elevator and before he can even get a complaint out — you knew it was coming by the look on his face — your hand starts stroking his clothed cock. the ginger lets out a hiss as he stumbles back into the wall.

chuuya lets out a shaky breath that’s a stark difference to his following words. “shit, no need to be so rough. ‘m all yours.”

“i don’t know…something tells me you enjoy rough, chuuya-sama.” your tone is teasing, referring to the title tanaka previously used with the executive.

you watch in absolute amusement as your superior’s eyes fly open and brows shoot up. he looks at you with the most scandalized expression. he’s only ever seen this side of you with his other subordinates, your equals. he never realize how much he craved this type of interaction from you until just now. you just gave him something so precious and you don’t even know it. 

chuuya is so astonished he can’t even formulate a way to tease you, his mouth is just blurting out words before his brain can catch up.

“where the hell did that mouth on you come from? just earlier you were trembling at the sight of me watching you sing.” you watch something flash in his eyes and his lips curl up devilishly. “y’know what? i think i deserve a reward for making you cum so easily in the car. what d’ya think, doll?”

you back away, a mischievous smile of yours matching his perfectly. you don’t keep the distance very long — someone had to hit the floor button to get this elevator moving. once you feel the soft jolt of the elevator you make your way to where you left chuuya, still leaning against the wall and watching your every move. the moment you’re close enough to him you sink to your knees. 

you’re face to face with the ginger’s bulging crotch and you stare at him through your lashes. “is this what you had in mind as your reward?”

”yeah, something exactly like this.” chuuya reaches down and runs the fingers of both his hands through your hair, he gathers the tresses all together and fists it all in one hand in a makeshift ponytail. you hum in appreciation. while still looking at the freckled man through your lashes you stick your tongue out and lick a stripe across his clothed length. 

the executive’s eyes flutter, a clear indication that he was sensitive, having been hard for far too long. his eyes momentarily leave yours and flit over to the floor number the elevator is passing. chuuya never thought he would ever value the slow ascent of this damn elevator but he’s found a new appreciation for it. you’ve only climbed 3 stories, which means you still have 20 more. that’s plenty of time, certainly enough for you to get his dick wet enough to slide right into your warm cunt once the elevator has made it to your destination. 

you’re quick to earn chuuya’s attention back when he hears the sound of his buckle being undone. he’s met with the sight of you using your teeth. fuck. chuuya has always known you’re sexy, but this? this might actually drive him insane. a sweet smile curls at your lips as you watch him unravel before your very eyes. 

you hasten your movements, popping the button of his slacks open and using your teeth, once again, to drag the zipper down just enough that his bulge in his boxer-briefs is freed. you do the same with his underwear and, god, when he’s finally free you have to take a moment to admire it. you think it’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, truly. that’s saying something considering you don’t necessarily find the sight of them attractive.

the length of it is just as pale as the rest of his body but the closer it gets to the tip, his skin turns into a soft pink. his veins are visible and pulsing at this point and his tip is already drooling. you notice how there’s a string of precum that’s attached to the wet spot on his underwear but you keep any comments to yourself. 

you look up to chuuya only to find him already watching you. he must have caught you staring because his breathing is shallow and his cheeks are flushed the same shade of pink as his tip. you smile at him again and dart your tongue out to gently lick the slit of his tip. the ginger's head immediately falls back and he lets out a puff of air. 

how is this man real?

you lick up his precum and it tastes absolutely divine. what the actual fuck is he made out of? and what the actual fuck is he doing to you? you actually think it’s insane how much you’re enjoying this. 

your lips wrap around his tip and a low grumble reverberates in his chest. you’re so fucked. down horrendous for this man. your thighs start rubbing together and he’s not even hitting the back of your throat yet. this is so humiliating, no, this is so pathetic of you. you gladly got on your knees for this man. what the fuck is wrong with you?

”hah- doll, keep your pretty eyes on me, yeah? sh-shit- wanna see you cryin’ when you take all of me, got it?” chuuya’s bicolored gaze is somehow still sharp despite the obvious loss of a filter.

oh.

oh.

that’s what’s wrong with you. this man isn’t just a man. this is chuuya nakahara. port mafia executive, strongest ability user and apparently the owner of a silver tongue. your own had reaches up to his, the one that’s holding your hair and you guide him in shoving you down onto his length. you relax your throat and easily take him all in. your nose is buried in his pubic hair and eyes flutter as you test tightening up your throat around him. you gag around chuuya and he let’s out the most obscene moan you think you’ve ever heard. 

the port mafia executive looks a mess. his free hand is tightly gripping his hat atop his head and the perspiration forming on his face starts to trickle along his temples and down his jawline. his breathing comes out in pants and he looks absolutely destroyed. a flicker of pride spreads across your chest. sure, this man has you on your knees voluntarily but you think he would just as easily get on his knees for you. you have this powerful man in the palm of your hand. 

the hand tangled in your hair tugs on you just harsh enough to pull you off of him completely. “jesus christ, i can’t- fuck- doll. i can’t keep doing this, i need to be inside of you. right now. need to be buried in your pretty cunt, please-” 

chuuya doesn’t wait for your response, he lifts you off the floor of the elevator and hoists you up. his grip on his self control is noticeably waning as he momentarily uses his ability to skip stabilizing you on your feet and immediately has you wrapping your legs around his hips. your head is dizzy, everything moving so quickly. the ginger notices and instantly corrects that. 

he has one arm wrapped around you and it’s enough to keep you stable. “…sorry… i got carried away. are you ok with this. we can wait, just 5 more floors and we can go to my bedroom where i have condoms.”

his free hand strokes the hair away from your face. the gesture is soft, a complete 180 from his previous behavior. you lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut for just a moment to relish in how he calms you. 

you hum lightly and open your eyes to look at him earnestly. “no, i want you now too. think we’ve both waited long enough.”

chuuya smiles at you and leans in to steal yet other kiss from you. this one is soft but just as desperate as the rest of them. he sneaks his hand between the two of you and pushes your underwear to the side once again. you feel his cock nestle itself right between your folds. 

chuuya lets out a strained exhale and moves his hips to slide himself between your folds. “fuckin’ hell, doll. you’re so damn wet, could get off just like this. wanna feel how soft and warm your pussy is, though. can i, baby? please?”

your  hands tug at the hairs at the base of chuuya’s neck and he hisses. “chuuya, please, just fuck me already.”

that’s all the confirmation chuuya needs. he uses his free hand that’s still positioned between the two of you to grab the base of his dick and align himself with your entrance. his tips prods at you and as he’s sinking you onto him, both of you letting out an absurd amount of moans, the elevator finally dings. the doors open to reveal chuuya’s apartment to you. 

you would love to admire the vast living quarters but your attention is solely on chuuya. the way he stretches has you in near shambles. hiccuped whimpers leave your lips and you already feel so full. 

you weren’t going to last like this, there is no way in hell you’re going to last more than maybe 5 minutes. but based on chuuya’s reaction, incoherent babbles falling past his lips and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, neither was he. the mafioso’s present enough to know you’ve made it to his apartment. 

chuuya plants a hand on both sides of your ass and walks you into his home. he kicks his shoes off haphazardly and you let yours fall somewhere near his. your superior makes it all but 7 paces forward before he’s pressing you against a wall in the foyer. 

“you feel s’fuckin’ good, baby. s’tight and warm and soft. s’perfect f’me.” the ginger’s words are slurred, more so than when he was actually drinking.

you’re in no better condition as you whine out, “chuuya, need more. need you to move, wanna feel you moving inside of me.”

who is he to deny you of such a pretty request. you’re practically sobbing when chuuya’s hips roll into you before pulling back and bullying back into your fluttering cunt. you let out a loud moan, almost screaming, the kind that hangs on the walls and echoes throughout the room. before you can get too carried away, you crash your lips into chuuya’s and let him drink up your noises just as you do with him. 

his grip on your ass is bruising as his fingertips bite into the plush skin through your dress. god, your dress, it was one of the nicest articles of clothing you own and now it’s most definitely ruined. you hardly have the capacity to worry about that right now.

chuuya’s pace quickens to an impossible pace. he’s jostling you around so much that your head dizzies and you can’t even keep your lips attached to his. you let your head drop to the executive’s shoulder and your lips ghost his earlobe. your moans and whines are now loud and clear in his ear. 

a guttural groan escapes the ginger and his hips begin to stutter. he’s close, you identify it right away. he was going to cum soon and you were still on the brink, barely not there yet. 

“more, chuuya need- oh my god- need more, please…” 

chuuya hums out an acknowledgement — maintaining his pace, he frees one of his hands and reaches between the two of you once more. his middle finger locates your clit with ease and it almost sends you spiraling right then and there.

your forehead nuzzles further into chuuya’s neck at the extra stimulation. “chuuya- fuck- chuuya, chuuya, chuuya….”

your mind finally goes blank giving way to the man bullying into your cunt so deliciously. he’s all you can hear, feel, smell, taste and see. your senses are consumed by him. your eyes well up with tears at the immense amount of pleasure your experience. 

it’s only when you have enough sense to pick up your head to warn chuuya of your incoming orgasm that your fuzzy brain registers the encouragement and cooing he’s offering you.

chuuya’s voice is strained but his comfort is enough to send you into a fit of sobs as you finally crash into your second high of the night. this one is far more intense than the last. you feel your walls convulsing around chuuya’s cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him nestled deep inside of you. the aforementioned man seems to be at his wits end and his next words prove you right.

“o-oh- hah- fuck- doll, ‘m gonna cum- fuck- where do you want it, where do i- shit-“

you grip his shoulders desperately and let out a whimper, still incoherent and flitting in and out of consciousness as your orgasm still washes over you in waves. “inside- chuuya, want you to- mmm fuck- want you to cum inside of me. please, please, please-“

that’s it, that’s the only thing you need to say to have chuuya burying himself deep inside of your cunt and spilling into you. you can feel the way his cock twitches and pulses against your walls as he empties himself. you both breathe in unison as your try to catch your breath and come back to reality from the mind breaking pleasure you’d just experienced.

chuuya’s the first to come back. he straightens, letting his coat hit the floor. he’s gentle, moving you to lean into him as he continues to support you when he peels you off the wall. you hum in appreciation and vaguely realize you should wrap your arms around his shoulders, so you do. 

chuuya doesn’t take you far. you’re lifting your head the same moment he’s squatting down to sit you both on the couch. he hoists you up, ready to slip himself out when you let out a noise that’s a cross between a whine and a whimper. you’re shaking your head at him and how is he supposed to say no to your tear streaked face. 

chuuya allows you to cockwarm as he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing.

your head tilts in confusion and you furrow your brows at him. ”who are you texting?”

”the boss and akutagawa.” chuuya’s quick to answer as he types away still.

”…what for?”

he smirks and looks at you this time while he speaks. ”i need to tell the boss i’ll be missing our meeting tomorrow and akutagawa that you’ll be absent from assignment tomorrow. looks like we’ve both come down with a hellish stomach bug.”

your face flushes at his implication. it seemed to you chuuya didn’t plan on letting you sleep much tonight. you find yourself running your hands over his shoulders and chest. you wouldn’t mind seeing him completely undressed. when you look back at him, he seems to have the same thought as his eyes drink you in.

it’s probably for the best that he was calling you both off duty tomorrow. it seems like you have a long night ahead of you.

[nvuy]

so… about that drink you ordered — boothill

summary. boothill has a pity party at a bar and notices a familiar face that he wants to smash into two.

notes. sort of requested official unofficial sequel sort of to hijacked. you can read this stand alone. not saying you should, though. teehee. this is so uninspired. i just like this concept a lot. i also just like rivals to lovers. i’m also riding on the coattails of the “boothill is largely illiterate.” whether it’s actually canon or not who knows. let me be. he’s still not released LMAOOOO.

warnings. the usual banter, little bit of threatening, but nothing major.

Boothill was at a loss. The mission was a bust, there was no response from La Mancha, and the dreamscape was beginning to grind his gears. So many loud noises, the poster signs were following him around, and this so-called SoulGlad was not as good as it was advertised to be.

This bar sucked, too. The bartender had been giving him the stink eye for the better half of an hour now. It probably wasn’t appropriate to sick him right in the face for it, break his nose, and give him a beating.

The bartender wasn’t scrawny, though. Some big bulk of meat with tired eyes, scruff and mousy brown hair. His chest looked like it was about to pop the buttons of his vest. Dude looks absolutely repressed. Probably works minimum wage.

The bartender abandons a blue inky pen and his notebook that Boothill snoops in. Nothing interesting. Just pages of tabs and tabs of people he doesn’t know, nor care about.

There’s music from the stereos in the corners, though surprisingly, considering it’s not a club—that one is next door. It’s a conjoined building. The only thing seperating the bar and the VIP private rooms of the club is a wall and a locked door. Comforting—and Boothill would have lost his mind already.

It’s also dark. Granted, it’s two in the morning, but the low lights can’t be good for normal people. Not to mention the group of women in the corner that have been hoarding the few slot machines for about thirty minutes now.

Every so often, a chime will go off, and one of them will start busting into tears.

He’s here alone. Not for any particular reason. He’s waiting for a response from somebody, and what better way to pass the time than people watch and pretend he’s not nosy.

Also he feels super important sitting at the counter of the bar.

He almost jumps at a whisper in his ear.

A reddish drink in a ribbed coupe glass is gently dropped onto the counter space beside him. There’s a cucumber slice on the rim, and it also looks like it’s been dusted with sugar.

Boothill turns his nose up. Gross.

The bartender glances at the figure who slots into the seat next to the ranger. “Can I get you something else?”

“Hard whiskey.”

Huh. His eyes snapped to the right. Very familiar. Almost unnervingly so. Just in case, he scoots himself away by an inch, sitting closer to the edge of the barstool.

The bartender blinks, unsure as he pulls a tumbler from the rack. “For you?”

A finger prods the Ranger’s cheek. “For him.”

There’s a zap from the finger, like a small electric shock. Like static charged from the friction of the weird material of the barstools.

“Thanks, Gal.”

“No amount of flirting is gonna make me clear your tab,” Gallagher warned before sliding the whiskey over to the Ranger. Boothill had barely moved, now acutely aware of his own face plastered on a wanted poster behind the bartender’s head. “Try not showin’ up here frequently. Bad for my image if I keep serving crooks.” He points to the Ranger, and then to you. “Both of you.”

The bartender then is called over by a group of women who are giggling at a booth in the corner.

Boothill was sure he was going to lean forward and scrap with you over the counter. He could already feel the terse skin of your neck in his hands.

“You followin’ me?”

“You followed me first,” you say harshly.

The ranger let out a laugh before picking up his drink. “It was only a job. If you got offended, that’s your problem.” He then holds the glass close. “You g’nna do that thing again?”

“‘Thing?’” you repeated.

There was a smug grin on your face. You rested the chin in the palm of your hand.

Oh. He was so going to throw you over the counter and smash a bottle over your head. “Y’know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Don’t play stupid.”

You took a sip of your drink.

“Boop.”

Your finger pressed to his chest. You snickered when he stared down at the brief flashing of yellow beneath his joints.

Then, you flit your finger upwards and flick his nose.

He grabs your hand with the intent of pulling it from its socket.

“Now, that’s a dangerous game to play,” you remind him. “I’ve got you in my hands, remember?” Your free hand lets go of your glass, and there’s a small flash of yellow light on the pads of the gloves on your hands. A flicker is all it takes to showcase his entire makeup in your palm. You spin it slowly for good measure.

Then, the image disappears and you snatch your wrist from his hand.

“What do you want?” Boothill mutters. He’s absentmindedly staring into his drink while swishing it around. The ice cubes softly tap against the glass.

“Insight. You’re a Galaxy Ranger, right?” He can’t lie to you anyway. You pretty much know everything about him. Your main profession is definitely stalking and being a thorn in his side. Your fingers held his chin up softly. “Tell me about it.”

He blinks, dazed. “That’s it?”

“No.”

He removes your hand from his chin. He holds his glass protectively. “Then quit pullin’ my leg. Cut to the good bit.”

You sigh. “You’re no fun. Do you come to bars just to mope?” You pull a dramatic frown for good measure.

“Do you come to bars to piss everyone off?” he shoots back. Despite his tone, his fingers are gentle around the glass. Any more firm a hold, and the drink would shatter and spill all over the counter.

You grin.

You tap his nose again. “Just you.” Then, you shake your head. “I’m here ‘cause I got a bar crush.” You then point to a table behind Boothill’s head in the corner. “Blondie with the nice eyes and the rings.”

After a moment's hesitation, the ranger turns and follows your finger.

Sure enough, you’re not convincing him to spin around so you can shove your hand into his sockets. There is a blond man at a table dressed in green, winking at an opponent over a game of… poker? Is that poker? The game with the chips and stuff. And dice, too. They’re thrown over a board, and there’s a couple of people who have tuned in to watch the entire thing unfold.

“His name is Aventurine. Or, that’s a code name, I think. He’s Sigonian. Works for the IPC, incredibly insecure, has a gambling addiction, needs to eat lead…” You stopped short, counting on your fingers as Boothill turns back to you. “Isn’t he dreamy?”

Boothill narrows his eyes at you. “Do you know everything about everyone?”

You shrug. “Pretty much, yeah.” Then, you make a noise. “Eh, I’m lying. Lots of people are boring. I only know the basics ‘bout most of ‘em. It’s the higher ups I’m interested in. Case in point–” You gestured to the blond man again, now scanning over his cards. “–Mister Big Shot. And all his loser coworkers. I don’t like the IPC.”

Boothill quietly sips his drink.

At least you can both agree on something.

He wants to yawn. He doesn’t have the function to do that anymore.

You talk too much.

He cuts you off, and fiddles with a few buttons on his arm. “What can you tell me–” A small image of a woman projects into view from a small lens near his wrist. “–About her?”

You lean closer to the image. Pretty.

She has lovely purple hair and eyes to match. It’s an unassuming photo. She’s not even looking at the camera, not even close to it. She’s standing next to a little boy with sparkling eyes and a uniform that starkly resembles the hotel staff in the waking world of Penacony—oh, the bellboy. You forgot his name.

You hum. “What’s her name?”

“Acheron.” He spits it nastily, as if tasting vitriol on his tongue.

You lean back against the counter. “I’d have to dig deeper. Can’t say I’ve seen her around before.”

“Well, that’s disappointin’,” he huffs before the image shrinks and disappears back into the lens. “Thought you were better than that.”

Your brows knit together.

“Are you trying to rile me up?” It was working. Curse you and your hot-head. It would get you killed one day.

Boothill grins.

Then, he raises his glass to you. “Yep.”

You wanted to pull him apart right there, like a doll.

Instead, you whisper, “tell me about La Mancha.”

Boothill casually sips the whiskey. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll dig up whatever I can find about that Acheron girl.”

Boothill then lets out a small giggle. “I already know who she is.” He wasn’t lying either. You could tell by how he grinned. “I was testin’ ya.”

Oh, great. He’s figured you out again. Not that there’s much to decode beneath the layer of self-doubt and hostility.

You could feel your face burning.

He grabs your cheeks before you can turn away.

“You ain’t here ‘cause you got some ‘puppy crush,’” he accused playfully, squishing your skin like it’s clay. “You already told me ya know everything about blondie. Who’re you really here for?”

He’s not stupid.

He’s also twirling a lock of his hair around his finger.

God damnit.

Your fingers curled tightly around the rim of your glass. The cucumber slice has since fallen into the cosmopolitan, and it’s giving the entire drink a strange watery taste.

The bar carries on. There’s a hoot from the table with blondie, who’s now, since the last time you stared daggers into the side of his head, collected some more of his poor opponent’s chips.

You pull your face from his grip. “Nobody.”

“Not even me?” Boothill presses. “You seem to love followin’ me around. In and out the dreamscape.”

You grit your teeth.

“The bartender,” you mutter finally. “I’m here for the bartender.” Currently, Gallagher is half asleep on the other side of the counter, trying to negotiate with some drunkard over the pricing of a scotch.

You eye him warily for a moment.

“There it is.” He pats your head like a dog. “Knew you’d come ‘round, pumpkin.”

You’re trembling with rage. “Kiss my ass, you cyborg scum.” You were considering throwing a punch at his perfect face.

“Rude.” Boothill flicks your nose back and you grunt. “I’m tryin’ to be nice wit’ you. You followed me here.”

You wanted to leave now. He sucks when he knows he has the upper hand, even if he’s well aware you can make his arms tear his own head off.

But you’re not going to do that. You need him. You made that clear.

The sound of a slot machine goes off somewhere to the right. There's cheering from a bunch of women.

You turn back and stare at the wall of liquor behind the bar. Maybe you should just knock yourself out. Whether by downing an entire bottle of bourbon or smashing it over your head. It was a hard choice to make.

You watch him through your peripherals, noticing he’s pinched a napkin from the pile on the counter.

“Lookin’ very pretty tonight, by the way. Hard to keep my eyes off ya.” He was writing something down with the pen from before. “If you were anyone else, I woulda had to take ya home. ‘Specially after ya bought me a drink.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Then, you pause. “Excuse me?”

Boothill folds the napkin into a square and holds it to your lips. “Open.”

“You are not–”

Too late. He’s pushed it to your teeth, and you instinctively clamp down on it.

Oh, this sucks. This sucks bad.

He knows it, too, from the way he’s grinning at you like a shark and snickering.

He presses his warm lips to your cheek. The scent of whiskey faintly wafts in the air.

You stupidly freeze, hands curled around his wrists when his cold hands tilt your head so the tip of his tongue can press to the corner of your lips. You could stop him. You could.

You didn’t.

You smell like strawberry, the same as that other night. You look just as good, too. Shame you haven’t put anything on your lips. He would’ve loved to be stained a nice pink again.

He slides his whiskey next to you.

Then, he finishes what’s left of your drink. Dickhead. “I’ll be ‘round if ya need me.” He taps your nose and stands up. “You know where to find me.”

With a tilt of his hat, he leaves.

You pull the napkin from your teeth. Are you serious?

Face burning with humiliation, you hastily unfold the tissue, fingers shaking around the glass of whiskey. It’s heavy on your tongue; disgusting, bitter, everything you’d use to describe that stupid cowboy and his abomination of a body.

Scrawled in blue ink is a line of numbers. It looked suspiciously like a phone number.

Below it in blocky letters are the words: Keep In touc H. ♡

There’s a crudely drawn horse with a hat in the corner.

[steviesbicrisis]

Dustin had been waiting this moment for months.

Mind you, Dustin isn’t one to bring up his personal life to the public at any chance he gets, but a part of him really wants everyone to know his role in one of the most important up-coming weddings of the year.

“So, I’ve heard you had a big role in all of this, what happened?” The host asks, on the edge of his seat.

“Well, I know Eddie cause we’ve done some livestreams together, we’ve met a couple of times and he seemed cool. And I know Steve cause, other than working together, he’s basically a brother to me, you know-” the audience interrupts him with a big ‘aaaaw’ sound and loud clapping.

“I think you misunderstood me, he’s the type of older brother who is no fun and makes you wish either of you was adopted.”

The audience laughs.

“Anyways, we were all at a party and I introduced them and Eddie was, you know, immediately obsessed with Steve. But Steve was engaged at the time,” Dustin decides to not dwell on this part of the story, it was a very tough time for Steve and some of it was public enough to make it worse. Dustin is just happy that he can talk about Steve’s ex-fiancé in the past tense.

“Time goes on, and as soon as the news of Steve being single again hits the public, I get a call from one begging Eddie Munson-” he wasn’t really begging but Dustin wants to sell the story “-asking about Steve once again. Like, how was he? Was he fine? Ready to meet other people? and I was like 'I don't know dude, I don't ask him about his dating prospects daily' and that's when he asked for Steve's number."

Dustin takes a small pause before going into the next part of the story "Obviously I don't go around giving people Steve's number, and I get asked a lot," the audience laughs again, "so I do the decent thing and ask Steve can I give Eddie your number? is it okay?

And Steve goes all into this theatrical performance Oi, no, mamma mia," Dustin goes strong with the Italian accent "All these men, che palle, they never leave me alone. Oddio-”

The host interrupts him “wait, does Steve have this strong Italian accent?”

“Of course not, he was born in Indiana, I’m trying to sell the story man!” Dustin pretends to be annoyed and the host goes along with it, making the audience laugh and cheer.

“Anyways, he was trying to say no but clearly meant yes. So I gave Eddie the number and whatever Eddie did with it, must’ve been the right call.”

A photo of Steve’s engagement announcement appears behind them right after: Steve and Eddie’s hands, finger intertwined and matching rings.

“Clearly he did” the host agrees after the clapping and cheering from the audience dies down.

“And what about wedding gifts? Are you doing something with the whole group? Or is it a solo thing?” The host inquires.

“Uh, I gave Steve a husband?? He should be giving me gifts”.

———

Predictably, the interview goes viral.

A few days later, Dustin comes back home to find a gift waiting for him.

It’s two VIP tickets for one of Eddie’s shows under his and Suzie’s name (a YouTuber friend Dustin didn’t have the courage to ask out, yet).

The note attached to the box is simple and very clear.

“Thank you, little shit. Now that we are even, the wedding gift is expected or you’ll be grounded.

See you at the wedding

S&E”

Despite being a twenty something, successful and independent since he was 17, Dustin takes the threat very seriously.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Helmut Kleinicke

Helmut Kleinicke was a German engineer who supervised construction projects at Auschwitz while saving Jews from the gas chambers.

Born in 1907, Helmut grew up in the forest of Lower Saxony – literally. His parents were forest rangers. Helmut studied civil engineering and joined the Nazi party in 1933. In 1941, right after getting married, Helmut was hired to join the team planning the construction of Auschwitz concentration camp. He moved to Chrzanow, Poland to work on the project.

In Chrzanow, Helmut was ordered to select local Jews who were young and healthy to work on the construction site. He treated them well and didn’t allow the SS to harass them. One survivor remembered, “Those of us who worked for Kleinicke were like VIPs. We had a certificate that we worked for him, and that was our insurance policy.”

When he heard about plans to round up local Jews, Helmut located every person on the list and warned them they were about to be arrested. Then he transported many of them to the border and helped them escape. Others he hid in his attic and basement. Helmut didn’t keep track of the Jews he saved, but it’s estimated there were hundreds.

By late 1943, the higher-ups at Auschwitz noticed that Jews who interacted with Helmut kept disappearing. He was removed from his job and drafted to an artillery unit, then sent to the front lines. When Germany surrendered in 1945, Helmut was arrested by the British because of his membership in the Nazi party. While he was in prison, Jews he had saved submitted affidavits testifying that he had rescued them “without regard to his person” and that many Jews owed their lives to Helmut Kleinicke. He was exonerated in 1949. For the rest of his life, he did not talk about his wartime activities. He told his daughter only that he’d saved some Jews, but wished he’d saved more. He never considered himself a hero. In 1979, the American miniseries “Holocaust” aired on German TV. Helmut watched it and was deeply shaken. Three days after that he had a stroke from which he never recovered. He died a few months later.

Helmut’s heroism was unknown until recently. In a 2015 documentary, Josef Konigsberg, an Auschwitz survivor, testified that Helmut Kleinicke saved his life by pulling him out of a line of people being deported. This interview, and corroborating evidence that Helmut had saved many Jewish lives, led to Helmut Kleinicke being honored posthumously as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem. The ceremony was held at the Israeli Embassy in Berlin, and was attended by Helmut’s daughter Juta Scheffzek. Also in attendance was Josef Konigsberg, who told his story of being rescued by Helmut. “I owe him my life,” said Josef, describing how Helmut rescued him from a transport line to Auschwitz: “My mother came and begged him to rescue me. Kleinicke grabbed me and said that I was his best worker.” Josef’s mother and sister were not so lucky and both died in the gas chamber. Crying as he addressed Juta, Josef said, “This is one of the most beautiful days of my life. Thank you, thank you.”

Juta was deeply touched. “It verified what my father said to me in very few words – and I never knew if he had been telling the truth.” She told the Times of Israel after the ceremony, “It was a very long and emotional search to discover the truth about my father, and I hope that people in America, the UK and Israel will hear about it.”

Israeli Ambassador to Germany Jeremy Issacharoff, who hosted the event honoring Helmut, commented, “When you’re in the context of Germany, you’re never free of the historical dimension of the Holocaust, and it’s a very heavy burden to bear for the Germans, and also obviously for the Jewish people, and it’s always there. And I think it’s really important that this type of ceremony also recognizes that there were a few really important people who did the right thing. And that, to me, is the main message that should come out of this.”

For saving Jews while his peers were killing them, we honor Helmut Kleinicke as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[whorediaries-09]

this party's shit

pairing - sirius black x reader warning(s) - fluff, alcohol. a/n- AHHHH

little train.

you didn't really hear james over the loud music. but you do catch up on the important things said over the phone. that is why you found yourself in the most unflattering attire while entering one of the most lavish bars of london. at some point, you were even worried that you wouldn't be allowed in the bar.

but of course you didn't have enough time to fix yourself and make yourself presentable. you didn't even care about rashly driving to the bar.

it was urgent and sirius black had thrown a tantrum that he needed you. no wonder he was an idiotic bloke.

you're rushing into the club, running to the vip section where james had told you they had been lounged at. and god it's a sight when you reach there. sirius is standing upon the table, dancing around with a bottle of beer, with a cigarette hanging from his slender fingers. he's throwing around his hands, his crop top riding up all the way, his low waisted flared jeans showing the elastic of his boxers. from the neck of his top, hangs several silver chains and a heart shaped sunglass. within the low purple lights of the club, his tattoos reflect magnificently. and god forbid you could be drunk on that sight.

when his eyes falls upon yours, he stops dancing around. for a moment, you see his pupils recovering from the haze of alcohol. he smiles, showing his pearly white teeth.

he stumbles, trying to get off the table. you rush towards him, hoping to catch him so he doesn't injure himself. but he jumps off the table just fine. he puts on his heart shaped sunglasses. he wraps his hand around your wrist, trying to pull you on the couch. you don't move.

'sirius,' you warn. he hums, chuckling happily.

'h'lo babeee,' he drags. 'come join us, pleasee,' he says. it's no use arguing with him when he gives you the biggest puppy eyes known to mankind.

you sigh. with a stone in your heart, you say,

'no, sirius, we need to go home,' sirius leaves your wrist, jumping in what seems...excitement.

'folks!! she's taking me home! the girl i've been in love with for so long is taking me home!!'

your cheeks instantly redden, as the blood rushes to them. you only hope the purple lighting covers it up.

'sirius! i'm taking you to your home and i'm going back to mine,'

he stops jumping. like a little whiny child, he stamps over to you. but he listens. and that's what matters. so, you let him hold your hand while you take him out. the night breeze welcomes you as you escape from the atrocious scents of beer and whiskey that dimmed in the club.

before you're able to take him to your parked motorcycle, however, he holds you by the wrist.

'tell me, bbaabeee. don't you like me?' like? i do more than just liking you.

'i like you alright, sirius.' his face dampens.

'what, do you want me to dislike you?' you ask, letting your hand free from his grip. you give him a helmet.

'now, wear this.'

'no.'

'why not?'

'it's no point in living if you just...like me'

'that, sirius is a very bad thing to say. now sit down.'

'it'll ruin my hair,' he elaborates.

'is your hair more important or your life?'

'my hair is my life!'

god you wanted to hit him. square on the chest. you stay silent, sitting on the motorbike. he sits behind you, wrapping his hands tight around your waist.

*-

he's tucked under the duvet. you've wiped off his makeup, rubbed in moisturizer onto his extremely dry skin.

'hi,' you say, sitting by his bed. he still seems sad about something.

'hi,' he says, not meeting your eyes.

'what are you thinking about?'

'is it true then? do you just like me?' you scrunch your eyebrows.

'do you want me to hate you then?'

'no...i just wish you loved me the way i love you.'

you suck in a sharp breathe. it's okay, you assure yourself. he's drunk, gibbering nonsense. still it doesn't stop the feeling of hurt deepen and sting.

'i don't understand you,' he looked at you as if you'd said something direly stupid.

'do you not understand me, or do you pretend to not understand me?' he asked. your heart skipped a beat, mind reeling with so many answers, but none coherent. he grinned. he'd got you.

you stutter.

's-shut up. you'll shut up when you're not drunk,' you said. you tried not to grow flustered over his gaze that ran throughout your body, as if drinking the sight of you in.

'i'm feeling soberest i've ever felt in my life right now, sweetheart,' he said. he got up, resting his back against the headboard. you rolled your eyes.

'that is the biggest lie ever, and you know it, sirius black.' he blew a raspberry at you.

'maybe not the soberest, but i'm feeling pretty clear ya'know?'

the silence was almost deafening. try as hard as you might, you couldn't really escape the fact that sirius black had just confessed to you. it felt ridiculous because last you remembered, it was you pining over him since your school days.

your hints went seemingly unnoticed, as if he was an oblivious brick. but god forbid, he could catch onto everything you hinted at. not you mention you weren't actually very subtle about it. he wished he wasn't scared back in the day, otherwise he wouldn't have to face this day. his hopes were however high. he hoped you still had your feelings for him, just like he did.

you were acting like a dense wall, even when he'd spelt it out for you.

'you can't take a hint, can you?'

'you know i can only properly function when someone's direct with me,'

sirius grinned. he knew how he could be direct with you. it was perhaps a stupid decision, but too tempting to not try. so he grabbed you by your neck, pulling you closer, smashing your lips against his.

the hint was received.

**********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

************************************

[pablitogavii]

Best Friends Little Sister Pt. 1

Here is the very first part..hope you enjoy reading this storyline! There will be MANY parts if you like the story 💗💗💗

Fucking great! I've barely been here twenty four hours and I'm already in so much fucking trouble!

When i finally convinced my parents to let me go to Barcelona for uni, they only agreed if it meant staying with my older brother Pedri and not making any problems to his very important football career. He was always the golden boy in the household..I was kind of like a wild goose.

Of course I promised to behave..I would basically promise anything just so they let me go! Besides my best friend Masa was going too!

Tonight was a big event..back to school party night..with some after party VIP event which I of course had tickets for knowing who my brother is in these circles. Masa and I didn't think twice than to sneak out night before first day of classes and enjoy some privileges having a famous brother gives.

We promised not to drink..but beer pong seemed irresistible at the time which then turned into some shots and finally we needed a ride back home. A handsome looking black man walked up to me offering another drink but I refused. I was already getting sick of everything I had..and I wanted to go home.

"Hmm you know who I am guapa? I'm Vinicius Jr.." he said slurring his words..now that I took a look at him I obviously knew the guy..how could one miss the diamond chain he had on with his name on it..poser! His hand wrapped around my waist shamelessly and I felt sickened to my stomach..I should be home now!

"And you know who I am!? I'm Pedri's little sister and a Culé for life so get lost!" I said pushing him off and walking to make a phone call to only person other than my brother I knew in town..Pablo Gavi.

Morning Pedri picked me up from the airport Gavi was there..they were just getting back from training and we went to have some lunch together. Of course we were stopped by hoards of girls screaming both of their names..it was kind of embarrassing to think of my brother as alpha male in Barca but couldn't say I didn't get girls being obsessed with Gavi..he was certainly something else in person.

Broad shoulders..veiny arms..long fingers..fuck! And those eyes looking at you like he's already seen you naked..everything screamed DOMINANCE!! Don't even get me started on his hair..and did you know what he called me...!?

"Hola pequeñita, que necesitas ahora?" Pablo's groggy but still sexy voice broke my train of thought and I knew that I just woke him up.Better him than my brother I thought..I explained everything and he was on his way to pick us up. That was lucky that he didn't call my brother and snitched on me!

"Alright, hop in!" he pulled up getting out and opening both doors for me and my best friend to get inside..what a gentleman!

"Who got you into this party!? Aren't you like underage?" he asked me sitting at the passenger seat while Masa was already passed out in the back. I showed him the fake I brought from him seeing his jaw clenching..fuck I was getting so horny by it now!!

"Besides I faked Pedri's signature for the owner and he looked the other way for tonight..it's back to school night" you explain giggling at your own brilliant idea looking at Pablo's still serious face.

"You're trouble.." Pablo's voice was low and somehow demanding and I felt my panties water thinking of all the ways he could tame me right now..fuck I was so screwed if he kept biting his lower lips like that!

When we arrived at my best friends house, he helped me take her into dorm..she's so lucky she's living alone! Then he drove me to Pedri's mansion on the periphery of town..I learned during the drive that his mansion isn't far away either.

Must be nice being a young millionaire..smoking hot and wanted by every female in Spain..what is this I felt?? Was I really jealous!?

"Do you ever smile grumpy!?" I giggled as he opened the door seeing that I already took off my heels sighing before picking them up and carrying me bridal style into the house with a hidden spare key.

"I prefer to sleep at 3AM and not smile, vale!?" he said and I kept giggling like he was saying the funniest joke while resting my head onto his shoulder.

"You know about the spare key too..you guys are really close friends huh?" I say poking his cheek but he moves my finger while nodding his head.

"But..you'll lie for me..hmm..q..que mono" I poke him again as he quietly walks upstairs and into my room locking the door behind himself. He sushed me but I giggled making him cover my mouth with his veiny hand. Fuck it turned me on!

"Bueno, you're home safe and I can go..just don't wake Pedri up bueno?" he said putting me down but I reached to grab his hand and pull him back shyly..I didn't want him to go..fuck I wanted him so bad right now.

"Que haces pequeñita, huh? Eres mala..muy mala" he whispers the last part walking closer until my back his the wall and I were trapped there by his strong arms.

"Porque?" I play dumb biting my lip as Pablo raised my chin slowly licking his lips while looking at my hungrily.

"Your brother is right next door..and here you are..pulling me close..driving me crazy with that dress..and that sweet scent..you know I'm a man too" he slip his arm around my waist and a shiver moved down my spine as he whispered things into my ear.

"I'm so weak for you..f..fuck!" he whispered kissing the side of my neck and my moan rather loudly making him smirk but cover my mouth quickly.

"Do you want to get us in trouble pequeñita, huh?" he said and I shook my head making him uncover my lips and move closer making me unable to breathe from excitement.

"Mi nena buena.." he said kissing my lips passionately as my whole body melted into his strong grasp. Things were happening fast..as both of us ended up with our naked bodies interconnected and completely lost in each other forgetting about anything else.

Alarm was ringing as my head was pounding and I woke up resting on Pablo's naked chest...it's the first day of school..fuck!! Pedri's best friend was naked in my bed..FUCK!

Pablo somehow managed to sneak out since Pedri left super early for practice but he was late which made all the boys tease him during rondo.

"He must of been with a girl!" Ansu said passing him the ball and Pablo avoided Pedri's eye contact at all times. He screwed up badly this time..his little sister was off limits! Fuck!

"At least tell us she was a good fuck" Balde smirked and Pablo hit the ball little too hard hitting him in process before walking to run the mile. He was angry at himself, but also couldn't stop smelling me on his skin..I was his secret craving he couldn't stop thinking about.

Masa noticed my tired eyes the moment we met in class but she just thought it was a hangover from last night. I didn't tell her about Pablo..how was I supposed to start that conversation!? Not even one day in a new city and I already slept with my brother's best friend! Really good job Y/n!

pedri: me and gavi are picking you up at 3

me: and gavi?

pedri: yah, is that a problem? i'm his ride home after practice

me: no problem! see you at 3 hermano <3

"Fuck!" I said and Masa picked it up during lunch asking what was going on. I just made up a quick lie how I was sick from shots last night and needed to use a bathroom real quick before last period. Now I am lying to both my brother and best friend..fantastic job stupid!

When they arrived, I first looked at Pablo who was definitely checking me out in my little school uniform..I felt the same chills from last night. Mi nena buena..ran through my mind the entire time as I played with the edge of my school skirt.

"How was school hermanita?" Pedri asked and I just shortly answered that it was fine going back onto my phone avoiding any possible eye contact with Pablo who was clearly as uncomfortable as me in this moment.

"I need to get gas quickly..you two just wait here vale?" he said and before I could protest he was parked at the station and gone. My stomach was rumbling from hunger and nervousness and finally it was Pablo who broke the silence.

"You ate anything today?" he asked genuinely concerned but I just sassed at him for not texting me after last night.

"Since when is that any of your business!?" I say leaning forward to grab a pack of gum but my hair got into his face and I turned to look at him for a second..that's when all hell broke loose.

Gavi was all over me in the back seat of my brothers car pulling on my hair while kissing deeply as I ran my fingers through his curls..fuck I missed this for the whole day!

"Que hacemos!?" I say breathlessly after we pulled away for air and he pulled me closer resting his forehead against mine for a few seconds.

"I don't know pequeñita.." he answered quickly returning to his original position seeing Pedri paying and leaving the station before filling the tank.

"Everything alright here? If you're warm you can turn the AC on hermano?" Pedri said noticing Pablo's sweaty forehead and I giggled to myself in the backseat.

"You ready for tonight hermano? I heard those models will be there too, we can split them evenly if you want, huh?" Pedri was talking about this party tonight they were going to..somehow I was in such a bad mood suddenly.

"Whatever cabrón!" was all Pablo said but I were agitated nevertheless..of course he wanted a model like every other footballer! Why would he want a boring little schoolgirl. When we arrived home, I went out the car door slamming it hard and rushing to my bedroom.

"Que pasa con ella!?" Pedri said annoyed for mistreating his precious baby (the car ofc!) before he and Pablo went inside to play some FIFA and make plans for tonight.

"I don't care what they're planning!" I kept repeating but nevertheless ended up eavesdropping on my brother's conversation picking up the name of the club for the infamous party..a mischievous idea came to mind.

me: you in a mood for another VIP party??

Masa: you don't have to ask me that ever once tia!

Perfect! I thought to myself while picking up a perfect mouth watering outfit for tonight..game is on Gavi!

outfit I chose is tight black tight skirt with gold sparkling top..it was provocative but still lady like.Marching necklace and choker..I knew Pablo has the thing for it from how tightly he held my neck last night.

"Ready to go girlfriend??" Masa picked me up and I went to the club passing the line and walking up straight to the security guard.

"My name is Y/n Gonzalez..Pedri's sister" I say and the security guard didn't seem to believe me at first but when I showed him some pictures he nodded his head.

"And I'm supposed to believe you're both 18?" he said and I smirked giving him a paper with my number on it.

"You're supposed to believe I'll get you tickets for the next El Classico if you let me in" I said and he nodded taking the paper and moving to the side. Good thing everyone in this city is a football fan.

I passed through the dense crowd looking around for Pablo while Masa smirked at every cute looking guy at the bar. She knew her way around a crowd always winning in the number of free drinks she gets for the night.

There he was in all his glory..wearing all black..and with a girl sitting on his lap..her breasts were certainly bigger than her brain and almost spilling out of her shirt. I felt angry..and Masa noticed who I were looking at.

"I knew it! Next time you try to lie to me think twice! It's he you came here for tonight" she said and I pulled her away not wanting to get Pablo's attention when I were in such sour mood.

"I wanted to surprise him but looks like he has company.." I say and Masa smirks noticing Hector already eyeing me from head to toe..or rather from butt to breasts.

"So? You can have company too!" she said as he walked up to me offering a drink and I nodded wanting to show him that two can play the same game. Not even few minutes of dancing with Hector did you feel strong grasp pulling you away and into a secluded corner. Your back hit the wall roughly and you were eye to eye with furious Pablo Gavi...fuck he looked pissed off!

"And what exactly are you doing here pequeñita!?" he said dangerously low and your throat tightened as you looked into his dark eyes..fuck was he beautiful under the dim.

I couldn't make a sound from how nervous I was that he was this close to me right now and he knew exactly the kind of effect he was having on me..fucking asshole!

Next thing I knew his lips were back on devouring mine feverishly while his hands lowered on my waist and grabbed my butt shamelessly squeezing and making me moan into his mouth. The the image of that girl on his lap returned and you pulled away from him wiping my lips from his kiss..I were still angry.

"Can't believe you noticed me from her giant breasts!" I sass about to walk away but his grip tightened leaving bruises on my hips but I didn't mind..not if they were Pablo's. He kissed me again.

"Never wipe away my kisses off yourself! She came onto me..and it's cute that you're jealous pequeñita" he said moving my hair behind my ear.

"Just like Hector's hands came onto my butt.." I wanted to fight him back but then I felt a hard smack on my rear making me jump and him smirk victoriously..he was so good with playing with me!

"If that ever happens again I'll make your butt so red you won't be able to sit for weeks.." he whispered into your ear and you closer your eyes enjoying his lips on your neck and shoulders..fuck you were in public and didn't have a single care int he world!

"What am I to you P..Pablo..?" you moaned the question while he left his marks on your neck playing with your choker before wrapping his hand around your throat and looking you directly in the eyes.

"You're only mine pequeñita!" smirks kissing your lips one more time before taking your hand and sneaking you towards his car to drive you home.

Around that same time, Hector asked your brother about you...what a terrible mistake. The boy ended up with a bruise on his eye and you were grounded for a week when Pedri found out you were at the party that night..this was nothing compared to him knowing who took you home from that party ;)

[williamsracinggf]

you don't go to parties * vrau

what would life be like if they'd never resolved their issues after their crash in montreal?

word count: 1.8k

notes: hi posting on here again bc the lack of applause is kinda driving me crazy idk sue me i guess

in case you're not aware, disneyprincemuke got shadowbanned and i reFUUUUUSE to not be the centre of attention when i poured my whole pussy into a fic so here i am using my main to post </3 (i live for the applause)

(series masterlist) | (📂 in every other life)

she looks around the bar, heart pounding in her head as she tries to sift out for a familiar face in the crowd of the club. her face and name are plastered on every single screen of the bar, as per max’s drunken request when he got here before she could. apparently, winning your first championship doesn’t grant you the immunity to escape media commitments; it actually gives you more. especially when you’re the first woman, and you’ve set the new record as the youngest driver to ever win it.

everyone she loves and wants to celebrate with is here in this club with her right now, except the one person she prayed and hoped would show up for her.

realistically, she should be happy. in fact, she should be ecstatic that she’s finally managed to prove all of the doubters wrong. but her heart is heavy and she’s got tears in her eyes as she continually looks around with hope that the person she wants to be here, changed his mind. but no.

she’s walked about 3 rounds in the club, went high and low searching for the familiarity that his company brought her. alas, he is nowhere to be found.

she didn’t want to believe sebastian at first when he told her that he saw logan leaving the paddocks shortly after the evening was over for him. and he knew that for a fact because the american had bid him a cheerful goodbye before leaving the paddocks with his girlfriend.

“why are you all alone here, world champ?” max hums, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. he pulls her into his side and presses a kiss on her temple as he guides her through the crowd around them. “you’re supposed to be with us celebrating — not hanging out here by yourself. everyone’s been waiting for you at the vip area.”

she looks up at him, lips turned down into a frown as she follows him willingly. she hesitates asking her question — they’ve been over this several times since it had blown up in her face — but she does, anyway. she takes a deep breath and cranes her neck back to look at logan. “have you seen logan anywhere?”

“oh.” max stops in the crowd, earning them a couple of curses from intoxicated clubgoers. “you’re looking for logan.”

max isn’t saying that he’s upset to hear the question. although, if anyone were to ask him, he’d prefer not to discuss this right now on one of the most important nights of her life. plus, they’ve talked about logan over and over.

“yeah. i haven’t see him at all since we stood on the podium tonight,” she says softly in a shakey voice. “have you seen him?”

she saw him very briefly as she was presented with the race trophy. she caught his gaze as he watched from the crowd below, hovering not too far away from the crowd that had formed, his jaw clenched and his arms folded over his chest. she tried to smile at him, but the older man simply turned and walked away before she could.

she tried searching for him in the paddocks, but she couldn’t catch up to him the one time she saw him. a reporter had stopped her before she could make a run after him.

max presses his lips together and looks down at her. should he just tell her the truth? but something tells him that she already knows that logan isn’t in attendance tonight. perhaps sebastian told her and she just needs another person to find reason with? “mate…”

she laughs dryly, immediately wiping the tear that’s fallen out of her eyes. “yeah. okay, let’s just go.”

she pushes max away slightly and starts walking back in the direction they were heading originally. she doesn’t know why she’s still so upset over it. the season has come and gone without logan’s friendship — that’s about 5 long months of attempting to get over their downfall.

“mate, come on,” max sighs, pulling her back into him. “you can’t keep dwelling over it, you know? you approached him and he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore. you did what you could.”

perhaps max is right. to an extent, she thinks. she will tell you that you are right to an extent when you bring up the fact to her — the fact that she did eventually tried reaching out to logan after she put her pride aside and apologised to him.

“i could have done more,” she says firmly, grabbing max’s arm to tear his grip from her. “i shouldn’t have been so stupid in canada. i wound up fucking winning the championship, anyway.”

max shakes his head. it seems that no one can get through to her. it’s been 5 months since the incident where they crashed out in montreal and when she fell out with logan. he never thought that there would be another falling out as bad as this in the sport.

when it first happened, sebastian had tried to talk the girl out of her anger. she was insistent, for a week after the crash, that she was right and logan’s wrong; that logan should be the one apologising to her. he desperately scraped at what he could to get her to talk to him, knowing how bad it’s gotten — she didn’t even bother heading back to their shared apartment after that weekend, she stayed in her parent’s home for the next week after the canadian grandprix.

mark had also tried stepping in to talk her out of it, but nothing the australian said to her ever stuck. oscar had finally stepped forward as well, eventually, to try and get his best friends to make up. even he wasn’t enough of a bargaining chip.

and then the most unexpected duo decided to come together, much to their own dismay, to try and talk to her. lewis and nico spoke to her together and snapped her out of her blind anger. she would wind up showing up to their apartment with an apology and 2 tubs of ice cream.

only to find out that logan had already moved out over the 2-week break without saying anything to anyone.

she tried reaching out and approaching logan in the paddocks thereafter, but the older man was simply not interested in rekindling the friendship. he would be civil with her when he had to, but overall, he would avoid her like they hadn’t spent the past half of their lives under the same household and growing up together.

as hard as it was for her, imagine how difficult it was for oscar to be in the middle of all that. it had gotten increasingly difficult to manage hanging out with either. when he had taken a step back to reflect and think about it, logan realistically needed him more than she did.

so when she thought she’d only lost one best friend, she’d unknowingly lost two at the time.

but she didn’t lose oscar the same way she lost logan. while oscar kept some distance from her, choosing logan’s plans over hers and talking to her less, his way of going about it hurt her more than logan’s disappearance from her life ever did.

it’s like he was there, but not there.

which is why it’s a shock that oscar stayed in the paddocks for her after she cleaned herself from the champagne showers with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

at that point, she hasn’t hung out with oscar since their weekend in barcelona for their race, so she didn’t ask any questions. she just left the paddocks with oscar and mick, trying to brush off the odd and uncomfortable feeling that would rise up whenever she remembered the state of their friendship. but what’s important was that oscar showed up for her again when she needed him.

she just wishes logan would come out and do the same.

she stumbles forward as a body hits her shoulder on accident. “oh!” oscar screams with a smile. he slings his arm around her shoulder. “we were looking for you, mate! we’re gonna order the house special for the world champion!”

it hurt oscar to distance himself from her — he didn’t only lose her when he did that, he also lost blythe, ciara and dalton in the process.

while the 3 younger siblings understood and kept their distance as well after the fight, he couldn’t help but feel empty at the way they were so good at doing that out of respect for their older sister.

he just wishes it hadn’t gotten to this point. he missed her, really, but he couldn’t just leave logan’s side. she had more people supporting her than logan did when they were in the paddocks.

he would only catch glimpses of her life on her instagram and sometimes when they would have a chat to catch up. if he’s lucky, lily would tell him what they discussed over their frequent hang outs. even then, it simply isn’t the same as hanging out with the girl he thought would be his best friend forever.

“i love that drink!” max screams. he pushes her forward with a small and apologetic smile. “come on. we’ll have fun with you tonight. the club is ours — yearly tradition of the world champs.”

“yeah, but–“

“hey, i’ve been looking for you all over the place.” as oscar steps away from her with a laugh, another arm slings itself around her shoulders. she turns her head, furrowing her eyebrows as she meets with blue eyes that shine through the dimness of the club. “you’re just right here all along.”

she laughs sheepishly, throwing her head back with a soft laugh. “yeah, um,” she shakes her head, “just scoping out the place. it’s different when you’re the one the night’s dedicated to, i guess.”

and when logan had pulled away from her, another person had stepped in and tried to be there for her. she doesn’t know where it came from — perhaps it’s her association with sebastian, or that they were in prema together — but mick came forward and started being there for her more.

which then, well, led to this.

“ah, i thought you’d escaped to the peacefulness of our hotel room,” mick laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “ready to get drunk tonight, love? promise i won’t marry you this time around.”

oscar snorts, walking around the three of them. he pushes them all forward in the direction of where the rest of the grid — and her team — is waiting for them. “not until her dad stops fanboying over the fact that his eldest is on the path to being an actual schumacher.”

mick snorts, pulling her into his body. “i need to get over the fact that my girlfriend’s the youngest world champion in formula 1.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando @trouble-sistar @localwhoore

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (7) - eighteen is dangerous

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: lots of teenage angst. descriptions of body insecurity. descriptions of alcohol consumption and reckless behavior (getting in a pool while drunk is very reckless, don't do that please!!) consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) reader is going through it unfortunately, sorry authors note: this is a flashback. reader is eighteen and roman is nineteen. word count: 7300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

eighteen is a dangerous age to be alive. all of your almost adult thoughts and ideas and intentions strewn together by wild, colorful imagination, but, at times, for the sake of another. in front of your mirror, picking at your hair and pinching the elastic of a maybe too tight swim suit. the back cut out to reveal skin and your legs thicker now than they were last summer. frustration brimming harsh in your blood so well it's knotting in your throat. tears pricking your eyes. doom in your bones. because, fucking boys and their oh so amazing pool parties. water every place you step and the torment of maybe getting thrown in for shitty amusement. beer bottles floating everywhere and just-finished-with-high-school-teenagers too lightweight to hold their stomachs. not that you're any better. but at least you know that much about yourself. the pool, party and house courtesy of seth and the kegs of beer to come courtesy of dean no doubt. a friend of a friend of his who wants clout with the club so badly that he swiped his card on kegs for underaged leather bound boys. fucking men. 

and seth's guest bedroom is hot. sweltering so much that it nearly leaves you damp with sweat. your fingers undone with a trembling ache as you pull a pair of shorts over your thighs. overthinking on over drive. because he and his cousins and the rest of the "vip's" have yet to make an appearance. the common people waiting with bated breath for their loud, grimy noise filled entrance. a rumbling, chaotic spectacle filled with air's and aura's of a specific importance and nature that you'll always find too high maintenance to keep up with. but that's why eighteen is such a terrible time, despite maybe your exaggerations about the angst of it. this weird refurbishing of the soul. his mighty self importance aside, romans thoughts and opinions mattering now much more than they used to. your eyes yours still, brown and "shaped so prettily", as your mother likes to say, but not really. going about a constant examination for someone else. shaped against your face perfectly but living outside to look inward too. 

because would he like what you've done with your hair? the earrings you've decided on for the night? the way the swimsuit cuts out at the back? toes painted a different color from your fingernails but oddly cute all the same, because you couldn't be bothered with changing the shade. your tummy not as flat as last year and that scar still embedded in the center of your palm. eyes working for you but at the service of another. him. yes. eighteen is goddamn dangerous. 

that sweet silver necklace he gave you sometime ago. eyes all nervous and his fingers shaky as it clasped the lock of it before you kissed him. a warmth to his skin you never knew existed till that moment. the cool of the metal resting on your skin. dipping low a bit more than usual. the swimsuit made with built in cups. accentuating indeed. because swiping for it at the register of the sports store was easy. naomi at your side smiling bright and excited with a matching style in a different color. the try on process quick and sure with a good natured finality because her eyes were different. lacking that air of intense appraisal. a girls girl for you in the truest sense. her eighteen and your eighteen so similar sometimes. her dealings with jimmy like yours with roman. 

a knock against the bedroom, like a warning, before naomi bursts through. red solo cups in hand and a frustration running lines into her face. long, waist length braids, ponytailed up and away from her face. the bright neon of her swimsuit wet, and her legs dripping some on the carpet. 

you shift quick from the mirror. a creeping heat in your cheeks rising till it settles about your forehead. heart hammering before it plummets to your empty belly. the idea of somebody, anybody, finding you amidst such a vulnerable moment of self brought on scrutiny, absolutely troubling. embarrassing even. a damn scary state of affairs that nearly makes all the doubts and uncertainties breathe harder, heavier. with a better purpose. 

"you went to the pool?"

plopping to lay against the made bed. the fluff of the sheets comfortable despite the heat. maybe even comfortable enough to stay laid up against. a decision that feels more and more appetizing by the second. 

she stands just near the mirror where you'd been, setting down the cups to readjust her hair. a strong presence living along with her reflection. unflinching and sure and at ease. "i took a dip. enough not to get my hair wet", she starts. still corralling the long waist length hair. "i was tryin to wait around for you but somebody decided to abandon me last minute to come up here", giving a pointed look through the mirror. slivers of guilt slipping under your skin. but her fuss of it doesn't last very long, eyes rolling as she dips into an annoyance. "they all down there standin around all brainless n'shit, like they need to be told when to get in the pool. half of them is only here just to say they came anyways...". her steps shuffling over the carpet, cups in hand again. "...followers irk my nerves", she groans. eyes dropping quick over your body. "why are your shorts on?" 

you sit up. a quick, abrupt movement. driven by that suffocating air of hesitation you've fought with since slipping on the swimsuit. 

"should i take them off?"

and maybe naomi doesn't understand the painstaking work of such hesitation, or even if she does, it isn't shown. eyes living with all of the opposite actually. "where is this coming from? it was fine when we bought it, it's fine now", her body plopping beside yours. eyes shining with a scrutiny towards you for the first time tonight, and maybe the first time ever. but oddly enough, it doesn't burn the skin, and neither does it make your esteem shrivel. a sigh leaving her. hardened eyes, protective and familiar in their way, like you could have maybe felt them once before in another lifetime. something similar to how a sister looks to her less stronger one. "if you're worried about what he thinks, then forget his ass. he should be lucky you even lettin him breathe your air". 

and your nerves don't fall away all that quickly, but the air is less thick now. breathable. your eyes interested now in the cups she's bought. both filled with something pink, but the smell of it like that faithful burn of tequila. 

"you're right". 

she smiles."have i ever been wrong?"

your eyes rolling playfully. "no"

"exactly". shoving a cup in your hand before bursting up excited. "so sip on this and lets go mingle". 

and maybe you're like your mom about these things but "mingling" is for the fucking birds. an unexcitable process of small talk that does your head in. because no one actually cares about anything real, or different, or new, they just want to make good on first time impressions. all the real things, these scary little bits of air and unspoken moments between the words. something something, if we make the daughter of the vice president of the most infamous, illustrious, biker club in all of florida laugh and smile and twiddle her fucking thumbs, then we've made it to the inner inner ring, of the inner circle. which is a lie and a half. sweaty shoulders rubbing up at yours and the dampness nearly folding over your stomach with disgust as you follow naomi through to a less busy area of the backyard. the heat steeping in and weighing over everywhere. the crowd as idle as she said it was. hesitation in their bones as they wait for some fearless leader to make the first move of jumping in, so they of course then, can follow. 

you sip at your cup, and then nearly guzzle it the rest of the way. a cold, fruity bite to your tongue that helps ease the angst. 

your eyes peering over to the sliding door that connects the backyard and the inside of the house. like a mere gazing over would summon the not so true bane of your existence. a nineteen year old boy with a penchant for unscrewing your nerves loose. your words tongue tied when they aren't soothed into an easy quiet submission by the sweetness of his mouth. groaning little kisses that leave you frenzied and a little dazed and scared. because he has that way about him unfortunately. a lax sort of domineer. flirtatious eyes and quick little phrases that make your skin crawl something horrendous but excellent just the same. you literally despise him. mouth seeking your cup again. already at the end of your drink and feeling the hard rush in of it in your blood. warmth in your belly and a dizzying effect that loosens your anxieties. the type of buzz that asks for more. 

a small little table exists near a group of shrubs. a cloth bag nestled in a particularly thick way of leaves. your hand sticking down and into the bag to pull out a bottle of tequila. because seth said "only my buddies get the good shit", everyone else suffering with cheap beer they bought, waiting for dean and his kegs to arrive.  

 and with a harsh splash of water—some rando a little less than recklessly diving into the pool—does the party finally actualize. bodies corralling quickly in that cold wash of blue and the music a little louder. this concoction of whatever on your tongue and your urges less accounted for. 

surely this is what naomi means when she says "mingle". forgetting about yourself a little and just being. a hard task made easier when tequila doesn't give two shits about what it means to be perceived. eighteen not as dangerous when you've got liquid courage to slot a small battery in your back. 

"samir right?", his name calling sweetly on your tongue. the leaving of it gentle as you make to get closer to him. a tall-ish boy—but certainly not taller than roman—with a rich dark caramel complexion. charming hooded eyes and the cutest nose. his beer clutched for dear life in his hand like he'd maybe pay to be anywhere else. 

"uh, yeah". a cautious sort of surprise. like the possibility of speaking to him was slim to none. "how'd you know-"

"i seen you with yah dad before...", memory working amidst the alcohol. your words a little loose. stepping closer to him to get over the loud play of the music. his cologne nice in your nose. the type of scent made for double takes and "where'd you get it from?" questions. a silent wingman working as a possible conversation opener for anxious girls who maybe don't know that being this close makes for a heavier suggestion of familiarity. an intimate proximity like you know him more than just from seeing him around. "...he brings his car around my pops shop for tune ups n stuff. you look like him", and maybe the smile after that comment with the way you stand next to him implies something more than it should or more than you want it to but you don't notice. the fuzz of your brain winning the 'i dont give a fuck about being perceived' war. 

but samir is smiling and his shoulders are maybe not as slacked and bored. squared now with a new sense of purpose and open and facing you, like he's giving you the space to be as close as you'd like. like for some odd reason, if you fell into him, he'd catch you better, not that there'd be any reason for that but yeah...whatever, and the buzz is so obviously shaping your blood to run with a renewed sense of unawareness of present situations. thoughts roaming off to weird deep ends before they slip back close to where they belong. sipping at your cup again before you peer up to find him staring. a quick wandering of his earthy brown eyes, maybe at the silver of your necklace or the cup at your lips or maybe even a little below where your necklace dips in. 

samir's eyes bug. an embarrassment clinging to the shape. like he's just snatched himself out of the daze of staring at you. a throat clear that exposes the uncomfortableness in his own body at being made. "what're you drinkin?" 

"it's just juice and tequila, fruit punch i think...", taking a sip. "...beers not my thing". 

"s'not mine either", he gives. looking at his beer bottle unsatisfied. "kinda just grabbed it, cuz it's the only thing here". 

and maybe he'd have more fun if he were where you are? loose and slightly adrift. carefree amidst a sea of people who care too much. "if i say where the stash is, you won't tell right?"

"not a soul". 

your head juts, a motion for him to follow. his steps in rhythm with yours and that cologne staining his skin still flirting with your nose. like a light goading. this silent attempt to lure you into something unfamiliar. because all you know is the cool silver of this necklace, strong teasing fingers and that dark rumbling engine. the nineteen year old boy—who you don't think to name at the moment, not even in the secrecy of your thoughts—this not so true bane of your existence, is still, to you, a great big world of an almost man. tall and surrounding and new and the whole of what you feel for him still uncovered. so maybe it isn't exactly smart—even if such a rebellion lives in the name of a not so odd, half baked, tequila born, self esteem boost—to live so deeply in this state of coyness. a realization, or rather a confession, that threatens the carelessness binding your bones. 

eighteen a little dangerous still, playing loose and a little faster in your blood. because the liquid courage gives you this two-fold, uncanny, brazen sort of awareness. convictions flowing strong, parentally charged in a way that makes your ego break against it in bursting acts of rebellion. the midnight summer air sticky against the skin and baiting. the warmth like a second rushing in, a muggy air of defiance living beside the heat in your belly and the sweet flavor on your tongue. 

you push through that grouping of shrubs, revealing the hefty bottle. 

"shot?", a question but not really. more like a soft demand, styled with a smile and inviting eyes. 

the pour of it playing over samir's voice. a near drown out. "sure", he gives. the cup in his hand already before his decision can come into any finality. "cheers", the words slipping off to linger in the air like he's trying out the phrasing. like he's trying to please your excitement enough to keep it there on your lips. 

you take the stain of it on your tongue quickly. a clear burn that conquers easily on its way down. your throat humming to give it some ease but poor samir is reducing more by the seconds into a fit of coughs. the dry dirtiness of the tequila new for him. not yet to be overcome by the looseness it'll give his bones. 

you laugh. a fit of giggles living a little less than controllable. mixing a more digestible drink into his cup. something more similar to yours. "you don't drink too much huh?"

"nah", his face scrunching. expression embarrassed. "not really". 

"here", passing the cup back to him again. "try this". 

he sips at your concoction. face less screwed as the sweetness of it tempers the bitterness in his mouth. "s'pretty good", natural dark eyes a little brighter. a spark struck across them even. surely not made from janky pool lights that work no better than the old neighborhood street lamps. a courage to him that seems to settle in after he sips again. a courage that leaps with fresh legs. "you have, really, really beautiful eyes", tumbling out. unable to be stopped. the thought perhaps always there but now given the freedom to breathe. to walk and run.

"oh". dumbstruck. a load of giggling that bursts abrupt. not malicious, no. just the sort of drunken amusement caught from the suddenness of a thing. untamable almost if not for the fall of his face. making you feel awful, like shit. "i-..."

samir blinks. like he's just been un-dazed from a dream. "that was corny, i'm sorry".

"no, no, no, it's fine, i just-", your fingers trembling slightly. reaching across the little table to touch him. hands in his, to give him surety "i just-i didn't expect you to say that. thank you". 

"i'm interruptin something?" 

the question teasing as it leaves. flip flops shuffling before they flap down, smacking against the wet cement surrounding the pool. an obnoxious, creeping, entrance. it makes your blood more solid. hearing that mocking tone he gives. roman and the forever glimmer of mischief, spread about his eyes and his lips. like he's hinting the possibility of a storm. gaze drifting over your hands, the way they leave samir's, the proximity of your bodies and the ease of it. a knot in your belly, corralling in with a load of dirty little feelings. roman tall and broad. suffocatingly so. annoyingly so. like a tower. like a mountain that blocks the sun to cast a shadow. that burst of brazenness spreading fun under your skin, now tugging itself along to shuffle back into the dark nothing of a corner. but why should you have to cringe and recoil in and from your innocent fun? why couldn't you delight yourself in a little attention? was that so horrible? your arms crossing over. disruption, childlike and eager, running alongside the bold streak. 

"no". your smile tight lipped. voice bright. "just poppin samir's tequila cherry". 

samir chokes. coughs dangerously hard. roman's eyes slitting to narrow. his jaw giving a small clench before he returns your expression. a mirthless grin. "how nice. i hope he enjoyed it". 

"i think he did". 

roman's brows lift. your audaciousness funny. "lets ask". attention directing itself toward samir, who seems to be the most uncomfortable. 

"i uh", his hand setting the cup down. nervous, antsy and it irks you whole. "yeah, it was. it-it was fine". 

roman hums. shuffles up more till he's nearly flushed against your back. the fabric of his tank top blowing with the heat of the slim midnight breeze, hitting whats exposed of your skin. a reminder. your fists clenching. fucking asshole. the necklace at your chest still cool. in agreement with him. his presence this annoying, territorial claim. possessive and unwavering. your belly empty, your head swimming and frustration clinging to your nerves so well that it's stupid. because this is stupid. because annoyance shouldn't live like this, shouldn't find even ground with enjoyment so well. blood hot, something dizzy working behind your eyes. a complicated, rush of a feeling that has yet to be totally deciphered. 

"you're one of seth's buddies right?"

"yeah something like that". samir appearing less tall. shrunken in and a half step from paper frail. less willing to indulge his eyes. the interest in them gone and refusing to meet your face. and it sours whatever unnamed sweetness held for him. your curiosities gone. because allowing roman to destabilize him so easily. unbalanced and too shy for proper confidence. where was the fun, competitive edge, in that? a bold streak of something uneasy and conflicting and tricky. not simply rolling over and letting him win. thats what this was supposed to be. a riot for some damn reclamation. "i'm just gonna go", samir says. your eyes rolling as he gathers himself to leave the small safety of the table. 

you peer up at roman. the source of all this bullshit angst housed in your person. his face soft but angular somehow. tender lips existing as the object of your lingering desires. his shoulders wide and his body thick thanks to home cooked meals and too much football. your fists balling till they ache. tequila dulling the pain of your nails but doing nothing for the baseless frustration. this boy... this man... this whatever he is, so pretty and exacting and sure all the damn time. always testing and making attempts and looking. your skin less like skin and more like metal. like the tinny cold make of one of his many football trophies. and now you feel no better, no greater than samir. shrinking in and your throat tight again. dizzy and trembly. a leaf in the breeze. like you're back upstairs in seth's guest room, peering into the mirror. eyes yours, but more useful for him now. 

hate isn't too strong a word is it? your father says it sometimes. like the word is venom born, made to poison. says it and then kisses your mother anyways. kisses and hugs her and churns her indifference into pretty, wispy noise. rich and thick. honey inspired. so if that works. venom and honey. both thick and useful. then maybe they're the same. 

"you're such a dick", you cut at him. eyes rolling hard. making to step around him. but he's so tall and everywhere. a world and a half. 

and he laughs. like everything is so funny. like you're funny. a joke. sweetened tequila on the tongue. bathing your stomach. fuzzily in the brain. he thinks you're a joke. 

"how would you know, you've never seen one". 

you gasp. your shoulder trying it's hardest to check him. a barely registered move that gets you past him and closer to the pool. "ass", you yell. loud enough for people to hear. 

skin sticky. trembling still. exasperated. your feet a harsh descending as you stalk to the opposite edge of the pool. the beginning steps of the shallow end. dean there with a cup of beer in hand. hair long and already damp. 

"trouble in paradise?" 

your eyes cut. a sharp look to warn him. a deep breath as you breach the water with your foot. trying the cool of it. "your friend is a fuckin asshole", you give. 

he chuckles. like maybe he knows that to be a little true. "what'd he do?" and when you don't answer, occupied with settling into the chill of the pool, he turns his attention over to his friend. chuckling still. "what the hell did you do?"

roman flips his hand. a 'whatever' motion, like he couldn't be bothered to even care. 

your blood boils. loose and on fire. "what doesn't he do?!" loud and irritated enough for dean to hear. loud enough for roman. for seth and the twins and everyone else in between. but it doesn't stop the party. just adds to the air. to the drone of the festivities. to splashes of water, and the splatting smack of beach balls. to good feeling breezy wind and the thumping bass of music. to guys trying to flirt with girls and girls trying to quell their boyish half baked charms with coyness and shooing splashes of water. the party in full effect and alive. pulsing and balanced. and maybe you shouldn't be in the pool, all loose-brained and dizzy feeling. but the water feels good and the distance from roman is a welcomed addition. gets his cologne out of your nose and rids you of the sensation of his body along your back. 

but his mischief isn't done. stretches with a fresh awakened need to stress your nerves. the pull up and discard of his tank top a sensational performance. like he's mocking and poking and punishing you with the gasp and squeals of girls who pry at him with sharp hopeful eyes. his body dipping into the pool on the deep end before breaching up with his hair slicked back and dusting his shoulders. curling up as it meets the air all finger provoking like. 

you hate him. 

feet splashing behind you. dean stepping to sink further and further into the icy blue of the pool. a quick, resolute voice of mediation. "aaalright...", he draws out. "...none of this shitty, sulky, energy". his back to you, arms stretched out and waiting, like a human pool noodle. "hop on". 

but the water is safe here at the shallow end. close to the stairs and faraway from eyes and his prying little stare that grows more amused by the minute as you fight and fail to ignore it. "dean, i don't think thats a good—", your body up ended. water splashing as you panic. a fast jostling maneuver that forces you to grapple him as he lifts you onto his back. "dean!!!", thrilled and pissed and dazed behind the eyes still. arms and legs wrapping tight about him as he treads into the deep end. 

and he's all smiley, the little shit. "you don't got much of a choice unfortunately".

"i can't swim". 

"i know", patting the clinging wrap around of your arm. reassurance that barely makes a full registration about the body. "i ain't gonna let you drown sweets".

"sweets?"

"new nickname for you", he hums. satisfied with the ring of it.  

and you snort. set your head atop of his as he treads the water. because dean—and though it's unusual for him to fail at many things—is unfailing at pleasing his penchant for nicknaming people. you in particular. a little list of moniker's reflecting the growth of your relationship. from 'sis', at sixteen, to 'sissy' at seventeen, and then a very offhanded 'babe' for sometime. a jokey little term of affection you accepted, because the humor of it proved stupid and weird and annoying for roman. always silently bristling about it. these wordless little shifts in his expression. a disapproval he felt was maybe too childish to name properly. but dean didn't linger on it too long. a little razz of a name before moving on back to just calling you by your government. but 'sweets' is new. promotes something, maybe, a bit more delicate than the others. more endearing. 

"cute", you approve. "where are we going?"

"where the party is". 

your arms grow tighter. cinched threateningly at his neck. his little laughs and the edge of his weight against yours not doing much to make your irritations any true problem. but you try anyways. "i swear to God, and Jesus freakin Christ ambrose...", your voice biting. words slipping through your teeth. "...if you take me over to him on some kum ba yah bullshit, i will drown you. i will use all of my weight and pin you to the floor of this pool...", his sputters, chuckles flaming your blood. "...i will end you. i don't wanna talk to him". 

"you two go at it like a fuckin married couple, just—"

your name shrieks across the pool. a drawl of a mezzo soprano voice. pretty and clear like freshly cut diamonds. sing song like and attention grabbing. enough for dean to halt his treading and pivot. curiosities a shitty merging with some low level form of dread. tequila swimming in your stomach, this large, prong attached battery. a careless, suspicious, jolt of energy about your blood as you get closer to chauncey hayes and her mini crowd of personality destitute friends. and no, the dread doesn't spring off from some shriveling form of a fear absolute, but rather the regular anxieties of interacting with a girl too boy obsessed to think straight. because chauncey still roams free and ditsy-like in the halls of tenth grade socialization. a shark of a particular caliber. too small to be truly frightening but existing large enough to annoy already poorly wired nerves. tonight is not the night for this. tonight is not the night for chauncey hayes. 

"just the girl i wanted to chat it up with", she smiles. a little looser than tight lipped. like the work of ingratiating herself to you is a goal but not a top priority. sincerity casting bright for some seconds as she drops her eyes. "hi dean".

"ladies", he gives, to her and all her friends. polite and smirky like. their reactions amusing. 

"what's up?", you ask. ready to get it over with. your arms and legs clinging to dean still. less vexed. seeking comfort. 

"so um...", a faux bout of rumination. her eyes a light bright warm brown, glowing to contrast the cool blue of the pool. a summery colored bathing suit fitting her skin and her hair loose and curly. "...you're cool with the twins right?", her eyes flicking to jimmy and jey. reverential, bordering needy and crazed even. naomi atop jimmy in a similar fashion to how you cling to dean. but her body proves less anxious, more affectionate. the boys cornered and laughing gut deep with roman and seth. "like...deep family connects and all that good stuff?" 

"how federal of you", dean mumbles. 

and yes, blame it on the alcohol. spirits saturating your veins. curiosities fortified and blindly misguiding. so much so that your clues as to where this might lead are a bit blurred. a nameless teenaged ruin. oh yes, just blame everything on that fruity, semi-acrid taste steeped into your tongue. "i guess you could say that, yeah". 

"so whats the status on them then? ... like, i know jimmy and naomi are connected at the hip but roman specifically...", a rushing in where words intend to flow. heat and blood. the inner parts of your ears muddied with an ill feeling. a disruptive sensation. fingers alive with these little twitches. belly swimming. nausea maybe. a well, wet with liquor and a deep vexing. because what the actual hell? "...like what's his deal? is he taken?" 

dean laughs. from the base of his gut. abrupt and ill-controlled. amusement full in his cheeks. "oh young and the restless, eat shit, this is magic", he barks. 

"dean. shut. the fuck. up", you cut. tongue sharp like obsidian. shifting along his back. re-hooking your legs and focusing your eyes from that loose daze. for what? better posture maybe? a maneuvering perhaps that gives one of your arms more reach, more freedom. a reason unknown really. but your human pool noodle takes it as a sign to tread a step backwards. like he knows something you don't. "why do you ask?", your eyes slitting. no less curious, but the anxieties are fallen away to leave a spark of something vicious feeling in it's wake. an unchallenged sensation housed in your chest. a beating, a pulse. the pump of it venturing out to the center of your forehead and the tips of your toes. a thorough spreading about till you're filled with the brutality of it. a dangerous feeling. whole and sweet and grimy. 

"i mean...what do you mean why?", chauncey flicking her shitty little eyes over to roman. a dazzling appreciation in them that aches your teeth. "have you seen him?" 

you grin. mirthlessly. "what makes you think i'd know what he likes?" 

"you're always hanging around...", a patronizing go of words. her eyes rolling, the thought of it sticking to her odd and unwanted. like your proximity to him is more of a nuisance than a fulfillment of his own wants. of each others wants. "...i figured you had a little insider information". 

and the way your arms wrap around dean for stability, fingers clutching nails into his pale skin. anger attempting to be tempered but proving formidable and real bitchy. his throat grunting as he feels the violence of it. "ouch...", he pats your arm for reprieve. to draw you back off the ledge. that resolute voice of mediation coming back in full stride. awkward and stuttered. "...ok uh, so i think maybe...maybe in the spirit of pool parties and um...buoyancy? ...yeah that sounds right... that we should do a breathing exercise...y'know just something to chill us out—"

you cut off his rambling. "is this you trying to be funny?", his hands digging into your thighs to keep you up as you press forward. "your town cryin ass is always ten steps ahead on gossip but you don't know him and i are together?...", voice louder than before. erupting till its bouncing off pool waves to ripple out to the deep end. "...have been together?" 

she scoffs. fighting not to shrink. "he doesn't even talk you up, i—"

"ok, ok, wait!", dean calls out. bewildered at chauncey's nonchalance. treading back.

"girl are you fucking dense?", you yell. 

"ah shit", dean mumbles. backing away slowing. bones heavy amidst the water. 

but you keep going. laughing with teeth. a mild mannered hysteria. "do you not like your life?"

"are you threatening me?", chauncey shrieks. trembling but warring against it.   

"you know who i am", you give. amused and loose blooded. 

"ok, i think thats enough magic for tonight", dean mumbles. his thumb rubbing into your knee as he holds and carries you to the stairs resting at the center edge of the pool. 

the metal curve of the stepping rods cold to the touch. your bones tired and heavy. skin wet. an empty, drained, sensation coddling terribly well everywhere. that short bout of hysteria dead. the party goers unsure of when or how to resume. awkwardly existing under the torture of your fire. the buzz once sizzling your blood, growing neutral and ill-suited for this new lane of emotion. a merging onto something quiet and dejected. the thump of the music never returning to it's former glory, even as your feet press forward into the house. tracking in wet, an untouched collection of dry towels hanging near the entrance. your hand snatching one up, making a b-line for the other side of seth's house. his kitchen scarce of teenage bullshit—apart, of course, from your own—and the loud song of too trivial chatter. the large towel wrapping your body, a tender lean against the counter, trembling softly, waiting for the chill to stop. 

a gut wrenching sort of enervation plays dutifully under the skin. on cue and terribly in the pocket. a grimace worthy rhythm. it makes a disgusting, beautiful, cruel tune out of your nerves. bursting and wild, like the roar of an old iron made engine. a rumbling orchestra, dirty in its symphony, those residuals of anger oh so noisy in the body. feeling mighty and familiar. a fire and grime inherited surely. because who are you that it'd pass you by without troubling skin and bones and the thoughts made ready to leave your mouth?  and sure, maybe in her mischief, chauncey deserved to be dug into the ground, her knowing bright eyes filled with wanting to tear you apart for the fun of it, but not with the easy mean speak of your father. she didn't deserve the grime and blast of that tough leathery part of his nature. at least not from you. being a vessel, holding this much in the same way, it hurts too badly to keep in. hurts more letting it go. 

and roman is light footed as he steps into the kitchen. silent but full in presence. shaping the room to his body. but then again, everything looks quite too large for understanding when you've gone under such a quick, awful diminishing.

"sober yet?" 

"almost". 

he huffs through his mouth. a deep, amusing breath. "it's always the lightweights causing all the trouble", leaning up against the island that runs parallel to the counter. his eyes stitching to your skin. sewing in and binding themselves. "you gave the normals a show though, they'll have something to talk about for the rest of the summer". 

your eyes roll, turning away from him. opening the kitchen fridge to grab a bottle of water. opening it to take a sip, before the sarcasm drips. "m'so happy i could give your fans free entertainment, apparently the little strip tease wasn't enough for them". 

"takin my shirt off at a pool party is regular shit. i can't help it if girls like the way i look. i can't control how people react...", his face running hot with irritation. his cheeks dusting a faint red. loose curls joining up in his hands as he ties them into a small knot. " ...at least i wasn't baitin nobody. you get a little buzz and forget i exist apparently". 

but samir was an empty rebellion. not forgetfulness. a coup against the self to rid of the overpower of his influence. an attempt at reclamation—of eyes and thoughts and opinions—at not caring and just being. was it misguided? sure, but not malicious.  

"i can't help it if boys like the way i look". 

"you was eatin it up...", he flares. not loud but deep. accusatory and pissed. "...all giggly n'shit, like you never heard a compliment before". his body shuffling closer to gain advantage in your line of sight. "i give you compliments all the time and you act all meek like you can't take it". 

the plastic of the bottle gives a crinkling groan from the grip in your hand. your tired eyes meeting his. those last bits of looseness giving you the wherewithal to speak. "you wanted me to be a dick about it?" 

"have the same energy or somethin", he grits. "you damn near threatened chauncey". 

"she was makin it seem like i barely existed next to you!"

"because...you maybe don't", he breaks. urgent. his shoulders falling, unweighted now. like the thought has lived and shaped well in his mind for sometime. his face closer and troubled. a confusion born from frustration. "you don't want me next to you, you barely want me to touch you, and you hate when i look at you for too long, but you want everybody and they damn mama knownin we together". 

that nausea. dizziness behind the eyes. "thats not true—"

"are we together?" he asks. 

the air feeling harder to breathe. that bottle no longer clutched in your hand but too cold still and your ears flooding to the tips with heat. pressure welling up in your throat too much it starts to ache. fingers gathering to ball, nothing between them but the bite of your nails into the palms. the phantom of a thing they hold against for dear life. eyes prickling with a stabbing pain. the beginning of salty warmth that burns the skin. 

you chuckle. mirthless and panicked. "thats not a real question. you can't be for real right now". 

"you got somethin real to say to me then?" 

and it's all resting palpable at the tip of your tongue. but it lacks the proper brilliance. makes no quarrel with itself of possibly being undigestible. it lives wholly uncomfortable, eagerly so, with a streak of menace. and this, he wants you to spit out? to let fall and burn and weight over the air. displeasure true in the heart of your chest, melted and flamed and dangerous like the inner core of the earth. 

"why you so pressed to hear about what i got to say all the time? always lookin and diggin for stuff that don't matter". 

"if its you, it matters", he stresses. confusion wearing well in his eyes but his words sure. "if it's not, then whatever. i don't care". 

and this must be what drowning feels like. the flail of feet and arms and a hopeless horror. water sucked into the lungs, salty and raging against the palate. sinking the words with an evil diligence. but the body has a way about it. an uncanny, needy, pestering desire to survive. to live. so the drowning is not quick. and you are not overcome quickly. coughing and screaming, skin hot and cold and pale and wrinkling. blurry eyes and a gasp too large to contain for long enough. fingers pushing water to rush it behind, a play at propelling the weight of your bones beyond the surface. to say something, to be asked to speak truth to a wordless dread, is the painstaking performance of drowning. "...you have things... you have the club... all of your friends are my friends... it's easy, you get up one day and decide i'm not what you want, you can just leave". 

"no". an instant thing, thick fingers cradling your face. his eyes frightened and brown and displeased. "no". resolute. always so damn sure of himself. his hands pulling, a soft embrace and gesture, your eyes unable to leave him. frightful of being seen but too weak to leave the meeting of his. "that's not true. and you boxin me in like that, it's not fair". your fingers tired, clutched and nailing into his arms. his face, a world of a thing. freckled and soft and tanned. cutting sharper at the jaw but gentle still around the eyes. mouth and tongue delicate despite the cool edge of him, his nature. "when i said, way back before ,that i gotchu, it wasn't me gassin yah head up. i was being real". 

but he doesn't stop. doesn't drown under the roll in of a tumultuous wave. 

his thumb sweeping your cheek. to soothe the skin. to persuade it of his care. "i'm never lookin at you to find somethin wrong or to find a reason not to look", his eyes a slow wandering pace. brushing smooth over your features. your lips and cheeks blooming with a sensation only admiration can give. "it's hard not lookin at you". chuckling and his eyes rolling. "and yeah the way he said it was corny as hell, but samir ain't wrong. you never not look good to me". 

you can feel his breaths here. the draw of his mouth as his appreciation leads him closer. a bright sweetness on his tongue that quickens your blood. his nose a short dainty nudge into yours. anticipation filling the well of your body. 

"i like being next to you". tall body slipping up calm. closer. surrounding you against the kitchen counter. "i like touching you". thumb skimming along your lips. "ain't nothin awful about all that huh?" 

you shiver. the curl up of it riding along your spine. "no". 

"exactly". convincing brown eyes and an exacting little grin. "and nothin bad is gonna happen either. i gotchu. you're mine".

his words a sweet working spell. lips a teasing slot along yours, but never making the full embrace of a kiss. your desperation for it pure. dampens the odd, dirty, hard to digest ideas. 

he smiles. amused. "i snacked on a mint before i came in here so... you kinda gotta kiss me now".

you snort. slipping your fingers over his arms. holding tighter. the fresh scent on his tongue a gentle persuasion. 

"it's mandatory huh?" 

"yeah cause you been fallin off a lot actually. missin weekly quotas. thats real bad for business". 

"something's gotta be done i guess". 

he hums. planting tender and simple. tiny little pecks that lure you further into the give of his lips. a hand sweeping low, his arm curling about your waist, palms splayed. his fingers there bending and running dull to feel the supple fabric of your swimsuit beneath the towel. touching and testing his limits. seemingly waiting for you to pry yourself away. you breathe into his mouth, the air funneling out of your lungs. teeth a teasing bite into his lip. smiling and falling into him. his other hand meeting the exploration of the first. an unhurried pace over your body, along the line of your back. pressing in as it trails. a gasp melting on his tongue as it sweeps in, holding the tremble of you. "so pretty", he gives. littering your jaw with the affections of his mouth. your everything, feather feeling, weightless, arrested and held up in the strength of him. his smile curving into where he purses into your neck. the rhythm of your pulse playing into his kiss. 

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Lost Luggage, Shirts, and Other Things" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

(This one is also kinda @rierse's fault, based on a prompt she dropped in the disco about someone wearing their own merch. 😂)

Read on Ao3

Prompt 69: Airport

Luka stared at the woman behind the desk with…honestly, he wasn’t sure what expression was on his face.  He was going for disbelief, but with how exhausted he was – and how long the last few days had been – it was probably something more akin to disdain.

He was, admittedly, probably doing a fairly decent impression of the Captain’s scowl.

It wasn’t her fault, he reminded himself.  She was just the messenger.  You don’t shoot the messenger.

…he was in desperate need of a coffee.  And a shower.  And some clean fucking clothes.

(And a T-S specialty, because the airport Cinnabon Crusher had bought him as an apology was still sitting too heavy and too much on his stomach, even nine hours later.)

“What…do you mean…” he started, slowly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath, “…you lost…my luggage?”

“I am so sorry, M. Stone,” the poor girl said.  She looked like she was about to piss herself – which was probably fair.  He was still new enough that she probably hadn’t heard of Luke Stone yet.  Most likely, the poor girl just saw ‘Stone’, saw the VIP party his ticket had been attached to, and remembered the horror stories he was sure she had heard about Jay over the years.  She was probably expecting a wild crocodile to come barreling out of boarding, ready to chomp her head off for daring to lose a Stone’s luggage.  “It…it appears it’s not here.  It…looks like it might be in Barcelona?”

…they hadn’t been in Barcelona since the beginning of the summer tour.  How the shit had his suitcase traveled to Barcelona from New York, when the rest of them had made it to Paris just fine?

“We can have it back to you in a few days,” she said.  “I am so sorry, M. Stone, but –”

“It’s fine,” he said, his jaw clenching uncomfortably as he held up a hand.  God, he just needed to sleep.  And a shower.  And a clean fucking shirt – he’d smelled like bad Indian takeaway since New York, thanks to Crusher.  “Just…call me when you have it.”

He slumped away from the counter, rubbing his hands over his face.  A throat cleared nearby, and he looked up to find Penny holding a shirt up for him.

“It’s not ideal, but at least it’s clean,” she said.  “Until you get home.”

“They lost my bag,” he said.  There was a niggling in his stomach, an unpleasant reminder of…his eyes widened as he stared at Penny.  “…Penny.  They lost my bag.”

“I know,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing.  “Breathe, Luka.  It’s all right.  We’ll get it sorted.  Luggage gets lost all the time – it’s not the end of the world.”

…it felt like it.  Penny knew just as well as he did what was actually in that bag and how very important it was that it was not lost.

“Penny –” he started, but she shook her head and pushed the shirt into his hands.

“Go change,” she said.  “Go home.  Get some sleep.  I’ll track down the bag, and it’ll be back in no time.  Everything will be fine.”

“It’s a sign,” he groaned, dropping his head back into his hands.  “Penny, Gina flew out specifically to give me that…oh my God.  Oh my God.  Gina’s gonna kill me.  Tom’s gonna kill me.  It’s –”

“Stop that,” Penny said, swatting his arm.  “Go home.  Sleep.  Catch up with your…Marinette.”

…he almost smiled at that.  Almost, because as much as he loved the sound of ‘his Marinette’ she was only going to be his Marinette if that damn bag wasn’t lost, which it currently was.  God, this day couldn’t get any worse…Penny rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the exit.

“Change.  Sleep.  Stop freaking out – this means nothing, Luka!” she called as he wandered off.  “It’s going to be fine!”

…he wished he could believe her.  Usually, he would.  But he had too much riding on that damn bag – like the rest of his whole damn life – and he couldn’t help but wonder if losing the bag meant everything really was about to fall apart.

. : .

It didn’t take him long to change his shirt.  The other one – the one Crusher had spilled his curry on before the plane took off – went straight into the bin.  It was probably stained beyond saving, anyway, and it was just an old white shirt.  He could easily replace it.

But when he tugged the new shirt over his head and stared back at his reflection in the mirror of the airport restroom, he couldn’t help but think maybe the curry-stained shirt was preferable.

There was no way Penny could convince him that the only clean shirt in his size they had extras of was the summer tour shirt.  He looked like such a tool, walking around with his own face slapped on his chest.

He was not awake enough for this, he thought as he scrubbed his hands over his face.  Coffee.  He needed coffee.  If he was going to make it home, he needed coffee.

Airport coffee wasn’t always the best, but it was still better than nothing, so he found himself shambling towards the food court before making his way into the city.  It was probably for the best, anyway – he’d have a time finding a cab now, and the others were probably already on their way to their respective homes.

…like he would be.  If the stupid airport hadn’t lost his stupid luggage with the stupid…

He was going to be sick.

Maybe coffee wasn’t the best idea after all…

“Oh my God,” a voice gasped in front of him.  His brow furrowed, his expression scrunching.  That voice…there was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite place what…  “I love that artist!”

…fuck.

He did not have the mental fortitude to deal with fans at the moment.

“Oh my God,” he said, his voice maybe a tinge more sarcastic than he had intended, “yeah!  Me, too!”

There was a beat – a longer-than-necessary pause – where the person had grown uncomfortably silent, and he sighed as he shook his head.

“…sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes.  “Long flight.  Yeah, um…he’s ok.”

He finally looked up at the fan, and his brow furrowed as he stared at her.  Large, dark sunglasses covered her face, and her short hair was tucked into a bright pink scarf.  She was dressed simply enough, in short pink overalls with a white shirt underneath – but there was something…familiar about that shirt.  Something that was trying to click in his jetlagged brain but just wouldn’t.

Something he felt he should recognize about the bits of green – leaves? – peeking out over the top of the overalls.

“More than ‘ok’, I’d say,” she sniffed, her lips turning in a frown.  “Though he’s kind of being a butt right now.  Might make me reconsider how cool I usually find him.”

“…that’s…fair,” he said, nodding.  “Again.  Sorry.  Long flight.”

“It’s a shame,” she said, sighing as she turned away.  There was a bag at her hip, and he would swear he watched it snap shut without her even touching it.  What the hell…?  “Usually, I’m a pretty big fan.  I’d even venture to say his biggest, though I know some people who would fight me for that title.”

She looked over her shoulder, and her cheek moved in a way that made him think she had just winked at him.  He blinked, his brow furrowing again as he tried to focus on her.  It was…kind of hard, when she was kinda blurry and there seemed to be two of her.

“Anyway,” she said, stepping forward as the line moved ahead of her.  “I’d heard his flight was coming in today.  I was hoping to surprise him, big fan that I am.  But traffic was terrible, and I heard I just missed him…and how bad that flight actually was.”

She heaved a longsuffering sigh, and he shook his head as he scrubbed at his eyes again.  That voice…

“So I thought I’d get him some coffee, but you see how long this line is,” she said, turning back towards him.  “I’ll be lucky if I catch him at all at this rate.  Don’t you – mmf!”

The pieces finally clicked into place, and he grabbed at Marinette’s wrist to tug her against him.  He bent her back, slipping her shades onto her head as he kissed her stupid.  Her hands gripped at his shoulders, and he would swear her foot even popped behind her.

“…about time,” she giggled at him.  He chuckled and shook his head before stealing another kiss.

“Asshole,” he huffed, rubbing their noses together.  “You were enjoying that entirely too much.”

“You’re adorable when you’re jetlagged,” she teased, her hand coming up to caress his jaw.  She frowned at the touch before tapping a finger against his skin.  “You need a shave.”

“Flight from hell,” he sighed, sagging against her.  “…forty-eight hours from hell.”

“Penny said they lost your luggage,” she said.  A throat cleared behind them, and she rolled her eyes before pulling him out of line with her.  He whined as they lost their place, but she leaned up to kiss his jaw.  “You know their coffee will taste like feet, anyway.  Let me get you home.  We can stop at my parents’ and get you some proper food.”

The mention of her parents had his stomach seizing all over again.

“…your dad’s gonna kill me,” he groaned, dropping his forehead on her shoulder.  “The suitcase, Marinette.  They lost my suitcase.”

“It’s ok,” she said, laughing as she patted his back.  “Penny said it’s in Barcelona – it’ll be here by tomorrow.  Day after at the latest.”

“No, but I can’t see your parents until I have the suitcase,” he said, shaking his head.  “Tom already knows – he’s expecting…I can’t…”

“Luka, Luka, hold on,” she said, placing her hands on his face to try and steady him.  She smiled as her thumb brushed beneath his eye, and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.  “What’s going on?  It’s just a suitcase.  You have clean clothes at home – ones that don’t scream I’m an Egocentric Rock Star.”

She was teasing, he knew, but it still made him frown as she poked the face on his chest.  His face still scrunched as he caught her fingers.

“Hey,” he said, “I happen to love the person who designed this shirt.  Lay off.”

Her smile warmed, and she pulled his face back to hers for another kiss.

“She loves you, too,” she whispered against his lips.  “But it’s still a little tacky wearing your own merch, don’t you think?”

“If it was one of the other shirts – with the album logo or lyrics or something – it wouldn’t be as bad,” he sighed.  “It’s just because it’s the stupid tour shirt, with my stupid face on it, that makes me look like a stupid idiot.”

“Hey,” she laughed, hugging him tight, “you’re anything but.  Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I lost my luggage, Marinette,” he groaned, pulling her close.  “I lost the ring.  How could I lose the ring?  I was supposed to hold onto it until it was safely on your finger, where it belongs, but now it’s lost in stupid Barcelona and you’re gonna say no and –”

“…Luka,” she said, her voice suddenly too-quiet with an odd edge to it.  He hummed, and her hands fisted in his shirt and tugged.  “Luka.”

She pulled back, staring up at him with wide eyes that had no right to look as beautiful as they did, not in the shitty airport lighting.  She tugged on his shirt again, and he frowned as she swallowed.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head to try and clear it.  She swallowed again, and he was distracted by thoughts of wanting to bite her neck.

“What ring?” she asked, and his eyes widened as his brain finally started to catch up to him.

…shit.

[gukiefics]

Neo boyfriend at your doorstep; lch🐻; trailer

Pairing: Sex worker!haechan×CEO Reader

Synopsis: Your bestfriend and crush for 15 years is getting married and of course he invited you to his destination wedding at Vegas. But since he never saw you with anyone, he tried set up a date for you for which you immediately declined, giving him a fake excuse that you are seeing someone. Now you are stucked with a double date the next weekend and with your imaginary partner. With stress and fear over taking your mind, you came across two girls talking about a website which rents partners to people. After eavesdropping them, you decided to try out and rent a boyfriend...but you accidentally choose yourself a sex worker.

Warning: Sexual content, offensive language, oral play (both m & f receiving), switch!haechan (leaning more towards dom), switch!reader(more towards sub), role play, public sex.

Words: 15k and counting

Note:

The story, the characters, places and even their age is purely made from my imagination and is completely fiction, if not stated and I have no negative feelings towards any character I used in the story. The storyline is without a doubt mine and if the story is similar with any other work, then it is purely a coincidence because this story is made up solely from my imagination.

7pm; Jung fabric clothier ; Seoul

"Sarah, Thank you for bringing the files. You are dismissed to go home now." She nodded and bowed goodbye and went out of your workspace. A phone rang disturbing you. "What is it?" "Ma'am, Mr. Kim is here to meet you." "Send him in."

The said man entered the room and you rolled your eyes. "Kim Doyoung, don't." "What!? I didn't even say anything. " He pouted. You rolled your eyes again and set your eyes on the bright computer screen. "Listen girl, you have been my bestfriend for 15 years now. You are an important person in my life. How could you be absent for my wedding!?"

He glared. You sighed. "Listen Doyoung, I have an important meeting that week and I didn't even confirmed my absence. I just said, I will barely able to come-" "See! that's the problem. You should be very much confirmed! I mean it's your bestfriend wedding! Right now you are the only person who knows our wedding date. So you listen carefully Miss Jung Y/n you are surely coming to my wedding and I am not taking any excuses. If you failed to be present, I will not tolerate it and will give you the very worse punishment." He stick his tongue out and teased at you.

You chuckled. "As you wish Mr.Kim." you did the same as him. Doyoung smiled wide. "Ok enough working for today. I am throwing a bachelor's party and you are the VIP guest there. Go home, get changed and be there at sharp 9pm." He gave you the invitation pass. You gasp in disbelief. "Why am I knowing about this the last minute?" "Cause I know you will decline it, if I told you earlier. " He smirked and you shook your head in astonishment. 

"Hurry up, I will see you at the party." Doyoung said and left. You sighed. "This jerk." You huffed and pack your stuffs and left. The whole journey from your office to your home was not the best.

Kim Doyoung, this man has been your bestfriend and your crush for the past 15 years. He was your brother's friend. No you didn't meet each other because of your brother but of a camp. He was the captain of your camp team and the 10 year old you was so fascinated to see such 14 year old boy who was so responsible and charismatic. The bunny like features of him was a bonus. You both bonded well in the camp and when you came to know that he was your brother's friend, you guys started to spend time with each other alot. Along the years, your admiration for him turned into something more. The 16 year old self was very excited to confess your feelings to him but all of that excitement crashed down when he introduced his girlfriend, Kang Seulgi. She was sweet as an angel and very beautiful. Their relationship stayed strong for six years and now they are getting married. You are happy for him but the 16 year old girl inside you was dying to see the man she liked, soon going to belong to another woman forever. That's the reason you wanted to escape from the marriage ceremony but this man is absolutely a hinderance to that.

Preparing yourself for the party, you looked at yourself at the mirror. A black short dress, minimal makeup and knee boots, satisfied with your outfit for the party, you look for your car keys. "Woof! Woof!" Your 6 months old puppy barked. "Oh kiki, I will come as soon as possible ok?" You kissed his nose and he licked licr cheeks in return. You giggled at his cute gestures and passed him to your neighbour, who was quite delighted to see kiki. "Kiki, don't trouble aunty too much. " he barked back. "I apologise for asking to look after him this late Jennie. I appreciate your kindness." Jennie shook her head. "Nonsense, I love kiki Y/n, now I have kiki along with kai and kuma to give me company." Both of you exchange hugs as goodbye and you left for the party.

8:47pm; Hotel Skylark; Gangnam; Seoul.

You reached the hotel, where Doyoung threw his party. "Ok Y/n, be strong and positive. " you chanted these words as you pace towards the hotel till the party floor. Oh, did I mention that Doyoung is a social extrovert? As soon as you entered the hall, you can hear the loud music and people chattering. There were people all around the floor. You mentally thanked god that it was not a teenage party. Of course there was wine, alcohols etc. But people have the standards enough to be drunk and makeout here and there. It was a decent party. Although all these reasons, you still loathed the party. Why? Because of two main reasons, 1. People, 2. You saw Doyoung and Seulgi acting all lovely dovey with one another. 

You tried reaching Doyoung but all in vain, cause people blocked your way to converse with you and stuff. Oh my god why did he have to call all his high school friends? "Oh my Y/n, is that you?" You turned towards the owner of the voice. "Renjun? Hey nice to meet you!" You exchanged hugs. Renjun was your classmate and a close friend. You guys lost contact after high school. "Great! It's been so long. What's up with you? Btw you look stunning." "Oh thank you, don't need to flatter me though." 

"Doyoung hyung is finally getting married huh?" He analysed your face. He knew about your crush towards Doyoung. "Yeah. But hey don't look at me like that, I am moving on. I am fine." You smiled bitterly. "You know, you don't have to pretend towards me y/n. But hey if you are really moving on. That's good." You nodded. You saw Doyoung coming towards you. "Y/n! Glad you could make it." Seulgi hugged you tight. Doyoung smiled wide. "Of course, I made her come after pursuing so hard." Doyoung giggled and you rolled your eyes. "Well enjoy the party! I will go now, need to pee bad." Seulgi pouted before rushing towards the washroom.

"Y/n you are looking damn good. I am so sure many are going to fall for you in one sight." Doyoung winked. 'Well it's not like you are going to.' You shook your inner words. "Oh anyways, can you see that guy at the bar stand." You gazed towards where Doyoung pointed. A tall, lean guy having same bunny features as him was at your sight, he was sipping a wine and was chatting with his friend. "Yeah, what about him?" You raised your eyebrows. "What do you think about him?" You frowned. "What?" Doyoung repeated the same question. "No idiot, I meant why? I don't know, he's handsome and cute I guess." "That's great then. He's Na Jaemin, my cousin. He's kind of into you. Want me to set him up with you?" You widened your eyes at his proposal. Renjun too, had the same reaction. "Oh my Doyoung, why?" "Oh come on Y/n, I want you to be happy. And also I want to see you with someone before I get married. You know I don't want you to be left out. You are the only person who's not in a relationship or involved in any."

You shook your head. That's great that you are just moving on and your crush is trying to set you up with someone else but his words kind of hurted you and your ego. "What!? You don't like him? No worries, the other guy there, he's Lee Jeno, he is pretty much handsome too-" "No Doyoung, I don't want to set myself with someone. " You whined. "Yeah hyung! Give her some time, before you drop these kind of bombs." Renjun voiced out his opinion. Doyoung glared. "Why Y/n? Don't you want to be happy with someone or have intimate relations with someone.  Oh don't tell me you are a lesbian, don't worry I got tons of female friends too! Y/n, look the reason I am doing this is because of your happiness. You are always alone, engrossed with your work. I can't take care of you all the time and I feel bad. You don't eat proper meals and I am always the one to force you to eat meals, and etc."

"Doyoung, look I know you are worried and don't worry much about me anymore cause I am not a kid and I am taking proper meals now. And plus, I am seeing someone." Your last words shocked everyone who heard you. "You do!?" Renjun was the one who asked you first after everyone was quiet. You quickly nodded. "Well if you do, how come you never told me?" Doyoung narrowed his eyes already suspicious. "Well, I have been seeing him for the past few weeks and we aren't official yet that's why. But trust me! He is a real gentleman and very sweet." You faked laughed. You tried your best to convince him and he was about to ask more when Seulgi called him. He excused himself and went to the host platform. 

"So everyone, we all know me and Doyoung are getting married! Woohoo!" The crowd howled with excitement. "So after discussions and discussions, taking so many risks, we have decided to get married on the 18th of June in Vegas! So everyone present here is invited. Please be present to give us wishes and your blessings. We will be expecting you all." The crowd was overjoyed with the news. People congratulated the couple and they very much accepted that with equal enthusiasm.

"You aren't actually seeing anyone, are you?" Renjun asked you, which you nodded honestly as in no. "I mean don't you think it's kind of quick for me to that, I mean I am trying my best to move on. I don't want to get indulged in love right now." He sighed. "Don't stress much, the right man will come along with right time." He assured you, which also did a calming effect on you

The night went on with merry making sounds. Fortunately Doyoung didn't ask more about your fake date. But he did give you the look of I will love to meet him someday. Or should I say asap? Because the news spread to Seulgi and now you are stuck with a double date next weekend. Now great! You pulled your own leg. How will you find yourself a fake boyfriend in 7 days? You share the same company of friends as Doyoung so you can't ask them for this favour. He knows all your employees. In fact Doyoung knows every person you know. You felt like crying. 

What am I gonna do now?

The thought circulates your head as you walk around the toilet cubicle. But you soon stop when you heard some girls talking.

"Girl I am telling you, I had the best date ever. This website gave the best fake boyfriend ever. All my colleagues were jealous seeing him. Oh my goodness, he was so hot but so sweet!!" They squealed. You rolled your eyes but continued eavesdropping them. "Can you tell me the name of the website? I want to try it so bad!!!" "Sure, it's neo date on your doorstep.com . I am telling you, once got one you will never regret it. It's safe too! It's 400$ per day. It was so worth it."

You are so sure, god is favouring you right now. It's your only hope now and you are not going to let it go in vain. Thanking god, you made your way out of the washroom, suprisingly the two girls talking. You smiled widely at them and left. "What's up with her?" "I don't know, she's drunk maybe."

Welcome to neo date on your doorstep

Which purpose?

Blind Date

Temporary partner

Sex partner

Warning; Once chosen, cannot switch. No cancellation. Once cancel, cannot order again.

You choose the temporary boyfriend, even though sex was tempting because you haven't got laid in months, you still choose it. Guess everyone is right, you are a boring girl.

Thank you for choosing, please fill your name, address and phone number and duration you want to keep your order. 

Name: Jung Y/n

Sexuality: Straight,Female    Age: 25

Address: xxxxx

Phone number: xxxx-xxxx

Duration (max: 5months): 2 days

Thank you for your co-operation. Your order will arrive this Saturday at 9 am.

Caution: You cannot return your order before the estimate time

You smiled in satisfaction. Finally you are going to sleep a sound sleep without the recent stress, i.e., finding a fake boyfriend. Thank goodness it was weekend, you are going to sleep all day! The massive headache you had because you drank alot just to reduce your stress minimised a bit. Just then you heard your phone beep indicating a notification. You checked it and it was from the website.

Miss Jung Y/n,

Your order info:

You choice: Sex partner

Name: Lee Haechan

Sexuality: Straight, Male      Age: 27

Speciality: finger play, oral

shit!

[luveline]

Congrats on so many followers! <33 Could I request 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 with Steve Harrington as a bodyguard AU please? I just think that it could work for him with him being a protector kind of person?

join luveline’s halloween party <3

ty for ur request! mutual pining bodyguard!steve x fem!reader

Steve loves to brag about his job. It makes you glow from the inside out that he would take as much pride as he does in your safekeeping, though if you’re being honest sometimes you worry he takes pride in your position more than anything.

“You are a very important person,” he says, hand not touching your back but its phantom heat lingering there anyhow. “A literal VIP. Do you know what that makes me?”

“What, Steve?” you ask, trying not to sound sick to your stomach.

Steve opens the door for you before you can even think about touching the handle. “That makes me a BVIP.”

“A bitchy ventriloquist in prison?” you ask.

You impress yourself with your quick thinking. Steve isn’t so easily moved.

“What? No. A bodyguard of a very important person.”

“No,” you gasp, monotonous.

Silent as ghosts, two additional bodyguards join your procession down the gravel driveway and into an unmarked SUV.

Steve puts his hand on the roof of the car to make sure you can’t bump your head, and then he slides in beside you. Any professionalism has been worn away by months of this deft joking between you both, and his lean thigh presses heavy against your own. That’s not to say Steve isn’t good at his job. He's actually great at his job, as proven last week during your first official attack where he had defended you easily.

You’ve been a ball of nerves since. He'd suggested this trip to the hairdressers as a way for you to slide slowly back into your routine.

“Get your hair done,” he’d said succinctly. “Get your confidence back.”

Your hair is the least of your worries, and hours in a straight backed chair sounds like torture, but Steve had assured his presence. Promised to be within arm's reach if that was what was gonna get you back outside.

“Your bruise is a fascinating shade of purple today,” you remark. You deflect as he does with sarcasm. Before you’d met you’d hardly made jokes, and now you’re being a smartass near constantly to match his energy. He makes you laugh, and you like this new side of you almost as much as you like him.

“You like it? Thought it matched my eyes.”

You follow up his pretty cheeks to fact check. He has gorgeous eyes, brown and warm and edged in the dark straight lashes that beg to be touched.

“Definitely.”

He laughs without looking at you, eyes on the windshield. He watches the drivers every movement.

“Steve,” you hedge.

He leans toward you to show he’s listening.

There’s no privacy in the car, but you’ve virtually no privacy in your whole life. You’ve learned to cling to the fallacies of it; the other guards present can’t hear what you’re saying because they’re looking out either window.

Untrue, but it helps.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask.

He turns toward you a little more, eyes stuck to the windshield but face close enough that he could lean forward an inch and kiss you if he wanted to. “Hundred percent.”

You nod because you trust him and try to ignore the nausea rolling around in your stomach. Steve eases his thigh into yours a little bit more. You tell yourself it’s accidental. These days you can’t tell.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

You listen to the tires chew up asphalt for a while, wondering if he forgot he was talking.

“You know my friend Robin?”

You bite your lip. Wincing, you say, “Yeah, what about her?”

You know all about Robin. Steve can barely shut up about her. You’d probably really like her if she didn’t make you so jealous.

“She moved into an apartment this week like ten minutes away from mine.”

Your chest tightens. You hate yourself, your envy childish and unfounded. Steve isn’t your anything, and his best friend who he is obviously crazy about doesn’t deserve your mean thoughts. Hilarious Robin, pretty Robin.

“That’s good. She was living in uh- The town where you grew up, right? Does she like Indianapolis?”

“She hates it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles and finally gives you a second of eye contact. “Her girlfriend loves it though. And I love that she’s here. Win-win. Well, for me and Nance.”

You laugh and you’re breathless, all your shameful jealousy and anxiety dissipating like smoke by a rolled down window. “Robin has a girlfriend?” you ask, sounding definitely too happy.

Again, a brief second of eye contact. This one feels much less of a treasure than the first. More like he’s judging you. Like he can see straight through you.

“Only for the last five years.”

“Shit,” you say. “Five years? That must be awesome.”

He nudges you gently. “I wouldn’t know. My longest relationship didn’t make one.”

You don’t know what to say or how to smile. It sucks that he hasn’t found the one for him. It doesn’t suck for you. Sorry, Steve.

Only when you’re pulling up outside of the hairdressers do you stop to wonder why he brought it up.

He could tell you were having a meltdown, you think to yourself scornfully. There is literally no other reason, there will never be another reason.

But why specify that Robin has a girlfriend? He’s never specified before.

He didn’t specify.

You almost walk into Steve’s back as opens the door to the salon for you. He takes your distraction for worry, and he pulls you gently aside.

“Listen. You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right? I’m here, nobody is gonna get close to you.” He smiles, pearly top teeth peeking out. “Didn’t let them last time, did I?”

He doesn’t understand that that’s the whole problem. “Steve, you still have a bruise the size of a tangerine.”

“And I’ll be right as rain in a week.”

You kid yourself that his hand strokes down your arm as he lets go of you.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s do something about that hair,” he jokes.

“Jerk.”

“For sure.”

Jerk he may be, but a couple of hours later when your hair is freshly done and you’re ready to nap for hours, he fawns over you. “You look beautiful,” he says, without a drop of sarcasm.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

He’s pink in the cheeks by the time you reach the car.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly. “You look peaky.”

“Waited so long for you my stomach started eating itself. Quick, get in the jeep before it moves on to my small intestine.”

[merakiui]

Ok so you know how we have the ona holes series beginning? I want to present reader being the degenerate with a dildo based on her fav guy. Octo theme for azul, double dragon for malleus, etc but just like the ona holes these dildos are accidentally magic linked to the guys. At least reader only gets to really use them at night or rare alone time moments. Man I can see the guys just thinking it be a wet dream or just be enjoying themselves. Though malleus might talk to lilia about it and knowing how lilia seems to know everything, he'll rat out reader. Though mall will shamelessly just be like to reader, why not try the real deal instead?

Omg just imagine Azul's trying to smooth-talk his way into another scummy deal with the unfortunate soul in his VIP room and one minute he's so suave, a true businessman, and the next the breath is knocked out of him because it feels like someone's just slammed themselves down onto his dick and it feels so warm and wet being inside...whatever phantom hole this is. orz he'll have the twins escort the student out of the VIP room so he can "look over the contract more closely" when in reality he is slumped in his chair being fucked out of his mind, quickly losing his composure. T_T

Malleus definitely tells Lilia about this unique magical anomaly and knowing how shameless Lilia can get I wouldn't be surprised if he retrieves you, dresses you up so nicely for Malleus, and has you wait for him in his bedroom. Or maybe Lilia's already there working you open in preparation for Malleus. >:) Malleus comes back from his evening walk and Lilia's spreading your hole for Malleus to see, completely casual about everything.

Or Riddle who is in the middle of a croquet game during an Unbirthday party and all is normal and well, until he nearly falls over from both the pleasurable sensation that races up his spine and the shock of feeling someone lower themselves onto him. He has to quickly excuse himself just so no one will hear or see how unbecoming he looks and sounds when some invisible person is riding him so good. <3

OR ROLLO!!! OTL Rollo who is in the middle of a very important student council meeting. You're practicing foreplay with your dildo, teasing it so that when you're with the real thing you won't be so awkward or shy. But it's putting Rollo through hell. >_< the normally stone-faced, cold president is suddenly flushed bright red and his breathing is labored and he's gripping fistfuls of his uniform to ground himself. Luckily, the others just think he's caught a cold, but Rollo is so certain they all know what was really happening. He is fuming about it after the fact, so certain that once again magic is terrible. But then it will happen again and Rollo's starting to look forward to these spontaneous happenings. :)

Or Jade... orz Jade who is working a shift and is fucked so good he's shedding tears in the Mostro Lounge storage room. I feel like if it happened to Floyd he would use it as an excuse to skip his shift and go off to have fun. Floyd absolutely hunts down the person who was able to be sneaky like that with him, and when he finds you he'll want to do a lot of fun things. Or one of the twins using the dildo to fuck you while the other isn't around, which leaves both you and one of the twins in ecstasy and the other doesn't even know (or perhaps he does; either way, once they know how special the dildo is they're absolutely using it to tease you).

Or using your dildo while Vil's doing an interview. He is surprisingly composed throughout all of it. Actors really are a force to be reckoned with. But as soon as all is over, he's retreating to the bathroom to deal with this little issue. I also feel like Rook would learn about the magical connection and would fuck you with the dildo just to give Vil a little secret sexual release. <3 being Housewarden is oh-so-tough, you see. It works nicely for Rook because he gets to see you make so many beautiful expressions and sounds as he works the dildo in and out of you.

This is basically another hentai fantasy for Idia, only it's real life. He actually doesn't believe it's happening at first until he realizes it feels like he's fucking one of his onaholes, only one that's much warmer and tighter. This circumstance works incredibly well because he never leaves his room, so you could fuck him whenever and he won't complain. Just try not to use it when he's focused on gaming. He hates being interrupted when he's in the middle of a speed-run.

It also works well for Leona! Chances are the intrusion woke him from a nap, but this feeling is arguably much nicer than sleep. But it's bold of this mystery person to make a move on him when he can't even see them. He'll track you down and when he does he'll repay all of the teasing tenfold. After all, you can't expect him to not play your game, especially when the taste of victory is very appetizing.

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] Bustafellows Season 2 - Helvetica Short Story - Am I bad?

Source: Bustafellows Season 2 Stella Set Special Bonus Booklet Note: Takes place after the first game, no S2 spoilers.

Helvetica Short Story - Am I bad?

‘Ah, Teuta, about today….’

Having rushed into the living room in a fluster, Teuta threw her bag onto the sofa.

‘What is it!?’

‘No…..you seem to be in a hurry.’

‘I’m about to be late! I’ve got tons of interviews on for today…..Ah! But I’ll make sure to be there tonight!’

‘Will you?’

‘’Course I will. I mean, didn’t you say it’s a big important academic conference? Since I got invited as your partner, I’ll be sure to come all dressed up. You know….because I couldn’t make it to the party last time.’

As she answered my question in a loud voice, Teuta was in the kitchen making a shoddy looking sandwich. The scene was just so comical, I couldn’t help but laugh in spite of myself.

‘....Why are you laughing?’

Cheeks stuffed with bread, she returned to the living room.

‘I wasn’t really laughing. I was just so, so happy that you hadn’t forgotten our promise.’

‘.....The way you said that just now sounded kind of pointed.’

‘Well, perhaps I am also referring to the fact that you stood me up last time without so much as a text message.’

‘I did say I was sorry about that….’

‘Exactly, that’s why I am very much looking forward to you being there tonight.’

‘Yeah…..Ah, crap! Forgot to print out my manuscript!’

Making a rushed reply, Teuta again dashed out from the living room. The sight of her hand holding on to her phone as she went by remained in my eyes like an after image. Vivid, red-coloured nails. The lacquer stuck out a little and was uneven.

(Those nails you tried so hard to paint really suit the red dress you picked out last night…..)

That evening, the venue was overflowing with well-dressed guests. My appearance on stage was now long well over. All I’d had to do was introduce the papers that had been submitted to the conference in a formal ceremony. Since the aim of tonight’s party was mainly to gather donations, I’d been able to keep the formalities to a minimum. The sponsors who gave us money had no interest in the latest technology. They only cared about the superficial side of things, about things that were showy and capable of generating buzz.

(....Teuta hasn’t arrived yet.)

When I looked at my phone, there was a message from her. Perhaps it was to say that she was already here at the venue, or that she wasn’t going to make it.

I took a casual look around me. I couldn’t help but follow women with the same type of build with my gaze. If possible, I didn’t want you to see me looking around for you. You would probably laugh at me, saying, “Did you really miss me that much?”

(......Well, I suppose I wouldn’t really mind that either)

In the passageway towards the bar I saw a group of men and women. No, it was actually just one woman, and a number of men. With just a single glance, I could tell that she was beautiful. Her red dress and golden hair reflected vividly in my eyes.

(.....Teuta?)

Although the simple red dress and pointed toe shoes she wore looked mature, her side profile showed an appearance that still had a small element of childishness.

‘Which clinic are you from?’

‘Um, I’m-’

As I came closer, I could clearly hear their conversation. It was obvious from the tone of their voices that the men were trying to flirt with Teuta. I should probably immediately intervene, but it was fun watching both the troubled Teuta and the men getting ahead of themselves.

‘We can get into the VIP area, so why don’t you come with us?’

‘I-I can probably also get in. My boyfriend is a VIP too…..’

‘Your boyfriend’s a VIP? And who might that be? Perhaps you mean me? Ahaha!’

I almost let a burst of laughter escape me. They must be thinking they were doing pretty well, but just imagining what their faces would look like soon enough, my shoulders seemed about to shake with pent-up amusement.

‘Ah, hey….look this way for a moment.’

‘Huh? What is it?’

‘The tag’s still on your clothes.’

‘Wha-!? No way-!?’

As I listened to their conversation, I took a casual glance at Teuta’s dress. He was right, the tag was still hanging there, just as it had been when she’d bought it.

‘I’ll take it off, c’mon, turn around.’

‘Um…..’

Just before the man’s outstretched hand touched Teuta, I firmly pulled her towards me in an embrace.

‘Ah-.....Helvetica?’

I gently ran a hand through her golden hair, gathering it together.

‘Uh, if I’m remembering right, you’re-’

‘Do you know who I am?’

Having seen me take Teuta into my arms, the mens’ eyes had quite literally grown round.

‘Um, Helvetica…..?’

‘Stay where you are and don’t move.’

The tag hanging at Teuta’s back. I drew my face closer to it, biting down on the thread.

‘Ah-.....’

The tag I’d bitten off still in my mouth, I faced the men down once more. Seeing them look so shocked, I couldn’t help but smile. I spat the tag out at their feet.

‘So? Do you know who I am?’

‘Ah, um…..that is-, p-please excuse us-’

The group of men quickly scattered like a pack of hyenas that saw they no longer had a chance of victory.

‘..........’

Teuta timidly turned to look at me.

‘Helvetica…..?’

‘I’m not necessarily praising you with the words I’m about to say, so please don’t get carried away.’

‘Wh-What?’

‘You are a much more attractive woman than you think you are. There are probably a lot of men who find you physically desirable. And not only that, you’re dense when it comes to male-female relationships.’

‘Hey, “dense” is a bit....’

‘Men are good at sniffing out that kind of denseness.’

‘What do you mean by “good at”? I wasn’t really interested in getting to know those guys from earlier at all…..’

‘It means they think they can have their way with you if they’re pushy enough.’

‘That’s….’

Perhaps because I’d ended up wording it harshly, Teuta’s eyes looked a little hurt. Taking a deep breath, I put my arms around Teuta’s shoulders and drew her close to me. As I lightly stroked her back, she rested her head on my chest. The weight of it felt comfortable.

‘You’re in love with me, aren’t you? You love only me. Isn’t that right?’

‘.....It is.’

‘Still, please be more aware that there are bad men out there that might try and lay a hand on you.’

‘..........’

‘Your answer?’

Teuta took her face away from my chest, looking up at me with large eyes.

‘.....I, like bad men.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m telling you I like bad men. The kind that’s always making a face like, “I only do what I want” but actually is always thinking about me, that can’t help wanting to keep me all to himself, that kind of bad guy.’

‘.....Is that so.’

I stretched out a hand, tangling Teuta’s hair around my fingers. The soft sensation of it running through the spaces between them felt pleasant.

‘.....Am I a bad woman?’

‘Yes, a woman that's bad at using her head.’

‘So mean.’

Leaning down a little, I put my lips at Teuta’s ear. As I sucked in a small breath, I could feel Teuta’s body tense. I spoke in a voice as low and breathy as possible.

‘.....Seeing as you can only think of me, don’t you think you’d have to be?’

[deathcrawling]

Hey Wil!

I'd love to hear your thoughts on Gloom Division lore as a whole! Especially with the recent image release. First, I wanted to discuss the instructional shirt as I haven't seen people talk about it much!

You might have already noticed this, but in the top right corner are the 6 levels.

I remember the first time I saw this and I was instantly reminded of the ending image in the Do It All The Time music video. I have many speculations and theories regarding the implications but nothing concrete. Perhaps each level is also a different plane of existence/dimension with time being one of them, but I'll get into that and other theories another time.

Back to what I am confident in. I don't think it would be farfetched for them to correspond to the sins. As you know, Dallon described in an interview that he would eventually become one of the sins. And notably at the Salt Lake City listening party they gave out hotel keychains with a 7 on them. As well as a notepad that says Memo From the Desk of Gloom Division. Implying he, at the very least, travels between each level. Extrapolating from the album cover and this information, perhaps he gets to the top level and becomes the sin, Pride. In Idiots of Oz the song starts with elevator music. This could purely be a musical/aesthetic choice but perhaps this is also a nod to Dallon going between the levels and finally reaching his.

hello! i have some theories about GLOOM DIV lore right now! some of which have been confirmed by dallon during VIP during gloomtown tour, others are solely based on myself and @temporalarts research! also WARNING! this will be a bit all over the place, i apologize for the messiness of this post.

FACT:

lets start off with what is fact, dallon has confirmed that 1. himself and the figures in the albums physical copies gatefold represent the 7 deadly sins, and 2. he represents PRIDE out of the seven sins (he mentioned this during VIP Madison, WI), and the lady with the sunglasses in the gatefold represents LUST (mentioned during VIP STL, MO). he has not said which sin is who for the remaining 5. he also confirmed that there was supposed to be deeper lore this album, but wanted to focus on music rather than lore due to how stressful it was with RAZZMATAZZ era lore (confirmed VIP Madison, WI).

THEORY/SPECULATION:

in terms of theories, my current theories on the album mainly surround TELLEXX and PRIDE out of the seven sins and who he is, what he does, and how he (and the other sins) came to be. a lot of these ideas i have come from religious context, as the 7 sins are apart of loads of religions, im mainly pulling from the christian bible as well as some mormonism.

because i feel that TELLEXX is important to this albums lore, lets start off with my theories on TELLEXX. TELLEXX acts very much like a cult, going after people lonely and desperate for fame or a rise in social status, and manipulating them, isolating them from the real world. as far as we know that dallon hasnt been the only subject, it has been confirmed in the TELLEXX letters, how many other subjects there has been? im not sure. nonetheless, TELLEXX is inherently evil but puts on a good face for the sake of having a good reputation, and i believe that TELLEXX is basically the devil pretending to be God/a God-like figure. i think TELLEXX wanting to be a god/higher than god can both be figuratively and literally, TELLEXX obviously has bigger plans that we aren't aware of at the moment, but it does look like it involves taking advantage of people and transforming them to fit their vision. they take in people who are often desperate for something, whether its fame or some sort rise in social status (aka social climbers), its what they do. and like ive mentioned previously, its what we see in real life cults, the leader of the cult sees themself as god or as a god, they claim to know more than the average person and they manipulate and isolate people so they can control them. so TELLEXX having their subjects, who we can assume were also looking for fame/social acceptance based on dallon, sign a contract that isolates them from the real world and promising that they can do these things for them makes a lot of sense.

in a figurative sense, TELLEXX at its core is evil, they have ill intentions but put on a good face so they wont get exposed/in trouble.

in a literal sense, TELLEXX has ties to the devil/is the devil but pretends to be God or a god, because they are desperate to have that power.

in terms of the 7 deadly sins, i have very little factual info to go off of so these ideas are very loose and don't make the absolute most sense, but i have a lot to say. dallon represents PRIDE, and i believe that he died from some sort of volunteer research study accident and became the sin PRIDE in the afterlife (assuming that TELLEXX somehow represents the devil, he made a deal with the devil). PRIDE, historically and religiously is considered the "highest" and "most powerful" of the sins. PRIDE is the leader of the sins.

i think that this explains WHY we see dallon literally higher up than the rest of the sins, because he is their leader, he is the most powerful.

(when looking at the album cover and gatefold, it looks like the other 6 sins are looking UP towards dallon)

for the other sins, how they came to be is a mystery to me. i can imagine that they were previous TELLEXX subjects who died in some sort of way, and were in some sort of limbo before dallons death. PRIDE was supposedly the first sin to come into existence, which doesnt really make sense in terms of GLOOM DIV lore, so i believe that dallons death and him being PRIDE was a manifestation of the other sins coming into existence. i believe that they existed before dallon, but not physically. whether TELLEXX was purposefully keeping them a secret OR they were not aware of them, i couldnt really tell you. it seems likely that the sins DO work for TELLEXX, either being their eyes (like the white shadows) or being guard dogs/spokespeople for them.

i like the idea of the instruction shirt having to do with the sins in some way, its probable, i personally think that the levels have to do with ones status/knowledge surrounding TELLEXX. being a subject can be considered surface level knowledge of TELLEXX and what they do while being a sin and protecting the company means you're deep into the company knowing exactly whats happening.

EDIT: note about the dripping hands/feet! black hands/feet is often associated with making a deal with the devil in religion (christian/catholic beliefs mainly!), so my main theory on the hands/feet being black has to do with dallons death and him becoming PRIDE due to him making a deal w/ the devil.

[dropoutconfessions]

I get annoyed when I’m trying to binge watch Game Changer or Very Important People, because they put the behind the scenes videos after the video it’s about. I wish they would just do a behind the scenes season for whatever series it a part of, so it’s two separate feeds. One for just episodes, one for behind the scenes content. Behind the scenes are great, but they break the flow if I just want to watch back to back Game Changer or VIP.

so kinda like how they have 2 copies of dimension 20 seasons, one with the adventuring parties after each episode, one without?