#backstage and beyond

[greensparty]

Talking with Jim Sullivan

In the Boston music scene, Jim Sullivan has been quite a tastemaker for decades. He began writing about music and pop culture for The Boston Globe in 1979 and remained there until 2005. He is still in touch with national and local music today, writing for WBUR's The ARTery. He has been a fly on the wall for so much great music and rubbing elbows with so many rockers over the years. Last year saw the release of his books Backstage & Beyond: 45 Years of Modern Rock Chats and Rants Vol. 1 and 2, which were just released in paperback editions and in an E-book all-in-one version with some added chapters not featured in Vol. 1 or 2.

The books are a collection of encounters he has had with a number of musicians over the years notably David Bowie, Lou Reed, The Kinks, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young, Alice Cooper, The Clash, The Police, Talking Heads, and U2. There is also quite an emphasis on Boston rockers The J. Geils Band, The Cars, The Pixies, and of course Aerosmith!

I recently caught up with Mr. Sullivan via phone. We have been connected on social media for a while now and have a ton of mutual friends in common, but we hadn't actually talked until now. When I mentioned that I read his articles in the music section of the Globe as a teen, he said "So I have both influenced and damaged your life". Ha! That's one way of looking at it!

author Jim Sullivan

Me: What's cool about these books is that it's like a compendium of your "greatest hits" in a way.

JS: In a way it is. It sort of expanded and shifted perspective a bit, and certainly if I had talked to an artist over an expansive time, the stories kind of merged together. The other thing I did was put myself a little more in the story to set the scene and what the relationship with me and the other person might've been. And through the inside details that would not have shown up in a newspaper type story.

Me: These books are really a who's who of music history. But is there any musician who you never got to meet or interview that you always wanted to?

JS: I guess my standard answer to that is either Mick [Jagger] or Keith [Richards] back in the day. When the Rolling Stones were creating more new music. I guess they are now as well, so I guess they would be now as well. But when they talked it was with my partner at the Globe, Steve Morse, he kind of did the inside track on them. He would handle anything Stones-wise. Whereas I would handle mostly The Who, The Kinks, Bowie, Roxy Music - a pretty good list, so I wasn't that sorry that Steve took the Stones. But from a personal point of view, it would've been fun to do that.

Me: Let's talk about Aerosmith. I'm a lifelong fan, I've met them, and I've seen them live countless times. You have a chapter on guitarist Joe Perry. You have actually become friends with them, including bassist Tom Hamilton, who you golf with. What's it like to hang out with them, not to do an interview but just to hang out, golf and talk about life?

JS: One of the best hangs we had - Tom and Joe were both there - was at the Hollywood Vampires show in Boston last year. It's funny because I golfed with Alice [Cooper] during the day and then said "Hey, I'll see you tonight" and we had backstage passes (my wife and I) and we went back before the show. Joe was in the band, so he was there, and then Tom showed up and their wives too. It was kind of a family affair. It was nice, we had plenty of time to talk. It was fun, off the record, just talking to Joe and Tom about life itself. Also fun stepping back to watch Joe and Tom interact, which was really quite sweet. They've been together off and on, it's not a steady line (as you well know) from the beginning to now. But to see that that friendship still existed and that easy camaraderie they had there, it was great to just observe. Just realizing that these guys have been through a lot and at the end of the day they've remained friends and just enjoy each other's company. Nice to just kind of watch.

Tom joined our little golf gang a few years ago. He has been a fairly frequent participant. It's fun because Tom is good and bad like the rest of us. He does not come off in any rock star kind of way. He dresses in black, which I tend to as well. But there's no way anyone on the golf course would say "Hey, that's Tom Hamilton of Aerosmith". I mean if somebody does recognize him, he's fine with it, take a picture or something like that. For him it's a good escape, like it is for us. Reality doesn't exist for four or five hours. You get to hammer away at something you sometimes succeed at and often fail at. Tom, like the rest of us, smiles when he gets a good shot and curses like a sailor when he doesn't. [laughs] Joe is kind of interesting too. During the COVID-19 shutdown, we sort of formed a bit of a bond over the phone. I did stories on the shutdown, did stories on Aerosmith. There was one time in particular I remember where he rang up, out of the blue, said hey. And I said "Is this an interview" and he said no, but I asked if I wanted to tape it and anything good came out of it, you good with that? and he said "Oh yeah, sure". We talked for about 45 minutes or so. Good things came out of that. We've spent some good time together. It doesn't extend to dinner parties in his home, but it's certainly a good relationship both personal and professional.

book covers

Me: I was actually at that Hollywood Vampires show (see my concert pics here). In terms of these 2 volumes you released, could there be another volume with more interviews and stories?

JS: There could be. There's a few possibilities I've written down. We've talked about doing it, but we'll see.

Me: In your chapter about Peter Wolf, you asked him why he stayed in Boston after getting famous. I wanted to ask you a similar question: Did you ever think about leaving Boston and covering music in another city?

JS: Only slightly. I mean, you're aware of what's going on in other cities, pre-internet, getting tips from people living in other places. But I got in at the Globe pretty early when I was 22 as a freelancer. The Globe was a great paper and at that point and time especially and for quite a while when I was there, the Globe had a lot of space to fill and it was making money hand-over-fist, so they could afford to send me places even as a freelancer to L.A. or Minneapolis or Chicago, Detroit or wherever. So there was a lot of freedom to both travel and get stories and a lot that came in to Boston. Anything that came to New York, be it from England or anywhere else in the U.S., if they played New York they were going to play Boston. So even if New York was a hotter scene overall, Boston - I thought - was pretty damn close, so the overlapping bands was probably 98%. I felt I could cover as many of those groups as I wanted to here as any place. Also - the Globe was great. It was a very supportive environment and good editors. Long way of saying, I liked working in Boston and then, of course, friendships, etc. that I made over the years.

For info on Backstage and Beyond Vol. 1 and 2

[khihi]

sometimes i remember that joker out during esc tried to push some romance between bojan and noa kirel as a marketing ploy only for bojan to end up in a silly little will they won't they b/romance with a man who wears a bowl cut unironically and everybody ate it up and loved it. and then i get a little happier

oh my god yeah... i completely forgot about that whole thing 💀 it was a little with blanca paloma too i think but yeah mostly kirel lmao

they tried to push the heterosexual narrative but there was really nothing that could even come close to the genuine chemistry Bojan and Jere (and the rest of JO) had and i think that's beautiful 💕

[kep1er-net]

hikaru update ☆ personal instagram post: “…🎞️”

[clockworkcheetah]

i still so badly wanna know who the 'You're not supposed to be here.' line in amandas vision was about

[inhalerupdates]

Inhaler backstage at Bourbon & Beyond with LRS102!

📸 @/louwhatwear IG

[colourmeblood]

Continuing with Absolute Squaditude posts inspired by @charlie-rulerofhell

[sillybub]

One of my favorite AUs is like. The Jellicles are an indie theater company that put on various shows and plays and musicals and of course its fun to be like "ooh who would play which character" but also who's directing? Who are stagehands? Who auditioned for the same characters? What rehearsal shenanigans happened? Aiughjgjg I loveevlovelivelove this shit.

[livehorses]

[sellingsecrets]

Beyond the World Tour | tour bus edition

📷: Leon Schlesselmann

[umehaji]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓;

☾ Content: popstar f!reader much more famous than your pro volleyball player boyfriend- you finally hard launch your relationship on instagram but the public reaction isn't what you expect, so you take matters into your own hands

ft. Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou, Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou, Kageyama Tobio

☾ A/N: inspired by dua lipa and callum turner and my girl sabrina

— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢;

Ushijima doesn't even have an instagram, naturally. the closest thing is he's got is his team's account, curated and managed by the PR team. so when you wiggle your phone in front of him to show him the chosen piece for your account, he just gives it a cursory glance and nods. the photo is from backstage at one of your concerts earlier this month: you, glowing with joy, arm slung casually around his neck, leaning into him as you beam up at him with a smile that could light up your stadiums. he's got one arm wrapped securely around your waist, usual stoic expression softened by a warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at you- one that only you seem to be able to draw out of him.

but the reactions to your post are swift and crushing. you're beyond proud of Ushijima- proud of his quiet strength, his dedication, his raw talent. you know you shouldn’t and it shouldn’t—doesn’t—matter, but your thumb keeps scrolling through the comments. each one feels like a knife twisting deeper, a personal attack, particularly the ones suggesting he doesn't care, that he looks like he's got the emotional depth of a spoon, that this is all just a PR move somehow. watching the sweetest man you know not get the recognition he truly deserves hurts more than you want to admit.

ᯓ🏐

when Ushijima steps into your shared bedroom, shirtless, his hair still damp from a post-workout shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, his gaze finds you sitting at your vanity. the soft light of the mirror highlights your delicate features, casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

"toshi," you greet him warmly, turning toward him with an inviting smile. he pads over to you, barefoot, and you tilt your chin up expectantly. he rests one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the edge of your desk and leans down, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, his head tilting to deepen it as he lifts a hand to your cheek, gently smoothing his thumb across your soft skin before drawing back, a small smile curving up on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes.

"morning, love." he says simply, before walking off to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. completely oblivious to the phone propped up against your mirror, the livestream on the screen, and the chaos that you've just unleashed within your fanbase.

readerfanatic_official joined popicon4life just fell to my knees screaming in the 711 parking lot platinum_readerstan she's dating a TREE tinyreader777 'morning love'???...our queen is built different i would've evaporated on the spot bipbop_23 ...i get it now readerfan2024 guess i'm into volleyball now glitznglamfan girl i'm scared for ur holes

— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐨𝐮;

it's a cute photo: the two of you on a beach at a resort, there for one of Oikawa's games. Hinata's got his head in your lap, one of your hands gently running through his messy orange hair while your other hand rests on his chest. you're gazing out at the sea, a serene smile gracing your face as you enjoy the view, while Hinata looks up at you, equally captivated by what he sees.

the comments that flood in are anything but kind. most of them poke fun at his height, with fans wondering how he managed to catch your eye when he's fighting gravity every day, others insisting that he must just be very funny. and it doesn’t bother Hinata at all, not that you can tell- he just scratches the back of his head and laughs, exclaiming that it's nothing he hasn't heard before, that he’ll just have to work twice as hard to earn your fans’ approval. ignoring your protests that he has nothing to prove.

ᯓ🏐

a few eagle-eyed fans are the first ones to notice it and not long after, screenshots of your activity start to circulate. first it's you liking an edit of Hinata lifting his shirt during ones of his games to wipe sweat off his brow. then it's a clip of him leaping into the air, showing off his energy and athleticism. a third like is a snapshot of Hinata celebrating a victory, fists clenched and knees bent, muscles in his thighs flexed as he roars with triumph.

the one that nips it in the bud is when you share a post to your story. it’s a reel- a compilation of Hinata’s spikes, his raw energy and unstoppable power lighting up the court as he slams the ball past his opponents. your fans lose it when you post a mirror selfie on the same day: you've got your back turned toward the mirror, all dolled up for an award ceremony in a gown that leaves nothing and everything to the imagination. you look good, accentuated by the man at your side who, unlike you, is facing the mirror. but Hinata isn't looking at the camera- his heated gaze is on your reflection instead. one of his arms is curved loosely around your waist, hand resting just above your ass.

the internet goes wild.

mvpmichelle8 2h 385 likes our girl is thirsting publicly on main i respect it robsessed247 2h 306 likes rip to her ass cheeks keanue_433 2h 243 likes ...what team does he play for again stanacctreader 1h 178 likes she got herself a short KING FR newvolley_98 1h 85 likes so when’s the next game where you get a front-row seat to his… spikes? 🥵

— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮;

you don’t exactly share the photo yourself, but it might as well be yours. when Vogue posts the cover shot and tags you, it goes viral almost instantly. because Atsumu is seated in a luxurious chair, looking every bit like a king in his perfectly tailored suit, legs spread confidently, an air of dominance about him. you're perched on the armrest beside him, the slit of your black dress exposing the smooth curves of your body. one of your hands is loosely intertwined with his, resting on your thigh. the chemistry is palpable, electric. the sultry confidence in your posture paired with the intensity in Atsumu's gaze makes it impossible to look away. paired with the article about your relationship, this is a power couple at its finest.

or at least so you think.

the opinions of your fans are mixed, but those who disapprove don't hold back. they say that he must be cheating on you, that he looks untrustworthy, that his self-assured interview quotes only highlight how self-absorbed he is, implying he’s too consumed with himself to ever treat you right. Atsumu's ready to fight everyone questioning his devotion to you before you remind him that he can’t spend all day replying to hate comments- he has practice, and that you’ll handle it.

ᯓ🏐

you show up to the world championship that month with your entourage in tow. you visit Atsumu in his locker room to wish him good luck, ignoring the way his teammates trip over themselves gaping at you. he almost doesn’t let you leave, seizing you in a deep kiss that leaves you a little unsteady on your feet, but you plan a firm hand on his chest because you have places to be, a job to do.

when Atsumu steps up to serve and you watch as his routine unfolds, the familiar movements flowing effortlessly, your PR team is at the ready. his signature has evolved since his early days, the fist still a familiar gesture, but now his index finger uncurls at the last moment, pointing into the crowd. he doesn’t need to look; he always knows exactly where you are. but today, it’s different. you’re not in the shadows, hiding behind sunglasses or a baseball cap. today, you’re wearing his jersey, sitting front and center, in the best seat in the house. you’re clapping louder than anyone else, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt.

this time, when he finds you in the crowd, the whole world is watching.

Us Weekly: Atsumu Miya Makes History with Serve: Fans Go Wild over Major 'Couple Goals' Moment at the World Championship Buzzfeed: Is He Pointing to Y/N? 10 Moments Atsumu Miya Was Literally Screaming 'I Love You' Sports Illustrated: Atsumu Miya’s Serve Gets Personal: The Unspoken Gesture You Didn’t Know Was for Y/N Kyodo News: Fans Flock to See Miya Atsumu's Relationship with Global Sensation Y/N in Full View Cosmopolitan: Y/N and Atsumu Miya: From Music Charts to Volleyball Courts—Their Love Story (Exclusive)

— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮;

what you think is a beautiful moment, your fans interpret quite differently. in the photo you post, Bokuto's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he hugs you from behind. his hands are positioned low on your abdomen, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, a playful gesture that has you squirming in response. the candid shot your manager took captures you in mid-laugh. you're tilting away from him, hands gripping his wrists, body twisted in a half-escape as though you're trying to dodge his ticklish touch. Bokuto's lips are pressed softly to the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder partly obscuring his face. his expression is partially hidden, but the corner of his mischievous grin peeks out, his eyes glinting at the camera as he looks up right at that moment.

your fans tear him apart, their words dripping with criticism- accusing him of being too touchy, claiming that you don’t want him like that, that he's too obsessed, too forward. the comments flood in, one after another, each one more biting than the last. the relentless stream of negativity cuts deep, and you can see the toll it takes on Bokuto as he scrolls on his phone with a downtrodden look. you tell him to ignore it, that he has nothing to worry about, but you can tell it does little to lift his spirits.

ᯓ🏐

you show him that night just how deeply you care about him, straddling his lap and gently cupping his face in your hands. your lips meet his in a soft, reverent kiss, a silent exchange that you hope conveys volumes. you murmur against his mouth, telling him how perfect he is, watching with a quiet smile as the tips of his ears go red. but then he shifts, flipping you over on the bed, caging you in with thick arms all while still blushing so prettily. and when you feel something hard and big pressing against your inner thigh, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into.

Bokuto goes even redder the next day when he wakes up to incessant texting from his teammates and he opens social media to find a photo on your feed: it's of him shirtless, lying on his front and cradling a pillow with his cheek smooshed into it, his hair down and expression peaceful. what's not so peaceful is the view of his bare back- red streaks running down his tanned skin, unmistakably from your fingers. the white sheets thrown over his legs obscure anything from the waist down but his face flushes deeper as he takes in the rest of the intimate scene.

you've got one hand resting gently on his head, fingers woven loosely in his hair, thumb caressing his cheek mid-stroke. it's soft, casual, possessive.

fan_gurl_4 1h 403 likes the way we thought HE was the obsessed one...how the turn tables bobfriend_76 1h 386 likes she's marking her territory glamjam69 1h 207 likes ...this ain't demure or mindful at all menin4k22 45m 146 likes ma’am for science, p-please remove those sheets readerfan234 14m 121 likes the way she's touching him...i need a moment to grieve 😩

— 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨;

the release party for your new album goes off without a hitch, and you score tons of cute photos with Kageyama, cuddling up to him that night to scroll through and select the best ones. your top choice is one of the more simple shots: you, with one hand resting on his chest, leaning into the arm he’s wrapped around your waist. his long fingers were hot against your skin through the delicate fabric of your dress, and you swear you can still feel the imprints of them. he's serious in the shot, his lips set in a stern line as he gazes into the camera, but you adore that look on him. especially when that same gaze shifts to you, hinting at something deeper, something darker, waiting for later.

your fans, however, don't see what you do. so you wake up to a barrage of comments, about how he looks boring, how he probably doesn't know a single one of your lyrics, how you could do so much better. naturally, Kageyama doesn't give a single shit as to what your fans think about him. just kisses you goodbye and heads off to practice, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. but you care.

ᯓ🏐

it takes a fair amount of convincing and a hefty dose of bribery, which somehow includes you securing an advertisement contract with one of Kageyama's favorite yogurt brands, but he finally agrees to appear in the music video for your latest hit. though, you can't help but think it had more to do with you casually hinting that your company had intended on pulling in one of the hottest actors currently on the scene, known for making girls swoon at meet-and-greets.

he plays a cop arresting you for a string of crimes you commit in the name of revenge on your cheating ex, culminating in him pushing you down in the backseat of his patrol car. it's hot, steamy, and when he shoves his knee between your legs, leaning over you with one hand pinning your wrists above your head, you won't deny that you make a mental note to recreate this scene later, without the cameras.

the music video shatters records and skyrockets to the top of the charts.

and the comments this time? well. they speak for themselves.

bops234 • 1 day ago this awakened something in me fando23 • 12 hours ago i'm going to need this man's @ immediately barkbarkbark_89 • 12 hours ago are we sure he doesn't want to switch career paths stanacctreader • 10 hours ago i thought he was just a plain slice of milk bread but boy was i wrong freedomsings145 1h • 5 hours ago casting your real life boyfriend as the main romantic lead in your music video is such a power move, as always our queen's taste is IMPECCABLE atsumumiya • 2 hours ago he looks like a foot

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: BOSTON SURPRISE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where is the Boston show of the Surprise Party Tour, Y/N is pregnant, and it's Matt's turn to bring his surprise.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　being pregnant.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

After a long two year wait, the Sturniolo Triplets Surprise Party Tour was finally on the road.

The buzz of the theater was really electric, the pre-show jitters vibrating as fans filled the seats just beyond the thick curtains separating backstage from the main stage. Y/N practically radiated excitement, her steps light as she roamed around, eyes scanning every corner for Matt.

She was beyond ecstatic, to say the least. Being on the road with the triplets was her absolute favorite thing, and she had missed it so much since their last tour in 2023.

Her oversized custom shirt - the one that Nick had personally designed - hung loosely over her frame, matching his own shirt for the night. She smiled softly as she walked past crew members, setting up last-minute details. Nick and Chris were talking to the organizer somewhere behind the stage, deep in conversation, but her only focus was on finding Matt.

Just as she rounded a corner, Paula’s familiar voice echoed.

"Y/N! You look stunning."

Y/N turned her head, catching sight of the boys’ stylist walking toward her, a warm smile on her face.

"Nick did amazing with this shirt." Paula continued, eyes scanning the outfit with approval. "It looks amazing on you."

"You're too nice, Paula." Y/N’s cheeks heated as she grinned. Paula always had a way of making her feel extra confident. "Have you seen Matt?"

"He’s still in his dressing room." Paula replied before a yell of her name echoed, followed by the woman quickly excusing herself.

Y/N continued down the hall, stopping in front of the door marked with Matt’s name. She knocked gently, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the crowd outside.

Slowly, she pushed the door open just enough to peek her head inside.

"Hey." She greeted softly, her lips curving into a small smile at the sight of Matt's fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, his shirtless torso on full display.

His soft blue eyes lifted to meet hers as she stepped in and closed the door behind her, and the moment they locked onto hers, his entire body seemed to relax just slightly.

"Hey angel." He muttered gently.

She wasted no time crossing the room, stepping into his space as her arms wrapped tightly around his bare waist. Her hands ran up the milky skin of his back, relishing the warmth radiating off him as she pressed soft kisses against his lips before tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

His arms wound around her immediately, pulling her so close she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. She loved being wrapped up in him like this.

A heavy sigh left Matt’s lips as he rested his chin atop her head. He was holding her like he never wanted to let go, and Y/N could feel it - his tension, his nerves, the anxious beat of his heart against her own chest.

She pressed a hand flat against the middle of his back, rubbing small, soothing circles.

"Hey, deep breaths, baby."

He obeyed, inhaling deeply, his hands sliding down to settle against her hips. His thumbs brushed over the soft fabric of her shirt above her lower stomach as if grounding himself.

"M'so nervous." He admitted, voice raspy and low, his forehead dipping against hers. "Not about what my- our family will say, I know they’ll be happy. But the fans..." His arms tightened slightly. "I just- this is so big, y'know?"

Y/N smiled softly, tilting her chin to kiss him once more, her lips lingering in reassurance.

"They’re going to be so happy, Matt." She murmured against his lips, her hands cupping the soft skin right above his ribs. "And even if they need a second to process it, we have each other. We’ve always had each other."

His eyes softened, filled with nothing but love and admiration as he let out a shaky breath. He leans in even more, basically smothering her, but she doesn’t mind - he needs the comfort, and he’s always only been able to be calmed by her.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Before she could respond, a loud knock rattled the door.

"Matt!" Nick’s voice rang from the other side. "Are you dead in there? We gotta go!"

Matt groaned.

"Angel." He exhaled sharply, anxiously searching for Y/N's eyes one last time.

"You got this, my little star." Y/N nodded softly, and Matt's grip tightened for just a second longer before he finally, reluctantly, pulled back.

She smiled, squeezing his biceps one last time before stepping aside as he grabbed his shirt, ready to walk out onto that stage and into one of the biggest moments of their lives.

Matt, Chris, and Nick were lounging on stage like it was their living room, already used to the two iconic, slightly worn orange couches that had followed them across the country like loyal dogs.

Matt had claimed the right couch for himself, sitting cross-legged with a mic resting casually in one hand. On the left couch, Chris and Nick sat shoulder to shoulder, mirroring each other’s relaxed posture.

In the crowd, Y/N was in her usual spot - dead center, front row, the seat Matt always reserved for her. The one where he could look down and find her face instantly, grounding himself with just one glance.

But tonight, she wasn’t alone.

To her right sat Mary Lou, her hands folded neatly in her lap and a warm smile decorating her radiating face. Next to her was Jimmy, sitting tall and expectant, eyes scanning the stage like he was trying to drink it all in.

It was the first - and only - show they could attend, thanks to this tour stop being just a short drive from home. The last time they saw their sons on stage felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the giant screen behind the triplets lit up. A video snapped to life, flickering for a second before showing a clip of Matt fixing his tie.

And just like that, the room erupted. Screams shot up like fireworks, echoing off every wall.

Matt leaned back dramatically, flopping his free arm up.

"Alright, alright, chill out!" He grinned, voice teasing over the noise, trying not to laugh with the giddiness that came with his fans' reactions to himself. "First of all, I just wanna say, I deserve a full-blown award for keeping this secret."

Nick whipped his head toward him with a suspicious look, brows raised.

"No, I’m not even joking." Matt laughed, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "You guys have no idea how hard it was not to spill. Like, not just to you." He pointed at his brothers. "But to them too."

He turned, locking eyes with his parents, who were watching him intently, frowning.

"But when I found out we were doing a Boston show." Matt continued, voice dipping into something more sincere. "I knew this had to be my big surprise. I’ve been waiting for this moment for months."

The cheers kicked back up again - high-pitched, chaotic, and full of love.

"Okay, before we play the video, I need y’all to promise me something." He pointed toward the audience. "I need complete silence while it plays. Like, I want every single one of you to just sit back and take it all in." He smirked. "Don’t worry, you can scream after."

As the room quieted, you could feel the shift.

And then - click - the screen changed.

A home video. The inside of the triplets' LA house flickered onto the screen.

The camera wobbled for a second before being placed down on the coffee table. The image sharpened, revealing Matt's upper body moving a bit away from it, leaning down against the cream-colored couch, red hoodie up, grey sweatpants low, looking as cozy as humanly possible.

He waved at the camera with a little grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes yet.

"Hey, guys. If you’re watching this." He started, voice soft. "That means I finally get to say something I’ve been dying to share."

He ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling slowly like he was about to let go of a weight he'd carried for way too long.

"This message is for two very important groups." He said, pointing toward the lens. "One, my family. And two, every single fan watching right now."

Back on stage, Nick was glued to the screen, eyes narrowed, completely focused. Chris, meanwhile, kept shifting, glancing between Matt and the video like he was trying to figure out what was coming next, his leg bouncing with anxiety.

"So, here’s the deal." Video-Matt continued. "Two weeks ago, something happened. Something kinda insane. And when I found out about the tour the next day, I knew... I just knew this had to be one of my surprises."

He leaned forward, eyes flickering down for a second as he nervously clasped his hands together, like grounding himself.

"So, uh... yeah. Here it is."

The screen went black.

And then a low, steady sound filled the theater.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Not music.

Not a voice.

Something deeper, more alive.

A heartbeat.

Small, fast, and impossibly real.

The video sharpened into focus, though clearly filmed on a phone, the angle a little off-kilter like it had been propped up in a rush. The room on screen was soft and warm, washed in late afternoon sunlight.

Not a studio, not a stage. A hospital room. Neutral-colored walls. A monitor to the side.

Y/N lay on the examination bed, her brown sweater lifted to reveal her lower belly, shiny with gel. Her leggings were pulled down slightly, allowing the doctor to gently move the ultrasound wand over her skin.

Matt was right by her side, and he looked wrecked in the most beautiful way. Completely undone.

His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, cheeks blotchy with emotion. Tears slipped down silently as he gripped Y/N’s hand like it was the only thing tethering him to the planet. His commitment ring shimmered in the soft light as his right hand constantly - and very awkwardly - cleaned the tear tracks.

Y/N had her free hand over her mouth, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe through the sob building between her ribcage and going up full force. Her eyes were locked on the monitor, wide and wet, as a tiny, hazy figure wiggled faintly on the screen.

The doctor’s voice was quiet, almost reverent.

"That’s your baby’s heartbeat."

And Matt let out this broken, wet laugh, the kind that happens when you’re completely overwhelmed and overflowing all at once, a sob following right behind. He shook his head like he couldn’t even process what he was seeing.

"That’s our baby." He whispered, his voice cracking in half as he pulled Y/N’s hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping it pressed against his mouth. "That’s literally our baby."

Back in the theater, no one moved.

Not a sound.

It was like everyone in the room had just had the wind knocked out of them. Mouths covered in shock, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chris sat frozen, his jaw slack. Nick blinked slowly like he was trying to reboot.

Neither of them said a word - they couldn’t.

Their brother was having a baby.

Mary Lou, on the other hand, was already sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking, eyes covered in glasses tightly shut as if trying to hold back even more tears. Jimmy sat beside her with shining eyes, blinking back upcoming tears with a shaky inhale like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

On the screen, Matt’s watery smile stayed glued to the monitor, completely and utterly obsessed.

"Can’t believe y’letting me make you a mumma." Matt hums, almost in awe, like the words tasted too good to be true. "Gonna be the best, angel. I know it."

The video faded to black again.

Y/N, sitting quietly in the theater seat, was trying her best to keep it together, her eyes glassy and full. She pressed her pink tinted lips tightly together, like any little crack would shatter her.

The sound of her baby’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, and it was everything - terrifying, surreal, breathtaking. She clutched her stomach with both hands without thinking, her decorated nails lazily scratching over her shirt, like holding the secret tighter would make it easier not to cry.

Then, one last clip.

Matt, back in their cozy LA living room, sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his eyes slightly red but glowing, lit up with so much love.

"So, yeah." He sniffled, grinning shyly. "I wanted to tell you guys in the best way I knew how." He paused, visibly holding back more tears. "Y/N and I are having a baby."

He glanced off to the side for a second, sniffing.

"And we couldn’t be happier."

The screen went black.

Not a sound.

Not a breath.

And then, the world exploded.

Screams ripped through the air like a tidal wave, the theater shaking from the sheer force of it. Fans were crying, sobbing, yelling, clutching their faces in disbelief. It was chaos - beautiful, euphoric chaos.

Nick was the first to move, and he didn’t move. He launched. One second, he was sitting on the couch. The next he was across the stage, slamming into Matt with so much force, it nearly knocked them both down to the floor.

Chris was right behind him, eyes glossy, chin wobbling, and then suddenly, all three brothers were in this tangled, messy pile of limbs and love.

"Oh my god, Matt." Nick choked out, arms locked around Matt’s neck. "You’re gonna be a dad. You’re gonna be a freaking dad."

Chris was now crying - full-on crying - Fresh Love covered shoulders shaking, fingers gripping the back of Matt’s jacket like he didn’t wanna ever let go.

"I’m gonna be an uncle." He whispered, voice breaking like glass, pink lips wet with tears. "I get to be an uncle, man-"

And Matt just stood there in the middle of them, eyes wide, smile splitting his face in half, heart pounding like a drum solo inside his chest.

Down there, Mary Lou had already jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her face as she delicately pulled Y/N up and into her arms, pulling her shaking body into the warmest, tightest, most mom-like hug imaginable. The kind of hug that made everything feel safe.

"Oh, sweetheart." She whispered, voice shaking with emotion. "You just made me the happiest woman alive." She pulled back for a second just to cup Y/N’s cheeks, ignoring how her fingers got wet by Y/N's salty tears, soft eyes twinkling with pride and love. "You’re gonna be such a good mom. And I’m gonna spoil the hell outta this baby, just you wait."

Y/N couldn’t even speak. She just nodded, blinking through fat tears, heart hammering against her ribs.

Then, Matt looked down.

Somehow, in the storm of screaming and crying and fans limbs and lights, his eyes found her. His girl. Standing between the stage and the front row, being held by his mom, trembling hand over her belly, absolutely wrecked by the moment. Teary, overwhelmed, glowing in the most heartbreakingly beautiful way.

And something snapped in him.

He didn’t think.

He ran.

The bodyguards surrounding both sides of the stage went wild, arms outstretched, trying to block or guide him back, yelling over their earpieces.

But Matt didn’t care.

He dodged through them like it was instinct, ears muted to the fans yells from the front row, like his body was already halfway to her before his mind even caught up.

He reached her.

And without a word, without a second’s hesitation, he pulled her into the tightest hug, body accidentally hitting Mary Lou's in the process.

Big hands met Y/N's back, circling around her upper body, lifting her slightly off the ground as he wrapped himself around her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

"You- you-" He stammered against her cheek, their tears mixing between skin. "You did this. You’re giving me everything."

He kissed her face - cheeks, nose, forehead - his lips shaky and soft and desperate.

And then, with one hand still on her back, the other reached for the mic.

He turned back to the crowd, chest heaving, heart out in the open.

"I’M GONNA BE A DAD!!"

The theater detonated.

Y/N laughed through her now ugly cry, burying her face into Matt’s neck.

And Matt just held her tighter.

"So that's the reason Y/N's been using more hoodies than normal."

© vanteguccir

[inhalerupdates]

Inhaler earlier today with LRS102, be on the lookout for this interview soon to come!

[bakuhve]

in which pro hero reader puts an interviewer in their place after asking a disrespectful question about her boyfriend, pro hero dynamight.

you hated interviews.

the blinding lights, the stiff chairs, the overwhelming stench of hairspray clinging to the air- every second under the cameras made your skin itch. the suffocating outfit you were sitting in wasn’t helping either, digging into your ribs with every breath.

you weren’t even halfway through the interview yet, but the migraine pressing behind your temples told you you’d had enough.

technically, this was supposed to be a lighthearted talk show. what a joke. you knew better- just an interview wrapped in a prettier bow. the host sitting across from you in her pristine blue chair hadn’t shut up in over an hour, bouncing between surface-level questions about your daily routine and your hero work.

you’d been playing along, forcing that polite little smile on your face. but this second his name left her mouth, your stomach twisted.

“pro hero galaxia, we all know as his girlfriend, you’re the closest person to the one and only explosion hero, dynamight. i’d like to ask some questions about that.”

her voice was sugary sweet- too sweet. the kind of tone that made your teeth grind.

you returned her plastic smile, masking the irritation crawling up your spine. they always did this. always trying to pry into things that weren’t their business. heroes had a right to privacy too, didn’t they?

but for the sake of appearances, you nodded.

“alright.”

her eyes glinted like a shark sensing blood. “it’s no secret that dynamight is a… harsh person.” she paused, letting the word hang in the air. “many young children and even adults could be frightened by this nature, and i wonder-” she tilted her head, fake curiosity dripping from every syllable- “how do you think this affects him as a hero? could it be that he’s not cut out to be one?”

…what?

at first, you didn’t even register the question.

the air seemed to still, the bright studio lights dimming into a blurry haze around you. the murmuring crowd, the cameras clicking- everything faded into static. all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears.

she did not just say that.

“excuse me?” your voice came out low, sharper than you’d intended. maybe you’d heard her wrong.

but the smug little tilt of her smile told you you hadn’t.

“yes,” she repeated, slow and deliberate. “what are your thoughts?”

you leaned forward, locking eyes with her. the smile fell from your face like a guillotine blade.

“let me tell you something.”

the words came out steady, and there was no mistaking the edge behind them.

“dynamight wakes up every single day, straps on his gear, and walks out that door with no guarantee of returning home.” your voice rose slightly, echoing through the silent studio. “he risks his life- his entire goddamn life- to protect people who wouldn’t think twice about spitting on his name.”

you wouldn’t use dynamight’s real name now. you weren’t answering this question as his girlfriend, you were answering it as a fellow pro hero who knew the constant battles of every day hero life. and for him to be disrespected like this was beyond sickening to you.

“he worked his ass of to get to where he is today- harder than anyone i’ve ever seen. and you’re sitting here questioning if he’s cut out to be a hero? what the hell are you doing every day? sitting on your ass in front of a camera, profiting off other people’s lives?”

the host’s eyes widened, her sickly sweet smile finally cracking.

good.

you stood abruptly, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor. the woman flinched back, the entire room holding its breath.

“i better not ever see you in front of my face again.”

the moment you stormed off the set, the tension in your muscles refused to ease. your hands were still curled into fists at your sides, nails pressing half-moons into your palms. the air backstage was cooler, quieter, but the frustration still burned beneath your skin.

that woman had no idea what the hell she was talking about. no clue what it meant to be a hero.

you made your way to the dressing room, barely acknowledging the wide-eyed crew members who scurried out of your way. you didn’t care. let them whisper about the way you stood up for dynamight on live television.

you swung open the door to your dressing room, already reaching for the zipper of your suffocating outfit-

and then you froze.

because sitting on the couch in the corner, arms crossed and one leg kicked over the other, was a very familiar blonde.

katsuki.

his crimson eyes locked onto you the second you stepped in, sharp and unreadable.

for a second, neither of you spoke. the adrenaline from the interview was still thrumming in your veins, but under his gaze, something in you settled. he was here. he had seen everything.

you swallowed, shifting your weight slightly. “katsuki-”

before you could finish, he was already pushing himself off the couch, walking toward you with slow and deliberate steps. his hands, rough from years of battle, came up to your shoulders, thumbs brushing against your collarbones.

“turn around,” he murmured, voice softer than you’d expected.

you blinked at him, and his gaze flickered to the zipper at the back of your outfit. “i know this shit’s been botherin’ you all night.”

there was no teasing in his voice, no smirk. just quiet understanding.

your chest tightened, warmth flooding beneath your ribs. without a word, you turned, letting out a breath as his fingers gently tugged at the zipper.

the fabric loosened around you, and you hadn’t realized how tense you were until the cool air kissed your skin.

“you didn’t have to do that,” katsuki muttered as he worked the zipper down, his knuckles grazing your spine. “didn’t need to lose your shit on live tv for me.”

you scoffed lightly, but there was no real bite to it. “of course i did.”

the zipper reached the small of your back, and his hands smoothed over your shoulders, pushing the fabric down with a tenderness that sent shivers through you.

“you’re a hero, katsuki,” you continued, voice quieter now. “you save lives every single day. no one gets to question that.”

his hands stilled. you felt his breath against the nape of your neck, warm and steady.

then, he pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

“you’re too good to me, y’know that?” he muttered against your skin.

you turned to face him, arms slipping around his waist as he finished peeling the tight fabric from your arms. his hands didn’t leave you, tracing slow, comforting circles against your back.

“i just love you,” you admitted, his forehead resting against yours.

he huffed, but the way his arms tightened around you betrayed him.

“yeah, yeah. love you too, dumbass.”

and as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss far gentler than anyone would expect from dynamight, you let yourself melt into him- into his safety and love reserved just for you.

the fire from the interview still burned in your veins, but now, it was for an entirely different reason.

[chrissssssmut]

Can I request a sweeter lesserafim x inexperienced male reader smut story?

BURNING DESIRE (Smut)

Le Sserafim OT5 x Male Reader

AN: Hey y'all! Here's an OT5 smut for you guys! Have a great weekend! 💗

The energy of the concert still lingered in the air, a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion settling over the hotel suite. The five members of LE SSERAFIM had changed into comfortable clothes, their post-performance glow making them look even more ethereal than usual. The male reader, their close friend and the person who had always supported them behind the scenes, sat in the center of the plush couch, surrounded on all sides by the girls.

"That was insane," Kazuha sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "The crowd was so loud tonight. I think my ears are still ringing."

"Yeah, but did you see how hyped they got when Y/N showed up backstage?" Chaewon smirked, nudging him lightly. "I swear, some of our fans are more excited about him than us."

Y/N chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s just because I’ve been around for so long. They probably see me as your lucky charm or something."

Sakura, sitting beside him, tilted her head playfully. "Maybe we do too."

The atmosphere was relaxed, but there was an undeniable weight to their gazes. Something unspoken lingered between them, thickening the air. Y/N had always felt a close bond with the members, but tonight, something was different. The way they were looking at him—soft, warm, almost too focused—sent a strange shiver down his spine.

"You’re blushing," Yunjin pointed out with a teasing grin, leaning in a little closer. "Are we making you nervous, Y/N?"

"N-no," he stammered, but the way his voice cracked at the end made them giggle.

Eunchae, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, rested her chin on her hand. "You know, we’ve always wondered something about you."

"Oh?" Y/N tried to sound casual, but his heart was already beating too fast.

Chaewon exchanged glances with the others before leaning in, lowering her voice. "You’ve never really talked about relationships. Like… have you ever been with someone?"

The question made his breath hitch. He shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper aware of how close they all were. "I mean… not really."

A beat of silence followed. Then, Sakura smiled gently. "That’s cute."

"Cute?" Y/N echoed, incredulous. "Isn’t that kind of… sad?"

"No," Kazuha reassured him, her voice soft. "It just means you haven’t been with the right person yet."

Yunjin’s fingers brushed lightly against his arm, sending a wave of warmth through him. "You know we adore you, right? You’ve always been there for us, taking care of us in ways we don’t always realize."

Eunchae nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! And you’re always so sweet to us."

Just then, Sakura stood up with a smirk and walked over to the minibar. "You know what? I think tonight calls for a little celebration." She pulled out a few bottles of liquor, making the others perk up in excitement.

"Ohhh, drinking with Y/N? This is gonna be fun!" Yunjin grinned, clapping her hands.

"Wait, wait, I don’t drink much—" Y/N started, but Chaewon was already handing him a glass, eyes twinkling.

"Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you," she teased. "Just a little something to loosen up."

They started drinking, the warmth of the alcohol settling in, making the mood even more relaxed. Their laughter grew louder, their touches lingered just a little longer, and their words became bolder.

"Alright, confession time!" Kazuha announced, pointing at Y/N. "Tell us the truth—have you ever even kissed someone before?"

Y/N nearly choked on his drink. "W-what kind of question is that?!"

"Just answer!" Eunchae giggled, already leaning forward in anticipation.

He hesitated before mumbling, "...No."

The girls gasped in unison, their eyes widening in shock and amusement.

"No way," Yunjin whispered, inching closer. "That’s… adorable."

"I don’t know if adorable is the right word," Y/N muttered, flustered beyond belief.

Chaewon tilted her head. "So… does that mean you’ve never…?"

His face burned. "Never what?"

Sakura leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "Never been with anyone, in any way?"

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh my god, why are we talking about this?"

"Because we’re curious," Kazuha giggled. "And a little tipsy."

Eunchae beamed. "It just means we get to be your firsts!"

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Y/N slowly lowered his hands, only to find five pairs of eyes looking at him with a mix of amusement, fondness, and something deeper.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Chaewon asked softly, her fingers grazing his hand.

Y/N swallowed hard. His heart was racing, and yet… he wasn’t afraid. There was no pressure, no expectations—just warmth, affection, and the quiet promise of something beautiful.

"Do you trust us?" Sakura murmured.

He nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Kazuha smiled, her fingers intertwining with his. "Then let us take care of you tonight."

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat. His mind raced, but their presence, their warmth, anchored him in place. Every part of him told him that this moment was safe, that whatever happened tonight would be something beautiful.

Sakura moved in first, resting her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him in a slow, comforting embrace. "We don’t want to rush you, Y/N," she whispered. "We just want you to know how much you mean to us."

"You’ve always been here for us, always putting us first," Chaewon added, her fingers tracing small patterns on his hand. "Let us be here for you now."

Yunjin sighed, leaning against the couch, eyes warm and affectionate. "You’re always thinking about other people. When’s the last time you let yourself feel special? Truly wanted?"

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came out. His chest felt tight, overwhelmed in the best way possible. It was one thing to admire them from afar, to support them as a friend—but this? This was something else entirely.

"We love you," Kazuha murmured, her fingers tightening around his. "All of us do."

Eunchae, still on the floor, beamed up at him. "We just want you to feel loved the way you deserve to be."

The warmth of their bodies surrounding him, the softness of their words, the way they were looking at him—it was intoxicating. Y/N had never felt like this before, never felt so completely enveloped in affection.

"Just relax, Y/N," Chaewon whispered.

"We’ll take care of everything," Yunjin added, her voice laced with affection.

"You don’t have to do anything… just let us love you," Kazuha finished, her voice barely above a breath.

One by one, they inched closer to you, their warmth sinking into your skin, the faint scent of perfume and liquor lingering in the air. A brush of fingers along your arm, a thigh pressing lightly against yours—each touch slow, deliberate, testing your reaction. The space around you seemed to shrink, their soft laughter wrapping around you like a haze, their voices dipping lower, sweeter. You could feel their gazes on you, playful, affectionate, filled with something deeper.

Yunjin was the first to close the distance, her face mere inches from yours, eyes gleaming with playful intent. She lingered there, watching you carefully, waiting for any sign of hesitation—any crack in your resolve. Then, without warning, she shifted to your side, her lips brushing against your earlobe in a featherlight kiss.

"Do we make you nervous, Y/N?" she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as your mind scrambled for words. "Uhm… uhmm… uhh…" Every attempt at a response crumbled before it could form, leaving you stammering helplessly.

Yunjin let out a low chuckle, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She bit down on her lower lip, tilting her head slightly as she studied your flustered expression. "I guess that’s a yes," she mused, her voice laced with amusement and something deeper—something teasing, almost predatory.

Before you could even think of a way to recover, you felt her hand settle on your thigh. Her fingers, warm and deliberate, began tracing slow, featherlight circles against the fabric of your pants. The heat of her touch seeped through, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine.

"You’re so cute when you get all shy like this," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in closer. "It makes me wanna tease you even more…"

A chorus of soft giggles surrounded you as the other girls watched, their gazes filled with warmth and mischief. You could feel the heat of their presence pressing in from all sides, their bodies inching just a little closer, their touches lingering just a little longer.

"Let Yunjin do her thing," Chaewon purred, her voice soft but filled with unmistakable intent.

"But don’t worry," Kazuha added, her fingers trailing along your arm. "We’re all gonna take care of you."

Sakura smiled, her eyes dark with something unreadable. "We just want you to know how much we love and appreciate you… for everything."

Eunchae beamed up at you, her voice sweet but filled with anticipation. "So just relax, Y/N. Let us show you."

The air felt heavier now, charged with something undeniable. Your heart pounded in your chest as the warmth of their touches, their voices, their closeness—all of it—began to overwhelm you.

A shiver ran down your spine as Yunjin’s soft lips ghosted over your skin, trailing slow, delicate kisses from your neck to your jaw. Each touch sent warmth coursing through your body, the tenderness behind them making your heart pound even harder. By the time her lips finally brushed against yours, you could feel just how deliberate every movement was—gentle yet intoxicating, as if she wanted to savor every second.

Her hand drifted lower, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your torso before reaching the waistband of your pants. She toyed with the fabric, her touch featherlight yet teasing, making your breath hitch..

A knowing smirk curled on Yunjin’s lips as her fingers toyed with the waistband of your pants, her touch unbearably light. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, voice dripping with seduction, "Mmm… look at you. So eager, so sensitive. Are you this excited just for me, baby?"

I swallowed hard, my breath shaky as I felt the heat pooling in my body. “Y-Yunjin… what are you doing to me?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with both nervousness and anticipation.

Yunjin pressed a finger against my lips, her eyes dark with amusement. "Shhh, no talking," she whispered, her voice dripping with sultry command. Her hand traced a slow, deliberate path downward, slipping beneath the waistband of my boxers. A sharp inhale left my lips as her fingers wrapped around my length, featherlight and teasing. She stroked me slowly, her touch agonizingly gentle, as if savoring the feeling. She captured my mouth in another kiss—this time even deeper.

She stroked me slowly—gentle enough to show they wanted to take care of me, yet firm enough to remind me that this was real. That this was happening. Every stroke sent a shiver down my spine, a moan slipping past my lips no matter how hard I tried to hold it back. The other girls watched intently, their eyes dark with desire, amusement flickering in their gazes as they took in the sight of me unraveling.

I swallowed hard, my voice shaky. “T-This feels… so—ah…“ I barely managed to get the words out before another moan escaped, my head tilting back as pleasure clouded my senses.

Yunjin chuckled, her breath warm against my ear. “You’re doing so well… just let yourself feel it, okay?”

Chaewon glanced up at me, her lips curling into a soft smile before letting her tongue trace along my length. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered, Y/N,” she murmured between slow, lingering licks.

Yunjin chuckled beside me, her grip steady as she continued stroking me with that same intoxicating tenderness. “We want you to feel good,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Just let us take care of you Y/N, okay?”

I let out a shaky breath, my body already giving in to their touch. “I… I don’t even know what to say…” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Chaewon giggled, her fingers tracing small patterns along my thighs. “Then don’t say anything,” she cooed. “Be a good boy, Y/N.”

As Yunjin’s hand continued its slow, deliberate strokes—slick with Chaewon’s warmth—the other girls began peeling away their clothes, their eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration. My head felt light, completely lost in the overwhelming rush of sensations, my body surrendering to the warmth of their touches and whispers.

Sakura let out a soft giggle as she slipped her top off, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re doing so well for us, baby… such a good boy.”

Kazuha ran a hand through her silky hair, eyes filled with admiration. “We’re so proud of you, Y/N. Just let go, okay? Let us take care of you.”

Eunchae playfully traced a finger down my chest, her smile sweet and reassuring. “You don’t have to think about anything, just feel us. You deserve all of this.”

Yunjin leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she tightened her grip just enough to make me whimper. “That’s right, baby… just be good for us. We’ve been waiting so long to love you like this.”

The intoxicating scent of liquor and lingering warmth of intimacy filled the room, wrapping around us like a haze. Every touch, every whispered praise, every lingering kiss was cherished by the girls—each of them taking their time, savoring the moment as they guided me through my first experience with nothing but love and devotion in their eyes.

As Yunjin’s strokes slowed to a stop, she gave my length one last squeeze before pulling away with a teasing smirk. Kazuha, who had been watching intently, gently moved Chaewon aside, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face as she spoke.

“You had your fun, unnie,” Kazuha murmured with a soft giggle. “But I think it’s time we show him just how much we’ve always wanted this… how much we’ve always wanted him.”

She turned her gaze to me, eyes filled with warmth and something deeper—something longing. She ran her fingers along my chest, tracing slow, delicate patterns as she leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine.

“You’ve been so good for us, Y/N,” Kazuha whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Now… let me show you how it feels to be inside me—to finally be where you belong.”

The other girls watched closely, their eyes dark with affection and desire.

“Mm, he looks so cute when he’s flustered,” Sakura cooed, her voice like silk. “Don’t be nervous, baby.”

Yunjin let out a soft hum, tilting her head. “Just relax, love… let Kazuha show you how much we love you.”

Kazuha’s fingers trailed lower, her touch featherlight as she kissed me again—slow and deep, as if she wanted me to feel every ounce of her adoration.

As Kazuha shifted, she hooked her fingers around the lace of her panties, moving them to the side with a teasing slowness. Her eyes never left mine—soft yet filled with unspoken longing.

She positioned herself carefully, her breath hitching as she slowly sank down onto my cock. A shiver ran through both of us as I felt her warmth completely envelop me, drawing a deep moan from my lips.

Kazuha let out a soft gasp, her hands pressing against my chest for balance. “Oh… Y/N,” she whispered, her voice laced with both pleasure and affection. “You feel… so perfect inside me.”

The other girls watched with a mixture of adoration and excitement.

"That’s it, baby," Sakura purred, her fingers lightly tracing my jaw. "Let yourself feel everything… let her take care of you."

"You’re doing so well," Eunchae added sweetly, her eyes shining. "Such a good boy for us."

Yunjin smirked, her lips brushing against my ear. "Feels good, doesn’t it?" she murmured. "She’s been dreaming about this moment just as much as you have… we all have."

Kazuha let out a shaky breath as she started to move, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. “Just let go, Y/N,” she whispered, her lips grazing mine. “Let us love you the way you deserve.”

Kazuha’s movements were slow and deliberate at first, each roll of her hips filled with tenderness, as if she wanted me to feel every inch of her warmth. Her flexibility became evident with the way she moved—graceful, controlled, yet so intoxicatingly sensual.

As her pace quickened slightly, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was just enough to make me feel everything—every soft, wet, pulsing sensation inside her. My breath hitched, my hands instinctively finding her waist, gripping her gently as she took me deeper into her heat.

Kazuha let out a soft, breathy moan, her fingers tightening against my chest. “Mmm… Y/N… you fit so perfectly,” she whispered, her voice dripping with affection.

Chaewon brushed a hand through Kazuha’s hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear. “Take your time, Zuha,” she cooed. “Make him feel just how much we adore him.”

“You’re so good for us, baby,” Yunjin murmured, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Just relax… let her take care of you.”

Kazuha met my gaze, her lips curving into a sweet, breathless smile. “You like it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth. “Being loved by all of us like this?”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers gently gripping Kazuha’s waist as she continued to move. “I… I love being with you all,” I murmured, my voice laced with both affection and pleasure. “Spending time with you, laughing with you… it’s always been special. But this—” I paused, swallowing hard as another wave of warmth enveloped me. “This feels so different… so intense.”

Kazuha’s movements didn’t stop, her soft, rhythmic motions sending shivers down my spine. She leaned in closer, her lips hovering near mine. “That’s because we love you,” she whispered sweetly. “And we want you to feel just how much.”

Eunchae ran her fingers through my hair, placing a lingering kiss on my temple. “That’s right, baby,” she cooed. “We’ve always wanted to show you just how precious you are to us.”

Sakura giggled softly from the side, her bare skin glowing under the dim light. “And you’re being so good for us, Y/N,” she praised. “Such a good boy to your 5 exclusive girlfriends.”

Kazuha moaned softly as she rolled her hips a little deeper, her fingers intertwining with mine. “So just let go,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Let us love you the way you deserve.”

Kazuha let out a soft moan as she felt me twitch inside her, her hands pressing gently against my chest as she slowed to a stop. She gazed down at me, warmth filling her eyes. “Not yet, sweetheart,” she murmured, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. “Let’s make this last.”

Turning her head, she signaled to Sakura and Eunchae. Without a word, Sakura crawled closer, her fingers delicately tracing my jaw before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “You’re being so good for us,” she whispered against my skin.

Eunchae giggled, her touch featherlight as she ran her hand along my arm. “Hope you’re ready, Y/N…”

Kazuha slowly lifted herself from my cock, a quiet whimper leaving her lips before she leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be right here,” she whispered.

My breath hitched as I looked up at Sakura and Eunchae. Their eyes were filled with love, their touches tender, and I could feel it—this wasn’t just desire. It was something much deeper. And the night was far from over.

Sakura and Eunchae shared a knowing glance before lowering themselves, their warm breaths ghosting over my sensitive skin. Their tongues flicked out, tracing slow, deliberate paths along my cock—one after the other, alternating between teasing licks and gentle kisses, as if savoring every inch of me.

A shudder ran through my body, my breath hitching as their slick touches sent waves of pleasure through me. Eunchae giggled, her fingers wrapping around my cock before pressing it against her cheek, her soft skin warm against me. “You’re so cute when you’re like this,” she murmured, flashing me an innocent smile that contrasted with the way her hand caressed me.

Sakura, still close, placed a kiss just above where Eunchae’s grip was, her lips barely brushing against my heated skin. “Such a good boy,” she whispered, her voice sweet and full of adoration. “You’re taking everything so well, letting us love you the way you deserve.”

Their words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, making it impossible to think, to do anything but surrender to their touch.

Eunchae’s touch was gentle yet reassuring as she guided my hands, placing them atop their heads with a sweet, encouraging smile. “Here,” she whispered, nuzzling against my thigh. “Hold onto us… don’t be shy.”

Her warmth, her voice—it all felt so comforting, even in a moment so intense. My fingers tangled into their soft hair, gripping just enough to feel them beneath my touch. They let out soft hums of approval before turning their attention back to my cock, their tongues meeting at my tip before slowly trailing down my length, taking their time to savor every inch.

I couldn’t help the moans that escaped me, my body trembling as they worshipped me with each slick stroke of their tongues. “F-Fuck…” I groaned, my voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by their devotion.

Eunchae giggled against me, the vibrations sending a shockwave through my core. “Mmm, we love hearing you like this,” she purred, her lips brushing against my sensitive skin. “Just let it all out, okay? We want you to feel everything…”

As Sakura and Eunchae continued their slow, sweet worship of my cock, Chaewon crawled closer, her presence undeniable as she straddled my face. Her breath was warm, her voice soft yet commanding as she ran her fingers through my hair.

“Be a good boy for me,” she whispered, her tone laced with affection and need. “You’ve been feeling so good, right? Now… return the favor.”

She lowered herself gently, her soaked pussy pressing against my lips. The scent of her arousal filled my senses, dizzying and intoxicating. My hands instinctively gripped her thighs, pulling her closer as I hesitantly flicked my tongue against her entrance.

Chaewon let out a shaky moan, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Mmm, that’s it,” she cooed, her hips rolling slowly. “Just like that… you’re such a fast learner.”

I kept working my tongue on Chaewon, each flick making her moan, her grip tightening as she held onto Yunjin and Kazuha for support. Her thighs trembled slightly, and I could feel her body reacting to every movement of my tongue.

“Mmm, just like that,” she breathed out, her fingers threading through my hair before tugging me closer. “I’m so wet for you, Y/N. You’re doing so good love.”

Her praise sent a rush of warmth through me, fueling my eagerness to please her. Every moan, every shaky breath she let out only made me want to hear more. I adjusted my movements, finding the spot that made her body jolt, and when I focused there, she gasped, her grip tightening.

“Fuck—keep going,” she whimpered, her voice dripping with pleasure. “You’re making me feel so good, baby.”

Chaewon’s grip on my hair tightened, her nails lightly scratching my scalp as her thighs trembled around my head. “I’m—ahh, I’m gonna—” Her voice broke into a desperate whimper, her breathing ragged as her body tensed. But I didn’t stop. If anything, the way she gasped and shuddered only pushed me to go harder, my tongue flicking and circling over her most sensitive spot, determined to pull her over the edge.

Her hips bucked instinctively against my mouth, her moans growing louder, more frantic. “Oh—Y/N—” she cried, her body finally giving in as her release crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clenched around my head, her entire body shaking as she came undone. I felt her sweetness coat my lips and chin, her taste intoxicating as I eagerly lapped up every last drop.

Chaewon’s body slumped forward, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Her fingers stayed tangled in my hair as she tried to steady herself, her thighs still quivering from the aftershocks. “F-Fuck…” she whimpered, her voice breathy and dazed. “You’re so good at this, baby…”

She finally let go, lifting herself slightly, her flushed face filled with satisfaction as she gazed down at me. “You really know how to take care of your girls, don’t you?” she teased, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

Yunjin’s fingers trailed up my chest, leaving a trail of warmth as she pressed me firmly against the wall. Her touch was confident, yet the way she looked at me—dark, filled with longing—held an unmistakable tenderness. She reached for the two shot glasses on the nearby table, handing me one before clinking it against hers. “Drink with me,” she whispered, her lips curling into a small, teasing smile.

I obeyed, the burn of the liquor spreading through my throat, mixing with the heat already simmering between us. Before I could fully process the sensation, Yunjin pulled me closer, her breath fanning against my lips. Slowly, she backed me up until my spine was flush against the wall. Her hands gripped my waist, her body pressing against mine, the space between us nonexistent.

“I want to try something a little different,” she murmured, her voice lower, more sultry. “I want to be a little rough with you this time… but don’t worry, baby. I’ll still be gentle. I’ll still show you just how much I love you.”

There was no hesitation in her movements as she lifted one leg, hooking it against the wall beside me, her flexibility on full display. Her other hand reached between us, wrapping around my cock—still slick from the attention Sakura and Eunchae had given me—guiding me to her entrance. I could feel the warmth of her pussy pressing against my tip, teasing me, coaxing me forward.

She didn’t take me in immediately. Instead, she took her time, rolling her hips forward just enough to let me feel the slick heat of her, dragging my length through her folds in slow, deliberate strokes. A breathy moan escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she looked at me again, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Look at me, Y/N,” she murmured, her voice soft but commanding, fingers gently cupping my jaw. “I want to see those pretty eyes when I take you.”

I swallowed hard, my head spinning—not just from the alcohol but from her, from the way she made me feel like the center of her universe. And then, finally, she sank down onto me, inch by inch, her warmth enveloping me in a way that had me gasping. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she let out a shaky breath, her body adjusting to mine, fitting together like we were meant for this.

Yunjin pressed her forehead against mine, her lips ghosting over my own as she whispered, “That’s it, baby. You feel so good inside me… just like I knew you would.”

As Yunjin continued to ride me, her movements slow yet deliberate, the other girls moved closer, surrounding us in a haze of warmth and desire. Their hands traced along her body, soft fingers caressing her skin as if worshipping the sight before them.

Chaewon was the first to lean in, her lips brushing against Yunjin’s shoulder before trailing up to the curve of her jaw. “You look so beautiful like this, unnie,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss just beneath Yunjin’s ear.

Sakura, never one to be left behind, tilted Yunjin’s chin toward her and captured her lips in a deep, sensual kiss. A quiet moan slipped from Yunjin’s mouth as their tongues tangled, the vibration of it sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. Her pace faltered for a moment, her walls clenching around me in response to the overwhelming sensations from all around her.

Kazuha and Eunchae weren’t far behind. Kazuha’s hands slid down Yunjin’s back, pulling her closer, while Eunchae placed teasing kisses along her collarbone. “You’re taking such good care of him, unnie,” Eunchae whispered, her voice filled with admiration. “We should reward you, don’t you think?”

Yunjin pulled away from Sakura’s kiss, her breath heavy as she looked down at me with dark, love-filled eyes. A teasing smile played on her lips as she cupped my face with both hands. “Looks like we all love you a little too much, baby,” she whispered, her hips rolling down onto me with a bit more pressure. “I hope you’re ready… because we’re not stopping until we’ve completely ruined you.”

Yunjin’s pace grew erratic, her body pressing even closer against mine as we both teetered on the edge. My breaths came in desperate pants, my grip on her tightening as my climax built up to an inevitable peak.

“I-I’m gonna cum…” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper.

The girls’ eyes sparkled with anticipation, their hands still tracing over my body, leaving kisses and love bites in their wake. But before anyone else could speak, Chaewon smirked and spoke up.

“Yunjin should have him first,” she declared, her tone soft yet decisive. “The rest of us will get our turns… but for now, let her feel everything.”

The others giggled, nodding in agreement. “Mmm, it’s only fair,” Kazuha purred, running her fingers along my chest. “We’ll just make sure he doesn’t forget about us after.”

Yunjin tightened her hold around my neck, pressing her forehead against mine. “That’s right… give it all to me, baby,” she whispered, her voice dripping with need. “I want to feel your cum completely… let me have all of you.”

With one last deep thrust, I came undone inside her, my entire body shuddering as I spilled deep into her warmth. Yunjin let out a breathy moan, her grip on me tightening as she trembled from the sensation.

“Mmm… so warm,” she murmured, biting her lip as she rocked her hips just a little more, as if savoring every drop. “You’re so deep inside me, baby… I can feel everything.”

Sakura let out a dreamy sigh as she pressed a soft kiss against my shoulder. “That was beautiful… but don’t think we’re done just yet.”

Kazuha giggled, her fingers gently tracing patterns on my chest as she leaned in closer. “So?” she purred, her voice like silk. “How was that for your first time?”

I let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to catch my breath. “That was… the best first experience ever,” I admitted, my voice laced with lingering pleasure.

Kazuha smirked, her eyes filled with mischief as she pressed a soft kiss against my jaw. “Good,” she murmured. “Because you still have four more pussies to fill up.”

As my breathing slowed, I felt the warmth of their bodies surrounding me. Yunjin traced soft patterns on my chest, pressing a lingering kiss to my jaw. Sakura pulled me into her arms, whispering sweet nothings as Chaewon stroked my hair. Kazuha giggled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "That was just the first round, you know."

I let out a tired chuckle, my body completely spent. "I don’t think I can even move right now…"

Eunchae playfully pouted, her fingers dancing across my skin. "Aww, but we’re not done showing you how much we love you."

The girls exchanged mischievous glances before snuggling closer, their hands still exploring, their lips pressing lazy kisses onto my flushed skin. Yunjin smirked, cupping my face gently. "You’re ours now, Y/N. Always."

I sighed, melting into their touch, my heart pounding—not just from what had happened, but from what was still to come.

[stylesonfilms]

drippin' down your body like gold [h.s]

word count: 7.1k

when harry performs in lisbon, he gets an idea to chug a beer on stage. what he doesn't know, is that the sight of his chest dripping makes you feral.

or the one that is based off a post long ago made by @hesbunnies!

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, blowjobs, fingering, daddy kink, slight possessiveness, dressing room smut, concert smut! 18+ only.

Your fingers glided over the sequins of his suit, the fabric shifting beneath your touch like liquid light, catching and reflecting the warm glow of the dressing room bulbs. Each stroke sent a mesmerizing ripple across the dark material, a shimmer of silver and blue dancing under your fingertips. Your gaze trailed downward, drinking in the expanse of his exposed chest, where inked stories curled over golden skin, each tattoo etched into him like constellations against a dusky sky. The faint scent of his cologne—rich, woodsy, laced with something subtly sweet—mingled with the lingering notes of hairspray and fresh linen from his suit.

“Good luck,” you exhaled, the words floating between you like a prayer, your voice tinged with adoration as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. Your heart pounded against your ribs, swelling with something indescribable, eyes glossy with admiration. His responding chuckle was low, honeyed, and melted into the grin that spread across his face—dimples deep, eyes twinkling. His large, calloused hands rose to cup your jaw, warm and steady, thumbs brushing tenderly over your skin. Though he towered over you, nearly a foot taller, he always lowered himself to meet you, his lips finding yours with effortless devotion.

One kiss. Another. Then a longer one, deep and unhurried, the soft pressure igniting a heat in your chest. His lips were plush, intoxicating, leaving behind a warmth that lingered long after he pulled away. His hands dropped, curling around yours, anchoring you against the rapid heartbeat beneath his chest.

“Styles, two minutes! Let’s go, let’s go!”

Beyond the dressing room walls, the world pulsed with electric anticipation. The steady thrum of stomping feet vibrated through the floors, a bassline of excitement shaking the very air around you. Cheers and whistles spiraled through the venue, blending into a symphony of pure, unfiltered devotion. The scent of fog machines and stage lights filtered in, mingling with the adrenaline buzzing through your veins.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his voice dipped in fondness as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then brought your bundled hands to his lips, the heat of his breath spreading across your skin. A shiver ran down your spine—not from cold, but from the quiet intensity in his touch.

“See you out there?”

You beamed up at him, eyes glimmering. “You know it. Now go, go!”

With a parting squeeze of your hands, he turned, broad shoulders disappearing through the door. His jog down the long corridor was brisk, purposeful, the last glimpse of his silhouette swallowed by the glowing stage lights as he vanished beneath the arena.

The moment Harry disappeared down the hallway, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still fluttering from the warmth of his lips on your skin. But there was no time to linger in the feeling—he was about to step onto the stage, and you needed to get to your spot.

Slipping out of the dressing room, you navigated through the backstage halls, passing crew members who moved with practiced efficiency. The faint hum of in-ear monitors crackled through radio headsets, and the distant strumming of the band tuning up leaked through the heavy walls. With familiar ease, you found the staircase leading up to the private balcony, a space reserved for family and special guests—a safe haven away from the packed, pulsating crowd below.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the stadium came into full view, and the sheer magnitude of it stole your breath. Lisbon’s fans were nothing short of electric. The entire arena was alive—thousands of bodies swayed, neon signs flickered, and confetti cannons stood at the ready. The stomping of feet vibrated through the air, the deafening roar of the crowd swelling in waves as anticipation thickened.

And then, the lights dropped.

A collective scream pierced the air, shaking the ground beneath your feet as the screen flashed his silhouette. The opening beat of his first song thundered through the speakers, and in an instant, Harry was launched onto the stage, his presence igniting the entire stadium like a bolt of lightning.

He moved effortlessly, energy radiating off him in golden bursts. His sequined suit glittered beneath the beams of colored lights, reflecting off his skin as he jumped, spun, and threw his arms up to hype the crowd. He belted out the first lines of the song, and the audience erupted, their voices merging with his in a harmony of pure devotion.

From your balcony, you watched, utterly mesmerized.

His voice was strong, unwavering, carrying through the vast space as if each note was stitched directly into the hearts of every person in attendance. He laughed between verses, flashing that devastatingly charming grin, occasionally reaching down to clasp the hands of fans pressed against the barricades.

Midway through a song, his eyes scanned the crowd, catching sight of a brightly colored sign that bounced excitedly in the air. Squinting, he leaned forward, trying to make out the words. Then, in between lyrics, he burst into laughter.

“Oh, hold on—what does that say?” he asked, pointing toward the sign, signaling for the camera to zoom in so the whole stadium could see.

The screen flickered, and suddenly, there it was: a massive sign scrawled in bold, glittery letters—

“HARRY, MY BOYFRIEND SAYS HE’LL PROPOSE IF YOU GIVE ME A THUMBS UP!!”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in mock shock, his hand flying to his chest as he stumbled back dramatically. The band kept playing, but he milked the moment, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Oh, this is serious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “I mean… the pressure is on, innit?”

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers.

“Alright, alright. We need to do this properly,” he continued, pacing theatrically across the stage. “What’s his name?”

The girl in the crowd shouted something, but it was lost in the chaos.

Harry cupped his ear. “Sorry, love, I can’t hear a thing—are we calling him Tom? He looks like a Tom, yeah?”

The camera quickly panned to the guy standing beside her, his face burning red as he hid behind his hands.

“Oh, it is Tom!” Harry cackled. “Tom, mate, you’re in deep now. You’ve got about… five thousand witnesses expecting a ring soon.”

The crowd went wild, chanting “TOM! TOM! TOM!” as Harry finally lifted his hand and gave the biggest, most exaggerated thumbs-up imaginable.

“There you go, Tom. It’s out of my hands now, mate. Best of luck!”

He winked at the camera before launching back into the chorus, the moment immortalized in the hearts of everyone watching.

From the balcony, you shook your head, laughing to yourself. He had always had that magic—the ability to make a stadium feel like a living room, to make each person feel like they were the only one in the crowd.

And as you watched him move, effortless and free, you couldn’t help but feel it all over again.

That warm, unshakable feeling that he was yours.

From the balcony, you swayed to the music, singing along, your voice drowned out by the thousands of others filling the stadium. The energy in the air was intoxicating, a tangible force that pulsed through the crowd, through you. Every time Harry twirled across the stage, every playful grin he threw into the audience, every time he leaned into the mic and let his voice soar, pride swelled so fiercely in your chest that it almost hurt.

He was magic.

Your eyes followed him as he bounced from one side of the stage to the other, engaging with the fans, twirling his microphone, pointing to signs, blowing kisses. He was in his element—electric, untouchable, radiating nothing but joy.

Then, the song faded into a bridge, and he took the brief moment to jog over to the back of the stage, grabbing his black bottle for a quick sip of water. He tilted his head back, throat bobbing as he swallowed, before lowering the bottle and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

But just as he turned back to the crowd, a security guard approached the edge of the stage, holding out two plastic cups of beer.

You sat up straighter, watching as Harry’s eyes lit up with mischief. A slow smirk curled his lips before he took a knee near the stage’s edge, reaching out to accept one of the cups. The crowd erupted, their cheers shaking the foundation of the stadium as he stood, beer in hand.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he took two large gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The excess liquid spilled over, streaming down the corners of his mouth, tracing a slow, golden path down his chin and onto his bare chest. The sight did something to you—your stomach clenched, heat coiling low in your body as you watched, mesmerized. His skin glistened under the stage lights, damp with sweat and now streaked with droplets of beer, a sinful sheen against the inked canvas of his body.

Then, with a final gulp, he pulled the cup away, grinning devilishly before tilting his head back slightly. You knew what was coming before it even happened.

With perfect precision, he pursed his lips and spat the remaining beer into the air, misting it above him in a sparkling, golden arc—his signature ‘whale.’

The audience lost it. The screams were deafening, fists pumping, cameras flashing, the entire stadium roaring in approval.

And you? You could barely breathe.

Your grip tightened on the balcony railing, pulse hammering, unable to tear your gaze away from the sheer presence of him. He was completely in his element—wild, unrestrained, effortlessly captivating. The neon stage lights flickered in shifting hues of gold and blue, catching on the dampness of his skin, highlighting the defined planes of his chest where the beer had trickled down moments before.

Your breath hitched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning through the remnants of the stunt. His dimples popped, eyes alight with something wicked, something playful. He licked his lips, whether to rid himself of the lingering taste or just to tease the crowd, you didn’t know—but either way, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Didn’t expect that one, did ya?” he laughed into the mic, voice slightly hoarse from singing, but no less charming. The crowd’s response was deafening, a sea of voices screaming in admiration, chanting his name, some in thick Portuguese accents that made his smile widen.

You found yourself laughing softly, shaking your head in both amusement and sheer disbelief. God, you loved him.

As he turned to move back across the stage, his gaze flickered toward the balcony—the private guest area you were in.

His eyes found yours instantly. And for a split second, despite the thousands of people around him, despite the chaos, the music, the flashing lights, it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

His smirk deepened, something knowing and burning behind his gaze, and he lifted the beer cup in your direction, sending you a subtle wink before tossing it carelessly to the side and diving straight into the next song.

Your heart plummeted. Plummeted so far you could feel a heartbeat between your thighs as your panties remained soaked just from watching the scene unfold.

Gripping the railing even tighter, you bit your lip, feeling everything all at once—love, pride, amusement, and an undeniable heat curling deep within you. Oh, you were so in trouble.

The moment the final notes rang out and Harry took his last bow, you were already on the move. The stadium lights dimmed as the crowd's roaring applause echoed behind you, but your sole focus was on getting back to him—on being the first person he saw after stepping off that stage.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you hurried through the dimly lit backstage corridors, your heels clicking against the polished floor. The distant cheers from fans still pulsed through the walls, mixing with the hurried chatter of crew members and the occasional bursts of laughter from passing bandmates. But none of it mattered.

Because the only thing on your mind was him.

The ache between your thighs had been building all night, your body tense with anticipation, wound tight from watching him move the way he did. The way his body swayed and pulsed to the rhythm, how he played with the audience, how he laughed and winked and commanded the entire stadium like it was his playground. The sweat glistening on his golden skin, the way his shirt clung to his damp chest, the audacity of him drinking that beer with such effortless sensuality—it had all set your body ablaze.

By the time you pushed through the door to his dressing room, your breathing was shallow, and your fingers trembled with the need to touch. The space was dimly lit, the air still carrying remnants of his cologne, the warmth from the performance lingering as if the very walls had absorbed the night’s electricity. You paced the floor, your boots barely making a sound over the plush carpet, each passing second stretching unbearably.

Then—footsteps. Heavy, hurried.

The door swung open, and before you could even think, you were moving.

You launched yourself at him with a squeal, and he caught you effortlessly, strong arms locking around your waist like it was second nature. Your legs wrapped around his torso, the firm press of his hands digging into your thighs as he held you up, and you wasted no time—your lips immediately peppering kisses all over his flushed face. His jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose—anywhere you could reach.

"You were incredible!" you gasped between kisses, feeling the warmth of his laughter vibrate against your lips. "You owned that stage, Harry—God!"

His chuckle was breathless, deep, still high on adrenaline. "That good, huh?"

"That good," you confirmed, pulling back just enough to look at him, to take him in—the damp curls sticking to his forehead, the glow of his skin, the way his eyes burned with something dark, something wanting.

Then, you kissed him.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that left no room for teasing, no room for patience. You pressed yourself into him, your fingers tangling into his damp curls, tugging him closer as his mouth opened beneath yours, eager and hungry. His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made your head spin, the heat between your bodies dizzying.

The sticky remnants of beer and sweat clung between you, his chest still damp, hot beneath your palms as they roamed, exploring, claiming. Your sequined top shimmered under the dressing room light, catching against the heat of his skin, the contrast of rough and soft making him groan into your mouth.

"Fuck," he exhaled, the sound barely audible between fevered kisses, his hands shifting to your ass, kneading, gripping. "This what had you running back here so fast?"

You whimpered against his lips, rolling your hips instinctively, needing more, needing him.

"You have no idea what you did to me out there," you admitted, voice breathless, lips grazing along the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw. "The beer—the sweat—Harry..."

He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, head tipping back slightly as your lips trailed down his throat. "Mm. So you liked that, then?"

"Liked it?" You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers dragging down his chest, feeling the hammering of his heartbeat beneath your touch. "It ruined me."

His eyes darkened, a slow smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. "That so?"

Before you could answer, he was moving. Turning with you in his arms, his pace quick and determined as he pressed you up against the nearest wall. Your breath hitched as your back met the cool surface, your thighs tightening around his waist, your skirt riding up even further.

Harry’s lips ghosted over yours, teasing, taunting, his breath warm against your mouth. "Tell me, love," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement but laced with hunger. "What exactly did I do that got you so worked up?"

You let out a soft whine from the back of your throat, the tone of his voice shooting straight to your core. “You know what you did,” you huffed. 

The man had only chuckled in amusement as his fingers readjusted their hold on your thighs, squeezing into the plush flesh. “I believe I told you to tell me, Y/N.”

Your hands found the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through as you puffed out another breath. God, he smelled so good. His cologne still lingered, mixed with the tart scent of beer and sweat. You drew in a deep breath, feeling your back press firm against the wall as he shifted. 

“The beer…,” you murmured, eyes scanning over the features of his face. Deep green eyes, perfect red lips. 

“What about the beer, hm?”

You swallowed. “The… the way you drank it. How it spilt down your chin, your chest..” Your words trailed off as a hand left your boyfriend’s shoulder to slide over the firm curve of his chest, your thumb brushing down his sternum. 

You rolled your hips down to meet him and whined softly. The black mini skirt you wore hitched up over your thighs, bunching up just below your hips. Harry’s lips found yours in a flash. The groan he let out was quickly swallowed in your mouth and you couldn’t help but feel content. Feeling his bulge pressed up against you sent a thrill up your spine to know he felt this way, right now, too. That he needed you as much as you needed him.

Harry's kiss was all-consuming, his lips pressing firmly against yours, demanding more as his hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs. The heat between you two was palpable, thickening the air in the dressing room, mingling with the remnants of his cologne, sweat, and beer. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, pulling just enough to elicit a low growl from his throat, the vibration traveling straight through your body.

His grip tightened on your thighs as he pressed you harder against the wall, your chest molding against his as his vest gaped open, the sequins glimmering under the dim dressing room lights. The slight stickiness of his skin from the sweat and beer sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the intoxicating mixture of sensations.

His mouth left yours just long enough to ghost down the side of your jaw, lips brushing featherlight over your pulse before he licked a slow, deliberate path along the sensitive skin. The wet heat of his tongue, contrasted by the scrape of his stubble, sent a warm ache pooling in your lower stomach.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice husky, words fanning against your skin. His fingers slipped under the hem of your mini skirt, palms gliding over the bare expanse of your thighs before they gripped your ass, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped at the contact, your hips instinctively rolling against his, chasing the friction that sent sparks dancing along your nerve endings. He groaned at the movement, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a moment as his fingers flexed into your skin, grounding himself.

"You drive me mad, darling," he rasped, before tilting his head back up, his darkened green eyes locking onto yours. The hunger in them made your breath hitch.

"Standing there in the balcony, looking like that. Wearing this—" his fingers tugged teasingly at the hem of your sparkly top, his knuckles grazing your stomach "—knowing I couldn’t touch you. And then you look at me like that when I’m on stage?"

You bit your lip, a playful glint in your eyes as your hands smoothed down his chest, nails trailing lightly over his heated skin. "Couldn't help myself," you whispered.

"You looked so good, so in your element. The way you moved, how you drank that beer…" Your words trailed off as you slid your palms lower, fingers grazing over the faint definition of his abs.

Harry’s chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing uneven. He let out a shaky chuckle, his lips quirking up in a smirk even as his jaw clenched with restraint. “That did something to you, huh?”

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his collarbone. His skin tasted of salt and something uniquely him, a flavor you could never tire of.

Your lips traveled downward, slow and deliberate, as your hands splayed over his stomach, fingertips pressing just enough to feel the taut muscles beneath.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest as you let your tongue flick out against his sternum, tasting the remnants of the beer that had trickled down earlier. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, your expression coy as you dragged a slow, flat tongue down the center of his chest, savoring the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

His breath hitched, his fingers twitching against your thighs before they slid further under your skirt, his grip possessive. “Fuck, love,” he exhaled, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes, the green almost swallowed by blown-out pupils.

His hand came up to cup the back of your head, not to stop you, but to feel you, to remind himself that this was real.

As you slowly sank to your knees before him, his grip tightened in your hair, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. Your fingers smoothed over the front of his sequined vest, pushing it further apart, exposing more of the golden skin that shimmered under the dressing room lights.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Harry murmured, his voice thick with desire, his thumb tracing over your cheek before resting against your bottom lip. His eyes darkened as you let out a soft hum, hands sliding up his sparkly trousers to slip your fingers inside the band of his pants.

Your fingers slid inward under they worked the clasp undone, the sound of Harry’s zipper filling the air. Harry pressed his hands flat against the wall that held you between him and the surface while his green eyes pierced a look of need through you.

You let out a small, innocent giggle before tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fingers curling around the inside of his briefs and the outside of his slacks as she tugged both the materials down his toned legs.

The tattoos he had on his thighs were canvassed beautifully on his toned, tan legs. The tiger taunted her from its hold on his skin, a reminder from all the times she spent with her pussy attached to it. Your eyes, doe and tainted with something teasing, looked up at him as his cock sprang to life and slapped onto his lower abdomen. You giggled once more to yourself at the blissful sight. 

Harry’s cock was big. Thick and wonderfully above the average that it took four sessions to fully get him inside of you. And the sex you two had that day? The bedroom was wrecked. You couldn’t stop begging for his ‘big, thick cock’ to rip you open, eyes rolling back at the feeling (finally) of his balls slapping against your clit with each giving thrust as you were bent over for him.

His tip was a roaring red, deep in color and a thick swole at the base of his tip. A cooler tone of that same color painted the rest of his dick. Your fingers fluttered down his toned thighs, your eyes too busy being wrapped around his beautiful cock to notice his stare. But you felt it.

After a few mutters of complaint from Harry from your featherlight teases, your dainty hand finally wrapped around the base of your cock. He was warm. Heavy in your hand as your thumb slipped along the underside of his cock to raise it to your lips. Your lips puckered and gave kitten-like kisses and licks from his fierce burnt tip down to his tightening balls.

“Baby, c’mon…” Harry spoke. His voice was tainted with rough edges, holding off using anything above a whisper since he had last spoken. The hand that remained in your hair carded through the soft locks, his nails slightly dragging along your scalp so he could get a soft hum from you when you tilted your head back.

You were under his control, the palms of his very hands. Anything he gave to you, you took like his good girl. “Good girl,” Harry then muttered as if on cue, fond but lust-filled eyes circling your face of content. His touch was always so welcoming, so soothing and it hit every right spot.

When you felt Harry’s hand tighten in your hair to form a proper grip, that's when your tongue gave a flat lick up the underside of his cock. You held his shaft upright, your eyes locked on his heavy green ones as your wet tongue glided over the vein and swirled around his tip. 

When it came to sucking your boyfriend off, you got to work. It was pure bliss for you. You shifted on your knees and felt the wet squelch between your thighs. You were a soaking mess for him and had been since he got on that stage. 

Lips engulfed around his cock, your jaw slacked as you pushed him further down. Once about halfway, you pulled up to wrap your hand around him, delivering strokes to his dick as your eyes scanned his face. Harry never really cared for head before. It was pish-posh to him, it wasn’t something he needed or wanted deeply with a woman.

But when you came along? When you took his cock so far down your throat that you both couldn’t breathe? Harry was whipped. He always voiced how lucky he was to have you on your knees for him, and you thrived on it. You thrived on being the only one he needed.

Your tongue found its place back over his tip, cradling the head of his shaft as your tongue swirled gracefully around. Harry’s brows were furrowed in pleasure, his plump lips wet with his spit from all the times he had licked over them.

“Y/n—”.

Your mouth fully engulfed him before another word left his lips. His dick was heavy on your tongue as it slid further back, hitting the back of your throat. His cock curved to slip down your throat and you moaned, the tip of your nose hitting the patch of hair Harry had kept. 

With a deep inhale through your nose, your eyes fluttered shut. His musk mixed with his cologne made you let out a moan around him. He smelled so damn good.

“Fuck!” Harry groaned, pinching his brows together as he felt the way your throat molded to his cock with tight ease. 

You continued to bob your head, tongue pressing along the vein on the underside of his cock while your hand worked the half that you didn’t take. Your eyes fluttered back up to him.

“Shit, baby,” The man moaned, shaking his head as his eyes shut in pleasure. His jaw was slack, you could tell by the way he tried to clench his teeth. His curls fell across his forehead and the hand at the back of your head encouraged you.

Removing your hand, your throat opened back up for Harry’s cock as he pushed your head further down. His hips stuttered slightly as a gasping moan left his mouth, jaw now completely slack as the tip of his cock felt your warm, fluttering throat.

Harry’s grip on your hair was firm as he yanked you off, pulling his hips back with a gasp. You let out a whine as your lips formed a pout.

“Fucking hell, Y/n,” The man licked his lips with a shaky breath. His chest rose and fell unevenly. Harry’s hand left your hair to card through his and push curls back, hissing slightly as you kissed and licked along his tip. 

He was so wrong to deprive you of his cock in your mouth. You just loved it so much. Who wouldn't? Especially when it came to Harry.

“You… fuck,” He hummed low, eyes closing and head tipping back as your hand cradled his balls and began slow massaging motions. Your tongue slipped between the slit at his tip and under the crown of his dick along with your motions. And just when you think you had him again…

Harry had to pull himself together, snapping his eyes open as he straightened back up. “No,” He hissed, yanking your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. Your lips were glossed with spit, eyes the same from the pressure in your throat, though a huff passed your lips.

“If you keep doing that, ‘M going to cum. And the only place I want to cum right now,” He grunted, a hand wrapping around your arm to lightly pull you up. As you rose to your feet, you kept your doe eyes on check. 

His green eyes scanned your features for a moment before he cursed under his breath, continuing what he was saying. “Is inside ‘f you. Understood?”

You nodded and bit back a smile as your thighs clenched. Fuck, please? “Yes sir.” 

With that, Harry turned you around in a sharp motion, turning you both. Harry walked you both towards the leather sofa in the middle of the dressing room, his hand landing flat on your back as he gave you an encouraging push.

Your knees hit the leather seat before your hands hit the back, fingers curling around the ledge as you felt your boyfriend press up behind you.

You loved it when he was like this. The manhandling, the telling you what to do. It drove you crazy. Your pussy pulsed between your clenched thighs. You needed him, his thick cock pounding you, bad.

Harry’s large hands landed on the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart as he pressed his cock up against you over the material of your skirt. “Tell me, sugar,” his hands danced their way to your skirt’s hem around your hips and yanked them down to your thighs in one, swift motion. “You’re so wet.” 

“Why?” You could feel Harry’s long fingers graze the inside of your thighs, feathering over where you needed them the most.

You swallowed, arching your back down against the sofa as you turned back to look at him. “You.”

Harry ‘tsk’ed, his green eyes looking up to meet yours as his pointer and middle finger slid between your folds. Thick and silky, wet and warm. You coated his fingers like your life depended on it. “Give me better than that, Peach.”

Peach. He tossed that nickname one random summer when you two went down to help your grandparents on their farm in Georgia. He held you on his shoulders almost the whole way until he collapsed (he says from the sun, you say it was from the two buckets of peaches in his hands) under a shady tree. You two spent the rest of the evening out there soaking in Georgia heat and feeding each other fruit until the sun went down. He carried you all the way back.

“Your cock,” you whimpered at the feeling of his fingers. “I love having your cock in my mouth and—.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, cutting you off as he dipped a finger slowly into you. “You do love having m’cock in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded between a split moan, pussy swallowing his finger with greed. “I do. I do. I do. I love the way it feels, I love the way it tastes, oh—!”

Another finger inside now, pumping at a teasing pace and curling as they stuffed inside of you. It was your turn to moan filth now. You could hear Harry’s fingers inside of you, pumping and curling. That’s how wet you had been for him.

“You’re so wet,” Harry cursed under his breath as he scissored his fingers, his eyes flickering between your blissed look and his fingers that worked between your wetness.

He always loved how wet you got. Not needing to buy lube was fantastic, but the way you tasted and smelled is what got Harry going. He loved watching your thighs string with slick substance, and he loved diving tongue first into your pussy to swallow down as much as he could.

“Is this what you needed? My attention? You’ve been wanting it, hm?”

You nodded with a whine. “Mhm, mhm. Please,” you whimpered, wiggling your ass against him as his fingers curled inside of you once more.

“Been such a good girl during m’show. Waited for me, and then surprised me with a soaked pussy,” Harry grinned, shaking his head to his own amusement as he slipped his long, thick digits out of you.

That same hand of Harry’s returned to your cunt, his fingers collecting the pool of arousal before he wrapped a slick hand around his cock. “Need t’be fucked? I think you do, don’t you? My sweet little girl,” he sighed dramatically, slicking his cock with your wet in careful strokes.

“Yes, yes, please, Harry, just please.” You whimpered in need, wiggling your ass back. You could almost cry at the emptiness inside of you, just wanted to be full of Harry.

You gasped high when a hand came down to smack against your ass. It jiggled from the collision and Harry’s rings left a burn in their place. 

“Try again.” Harry’s green eyes looked up through his lashes. “Not my name, doll.”

You huffed softly, shifting on your knees to spread your legs as you felt Harry’s tip graze along your pussylips. “Please give me your cock, Daddy. Please. I need it.” You begged, soft whimpers in your words as you batted doe eyes at him.

With one swift thrust, Harry’s tip broke past your tight entrance and paved way for his cock to fill you up. You both let out simultaneous gasps as he bottomed out, your ass pressed flush against his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Harry gritted through clenched cheeks while his large hands worked over your hips to get a firm grip. 

He drew his hips back slowly, sinking back into you quickly. Your lips broke out in a moan as the burn of his cock melted into you. It took him three thrusts to balance out, pulling nearly all the way out of you before pounding back into you. 

He was slow at first. Careful and deep. Your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut as your lips parted, his cock shooting thrills of pleasure to your body. Your clit ached with need under his grasp and cock.

Then his pace quickened. His head spun with thoughts of you, how tight you were and how perfect your pussy engulfed him. “Shit,” Harry groaned as he grinded his hips into you, allowing his cock to shift inside before he went back to his quick, even, and hard thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Take this fucking cock, jus’ like you were made for.”

You were over the moon. Behind your shut eyes were visions of Harry and that beer spilling down his chest over and over and over again.

“Oh,” you whined, your toes curling in your heels as his fingers connected with your clit. “Oh my god, fuck, please, please.”

His two fingers worked your clit at a fast matched pace to his thrusts. Your stomach coiled as each rub and thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Harry’s thrusts turned relentless. The moment he got you up and pressed against his chest, his other hand was reaching down to hook around the back of your knee and pull your leg up. 

“Oh my fuck!,” you cried out in a moan, the new angle allowing his cock to reach deeper. 

“Yeah? Jesus,” Harry grunted as he shifted his hips and replanted his feet. “So damn tight, so wet. Taking my cock like it was made for you.”

“It was,” you whined and nodded quickly, your hands placed over his arm that had you pulled flush against his chest. “Was made just for you,” you slurred, eyes drooping in pleasure as you broke into another whiny moan. 

“That's right,” the man panted, his lips grazing the side of your neck. “Perfect fucking cunt, takes my cock so well— fuck!”

Harry’s jaw fell slack against your shoulder, curls brushing along the side of your neck when he felt your pussy contract around him. Harry’s fingers circled around your clit, pinching and rubbing in all of your wetness. 

The both of you couldn’t stop the rush of moans. You weren’t even sure if the door was locked, but all you could think about right now was Harry.

His eyes broke open, staring down at your chest as your breasts spilled from your loose top. Harry’s hand slid from your waist to the bottom of your tit, cupping the fleshy mound in his hand. “The most perfect fucking body,” he groaned, squeezing your breast as he dug his fingers into your leg from the open hold. 

Harry continued to pound your pussy until you were a screaming, soaked mess. Your chest rose and fell in quick and uneven breaths in between moans and begs. “Please let me cum, please, please, fuck. Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, swallowing thick as his fingers brushed along your nipple. 

Harry groaned into your neck, biting down on the flesh as he continued his deep thrusts inside of you. You could tell he was getting close with the way his thrusts went uneven.

“Yeah? Need t’cum?” Harry taunted, squeezing at your nipple once again before his fingers mound your clit to rub at a quick pace. “Cum f’me, pretty girl.”

His permission was all you needed before your orgasm hit you. You cried out his name, nails digging into his forearm as your pussy clenched and spasmed around his cock. You squirted into the open air, the filthy sounds of your liquid splattering onto the brown leather beneath you two. 

Harry choked out a moan at the sight, jaw falling slack and eyes pinching shut. His own orgasm hit him like a train three thrusts after, pumping you full of thick, hot ropes of his cum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!,” the man gasped, whimpering as his cock twitched inside of you as he pumped the final spurts of his release inside of you.

Your body trembled as aftershocks rippled through you, every nerve alight with pleasure and exhaustion. Harry's hands were slow and reverent as they traced over your skin, smoothing over your thighs before sliding up to your waist, fingertips pressing gently into your overheated flesh. His touch grounded you, brought you back from the blissful haze that had left you weak-limbed and breathless.

"Good girl," he murmured again, voice deep and rough with the remnants of pleasure, lips grazing the damp skin of your shoulder as he let his forehead rest against your back for a fleeting moment.

The warmth of his breath fanned across your spine, making you shiver despite the heat still radiating between you.

With a soft groan, Harry straightened, slipping away just long enough to grab a few tissues from the nearby table. He moved with that signature confidence, even in his post-high daze, but there was a new tenderness in his actions as he carefully cleaned you both up. His hands, so capable of bringing you to ruin, were equally skilled in their gentleness now—warm, patient, and familiar.

Once satisfied, he tossed the used tissues aside and reached for his duffel bag near the couch, unzipping it to pull out a pair of his soft, worn-in sweats and a shirt for you. The fabric was well-loved, carrying his scent—fresh cedarwood and the faintest trace of lingering cologne, something comforting and inherently him. 

He passed them to you before grabbing his own spare clothes, rummaging until he found a plain black T-shirt and another pair of joggers.

Rolling his shoulders, he started removing the sequin suit still clinging to his skin, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “God, I’m sweaty as hell now,” he groaned, shaking his head with a dramatic grimace. “S’like I ran a bloody marathon.” (wink wink.)

You snorted, tugging his T-shirt over your head and shimmying into his sweatpants. They hung loose on your frame, but that only made them all the more comforting. “You were putting in some serious work there, Styles,” you teased, watching as he peeled off the glitzy fabric and tossed it onto the couch.

Harry scoffed but shot you a smug grin. “’Course I was. Can’t have my girl unsatisfied, now can I?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you rolled your eyes to play off the effect he still had on you. “Yeah, yeah. Get dressed, loverboy.”

He huffed a small laugh but did as told, slipping into his fresh set of clothes before collapsing onto the couch with a content sigh. His curls were a mess, damp at the edges where sweat had gathered, and there was still a faint flush to his cheeks. He looked comfortable, utterly relaxed—and, as always, completely unfair in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

You stepped closer, nudging his thigh with your knee. “Scoot over.”

Harry cracked one eye open and grinned. “That’s not how you ask nicely.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Harry.”

Chuckling, he lifted his arm in invitation. “C’mere, then.”

That was all you needed. You climbed into his lap, tucking yourself against his chest as he pulled you in securely, arms looping around your waist with ease. The steady thump-thump of his heartbeat filled your ears, a soothing rhythm beneath your cheek. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns along your back, the heat of his palm seeping through the cotton of his shirt.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, wrapped in the afterglow of shared intimacy and the quiet understanding that neither of you wanted to move just yet. Outside the dressing room, the distant hum of activity from the crew still breaking down the concert setup could be heard, but it felt like another world entirely.

After a moment, Harry pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “Y’good?” he murmured, voice thick with lingering exhaustion.

You hummed, nuzzling further into his chest. “Mhm. Perfect.”

He smiled against your hair, holding you a little tighter. “Good.”

“Harry?” You spoke.

“Mhm?”

“When we get back to the hotel,” you started, your finger tracing little circles into his shirt, “I want to be the next thing dripping down your chest.”

“Fucking hell, babe.”

[jjjjisun]

Wild Swing

Asa X Male OC | 3118 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

—

Request from Discord: Asa's big brother is a baseball player who plays where ASA's girl group is performing. Asa wasn't attracted to her big bro in any way until she saw him playing, his muscles popping while he swung his bat and such. So, for some reason, she got hot looking at him and motivated him to win during a short break on the backstage.

—

Author's note: If you enjoy the content and want to support it beyond the base tier, my Ko-fi now has two higher tiers: True Patron of Smut ($10) and Ultimate Supporter ($20). You’ll get the same perks as the Early Gang, but these higher tiers are for those who want to support me further, and they have discounts for commissions. Thanks!

—

Author's note: DAMN. GOD-TIER MIDRIFF.

The stadium roared as Asa and her girl group, Babymonster, strutted off the field after their electrifying performance. The crowd's energy was intoxicating, but it was nothing compared to the rush of knowing her brother, Jae, was up at bat next. Asa had seen him play a thousand times, but today, under the bright stadium lights, she felt a strange flutter in her chest as he stepped up to the plate.

Jae stood tall, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His muscles flexed beneath his jersey as he casually swung his bat, warming up. Asa watched, her breath hitching as those muscles popped with each swing. She had always known he was strong, but seeing him like this, raw and powerful, was doing something to her she hadn't expected. She felt a warmth spread through her, a heat that pooled low in her belly.

Jae turned his head slightly, his eyes finding hers in the crowd. Asa's heart pounded as their gazes locked. There was something in his eyes, a knowing look that sent a thrill down her spine. He had caught her looking and knew that look on her face. She was no longer just his little sister cheering him on; she was a woman who found him attractive.

Asa's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. Instead, she let her eyes wander over him, taking every inch of his athletic form. She watched as he adjusted his stance, the way his thighs strained against his pants. She imagined those thighs between hers, his strong arms wrapping around her. Her breath hitched at the thought, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Jae's eyes darkened, and Asa could see their desire even from a distance. He swung the bat again, this time with more force, as if channeling his sudden surge of energy. The crowd cheered, but Asa barely heard them. All she could focus on was how Jae's body moved, the promise of power and passion in every swing.

She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together to ease the ache building between them. Her heart raced as she imagined Jae's hands on her, his mouth exploring her skin. She wanted to feel his strength, to have those muscles she had admired flexing above her, beneath her, behind her.

Jae stepped up to the plate, his eyes never leaving hers. The pitcher threw the ball, but Jae didn't swing. He took the strike, his gaze still locked on Asa. It was as if he was telling her he knew her secret and saw her desire. And he wanted her to know he felt it, too.

Asa's breath hitched, her heart pounding wildly. This was new, and this was dangerous, but it was also thrilling. She had never seen Jae like this or allowed herself to feel this way about him. But now that she had, she couldn't look away. She didn't want to. She wanted to explore this feeling, to see where it led. And from the look in Jae's eyes, she knew he felt the same.

Asa's heart was still pounding long after Jae's intense gaze had released her. She knew she had to see him, to confront this sudden and consuming desire that had sparked between them. During the short break, she texted him, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed, "Meet me by the women's restroom near the concession stand." She hit send, her breath hitching as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

She made her way through the crowded stadium, her mind racing. She had seen Jae play countless times and had cheered him on from the stands more times than she could remember. But today had been different. Today, she had seen him not just as her brother but as a man—a powerful, passionate man who had ignited something within her that she couldn't ignore.

When she arrived, Jae was already there, leaning against the wall opposite the restroom. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on her. Asa's steps faltered momentarily, her breath catching as she took him in. Up close, he was even more intimidating, his presence even more commanding.

He said nothing. His arms still crossed and his gaze pinning her in place.

When she reached him, before either could say anything, she grabbed his shirt and dragged him into the restroom. The room was thankfully empty, and the sound of the crowd was muffled behind the closed door. Jae's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't resist.

Asa turned to face him, her back pressed against the door. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the rise and fall of his chest as his breath came faster. She looked up into his eyes, seeing the reflection of her desire staring back at her.

"Asa," Jae began, his voice low and rough. But she didn't want to talk. She didn't want to analyze or discuss what was happening between them. She just wanted to feel.

She reached up, her hands grasping the back of his neck as she pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a fiery, hurried clash of lips and teeth that revealed the needs inside them. Their desire was almost taztable. Jae groaned, his arms snaking around her waist as he pressed her firmly to him. She could feel his hard cock grinding against her stomach, sending a rush of heat between her legs.

Someone tried to open the door, and she let out a little "oh," and Jae grinned at her, pulled her two steps away, and told the woman trying to open the door, "Closed for repair," in a voice that made all four giggle like schoolgirls.

As their mouths met again with a lusty to entwine wanton need. Their need was so deep and raw as they explored each other. His fingers were strong and sure as they ran her cheek. Her breasts were round and soft as he cupped one, as his fingers touched her nipple through her shirt so softly, but the sensation was like sa lamming climax. She cried out, her back arching her need.

Her moan and their gasping breaths echoed in the small tiled room, the sound of their raw passion a better turn-on than any dirty talk, any music, any sounds.

He reached her side and unzipped her skirt. It dropped so fast she gasped. His grin was one of surprise and even deeper need as his eyes roved over her body. She was still just his adorable sister, and a thousand times, he still saw that kid's face through the years as if it were still in her eyes. With a warm heart and with a gentle hand, he brushed his fingers through her hair. They both gasped as their lips crushed together, but this time there was no rush, there was no hurry, there was nothing but their naked upper bodies, pressed closer and closer. His strong hands grasped her soft behind. Her hard, bare breasts rubbed against his rock-hard pecs and his chest hair, the cleft so deep it seemed like her little tip wanting to dive into the depths of that divide.

His mouth covered her bare breast, he drew it in, sucking it, the contrast to his strong body and yet sucking her lemon-sized breast tenderly into his mouth He moaned as her hands cupping his head to her breast.

Reaching the waistband of her panties, he yanked them down, the thin spandex ripping in the frenzy. She cried out from his harsh touch of ripped panties, but didn't care. But it didn't hurt. It was a release, being freed like that by this powerful, deliberate man, who can walk in the room with that power and control and choose to take her and have her as his.

He hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Reaching behind her, he palmed her buttocks, his muscles flexing, scandalizing her with his brute strength, his crass handling of her most tender parts.

Using his other hand, he unbuttoned his pants, freeing his hard cock. With Asa’s sheath splayed wide and ready, Jae plowed into her, Asa’s wet pink center sure and firm.

She bit his shoulder. He growled. She tightened her body to his.

Her mouth swallowed each of his deep groans. They were in a public place, and she could hear voices outside the door. While she had never been an exhibitionist, that fear was adding fuel to this need.

His strong biceps supported her. Asa felt this power. "Oppa, I trust you, I can do this," she leaned backward, her body bent like a bow, her chest toward the ceiling. He grabbed her waist with his hands, no longer being so polite. He began deep strokes, in and out, like a piston. The speed of the slamming, professional and deeper caused each thrust to vibrate through her body. For a moment, she thought she might collapse from the tremblings at this assault to her core, but this man would never let her fall, she knew it, she could feel it. She just gave into his power and rode up to the heights of all she was, all she could bear.

Their eyes connected as he kept her locked to him so closely.

Both of them had equally crazed feelings, but it was not just then that they realized they had needed each other for many years. And now, only now, in this crazy public, amazing place, were they finally able to express their feelings and depth to one another.

At that moment, it stretched to the maximum, and they didn't notice everyone cheering on the other side of the stadium. At this side, it was all orgasm. And it was all ecstasy. And it was all big brother and sister against the walls, against the sides, up against the sinks, inside the stalls doing everything they could for each other. They were locked into each other, and the entire world could have exploded around them, and they would not have noticed. It was about them. No one else, just the two.

He pumped her faster and faster, those huge biceps finally putting in the work, his speed increasing and increasing. He was a major league baseball player. He lives his days to drive his body to the absolute heights he can push it. And now her presence was driving him to use his body like it had never before experienced. This body trains day in and day out for a living, and yet his breathing began to sputter, his chest began to pant, and his powerful thighs started to wobble like Jell-O. Faster and faster, he plowed into her, into his sister bent back so far, waving her body like a flag in the wind at full mast. Her chin was pointed upward, her mouth gaping open, and the purest vocalizations of climbing creation were screaming from her little sister's pants.

Faster, and deeper, and faster, and she was gone. Her body stiffened. Her hands tried to dig into the tile walls, her fingernails scraping down the tiles, trying to find anything to grab onto.

Still, he pummeled. Now her cries were inhuman. It was all pain, unbelievable pleasure, and screams of ferocious noise. No more sisterly niceties; this the big leagues. This was the superbowl and her was grand final. This was the 100-yard home run for a touchdown in the 10th inning of overtime. These were the wails, screams, and yells of all human history combined into one last drive into her core. Their teary eyes locked. Both of their bodies wracked with spasms, completely uncontrolled, and finally his mouth searching for hers, finding hers, and sucking every cry and scream out of her body to silenced and safe release shudders.

Into each other they panted. The grip on her buttocks began to tremble, he began to slide, and his knees began to buckle.

He caught his breath, and when he was again stable, he slid her down, her buttocks, sliding with such smoothness his arm like an escalator. And then there they stood. Both still breathing hard. Both of their bodies were a wreck and in ecstasy, and then, looking into each other's eyes, they both burst into laughter. Their bodies wracked with laughter almost as hard as the pounding. But they both thought the same thing: "I need a break! I am out of shape for this game."

Finally, laughing into his pecs, she said, "I forgot how good that feels." And they kissed once more, brimming with the joy of their discovery.

Asa and Jae leaned against the bathroom wall, their bodies still trembling from the intensity of their encounter. Asa looked up at Jae, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Oppa, what are we doing?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from her previous screams of pleasure.

Jae cupped her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "Something we should have done a long time ago," he said, his voice steady and sure. He looked into her eyes, his own filled with a warmth she had never seen before. "Asa, I have always wanted you. But there's something you should know about me."

Asa tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is it?" she asked, her heart pounding.

Jae took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I have a kink, Asa. I have always had a thing for... your midriff." He looked down, his eyes tracing the curves of her waist, her belly button, the flat plane of her stomach. "I have always wanted to worship, kiss, and lick it."

Asa's breath hitched, her stomach fluttering at his words. She had never known this or imagined that her brother had such desires. But the look in his eyes, the raw need in his voice, ignited something within her. She wanted to give him what he desired, to fulfill his fantasies.

She took his hand, leading him to the floor. She lay down on her back, her body still flushed and naked from their previous encounter. Jae looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise and desire. "Asa," he began, but she cut him off.

"Do what you want, Oppa," she said, her voice breathless. "Worship me."

Jae groaned, his body shaking with need. He lay down beside her, his head at her feet, his feet at her head. His hands grasped her hips, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist, the flat plane of her stomach. Asa gasped, her body arching as his lips pressed against her belly button, his tongue dipping in, tasting her, teasing her.

She could see his cock, hard and ready, just inches from her face. She grasped it, her fingers wrapping around his length, feeling the velvety smoothness of his skin. Jae groaned against her stomach, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. She leaned forward, her tongue licking the tip of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

Jae's body shuddered, his hips jerking as she took him into her mouth. He groaned against her stomach, his lips and tongue worshipping her midriff, just like he had always wanted. Asa moaned, the sound vibrating around his cock, making him groan even louder.

Their bodies writhed together, their mouths and tongues exploring each other's most intimate places. Asa could feel the pleasure building, her body trembling with each lick, each suck, each nibble of Jae's mouth. Jae's hips jerked, his cock thrusting in and out of her mouth, his breath coming in fast pants.

Suddenly, Jae pulled away, his body shaking with need. He sat up, pulling Asa with him. His eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He sat on the toilet, his cock hard and ready, pointing straight up. Asa looked at him, her body aching with need.

"Ride me, Asa," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Ride, move your hips like you do it in choreo."

Asa gasped, her body throbbing at his words. She straddled him, her legs wrapping around his waist, her breasts pressing against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, could see the pulse at his neck throbbing with desire. She reached down, her hand grasping his cock, guiding it to her entrance.

She slid down onto him, both of them groaning as he filled her. She began to ride him, her body bouncing up and down, her breasts jiggling with each movement. Jae groaned, his hands grasping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

Their bodies moved together, their breaths coming in sync, their hearts pounding. Asa could feel the pleasure building, her body trembling with each thrust, each grind, each bounce. Jae's body was shaking, his hips jerking up to meet hers, his cock thrusting deep into her.

Suddenly, Jae's body tensed, his hips jerking up one last time as he came, his seed spilling deep into her. Asa cried out, her body convulsing as she too came, her pleasure washing over her in waves. She collapsed onto him, her body limp, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked down at herself and chuckled.

"Our mess will be... hard to clean up."

She could feel his cum leaking out of her, could see the mess it had made on her thighs, her makeup smudged and ruined. But she didn't care. All she cared about was the man beneath her, the man who had just given her the most intense pleasure of her life.

Jae looked up at her, his eyes filled with a warmth and love she had never seen before. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. He pulled her down to him and kissed her full on the lips, the passion, heart and soul, and happy to be her boyfriend in one head-swirling, life-changing press of the lips.

"I love you, Asa," he whispered against her lips. "I always have. And I always will."

Asa's heart swelled, her eyes filling with tears. "I love you too, Oppa," she whispered back. "I always have. And I always will."

They stayed like that, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating. They had crossed a line, had done something they could never take back. But as they sat there, their bodies still trembling with the aftermath of their passion, they knew they wouldn't have it any other way. They had found something in each other's arms, something they had been searching for their whole lives: love, passion, acceptance. And they would hold onto it, no matter what the future held.