#not center stage of the entire show!

[icecreambeach]

Din is written as a very novel type of masculine ideal. It's not about being the hero, the chosen one, the True Ruler. It's about protecting those who can't protect themselves, showing up to do what needs to be done, eschewing personal glory in favor of the unit.

[sgxena16]

I just binge watched all 9 volumes of RWBY and I've found my newest obsession.

[omgthatdress]

Few American writers and entertainers have managed to have careers as wild and scandalous as that of Mae West.

A vaudeville performer since childhood, she developed a distinctive sexy stage persona and signature sauntering walk that was inspired by the likes of Julian Eltinge and Bert Savoy.

In 1927, she opened her first play, Sex, which she both wrote and starred in. It centered around Margy, a high-end sex worker, and Clara, the stuck up society lady who was the mother of the man Margie falls in love with. Ticket sales were strong, but city officials were upset about the play's risqué content. West was eventually arrested, tried, and sentenced to ten days in jail for obscenity.

While incarcerated, she told reporters that she'd worn her silk panties in jail, instead of the "burlap" that was usually given to prisoners. The scandal of it all sent ticket sales through the roof.

Her next play was set to be even more controversial: it was called The Drag, and it had an entire cast of homosexuals. The end scene was a massive and spectacular drag ball. The show went for ten performances before it was shut down by police.

Police threatened to shut down all of Broadway if The Drag continued to be performed, so it was cancelled. However, a censored version with a now heterosexual protagonist called The Pleasure Man was allowed to perform a year later.

Eventually, West would make her way to Hollywood and become one of the most iconic stars of the 1930s.

In 2019, The Drag was performed for the first time in many decades at Gay City in Seattle, and has since then been performed several times across the U.S.

[nitw]

OKAY REAL TALK. i'm on episode 5 rn. if this keeps up the way i think it is then this show is such a fucking genius adaptation, and i never would've seen it coming

like yeah, an animated scott pilgrim series authentic to the comics and the story bryan originally wanted to tell would've been amazing too. but when you think about it, SCOTT'S story has already been told to us more than a few times now. even if the live action movie took a different turn by accident, the overall message of "well-intentioned people can still make, and should still take responsibility for, mistakes that hurt those who care about them, and indifference will only end up hurting them back" still sticks for the most part.

but it's mainly been from scott's perspective. which makes sense! he's the main character, so, obviously!! but here's the thing: ramona has ALWAYS served as a reflection of scott's issues. ngl i think this is one of the most consistent things in the entire franchise, and it's why i love ramona so much. as we dive further into her backstory we learn just how much of a wall she's built around herself, how she's afraid of trusting people, but especially that, as sympathetic as she is, she's also caused so much (unintentional) damage herself. although she's introduced as someone literally too good to be true and unreachable by scott's standards, it becomes more and more apparent how similar scott and ramona are, and so they're perfect for guiding each other towards a brighter path.

and what better way to highlight this than to flip the tables completely, putting RAMONA center stage aka making the audience intimately familiar with her immediately, making SCOTT the mysterious damsel in distress/goal at the finish line instead, driving ramona to face the 7 evil exes and making amends with them in a way scott never could???

also can i just say. HUGE SHOUTOUT to the marketing team for hiding this reveal SOOOOO well. like seriously, i was worried they were showing TOO MUCH in the trailers BUT I WAS WRONG. WE GOT PLAYED SO HARD

[vasilissadragomir]

people often use snow’s experiences with lucy gray as an explanation for how he engages with katniss, but i think that the true story of his downfall lies not in how lucy gray and katniss are similar, but rather in how they are different.

snow knew that it was never him that made the games what they are. it was lucy gray, with her scrappy, passionate artistry, that put on the show that kept people watching. more importantly, it was lucy gray that put on the show that kept HIM watching. all he ever did was give her the stage.

ergo, snow recognizes that the person with the power to usurp him is his natural counterpart, someone like lucy gray, who possessed both the charisma and humanity that he sorely lacks. however, in his mind, those traits are not real; they’re performed in order to obtain power. how could he know better, when he’s never experienced them himself, and the only person he ever truly believed possessed them betrayed him?

so snow keeps his eye out for performers, people with gravitas who could capture the heart of the nation, and squashes their spark as soon as he can. people like haymitch. people like finnick.

and that’s where snow goes wrong. he doesn’t see katniss’ similarities to lucy gray from the start, because while they both demonstrate astonishing, intriguing bravery at their reapings, their actions and motivations are completely different. lucy gray is motivated to perform by anger for herself, and katniss is motivated to sacrifice herself by fear for her sister.

but then katniss starts to put on a show for the audience, kissing peeta and being willing to die with the berries at the end of the 74th games. snow starts to see an entirely different side of katniss that resembles lucy gray to a concerning degree. he sees how, with peeta at her side, she could beguile the nation the same way lucy gray had. and, even worse, she was using the poor, helpless boy who had the misfortune of falling in love with her to survive. the moment katniss started performing, he finally sees lucy gray within her. but it’s already too late.

by catching fire, katniss is the spark fanning the flames of the resistance, but snow fails to understand why. as far as he’s concerned, katniss’ star power comes from her connection to peeta. he tries to weaponize their “love” for his own gain, but it doesn’t work, not because people don’t believe that she loves peeta, but because, for the first time, a victor offers their winnings to the family of a fallen tribute.

snow is caught in a catch 22 of seneca crane’s making—if he kills katniss, she becomes a martyr. but if he lets her live, she’ll be a revolutionary icon. either way, she’s the spark. so he has no choice but to allow the spark to flicker, just for a little while. enter the 75th games. snow knows he needs katniss to die a tragic death in the games. more specifically, he needs it to be a brutal death at the hands of a tribute, not the gamemakers, because he understands that as long as the districts see the capitol as the one who ended the life of katniss everdeen, she’ll still be a martyr.

but snow still doesn’t get it. in the quarter quell, the prey does not become predator. katniss’ allies protect her, ensuring she survives until district 13 rescues her. why would they protect this girl, assuming such a steep personal risk? why would they put everything on the line for a revolution they personally stand to benefit little from? he doesn’t know. but he does know that lucy gray katniss is at the center of it all, so he tries to eliminate what makes her look best: peeta.

and that is snow’s fatal mistake. what he, coin, and everyone but haymitch fail to understand is that it was never peeta that made katniss look good—it was katniss, who befriended and put faith in rue. katniss, who recruited mags, wiress, and beetee as allies. she is the source of revolutionary inspiration. it isn’t her charisma or even her compassion, and it certainly isn’t how well she performed those virtues.

katniss becomes the mockingjay because of her solidarity.

lucy gray was charismatic, like peeta, and compassionate, like both peeta and katniss, but she did not demonstrate solidarity. she was never truly “district” in the way katniss is. she showed kindness to jessup, not because he was from 12, but because he showed kindness to her. lucy gray left behind everything and everyone she loved when she left coriolanus, because she was first and foremost a survivor.

katniss was a survivor her whole life, but she survives exclusively to ensure the people she loves are protected. she always does what she can for people more vulnerable than herself. lucy gray couldn’t have sparked a revolution on her own because she lacked the solidarity that makes a hope for a better future authentic to others. katniss is the human manifestation of solidarity, and to a people divided by a common enemy, that’s the most inspiring thing a person can be.

only in the end, when katniss shoots coin, does snow realize none of it was a performance. choking on the blood of his countless adversaries, snow’s final moments are consumed by what he got wrong. what made lucy gray and katniss different ends his reign, but ironically, the final nail in his coffin is an act that both lucy gray and katniss share in their last moments with snow. they both prove, unequivocally, that he is not the center of their worlds like they are his. lucy gray put her own survival before her love for him, and katniss puts the future of her nation before her hate for him. in the end, he simply doesn’t matter. and that’s greater justice than could have ever been achieved if katniss had fired her arrow into his heart.

the greatest enemy to coriolanus snow could only be the person who reignited the embers of a dying revolutionary fire, who demonstrated to a broken people that while one spark alone might not be enough, thousands of sparks uniting in solidarity is an unbeatable force.

and really, he should have known better. after all, even when snow lands on top, fire melts snow.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Dad!Simon is surprisingly lax with the rules he has in place for his teenage daughter.

She’s allowed to date, also long both you and Simon have met the parents of her partner. She can be out until 10pm every night but must have her locations on. She has to keep good grades, and do her chores, but other than that she can do as she pleases.

She’s a good kid.

Always has been.

Since the moment she was born Simon’s entire attitude towards parenting shifted. As he stared down at the pink, sleeping baby in his arms as the doctors finished up with you. He vowed to do whatever he could to make her life as amazing as it could be.

He took her to dance classes as a toddler, even going on stage with her when she got stage fright.

He never denied her the ability to play any sport or instrument she wanted. Even if she didn’t stick with it, he was always happy to support her next hobby.

He would find trinkets to bring her from his missions, his own little way of showing her he never stopped thinking about her. Building her a new shelf to store them on when the previous one was full.

Although Simon wasn’t as strict as people thought he would be with her, he had a good reason.

Simon had trained her well, by the age of 7 she could take down a fully grown man on her own. Simon even remembers the look on Soaps face as the seemingly innocent little girl in her bright pink dress took him to the ground.

By age 10 she could shoot better than some newly joined SAS members. Her shot hitting center almost every time.

Now as Simon sits on the steps of the front porch, he watches as you and your daughter lay in the grass. The stars bright in the dark country sky. You both talk softly, pointing out the different constellations.

Riley, the family German Shepherd, laying by your heads his ears perked as he listens to the world around you.

“Dad!” Your daughter calls, sitting up on her elbows to look back at him. Her brown eyes a mirror image of Simon’s.

“Hmm?” He looks over at her, a small smile on his face.

“Come join us!” She calls, patting the grass next to her. Simon can’t resist, he lets out a breath, pushing himself up from the stairs and walking across the grass. He settles into the space you and your daughter created between your bodies. As he lays down in the grass, your head comes to rest against his chest. His arm instinctively going around your shoulders anchoring you to him.

“Dad…” your daughter whispers into the night sky.

“Yeah Bunny?” Simon mumbles, his hand going to her hair to ruffle it.

“Thank you for being the best Dad a girl could ask for,” she looks over at Simon. Her lips turned up in a smile, as she leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Love you Bunny,” Simon smiles as she turns her face back up to the sky.

[steddieas-shegoes]

we share that really

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt ‘band politics’

rated t | 905 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, reunion tour, future fic, steddie dads, everyone has a family and is happy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Their label said it was too soon to do a reunion tour. They were only in their early 40s and had only been officially “broken up” for ten years.

But they were all in the right place: married, children who were old enough to come on tour but still young enough to be excited about it, and writing music that meant more to them than anything they’d done before.

Rumors had swirled for years after they announced their break up. None of them saw it as a breakup, more an early retirement that let them focus on building their lives. Fans and media alike hadn’t stopped coming up with other reasons for it: Gareth had been in love with Eddie for years and finally said something which caused friction, Jeff’s wife had threatened to divorce him if he didn’t take time off, Frankie had a drinking problem that was spreading like a viral disease.

None of it was even close to true.

The one and only reason for all of them was that they wanted to focus on their families for a while.

They stayed in touch, almost more than when they were on tour together. Jeff and Gareth lived in the same neighborhood, and Frankie bought an RV so he could come visit as often as he wanted. Eddie had traveled for a very extended honeymoon with Steve for nearly a year before finally settling an hour away, halfway between his favorite people and Steve’s favorite person.

They still played together at least once a month, a full set and any new stuff someone brought with them.

So when they all agreed it was time to come back and record a new album and do a tour, it wasn’t really a reunion so much as an excuse to be even closer for a while.

The label was thrilled, willing to give everyone their own tour bus so their families could come with them for the US part of the tour.

One thing none of them were prepared for was the media following the announcement.

“Is it true that you only just reconciled after years of legal battles about rights to songs?” A journalist from Rolling Stone asked.

Gareth snorted. “Not even a little, dude. We’ve been best friends this entire time.”

“So there was never any issue with Eddie being the most famous?”

Everyone looked over at Eddie, who was making faces at his youngest daughter at the side of the stage. Jeff leaned into his mic and gestured over to him.

“None of us have ever had a problem with him being the face of the band. We’re here to make music and perform, not fight over who gets to be in the center of pictures,” he said. “Plus, none of us would wanna deal with what he deals with on a daily basis. He’s not that interesting, I promise.”

Everyone laughed as Eddie turned back to the crowd with a smile. “I’m super boring. Just ask my kids.”

"So you don't mind that he gets creative control?" Another reporter asked.

They all shared looks with each other before Eddie leaned forward into his microphone to answer.

"I don't have creative control. We all share it. We all share everything. That's the point of a band like ours. Sometimes I know what sounds best for a guitar solo, sometimes Jeff does. Sometimes Gareth writes a chorus that people will sing along to, sometimes Frankie does. We've never had any of that lead person bullshit no matter what the media wants to show," Eddie drummed once on the table. "Are there any questions about the upcoming album and tour or is everyone here gonna keep asking about shit that isn't true?"

"Language!" Steve yelled from the side of the room.

Everyone laughed and Eddie waved him off.

They got more questions about the album and the tour and it finally seemed like everyone was done asking about band politics until the very end.

"So will Eddie still be the lead guy for the reunion?" Someone from the back asked.

Eddie banged his head against the table.

"Alright, thanks everyone! We'll see you on tour!" Gareth yelled as he pulled Eddie's arm so they could all exit the stage.

"They want us to hate each other so bad," Frankie shook his head.

"Look at this face," Gareth said as he grabbed Eddie's jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pouted out. "Who could hate this face?"

"Shit!" A small voice exclaimed from behind them.

Eddie turned to see his youngest daughter smiling up at him and Steve standing next to her with his hands on his hips.

"You're right, sweetie. Daddy's in deep shit," Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "And he is so sorry for breaking the no bad words rule today. He really is."

"Our fearless leader appears to be absolutely fucked," Jeff said as he started to walk towards his wife and kids.

Gareth trailed behind him in search of his own family.

Frankie punched Eddie's shoulder. "Good luck, big guy."

"Everyone hates me, call the media and tell them they were right," Eddie pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes and picks up their daughter, walking away.

Eddie turns to his twins. "Well, you guys don't care if I say shit."

"You said worse while getting ready this morning."

"And I'll say worse again! Let's get out of here."

[sooniebby]

I keep thinking about a male kpop idol in a group with seven members—but one of them being heavily into you. He’s the maknae and as the youngest, he was obviously seen as the cutest. You were the leader, the eldest.

As the eldest, you debuted at the age of 21, a good enough age. The maknae was 17. A bit young, but nothing terrible. The first four years of your career, you all played it safe, making sure none of the songs were too sexual in nature. Only two of you were of age the first few years anyway.

However, you still somehow give off sex appeal naturally. So many of your fans were just itching for a sexy concept so you could show it off properly. And in four years, you would be able to. Your creative director suggested a LGBT story line for the MV you guys were shooting. You and another member, the second eldest, were set to act as the gay lovers.

But you could tell during the entire time shooting, mainly during your scenes, the maknae looked… jealous? Or even angry. But you couldn’t dwell on it too much, comeback preparations are hectic. It wasn’t until an hour before your first performance when you got to talk to Soojin, the maknae.

Soojin couldn’t really like you in the eye though. Your clothing, on par with the sensual themes of the song, was… wow to say the least. The tightest pants know to man (was that your bulge?) and a cropped shirt with a low v cut that had a backless opening. He wouldn’t even call it a shirt at this point. It’s magic that the shirt stayed up.

He only muttered something about being fine which you had to take as gospel when you guys were called to preform. The dance wasn’t all that sexual but there were a few parts where Soojin and the members touched you.

Originally, Soojin’s hand just lightly grazes your back before pulling away. But during the performance, he touched your back directly, his hand right against your skin as he slid down. You were so fucking lucky you didn’t face the audience during this part. Your eyes were wide open, feeling him intentionally go slow, before resting dangerously close to your ass.

At first, you thought he was just trying to make it feel more real for the audience. But when the second part came, you had to rest your foot on his knee while his hand gripped your thighs… when did his hand get so big? He wasn’t even supposed to move his hand upwards but he did… his finger grazed your crotch lightly, causing your dick to twitch.

These fucking pants!!

When you pulled away, you saw the faint sight of a smirk on his lips. Just what the fuck was he getting at doing that?! At least there was only two last parts where he touched you. Towards the end of the song, the boys carried you up, like you were sitting in the air. And unfortunately for you, Soojin’s hands were gripping your butt. And he made sure to grip it tightly. Even as they put you back down, his hands lingered on your ass just a second longer, making sure to squeeze it.

At the end of the song, with the sensual swayed hips move out of the way, you all began to move to your ending pose. As you sang your final part, you moved to the center part, another member resting his hand on your shoulder, he’s supposed to. But then Soojin, he’s supposed to just stand next to you… but no, he seems set on just getting you bothered. He rests his hand on the curve on your hips and just leaves it there, making it seem like it’s intentional.

Once you hear your fans screaming, you expect him to move away, but no, he fucking pulls you close and grins, waving a piece sign at the crowd. You can only force a strained smile… because your cock is fucking hard. seriously… when did he get so strong on being able to pull you so easily? As you all begin to leave the stage, Soojin’s lips press against your ears as his breathing filled your head.

“Hyung, don’t change yet. Follow me to the closet.”

And then he just pulled away, not even looking back. Because he just knew you were going to follow. And… you instantly followed him. You were quickly pulled into the closet, it was dimly lit as you couldn’t see his face clearly. All you could feel was his arms trailing your body hungrily as he pressed chaste kisses to your neck.

“Just what were they thinking putting you in this..?” His hand pulled at your shirt. “If this wasn’t half our paycheck I would rip it to shreds. You’re so sexy, Hyung. Been dreaming about you.”

You could only whimper, too focused on your pleasure to really ask what he meant by that. His hands fiddle with your pants, unbuckling them as he pulled them quickly, along with your underwear. He gripped your thighs and pulled you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Soojin’s breathing slowed as he pressed his lips to your neck for a second, just lightly sucking before moving to your ear.

“I’ve been waiting since I first saw you. There’s no way I can hold back, Hyung. Sorry.”

You walked out that closet with a slight limp and cum filled underwear. And as you shifted uncomfortably on the seat of the van, you checked social media to already see people making edits of the performance.

Yeah, Soojin was not subtle the entire performance. He was practically looking at you with lust the entire time—it’s scary. His touch was even more sensual through the fancams. As you winced after the van ran over a pothole, the second eldest member, Wonshik, glanced over at you with a knowing smirk.

Oh fuck… no way were you guys keeping this a secret from the others.

This is so random lololol!!! I just got bored and decided to write it cuz I wanted to get it out of my head. Didnt fully write the smut cuz.. it’s teasing.. like he did during the performance… big brained 🫶🏼

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @remdayz @mello-life69 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @ofclyde @kiiyoooo @smellwell @tomoeroi @flurrina @rhetorical-conscience

[idyllcy]

cherry red pies, pretty pink skies

word count: 1.5k || pt2 of sparkling green eyes, dazzling green lines

summary: Damian's sweet baby has her first ballet recital

"Dami, can you—"

"Don't worry." He hums, showing you the pamphlet he had picked up earlier. 

You never thought you'd be worried over ballet lessons. His sweet daughter was having her first recital, and he had cancelled a whole day's worth of plans in order to make sure that everything would go smoothly. You found it cute, though you were no less worried than he was. You could just never quite know what would go wrong in Gotham. The possibilities were endless... even with private security around the vicinity of the theatre.

You wonder if it's possible to be even more anxious than Damian.

"We'll be safe." He hums, hand reaching for yours as he runs his thumb over your knuckles, and you exhale.

"We'll be fine." You mumble. "We'll be fine."

"And if not then I get to shoot at Drake once."

"WHAT." 

Damian doesn't elaborate more on it, but when you catch a blur of orange in the dark, you get the general idea.

Well, at the very least, you feel a little more at peace knowing that someone is taking care of security. You wonder if Tim's out on the roof only to hack the cameras, though.

"Is he?" 

"No." Damian shakes his head, showing security the ticket. "Not this time."

You wonder just how worried Damian is over this entire situation, then.

"Are you worried that she'll mess up on stage at all?" You follow him to the center seats in the middle row, sitting down as he helps you down first.

"She's our blood. She's perfect even if she somehow does mess up. In that case, it would be improv, which we both know is something only the most talented can dream of doing."

You hold back at laugh at Damian's words. 

"Besides. We've both seen her practicing. She'll be alright." His hand covers yours, tapping gently at your fingers.

"I think she'll be fine." Cass hums as she slides next to the two of you, small bouquet in her arms, Bruce following shortly after.

"She's going to do the best out of all her peers." Damian rolls his eyes. 

You can only laugh.

In a way, Damian isn't wrong. Out of all those in her age group on stage, only your daughter somehow manages to remember the routine from start to finish, and when it's the end, you can barely contain your excitement to greet her. Damian follows after you with the flowers he had put in the trunk, small bouquet of congratulatory flowers in his arms as you pick up your precious baby girl and spin her around.

"You were great, baby." You grin, bouncing her in your arms.

"Thank you, mama." She mumbles. "Hi daddy."

"Hi, princess." Damian imitates a light curtsey, offering her the flowers. "Well done on your performance."

"Thank you, baba." She mumbles, cheeks flushed as she takes the flowers from her dad. "I didn't mess up."

"I know." He hums, holding her hand. "We're proud of you."

Your moment is interrupted when she spots Cass, eyes lighting up as she reaches from your arms for her. You hand her over with a gentle roll of your eyes, and Damian watches as she babbles nonsensical things that Cass entertains, flowers handed to her as she continues, thanking her in the same breath, going back to speaking.

"She takes after me for all that talking." You grin, patting Damian's hand as he rests it on your elbow.

"She's much more formal than her peers." Damian scrunches his nose. "Perhaps due to my influence."

"It isn't a bad thing." You wave as you watch Tim and Jason walk in. "You guys missed the whole thing."

"Oh, no we didn't" Tim shakes the camera in his hand, popping out the SD card and tossing it to Damian. "All on video with photos."

"Much appreciated." Damian nods. 

You wonder if Damian's family adores your little girl a little too much. She greets the rest of her uncles with a grin, excitement that only a child can experience making her little body shake with excitement. At one point, Dick calls to let you all know that dinner was ready at the mansion, and you offer to take your little girl from Cass.

"I wanna stay with aunt Cass." She pouts.

"What if she's tired?"

"Baba will carry you." Damian opens his arms for her, and she leaves Cass' embrace reluctantly. "Good girl." 

"Sorry about that." You laugh. "She was excited that you watched her perform."

"Thank you for inviting me." Cass hums. "She'll be great."

"I'm sure it's because she saw that photo of you doing ballet that one time while visiting Bruce. She's been enamored with the idea ever since." 

Cass only hums, glancing to the side as she waves at your daughter — who's still looking at her.

"I'll take her off your hands tonight after dinner." Cass laughs. "I'll bring her back tomorrow."

"Well, it is her summer vacation." You sigh. "Baby, you wanna stay with Aunt Cass for the night?"

"Can I?" She blinks up at you expectantly, and you look up to Damian.

"Do you want to?"

"It would be nice..."

"Then yes." He hums. "Don't trouble her too much, alright?"

She nods, grinning at Cass as she smiles back.

You have dinner with the rest of the family, their soulmates all present, handing your daughter small gifts of celebration as she thanks everyone with a polite nod. She reminds you very much of Damian, and from what Talia had told you when he was a baby, your daughter seems to be the exact image. At the very least, you hope that she'll grow up without the trauma that Damian had to experience because of his blood. He does a great job at keeping her separate from his life in the streets of Gotham. 

You wave goodbye to the family as your daughter gives you both a small kiss goodbye, promising she'll be good for Cass for the night. You have a feeling that means she's going to stay up past her bedtime practicing ballet with Cass again, but as long as she doesn't stay up too late, she'll be fine.

"How late do you think she'll be up until?" You mumble to Damian as he holds your door open for you.

"I'd argue anywhere around 11 to midnight." He nods as he closes the door for you.

"I hope she has fun, then." You chuckle, watching as the manor's doors close once more.

"We'll have our fair share of fun."

"Ugh, I can't wait to get a glass at home."

"Would you like to look through what just arrived? Drake dropped it off before patrol to me."

"You know, for someone who claims to just tolerate him, you sure do rely on him for a lot." You turn your head to glance at him, and he sighs. 

"Siblings."

You found that Damian was highly sentimental after marriage. From the wedding invites to the clothes he wore first when he met you, he knows every moment and minor detail of you. In your room, other than the shelves of mangas he collected as a teen, he also keeps photobooks of the two of you through each year, and all six failed engagement ring attempts are framed on the wall in the living room. You are lucky, you think. Your hopelessness had paid off... or rubbed off. You hadn't known it was possible to be so enamored with someone. Maybe his brothers rubbed off on him.

"Do you want a snack with the wine?" Damian hands you a glass, lips curled upwards gently as you grin at the package.

"I'll be fine. You kept it in the delivery box?"

"You like opening boxes." He hums, settling next to you on the couch as you open the box to find a booklet.

"Oh, from our wedding?"

"These were the behind-the-scenes that Drake got." He hums. "I did not enjoy that he got to see you first on the day of the wedding, but he did give this to us... even if it is years late."

You smile, patting Damian's shoulder gently as you flip through it with him, humming as you point at certain photos, watching as Damian texts Tim to send him the digitals later. You raise brows at certain people, and he tells you each one's name, lips quirking up in amusement when you roll your eyes at some of your friends. You wonder if the development would have happened had you not taken the risk and asked him to be your plus one to the wedding so long ago.

You yawn at one point, and Damian's hand rubs circles on your back.

"Bedtime, habibti?"

You yawn more in response, nodding slowly as you cover your mouth. "Bedtime. Are you going to frame any photos from it?"

"Most likely the one in the back. We should get a family portrait sometime as well."

"Yeah?" You start getting up, pausing mid-way to yawn. Instead, Damian picks you up with ease, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, Dami."

"Anytime. Rest well, habibti."

"Mm... you too, beloved."

[ikarakie]

it's corroded coffin's first, proper world tour. they've skyrocketed into the public eye within the last few years, and they couldn't be fucking happier. it's all so amazing, so surreal.

they get to indiana. the crowd is electric, the venue bigger than any of the bars or crappy hole in the walls they used to perform in. eddie steps to the mic nearing the end of the second half of the show.

"indiana, it'a a fuckin' pleasure to be with you tonight." he says, a bit lowly, into the mic. screams fill his ears, thousands of smiling faces. but he's after one in particular. "i'm gonna need your help for a minute here, guys." he motions for the lights to go up, grabs the mic from the stand and crouches close to the barricade, squinting.

"i've got someone out there, mixed up in the crowd." he can't help the fond smile as he says it. "and i wanna find him before this next one. take a quick look around ya, if you're next to a guy about my age, fluffy brown hair, big brown eyes, probably in a preppy little outfit and glasses, give me a scream."

everyone's looking this way and that, eyeing the people around them. thirty seconds later there's screaming to his left. eddie crosses the stage, peers into the crowd. the big screens capture the moment he spots him; his eyes go bright, there's a crooked lovesick grin on his lips.

"hey, sweetheart." he coos into the mic. the crowd bursts into cheers and whoops and chatter. the camera cuts to someone at the barricade, having been pushed forward by others. he's exactly as eddie had described, leaning against the railing and smiling up at the star. for a few seconds they gaze at each other like they're the only ones in the room.

then eddie blows him a kiss, which he catches. eddie laughs a little, brings himself back to center stage. picks his guitar back up and settles mic back into the stand.

"this next one," he begins, adjusting the stand slightly. "is something you haven't heard before." there's unmistakable moisture gathering in his eyes. "i wrote the lyrics entirely myself. it's- it's for those people in my life who i couldn't be here without." his eyes stray back to where steve is, watching him with a watery smile. "those who were there, in '86. who pulled me back up from hell. the bravest fuckin' souls i ever met in my life." he takes a deep breath. hears the rest of the fuckers scream from the VIP area, dustin's voice unmistakable.

"this, my dearest indy, is 'knights of the upside down.'"

[ventique18]

"And now... A word from our batch Valedictorian."

The lights dimmed. The students waited with bated breath. The cameras panned to the center stage; millions of people around the world watching intently through its lens. The spotlights lit up, and out came...

Silence. And nothing else.

Three seconds... Five seconds... What was happening? A technical error?

Suddenly, a burst of fireflies erupted; hundreds of them, thousands of them, swirling in a show of green and gold as they slowly dimmed to a stark silver against the dark. Footsteps thudding against the long carpet were the only sound amongst the sea of tense silence. Confident, elegant, powerful. The world forgot to breathe under the sheer force of Malleus Draconia's unmatched presence as he strode through the entire length of the great hall's path; ignoring the stage's staircase meant to assist his mortal peers in their march. Instead, with a snap of his fingers resounding in the quiet, he built his own staircase of gold and glory at the very center.

The world gasped in admiration. Truly, no one but Malleus Draconia could captivate everything that breathes and thinks as much as he did. What a flawless display of power! That day would then go down in history as an impressive feat of theatrics, eclipsed only by the facts that allowed him to seize that stage in the first place: of written exams that never had a single point incorrect, of magical prowess never achieved by anyone else in academia, or of physical achievements that single-handedly toppled all written records in history. Such glory propelling his name to that of a legend, and yet nobody but you would ever know that on that day...

He was lazing around with you at Ramshackle's lounge, eating popsicles and rewatching the cartoon "Gargoyles" for the nth time. You were both still wrapped in PJs after a particularly long night discussing astronomy and the mathematics behind it and terminologies that frankly flew over your head. You wouldn't have realized something was wrong. Until you checked your phone and realized the date.

"... Hornton, isn't today your graduation day?"

And that was when he exploded into a cloud of rush and panic. He stood up, teleported his box of ceremonial outfit from his room at Diasomnia and into his arms, cursed wordlessly as he clambered into it, thanked you, kissed you goodbye, and vanished in a flurry of fireflies.

You scrabbled to flip the channel to NRC's graduation broadcast. And then there he was; so beautiful, so glorious, so much the perfect prince that he was. You would've forgotten that he was just some sleep-deprived guy mere minutes ago, if not for one detail that everyone would've missed except for you.

That, for a split second of a glimpse under his ceremonial robes, he was still wearing those adorable sorbet-patterned knit socks that matched yours.

[cherriegyuu]

Willow | 01

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 8.3k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

You looked at yourself in the mirror and you looked pretty. Many people had worked hard to make you look like that, and at the end of the day, they had succeeded. The only problem was that you didn't feel beautiful. On any other day, you would have loved the attention and would have enjoyed the feeling of getting your body so meticulously cared for. But that wasn’t one of those days. Not when the choices of you ever doing what you wanted again were so slim.

The idea that now you had to report your every move to someone pained you as much as it angered you. Of course that you weren't angry at him; just like you, Seungcheol had little to no choice in the matter. 

It was just that much worse that the person you were supposed to be with was Seungcheol. You had known him for most of your life, went to the same schools, had the same circle of friends up until high school. The problem was that you never saw eye to eye in situations, whether it was something as simple as deciding where to go after class or more pressing matters — like wanting or not to be part of your family's business. 

To your surprise, Seungcheol wanted it. You had always seen him as the one who would break away from the family, who would drift away from expectations and be whatever he wanted to be. But such a thing never happened.

The last time you saw Seungcheol was during your high school graduation. As thought back to that day, it was easy to notice just how much he had changed. As your final year approached, you slowly drifted apart, and it was during that time that you realized that Seungcheol was your future, and he probably knew that you were his as well. 

You expected him to go around talking to everyone, being his usual talkative self but none of that ever happened. That was probably the first time you saw Seungcheol with a frown on his face, hands deeps inside his pockets, as he looked at everyone else without a word. Almost as if he was studying the people around him. 

Looking at him, you felt like he was saying goodbye, finally realizing the inevitable future that lay ahead of him. You felt an uncertain need to go to him. You felt everything he seemed to be feeling, you were just better at hiding it. When you took a step to get closer to him, Seungcheol looked at you. It was easy to figure out that he didn't want you to come closer to him, so instead to do what you thought that you should, you walked away.

Throughout the four years of college, there was radio silence on his end. Although both of you attended the same university, your majors were entirely different — his was law and yours was music — and so you never crossed paths. 

If you were being honest, you expected him to be popular, to always be the center of attention among his classmates and with girls but none of that ever happened. The only certain way to get any kind of information about him was when you called your parents not that you asked but Seungcheol is doing fine, top of his class, your mom used to tell you.

You always laughed at the notion. The Seungcheol you knew, that loud boy with a cheerful attitude, was average, at most, when it came to studies. The mere idea of him being the best in his class was laughable. Or at least it was until graduation.

As you had expected, your parents made you go. You sat far in the back, as away from the graduates as you possibly could. All of it was truly boring until you saw Seungcheol go up to the stage Top of his class since the first semester. You couldn't really believe it but you also couldn't doubt the dean’s words.

You sat there in complete silence, watching Seungcheol give the most boring and uninspiring speech someone could ever give. He didn't try to say nice things, like most people would have, far from that actually. If you knew Seungcheol well, and at some point, you did know him, his speech was a loud screw all of you, but that was hidden behind a nice mask and carefully chosen words.

That was five years before. 

The next time you met was on your wedding day. There were no meetings, encounters, or dates. Emails were never sent and phone calls never happened. Neither one of you had a solid story to tell about your sudden marriage, or at least you didn't.

“y/n?” 

You finally turned away from the full-length mirror when you heard your dad's voice. Despite the situation, you found yourself smiling at him.

All through your life, your dad let you off easily. Where your mom would try to hold you back with a firm hand, your dad would loosen the leash a little. Your dad had always been more concerned about the things that you wanted to do, instead of the things that he and your mother expected you to do. When you told him that you wanted to study music rather than become an accountant like him, all he said was as long as you're happy. 

You weren't happy, far from it, but in what world could you say no to your dad? Even to your mom, with who you didn't have a good relationship with, you could never say no to her. You knew that even though she was cold, she loved you in her own way.

“How are you?”

Your sigh was more than enough for your dad. You weren't good, fine, or even okay. You were living the moment, even if you thought that the moment was terrible.

“You already know, Dad”

He nodded at you at the same time that his hand reached for your shoulders.

“I know that it may seem like the end of the world now but I assure you that it isn't. Marrying Seungcheol is my way of making sure that you'll always be cared for, and that you'll have someone to rely on when things get hard. Your mom and I married the same way, you know, and we love each other. It didn't start in the way you see in movies or read about, it wasn't passionate from the get-go. We had to build our love, nurture it and cherish it every day. Trust Seungcheol to be there for you just as I know that you'll be there for him”

Trust Seungcheol. 

Easier said than done.

Seungcheol indeed have a cover-up story. 

We've known each other almost since we were born. In my senior year at university, we went to a family gathering and it all started from there.

It was simple, so simple that no one really had the nerve to question it, though you were sure that a lot of people wanted to. Especially your friends and some of his too — or maybe they were all coworkers, it was hard to tell.

Your friends looked at you as if you were insane for getting married so suddenly, without ever even mentioning Seungcheol. Yeda just did her best to hide her surprise behind a smile, saying, now I know where you went every weekend. Upon hearing those words, Seungcheol's fingers got heavier on your lower back, and his body tensed up, but he didn't say a word.

Contrary to what you expected, pretending to be happy had been easy. It seemed like the feeling was mutual for Seungcheol, judging by the smile on his face. You couldn't expect something different from him, the man was a lawyer — a very good one — who did a fine job of charming his way around. Clients loved him, judges loved him, and even other lawyers couldn't help but also be charmed by Seungcheol.

“Cheol!”

From the other side of the room, someone shouted for Seungcheol. The two of you turned around to look at where it came from. 

“Seokmin” Seungcheol sighed. 

He should have guessed that if someone was going to make a fuss at his wedding, it would probably be Lee Seokmin. 

“I had no idea you even had a girlfriend, so imagine my surprise when I got your wedding invitation”

Inviting him was an idea that Seungcheol was already beginning to regret. Seokmin was a rookie lawyer, just starting but with great instincts. It wasn't usual for his firm to hire someone fresh out of college but the moment he laid eyes on Seokmin, he knew that the kid wasn't just another law student who thought he knew it all. Seokmin actually knew much more than he led on, was smarted than most rookies they ever hired.

“We have been rather… private about our relationship,” you said.

Seokmin’s eyes move at you, and he reached a hand to shake yours.

“I wouldn't want a man who’s more handsome than me around my incredibly beautiful girlfriend. Wife, sorry. Still processing what happened today”

You had to press your lips together to hide a smile. Seokmin reminded you of a younger Seungcheol, though that was something you would never say out loud.

“Remind me again why I even invited you” Seungcheol said between his teeth.

Seokmin put his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face as he rocked on his heels.

“Because, even though you shouldn't have favorites, I'm yours” Seokmin looked back at you again and winked “I'm his favorite of all the rookie lawyers”

This time you couldn't control your smile. At your side, Seungcheol grunted something in disagreement and silently shot daggers at Seokmin. You pulled Seungcheol's hand from on back and tugged at it, pulling him forward.

“Will you excuse us, Seokmin? We still have to talk to our parents”

You pulled Seungcheol away, more for him than for yourself. While you seemed to be enjoying the quick conversation with Seokmin, your husband looked as uncomfortable as someone could possibly be. 

“Are you not friends with him?” you asked quietly.

Seungcheol didn't answer you for several seconds, so you turned to look at him. The way he looked at you almost made you want to take a step back and away from him but you knew that you shouldn't. But Seungcheol didn't let you. His eyes were hot on your skin, as if with one simple look he could make your skin catch fire. He pulled you closer to his body. 

“Let's not pretend, okay? We may be married but we are not close nor friends, we are merely acquaintances who were forced to get married”

From the outside, whoever looked at your thought that you were a young couple in love, but that couldn't be further from the truth. His smile hid well the true meaning of his words, and the proximity of his body showed everyone that he wanted to be close to you when the truth was that he wanted anything in the world but that.

You leaned up in his embrace, your arm around his shoulder and your lips dangerously close to his ear. He could feel the hair against his cheeks, as you pushed on your tiptoes even further to reach him.

“Pretend is what we have to do best from now on, husband"

For the first time in his life, Seungcheol didn't understand your behavior. For the first time, he didn't have you completely figured out. 

Before, he always knew your next move, and Seungcheol took pleasure and fighting his way against it. He loved seeing you get angry and thought that it was funny how your cheeks seemed to be on fire. But looking at you in that moment felt different. Your cheeks no longer got hot, your fists weren't balled at your sides and you sure didn't look like you wanted to murder him.

The biggest surprise came when you didn't move away from him completely, and instead, your arm slid down his back and wrapped around his waist. Maybe you were better at putting on a show than he expected

“Seungcheol, y/n"

You turned around and smiled back at Seungcheol's parents.  They were responsible for this marriage just as much as yours were to blame but that didn't mean that you would be disrespectful towards them. Even if lashing out at them was exactly what you wanted to do.

“Mom, Dad,” Seungcheol said.

Walking up to the two of you, behind Seungcheol’s parents, were your own parents. Your dad seemed relieved to see you two get closer, though he knew that much of it was just for show. But a slow and fake start was better than nothing at all. And your mom was smiling at you. 

She was sure that you would eventually lean on Seungcheol, that you would let yourself fall for him but she never expected for it to happen so fast. She thought that knowing him since childhood would be a big factor in making things easier for you — if you allowed things to move forward between you and Seungcheol. 

Since the day they told you about the marriage, you pulled away from your parents, and from what they could tell you also pulled away from your friendship with Seungcheol. Your mother hoped that while you were in college you would find your way to him, find a way to love him. Seeing the smile on your face while Seungcheol, now your husband, was so close to you made her happier than she could have anticipated.

She knew that you thought that she didn't love you or, at the very least, that she had a very odd way of showing it. But that couldn't be further away from the truth.

“I'm glad to see you're getting along fine"

A smile spread through your face, and you visibly squeezed Seungcheol's waist. 

“We'll find our own pace, so you don't have to worry" 

The smile on your lips surprised Seungcheol yet again. The version of you standing in front of him in that very moment was so much different from the person he knew when he was a teenager.

You were never one to mask your feelings. Whatever you felt was on full display for everyone to see, and you seemed to care very little about what people thought of you. The only person who seemed to be able to say anything about you without you wanting to bite their head off was your brother. 

Seungcheol put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“We ignored each other for years and worried you guys, but now we’re together in this. Like y/n said, we’ll find our own pace” 

The wedding lasted longer than either of you could have predicted. You were told that you would be able to leave around midnight, but it was way past three when people started to get ready to leave. Both Seungcheol and you could no longer take it. It was hard to sit by his side, hold his hand and pretend that everything was completely fine.

The worst part was probably when they took you outside to get the couple's pictures. The photographer was only doing his job, you knew that, but that didn't mean that you enjoyed the entire situation.

“Can you guys kiss?” he asked.

You felt uncomfortable enough already as it was, with Seungcheol behind you, his arm around your waist, his cheek lightly pressing against the side of your head, as both of you smiled happily to the camera. Kissing him would just intensify the discomfort, cementing the reality that you would never be able to walk away. 

“Is that really necessary?” Seungcheol asked.

It wouldn't be the first time you kissed. Although you didn’t kiss him when the judge pronounced you officially married, after giving a beautiful speech about love and wishing you both a life filled with happiness and good memories,  Seungcheol had been your first kiss.

When you were sixteen all of your friends, including Seungcheol, thought that it was a good idea to play spin the bottle. You were all young and somewhat foolish at the time, and the game seemed like something teenagers did while drinking. You had managed to successfully dodge any questions that could lead to someone finding out about your lack of physical contact with the opposite sex, lying through your teeth. While you were almost scared, Seungcheol was having the time of his life. Not even once did he choose truth; he always wanted a dare.  

He always did things like that back then. While you were shy and tended to keep more to yourself and your small group of friends, Seungcheol was outgoing. When you were quiet he made sure to be extra loud. So if you chose truth he had to choose dare. 

Up until then, the dares had been minor, eat a package of chips in under one minute, drink two cans of soda without burping. Most dares were simple but not when Mila was the one giving out the dare.

You knew the moment the bottle landed on Seungcheol that his dare was going involve you, and he knew it too. It was in the look he gave you, like he was half apologizing and half saying screw you.

“Kiss y/n”

Most of the kids cheered you on, while others, mostly your friends, gasped. Everyone knew that you and Seungcheol didn't have the best relationship, that you were nearly at each other's throats whenever you were around but not Mila. She always said that you two were just faking it, and that most of your fights seemed staged to get attention from people.

What you could possibly get from that was something you were still trying to find out.

“Can’t you give me something more stupid? Like running naked outside?”

“Trust me, that'll happen. For now, I just want you to kiss her" 

Seungcheol looked at you and you blinked at him, pressing your lips together, it was your way of telling him that he could do it. You knew that if either of you said no, things would just escalate for the worse. Mila would never leave either of you alone and for the rest of the night, neither would your friends.

“Fine but I'm not kissing her with you all breathing down my neck”

He got out of his seat and pulled you up by the hand. He lead you to the kitchen and made you stand by the refrigerator.  Most of your body was hidden and your friends could only see half of Seungcheol's. 

You half expected him to not kiss you at all, or even make a whole show of pretending to kiss you. He did neither. If anything his actions surprised you.

Seungcheol ran his index finger across your forehead and down your cheek until his hand reached the back of your neck. He had a hint of a smile on his lips, lips which you couldn't stop looking at.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The answer was on your lips to be spoken but you never got the chance. Seungcheol pressed his lips on top of yours, lightly at first until he lost his patience and calmness and pressed harder. His entire body was against yours. 

You were young and Seungcheol was the first boy you ever kissed so you didn't have any experience, but he made you feel like you knew exactly what you were doing. It lasted only a minute but it made you dizzy, made you want to pull him closer to you and stay there. But the moment his lips pulled back, he was gone, away from your side and the party altogether.

After that, you both started to avoid each other to some extent. Your eyes would automatically try to look for him but he was never around again. You were glad for his absence. Kissing Seungcheol evoked feeling within you that you had no idea could even exist but at the same time, you disliked the idea that he was one doing it.

“Make sure you get this in camera because we're not doing it again”

You turned around so that you were facing him, your arms going around his waist. He was warm, so warm you almost to the point you wanted to hug him entirely. Having him so close to you again made you feel like you were that sixteen-year-old girl yet again, hiding behind the fridge, wondering what he was thinking. It was like a part of you that had been dormant for years was finally awake.

The thought made you take an instinctive step back. You didn't manage to go very far though. 

The second your body was no longer in contact with his, Seungcheol pulled you against him. His actions mirrored exactly what happened when you were a teenage girl, his fingers went down your cheeks until they reached your neck. You closed your eyes, anticipating the light pressure of his lips on top of yours but it never came. Instead of kissing your lips, Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Your mother had a master plan to make sure that you and Seungcheol would be together no matter what.

While the preparations for your wedding were being made, you took no part in it. Why should you when you were being forced into a relationship you didn't want to be part of? But once you walked inside the apartment you would have to share with Seungcheol, you regretted that decision. 

You should have made some decisions, especially when it came to housing arrangements.  Your mother, probably Seungcheol's too, decided to only furnish one bedroom. No, scratch that. You were moving in with Seungcheol and he had a fully furnished spare bedroom, or at least he did until both your mothers decided that you didn't need it.

“You can have the bedroom if you want," he said quietly.

His words surprised you. Seungcheol was never the kind of person to be nice for no reason, especially to you, so his sudden rush of kindness was something new. You weren't too sure if you liked it or how you should take it. 

“No, thank you” you shook your head “It's probably gross in there. The couch is fine”

Instead of a smart comeback, Seungcheol was in silence, just looking at you. You expected him to say something nasty, at the very least have him tell you fuck you but he did neither of those things. Seungcheol just sighed and turned around.

You sat on the couch, wedding dress still in place, looking at your new life. That was it. An apartment too big for just two people — much less one — and a husband you had a hard time being around. 

For most of your life, you had been a romantic, always expecting the love of your life to show up. Even after your parents told you about your inevitable marriage with Seungcheol, you still thought that you could make it. 

Being a silly teenage girl, you thought that if you found someone, someone who was really worth it, someone you could love freely without a single doubt, you could walk away from everything like your brother did. But you never, not even once, met someone like that. It's true that you always had your guard up. Why would you get involved with someone just to have your heart broken at the end of the line? It wasn't worth the trouble. However, no one ever made you even question your parents.

Seungcheol walked back into the living room a couple of minutes later with blankets and pillows in his hands, he sat them on the couch without looking at you. 

“You can use this until you find yourself a bed" he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck “They're not dirty, so don't worry about that”

That side of him, one that seemed unsure and maybe even a little bit shy was new to you. The Seungcheol you remembered, even the one who showed himself at the wedding, seemed completely in control of things but the one in front of you didn't look like it. Looking at Seungcheol you saw the boy his parents often mentioned while out for dinner with yours, he seemed shy.

“Thank you,” you said with a nod “Goodnight, Seungcheol"

By Monday morning everything went back to how you knew it. Seungcheol was back to being a jerk after you avoided each other for the rest of the weekend, and you were back to ignoring him. 

At night, you found him working in his office, he had glasses on and bit the end of a pen while reading a document in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

You didn't dare to walk inside, so you stopped at the door. You were afraid that he would bite your head off if you did walk in.

“I hope you are well aware of the fact that we won't go on a honeymoon" 

The way in which Seungcheol said those words almost made you take a step back. His voice was filled with spite and something that you could only describe as hatred. It was true that you and he had never seen eye to eye on things, that you always enjoyed battling a little but it was never like that. Never before have you thought that Seungcheol could really hate you.

“I never thought that we would,” you said quietly.

You couldn’t help but wonder where that version of him, from those few minutes in the living room, had gone. 

“That's good. You can go now, I'm busy”

He said all of that without even sparing you a glance. You never thought that you would be hurt by some of his actions but there you were, walking away from his office as if he had just kicked you in the ribs.

Avoiding Seungcheol was surprisingly easy, even though you both lived in the same house and you were currently out of a bedroom. Even though the spare bedroom still didn’t have a bed or a chair, you spent most of your days inside it reading or on your phone. Seungcheol was either inside his office or went to the firm.

The hard part was explaining to Yeda why you didn't go on a honeymoon — something that is expected of newlyweds. You walked in circles for minutes, trying to come up with a reason that was good enough, and in the end, you had none. Nothing came to mind. Sure, you could have asked Seungcheol what he was going to say to his friends and coworkers, if he was even going to say anything at all, so your stories could match up but you didn't dare to approach him after the way he talked to you. 

“Come on, be honest. I've known you long enough to know when you’re lying. Your whole ‘Seungcheol is busy at work’ crap won't work. Also, you don't look half as happy as someone who just got married is supposed to. In fact, you look a little depressed”

You weren't supposed to tell anyone, you were supposed to keep quiet and live your life by Seungcheol's side without anyone ever finding out the truth about your marriage. The two of you got married out of convenience for both sides of the family, sides that never once consulted your wishes and desires. But the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, before you could think about what you were doing.

You talked for a long time, all while Yeda listened to you quietly.  She didn't try to stop you nor she asked questions while you were speaking. All she did was sit there in silence, sipping her coffee quietly while you talked like a radio that never stopped broadcasting.

“So you're saying that you got married to someone you don't love because it’s some sort of tradition in your family?”

It sounded stupid when it was put like that, but it was the truth. When your parents told you about your future wedding with Seungcheol your dad gave you a way out. He said that if you agreed to take over the company, if you went to college and studied to be an accountant just like him, then you were free to marry whoever you wanted — as long as the company was taken care of. 

For a tiny second, you thought about it. You could not work as a music teacher, you could work as anything else. Lots of people don't have their dream job, they don't work as something that they want but still manage to find happiness.  If other people could do it, then you surely could too. One look at your mother was enough to tell you that either way you would marry Seungcheol, though — even if you gave up everything and did as your dad wished.

“It's more complicated than that” you sighed.

When it came to you and your family, nothing was as easy as it seemed.

“You, my friend, are in some next-level shit"

When Seungcheol saw you walk inside the wedding venue, he was mesmerized. To him, you were always the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even when you were angry at him for whatever crap he said again. But that day was incomparable. Was that how other people usually felt when seeing their bride walk down the aisle?

Seungcheol learned that he was going to be marrying you when he was only fifteen and you had just turned fourteen. He didn't know what it was supposed to mean, what the implications of him getting married would be. He only knew that he would never have to go through endless dates until he found the one that was meant to be with him.

In a way that made Seungcheol happy. How could it not? His parents were making his life easy, he thought. And then he met you, not the you your parents wanted the world to see but the real you. And he was so surprised to see that you were nothing like he had expected. 

Seungcheol knew your brother from school so he thought that you were going to be somehow similar to him. Oh, just how wrong he was. Your brother was quiet, moved through the motions without a care in the world and he seemed to be happy while doing it. And sure, you had that whole aura about you as well but the second your parents were out of sight, or once you found yourself in a comfortable environment you changed completely.

When only your friends were around, you were something else entirely, someone who Seungcheol liked to see. You became loud and cheerful, your laugh loud enough that people around your group of friends would turn around to see just who could be that loud. 

But Seungcheol couldn't get too close, he knew that he shouldn't. You were younger than him and still looked at him fondly, which meant that you had no idea about both of your parent's plans. And he had been warned off by your brother, who knew about his parents' plans.

When he left for college, he couldn't stay away for too long. Even when he didn't have to, even when he shouldn't because he had too much to do, he still found time to go back home. He stayed in between high school kids because it was the only way he would ever see you. If he went home and his parents went over to your house for a gathering, you always found a way, or better said an excuse, to do something else.

By the time you started college, Seungcheol saw the change in you. He knew that you were well aware of the fact that yes, you would be marrying him, but you chose to stay away so he decided that he too shouldn't care. But he couldn't bring himself to do that either.  

He kept an eye out for you, silently taking care of you without you ever knowing.  He never did anything unless he thought that things could get out of hand and you never really got into problems that you couldn't take care of yourself. You were quiet and never went out much and if you ever did was just to make sure your friends wouldn't drink and drive. 

He always remembered special dates, your birthday being the utmost important one of them all. Seungcheol would always leave a present at your door. The first time he did it was in your last year of high school. He didn't know what he should get you, had no idea of what you liked so he just got you the biggest teddy bear he could possibly find. It was funny to see your face when you opened the door to a white bear with the words take me, y/n on it’s front.

Not even after college was over, and the two of you were moving on your separate ways Seungcheol stopped. When he ran out of ideas he sent you flowers, more flowers than what you knew what to do with — more flowers than your tiny apartment could ever comport.

As the date of your wedding approached Seungcheol saw himself grow anxious and uncertain. He didn't know just how aware of things you were, if you had planned anything at all and what would be your reaction for what was yet to come. Imagine his surprise when he found out that you had no idea of what was going on, that you went to the venue without knowing what your dress looked like.

The look on your face told Seungcheol everything that he needed to know, you were sad. The amount of sadness, of hurt, there was in your eyes made Seungcheol want to take your hand and just take you from there. You looked beautiful and your smile was marvelous, making people who didn't know you that much, or just didn’t care, think that you were happy. But he knew better. Seungcheol knew you.

He intended to make it better, try to make it as bearable as he possibly could but he didn't do that. No, far from that. Seungcheol was a complete idiot, the biggest one he knew. The moment you tried to say something, the first thing you said to him out of your own will after years, his first instinct was to push you away. It was what he did for years.

The only way to get some kind of reaction from you was to push your buttons the right way, and the only way Seungcheol could do that was by picking on you. It was stupid, so incredibly childish, the worst possible way he could ever use to try and get closer to you. Seungcheol knew all of that but it was also the only thing he could do. The old him, the one who was too young to understand the magnitude of what getting married meant, used to think that the only way to get your attention was by being a complete idiot to you. Even now, when he knew for a fact that being mean would get him nowhere, Seungcheol didn’t know to act differently.  Because even years later, when both of you were no longer the two kids you once were, the only to get you to even look at him was by being rude. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” Seungcheol knew that he would get nowhere by lying to Seokmin, his friend was far too good at knowing when the people around him were lying. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you be, at the very least, at home with your wife?” Rolling his eyes at his friend, Seungcheol sat back down on his chair and pretended to be looking at the files on his desk. His mind was anywhere but at his work. No, correct that. His mind was on you rather than on his work. He kept thinking that, despite his apparent lack of interest, you still told him where you were going and what you were doing. It's true that he did ask you if you needed a ride for work because Seungcheol knew that you hated driving, but you still made a point of letting him know. “I was given days off since I just got married,” you said to him.

In the quietness of his office, Seungcheol felt guilty. He should be at home with you, trying to figure things out, trying to come to an agreement on your relationship. Your marriage didn’t start the way you’d expect, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of marriage that starts simply out of love. Your relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn't anything like either of you had ever experienced. But the truth is that the two of you needed to find some common ground, needed for things to be clear, and boundaries needed to be created.

“You’re such a terrible liar. It’s a wonder how you are still a lawyer”

Trust Seokmin to be completely blunt and tell Seungcheol off the first chance he got. That was one of the many reasons why Seungcheol chose Seokmin as his right-hand. Despite the age difference, how he was the one who would one day run the office and was clearly above him in the hierarchy ladder, Seokmin was the kind of person he could trust. 

Seungcheol trusted him enough to tell him the truth about his marriage, about how he has been pinning over his wife since he was a teenager — granted that he slightly when he told Seokmin all of that, but he was only able to say those things because he trusted him that much.

“I regret hiring you every time you open your mouth” Seungcheol sighed.

“You would never fire me though. I’m your favorite, everyone here knows that”

Seungcheol sighed and looked up at Seokmin, his attention momentarily away from the case files.

“Do you have something to say? I have work to do, in case you haven’t noticed”

Seokmin shook his shoulders and turned to walk out of Seungcheol’s office. He was gone for two seconds before he popped his head back in, with a grin on his face.

“Go home, Seungcheol”

You were in sweats and a shirt most of the day, except for the few hours Yeda came by and took furniture shopping. 

On a normal occasion, you would have thrived on the news of a few days off. After all, it was something that you had been wanting to do for a very long time but in your mind, you would travel with Yeda, somewhere sunny and beachy. Yet you were stuck inside an apartment that wasn’t yours, without a bed, and with your stuff scattered on the floor of a bedroom that wasn’t yours either.

Telling your friend the truth about your life felt like getting a weight off of your shoulders. It didn’t cure anything, and it didn’t make anything better but it made you feel better, and for a while that would have to be enough. 

You kept thinking of ways to talk to Seungcheol, to try and reach a consensus with him on how things should move forward.  You were married now and that meant Seungcheol would be a constant in your life. At the very least, you should be able to trust him. 

Even so, trust was too much of a strong word, something that felt foreign even though he was someone who had been around you for most of your life. No, trust wasn’t it, at least for now it wasn’t what you needed. What was of vital importance were the rules — coexisting rules. After Yeda left, you sat down with a piece of paper and started to scribble down what you thought was necessary for the two of you to cohabit. It couldn’t be too much, nothing too out of the ordinary or crazy. Seungcheol, although he was a grown man who could and did support himself, could turn into a twelve-year-old that needed to be babied — or at least that’s how you remembered him. When he finally got home from work, you had already ordered pizza and were sitting on the couch watching the eight o’clock news. “Our first meal together as a married couple is pizza” he grunted as he sat down on the easy chair on the opposite side of you. You pushed the box towards him and leaned back on the couch. “If the pizza is any indication of how our marriage is going to be then I would say it will go pretty nicely” Because Seungcheol seemed stressed when he left in the morning, and if you were being honest all through the weekend as well, you decided that you would order his favorite pizza. If you were a little more domesticated then you could have probably cooked him something, try to make it even harder for him to be an asshole to you for a few hours. But cooking was never something you enjoyed or were good at, so the whole get a man by his stomach wasn’t going to happen with you two. 

You survived college only through packaged meals and fast food. You weren’t about to start cooking because of him. The only thing he could get from you was some takeout or order in, if that. “Are you suddenly optimistic about our marriage?” You shook your head and you gave him one of the contracts you wrote. “No, I have something to ask” He laughed as he took the sheet out of your hands. “That’s how it’s going to be now? You feed me and ask for something?” he put the paper on the table and went back to looking at you. “Isn’t that how most marriages go? I even got them to take off the pineapple from the pizza Not even half with the delicious pineapple. I really tried” It was hard for Seungcheol to keep a straight face. Yes, you were trying. If the roles were reversed and you had treated him the same way he did to you, he would not even look at you twice, much less would he try to talk to you.

“I'm in a good mood, so ask away”

“Can I use your office?”

Seungcheol looked at you, confusion all over his face. Out of all the things that you could have asked him that would be the last one in his mind.

“There's more stuff in here”

He didn't bother to read what you wrote, whatever your conditions were, he would comply. 

“Ah yes,” you ran your hands on top of your thighs cleaning them before turning around to face him “Since neither one of us wanted this, I thought that we should have some housing agreements. Number one is: you're in charge of food”

He knew how to cook, he wasn't good enough to make it to Master Chef but he wouldn't starve. He almost laughed remembering the day your mother went to his house to plan for the wedding. She said that you were perfect in all other ways but that Seungcheol should never let you get near the kitchen unless it was for takeout. I don't know what else to do, I teach her and she actually tries but she just can't.

“I can do the shopping but that's it” you looked at him, expecting him to fight back but all you got from him was a quiet agreed “Good. Number two and three: because you're cooking I'll do the cleaning but we will share doing laundry. I refused to get anywhere near your underwear, Number four: We will share the office. Although I like my bedroom and it's big enough to fit everything, thank you for that, I prefer to paint with natural light and it doesn't have much of that”

He nodded at that too. When Seungcheol moved to his apartment he chose it because his bedroom, as well as his office, had a nice view of the city but the spare bedroom faced other buildings in the same complex, so there wasn’t much sunlight. He didn't care much about that at the time since he was alone for a while. He was sure that when you finally got married, you would move to an actual house, he could remember you saying that was something you wanted. But since the marriage itself happened so quickly neither one of you had the time to look into it.

“Yeah, that's okay. Move stuff around as much as you want, I don't mind. Have you bought the furniture for your bedroom? I didn't think to buy anything because I didn’t know they would get the bed removed, I'm sorry. What about your instruments? I haven’t seen anything”

You almost shocked on your saliva. Never before had you heard Seungcheol apologize to someone and sound sincere while doing it. Every single time he said it before, it was pushed out between his teeth, his hands closed into fists. He hated to apologize more than anything in the world, even if he was completely wrong.

He is really trying.

And the fact that he remembered about your instruments, that he even thought to ask about them, made your heart do a little leap inside your chest. You wanted to press your hand over it, as if telling it to calm down

“I went today with Yeda, they'll probably bring the stuff tomorrow” you purposely didn’t mention your work.

“I don't think that sort of thing happens so fast”

You snorted turning the page in the contract. You were almost embarrassed by calling it a contract. He read actual contracts and official documents every day at his job, and whatever you wrote was probably like an insult to him. 

“It does when you pay extra”

A groan escaped your lips when you heard those words, hated saying them out loud. For all the three seconds that it took you to say them, you sounded just like your mother and that was not a comparison that you would like to be part of.

“Anyway, item number five: all of our extramarital activities should be done outside this apartment. This is our safe haven. Whatever happens, needs to stay outside”

It was something hard to say, something that felt bitter on your tongue, but what other choice did you have? Both of you were thrown into a marriage without love, a marriage that neither of you really wanted and yet were stuck with each other. 

Saying those words left a nasty taste in your mouth. Not once before, while imagining what it would be like to married to someone — married to Seungcheol —  you pictured yourself bluntly saying that he could be in a relationship with someone else, a person who wasn’t you. You’ve always known that Seungcheol had a few relationships before and you were okay with it. You weren’t anything to each other but a promise, and so you never expected him to be faithful in the first place. Even though he never said anything to you, even though you never saw those things happen right in front of your eyes, word always got out and found its way to you. It never really matter how badly you didn’t want to hear about it. Knowing those things made your heart drop as if it was no longer beating in your chest like it was supposed to. And you hated yourself for it. Why did you care? Why did it hurt to know about those things when Seungcheol didn’t mean anything? You were seventeen when you were told that you would be marrying Seungcheol and ever since you never really contemplated the idea of being with someone else. Not because you were in love with him but because you knew that he was the one who you would end up with no matter how you wanted it to happen. So why should you engage in a relationship when it was bound to end? In college, while all of your friends went to parties and did all the things that it was expected of college kids, you stayed back and did your best at school, thinking that you could enjoy your life later when the plan for your career was set in the right direction. But you never actually did enjoy anything. School was over and all you did was focus on your work. And Seungcheol was always in the back of your mind, quietly reminding you that no matter what you did, he was the one you would be with in the end. He wasn’t the one you wanted but he was the one you were stuck with. So why, just why, was it so painful to say that he could be with other people? Tentatively, you looked at him. His eyes were focused on the paper in his hands, running over the same sentence again and again, hoping that if he read just one more time, it would magically change. For a second, it was as if he wasn’t even breathing at all. “My own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying me that I should date other women” his bitter laugh made your heart drop all over again, and the sight of him writing his name under all the things you listed made you want to throw up “Good night, y/n”

hi! thank you for reading! let me know if you want to be tagged once part two is out, you can either message me or send an ask

[gurugirl]

Just For Tonight | Ch. 1

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n can't believe her luck when the famous Harry Styles invites her and her friend backstage after his concert is over.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 8646

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Almost 20,000 screaming fans, flashing and pulsing lights, percussion, string, vocals, bass, and ego with sex appeal dancing on the stage amongst it all. The entire floor of the venue, stage, walls, and all were vibrating and trembling along with the speakers that thundered with live music, and in the middle of it all the crowd danced and stomped along with the man of the hour. Harry Styles.

For Harry, tonight was a great night. When he performed it was usually pretty fucking great. But tonight, especially, everything was perfect. It was just one of those days that’s a good day for no real reason. The stars aligned, the moon’s gravitational pull balanced everything out, Mars was not in retrograde, and so on and so forth. Who knew what had made it such a lovely day? It just was and Harry was not one to question things like nature and science and destiny. He allowed it to bring him wherever it needed to take him. He was just a passenger on the ride of life.

And everyone in the building felt the same vibes. He just knew it. It had been a perfectly phenomenal day for everyone that he laid eyes on. How could it not? Every time he spotted someone in the crowd and smiled they screamed and jumped excitedly because they were also having a fucking fantastic day. So, okay, sure it might have had something to do with the fact that they were at a Harry Styles concert, and making eye contact with the one and only himself was bound to boost moods.

It was a thrill to wave or smile or call someone out and see their reaction. He loved the attention. Loved watching people swoon and cry out for him. He loved being loved and adored. And tonight, he was very much being adored.

When the song came to an end and the lights went down Harry picked up his Gibson guitar and stepped back up to the mic, signaling the song change. The light shined down over him as he stood gorgeously confident in his black custom Gucci suit sans shirt. His pecs and tattoos bared to the fans, a well-built body proudly on display. He had no reason to not show off. He knew he looked amazing. Not to mention it was also practical because his outfit and the hot lights were boiling.

He loved using old songs from his One Direction days and Stockholm Syndrome always got the crowd to go absolutely nuts. He stood bold and self-assured in front of the microphone as he strummed the guitar and started the song off. Looking at the fans in the center pit they went wild as his eyes roved the crowd, dimples carving into his cheeks at the reaction he got. He’d never get over it.

He began to sing and the sudden greatness of the situation was overwhelming. He knew the universe was giving him something very special at that instant as he strummed and leaned into the mic, belting the opening lines. He wanted to keep his awareness about him and not miss a moment. He was in his element.

And the reason he felt the atmosphere change, he was sure of it the second he laid eyes on her, was standing just right of center stage in the pit. An angel with long hair surrounded by a halo of glitter and the loveliest smile he’d seen in a long time. She wore a bodysuit with a flower pattern that hugged her curves with sparkles all over her skin and her shoulders, gleaming in her hair. Glossy pink and red sunglasses shaped like hearts on her face.

He couldn’t help but look at her as he sang and when he stepped away from the mic to let the fans scream the words he narrowed his eyes at the angel in front of the stage and gave her a quick wave, releasing one hand from his guitar to do so. Watching her pretty pink lips drop open wide when she understood he was waving at her she bounced a little and waved back. Harry’s eyes dragged down her frame again and he realized her tits were bouncing with her. He couldn’t help but notice it. They were supple and she was gorgeous. It was hard not to take her all in as she was.

She hadn’t realized it, until that instant, that he’d been looking at her. She figured that was impossible. There were so many other people next to her but the electricity that buzzed through her veins in that moment had her feeling like the only one in the audience. He continued looking at her through the song, his eyes finding hers as he sang and strummed. His smile deepened each time their gazes met and she felt like she was in a dream. Harry Styles was looking at her and grinning coyly each time his eyes landed on hers.

Y/n was an outspoken person. Someone who didn’t usually hold back with her thoughts and opinions. And even though having Harry looking at her and grinning was making the blood rush to her cheeks and her limbs tremble she knew she needed to call on her boldness to keep his attention. She had an idea before she’d even gotten to the concert that felt like something that would just stay an idea, would remain a little daydream fantasy. But now? She figured why not? She’d seen Harry prancing around at past concerts wearing sunglasses and hats the fans would toss up to him.

But she didn’t want to throw anything up on the stage at him for fear of hurting him or him not seeing it. She wanted to hand him the sunglasses. Maybe they’d even brush fingers. But with the way the stage was set up, she knew that was impossible. Security flanked the fronts and sides and she’d never be able to reach. Instead, she did the next best thing.

The next time Harry spotted her, which was only moments after she decided to enact her plan, she pulled her sunglasses off and pointed at him as she held them up. She was against the barricade near security and Harry’s eyes squinted as he looked at her hand and placed the mic onto the stand before kneeling down next to the man standing in front of the stage. He kept his eyes on the sparkly angel as he pointed at her and spoke to the man who nodded.

The transaction happened in a flash. The man smiled at her as she handed him the heart-shaped sunglasses and then suddenly Harry had them in hand and placed them on his face as he got right back to singing.

The crowd was raucous. Harry wearing cutesy, shiny heart sunglasses got everyone’s attention but Y/n was in awe that he was wearing her cheap dollar store find on his handsome face.

And when the song was over he pulled the sunglasses off and mouthed, “Can I keep these?”

Y/n nodded exaggeratedly and smiled as she bounced a little. It was the best night of her life; she was sure of it. The entire day had been amazing. From the moment she woke up to right then as she had Harry’s grin aimed at her it had been perfection. Even her outfit and hair were perfect. She knew it. It was just one of those days and she felt like it was all meant to be.

She danced and swayed to the songs, sang along with the crowd, and Harry kept giving her glances and cheeky smirks. He was definitely flirting with her.

“I can’t believe he’s keeping your sunglasses! What if he wears them after tonight and he’s photographed with them?” Y/n’s co-worker, Ady, was with her. She and Ady were loose friends. They got along well enough and both liked Harry Styles. So when Y/n scored two tickets and her best friend declined to go to the concert with her she asked Ady. She figured Ady would be willing given the colorful TPWK screensaver she had on her work computer.  

Harry began to interact with the signs in the crowd. Reading them aloud as he casually paced and laughed and made the fans laugh with him.

But as he walked toward the part of the stage where Y/n and Ady were standing Harry pointed directly at Y/n, “What’s your name?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to keep calm and Ady squealed next to her, “Her name is Y/n!”

Y/n turned to look at Ady and they laughed together but Harry continued, “Her name is what again?” He cupped his ear and leaned in to hear better.

This time Y/n was quick to react, “Y/n!!” She shouted as loudly and clearly as possible.

Harry stood up straight and laughed, “Y/n. Lovely. And your friend’s name?”

Ady shouted her name and Harry nodded, “Is it just the two of you?”

Y/n and Ady nodded with wide grins and Harry sauntered around in the spot as he motioned with his arms, “Y/n, here, gave me a pair of sunglasses and is allowing me to keep them,” he spoke to the fans and then looked back toward Y/n. “And I just wanted to say, thank you, Y/n. That was so thoughtful of you to give them to me.”

She placed her hand over her heart as she shouted, “You’re welcome!” And Harry placed his hand over his heart and winked.

An absolute dream. The whole night had been. The attention she was getting from Harry was something she’d never forget. She was positive that he found her attractive based on the way he kept looking toward her and grinning. It was one of those things that happen in life that make you spark and give you a giddiness that you’ll wake in the middle of the night thinking of or suddenly become overwhelmed with while you’re loading the dishwasher. Something that you take with you and sew into your bones and inwardly smile and gush over. Something that can’t ever be taken away. A small moment in time that’s yours to take with you forever.

Harry did his usual end-of-concert routine, including the whale before jogging off stage. The lights brightened slowly and the sounds of chatter and concertgoers laughing and singing filled the venue.

Y/n wasn’t ready to leave the magic of the concert but all good things must come to an end. As she and Ady were about to file out behind the other pit fans the security guard who handed her sunglasses off to Harry approached her, “You’re both invited backstage. Harry’s invitation.”

There was no way she’d ever get over that night.

The area was set up in two sections. A handful of fans and other people were all in one spot, a large room with foldout chairs and tables along the wall, and then there was another room opposite the large one, where Y/n and Ady were asked to stay. The room was small with a couch and coffee table, a few armchairs, a TV on the wall, and a buffet with pitchers of water and juices lined up with glasses and napkins at the end.

Y/n sat in one of the armchairs and Ady poured herself a glass of green juice, “Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll get something in a minute. Just need a second to process everything. That was so amazing, wasn’t it?”

The pair talked about the concert as a man walked into the room and filled a glass with water for himself. He greeted Ady and then Y/n, “Hi. I’m Tommy.”

He sat down and made small talk for a bit, “So, this is the special guest room. Did you get a personal invite from Harry?” His grin was cheeky. Y/n didn’t know what any of that meant.

“Yeah, he invited us backstage after the concert was over. I gave him my sunglasses.”

Tommy nodded and raised his brows, “Ahh… I see. Well, he’ll be done out there soon.”

Soon was thirty minutes later. Tommy turned the TV on and handed the remote to Ady before he left the room. They got to meet Sarah and Pauli before they noticed some of the fans leaving and the other room slowly growing empty.

And when Harry finally walked into the room it was as if time stood still. That cliché was happening in real time. He wore a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt with tennis shoes, and a big smile as he looked at Y/n before greeting Ady with a handshake and a hug.

Y/n stood abruptly as Harry greeted her in the same way.

He sat on the couch and urged Y/n to sit next to him as Ady took the armchair closest and they all talked briefly about the concert. He asked more questions about how they knew one another and if they were from the area, what they did for a living…

He was perfectly polite and attentive. The man was gorgeous up close and Y/n tried not to let her imagination get away from her as he spoke and she watched his features and looked down over his tattooed arm and muscular thighs under his jeans.

Harry laughed at something Ady said and then ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Y/n, “I’m really glad you came. You have good taste in sunglasses. And music,” he chuckled at his joke and Y/n laughed with him.

“But um… would you be willing to stay back with me a bit? If you want?” He looked directly at Y/n as he asked but she didn't assume the question was only aimed at herself and of course, she was willing to stay back with him so she nodded and looked at Ady to make sure she was good with it too.

Just as Ady was about to say something Harry interrupted, “I’m really sorry. I can only have one person stay back per the rules, and since you,” he looked over at Y/n, “were so kind to allow me to keep your sunglasses, thought it would only be fair.”

The sudden realization changed the atmosphere in the room. He was asking Y/n to stay back. Only her. Not Ady.

“Oh, sure. Yeah of course. That’s fine,” Ady smiled and looked at her friend. “Y/n you stay. I’ll go back to the hotel and see you later then?”

It was awkward for sure. Y/n felt a little guilty for being so excited at the idea of being able to hang out with Harry one-on-one but at the same time, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even if Ady had said she would rather Y/n go with her she would have stayed with Harry. She was not going to miss whatever it was he had planned.

She was led into another room. One with a door that Harry closed behind himself. He watched as she looked around. It was what looked like a dressing room.

“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?” Harry asked as he walked up behind Y/n and honed in on what she was looking at. The rack of outfits. He always had five to choose from for each show. Usually, there was one that was suggested but Harry liked making the final decision. Which also meant each outfit would be tailored the same day as a show regardless if he wore them or not. Now, the tailoring wasn’t much. It wasn’t as if Harry’s weight and size fluctuated all that much from show to show. But lately, he was bulking up a bit. His trainer had him working out for hours each day. Harry’s body was in the best shape it’d ever been in. So some seams were let out and there were a few little tucks and folds and bits that needed to be sewn last minute typically.

“What do you have to drink?”

Harry turned and opened up the mini fridge as he squatted down, “Let’s see. Beer, wine, tequila, whisky. I can get you anything you want, though.”

Of course he could.

“Tequila on the rocks? Is that okay?” She was feeling a bit uncertain. She didn’t know what to expect or what was allowed. She wasn’t sure what was going on in general. Her nerves were starting to erupt a bit at the idea that he might have her in his dressing room alone for something more than just a chat.

“Sure. I’ll have one with you.”

They sat next to one another on the couch and made more small talk. She was surprised that he stayed a couple of feet from her the whole time as he sipped his glass and asked her about her job, her family, a dog she mentioned.

When she’d finished her tequila she tapped at the glass with her fingernails and looked at Harry curiously, “So, um… should I be going now? What’s the plan?”

Harry laughed and gulped down the last of his tequila before clearing his throat nervously, “If you want to go you can but um…” he licked his lips and sat the glass down on the table next to his side and planted his green gaze on her pretty eyes, “I’m going to head to my suite in a bit. It’s really nice and big. Would you want to go back there with me?”

Y/n grinned and squinted her eyes at him, “What for? Are you planning on making a move on me or something?”

Harry sputtered out a laugh and his adorable dimples dug into his face. He hadn’t expected her to say it right then but he could tell she was a bold person. Knew from the start, when she got his attention with her sunglasses that she wasn’t shy and wouldn’t need lots of guidance. Which he preferred. Timid women were nice and all but Harry didn’t like to be the one to make the first move in most cases. He felt that wasn’t fair. He was famous and handsome and it was unlikely a girl would turn him down so he liked it when he was pursued a little. He liked it when the other person made the suggestions and led the way a bit. Felt more authentic that way.

“Do you want me to make a move?”

Y/n sighed and grinned back at him, “You’re not answering my question,” she turned to face him, the glitter on her arms rubbing off onto the couch. “Is that what this is? Because so far you’ve just made a bunch of small talk and you’ve listened to me ramble on about my boring job.”

Harry nodded. Fair enough.

“Okay. Yes. I wanted to make a move. But I feel like doing that in my suite gives us more privacy rather than here. It’s up to you, though.”

“There it is. So this was just a way for you to get me to come back to your room with you.” She smiled as she teased.

Harry laughed a breath out of his nose and nodded, “Yes, Y/n. I hoped you’d come back to my room with me. Will you?”

“Can I kiss you first and then make that decision? I need to know what I’m getting myself into before you get me all alone in your suite.”

Harry gulped and felt his chest get warm. Yes, she was perfectly bold. Exactly what he hoped.

He nodded, “Okay.” He scooted himself toward her body and she moved her hands up to his shoulders and laughed quietly at the absurdity.

Harry smiled and just before he could laugh with her he felt her soft, glossy lips on his and he melted. Her lips were warm and tasted like strawberries from the lip gloss she was wearing and her body was suddenly pressed into his.

When she licked over his lips Harry groaned as he opened his mouth to let his tongue slide out against hers. It all happened so fast and his head was spinning.

She determined she liked, no loved, the way he kissed. A little messy and wet. Plenty of tongue and small moans fell from his lungs. His lips were puffy and soft and she’d never imagined in her life that she’d get to feel his lips on hers but here they were licking and sucking and making out on a couch in his dressing room after his concert.

When she parted they both gasped and their expressions mirrored each other. Blown-out pupils, drooped lids, pink, wet lips, and harsh breaths inhaled into their chests.

“Yes. I’ll go with you to your room.”

They couldn’t go together. Out of necessity. She was taken in a separate car to his hotel and then ushered to the penthouse suite he was staying in.

And she understood the hullabaloo. She knew it was necessary. Not only had she been a fan of his since his One Direction days, and had seen how his fans were crazy, but she also got to see it with her own eyes all the young girls outside of the hotel waiting for him to appear.

His suite was just as posh as she thought it would be. Tall windows overlooked the city lights. The room she entered had tall ceilings, a piano along the wall, flowers on an elegant table, wainscoting wrapped the walls from edge to edge, large wooden doors with intricate carvings, a huge leather couch, and two wool woven armchairs on either side with a low-profile wooden coffee table in the center that looked antique. A huge flatscreen TV across from the couch, a chandelier above, expensive artwork adorned the walls, and a fireplace on the other side with another sitting area and plush pillows piled over the chairs.

Not wanting to wait another second to feel her lips on his, Harry pulled her into his arms and they continued right where they’d left off.

Wet lips and tongues gliding together slowly until Y/n pulled his elbow, “Let’s sit down.”

Harry followed her to the loveseat that faced the fireplace and gestured for him to sit as if it were her room. He nodded and sat, keeping his legs spread apart as he watched the pretty girl climb over him and straddle his lap.

The moment she sat down she felt him under her. He was rock-hard.

“You poor thing. Do you need help, Harry?” She looked at him innocently as he parted his pink lips and nodded.

“Yeah? What do you need then?” She dipped in to kiss him again as she rocked herself over him and he groaned at her moxy. She was quite confident. Harry was already in love.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

She kissed down over his jaw slowly and heard his chest vibrate as she got lower. What did she want? Well, she wanted to look at him. Wanted to perceive his body up close without any clothes. Wanted to touch his skin and see his tattoos and kiss his pecs and his abs. She wanted to see him.

“Let’s get your clothes off. I want to see you, Harry.”

He was not shy about his body. He’d never been. He had absolutely no problem whatsoever hanging out naked in front of friends or wearing only briefs in front of his family. Though some would urge him to put clothes on, Harry didn’t care if anyone saw his schlong or his balls (well maybe he didn’t want his mom and his sister to see all that).

So when he began to take his clothes off and kept his eyes on hers she watched as he exposed skin little by little. His chest came into view. The laurels, the butterfly, the swallows… He was a god.

But then, when he stood to remove his pants she got to her knees and stuck her fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein underwear, and looked up at him, “Can I take these off of you?”

“Please.”

She smiled at the please. She was tempted to run her palm over the large bulge under the fabric of his briefs first but she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to see him. The moment she pulled the stretchy material down and his cock plopped outward toward her face she moaned as she looked at it closely. Continuing to pull his briefs down his legs, she kept her eyes on his hardened organ. It looked heavy.

“Harry…” she breathed out a moan and looked up at him in all his naked glory. It was even better than she imagined. “Fuck.”

Running her hands up his thighs she focused on the tiger tattoo and delicately kissed over the ink. The solid tissue under his skin was taut. He was strong. His thighs were thick with muscles. Good for a nice hard fuck with lots of stamina, she imagined.

“Can I touch your pretty cock, Harry?” She asked him as she looked up from her spot on her knees. Y/n was still fully dressed but she needed to worship his body for a bit first. It was very important. His build was perfection and he deserved the praise and attention for it.

“Yes, please.” He nodded.

She grinned and tilted her head, “I love it when you say please.”

She turned her focus to the thickened cock before her. He was so hard the foreskin was effectively pulled back revealing his engorged, pink tip. Smooth and pretty. She flattened her palms along either side of his dick over his trimmed pubes and let her fingertips reach up to the laurels at his hips before she grazed her thumb along his shaft.

Harry gasped as he watched her touch him and inspect him. He loved her attention.

“You’re so warm,” she cupped her palm under his shaft and lifted upward. “It’s heavy.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips over the laurels on his hips and sighed as his cock nudged against her chest. The man was incredible. A work of art. She smoothed her palms upward to his stomach and over his abs, tight and well-muscled. Masculine. Pretty.

Y/n had always appreciated how attractive and fit Harry was from afar. Making up scenarios in her head that allowed her to touch him and lick him and do ungodly things to him. Imagining he’d pluck her from the crowd and invite her backstage and then bring her back to his room and fuck her brains out. And she felt like her fantasy was now becoming a reality.

“I’ve always wanted to touch you and see you up close. You’re so sexy, Harry,” she purred as she brushed her hands down to his sides and around his low back as she looked up at him standing over her, “Can I put it in my mouth?” She directed her eyes to his cock and then back up to him.

“If you want. Is it easier if-“

“Just like this. Just need you in my mouth,” she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and lifted him upward, and licked the underside of his cock all the way to the tip. He tasted clean. She could tell he’d showered after the show. He smelled good and he looked even better.

Harry wasn’t sure what to do with his hands but he settled on putting his fingers at the back of her head gently. Not to push her or force her down but just to feel her in his hands and to touch what he could reach.

Kissing the ridge of his frenulum she kept her eyes upward on his as she widened her mouth and put her tongue out before gently wrapping her lips around his smooth tip. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her take him.

She licked and sucked the tip as she slowly stroked him at his base. Pulling back she smiled up at him, “You’re so long. I don’t think I can take you all the way. I’m gonna do my best to make it feel so good for you.” With that, she put his tip back into her mouth and got to work.

Harry groaned and let out the smallest whine, “S’okay. You’re perfect. Just like that, angel.”

She smiled around him and moaned softly at the little nickname. Angel. She figured that was cute.

With her free hand, she brushed her fingers over his thigh and the fine hairs over his skin. There wasn’t any single part of him that wasn’t gorgeous.

Bobbing her head and getting into a good rhythm she found that she could take him a little more. He was still quite thick, though, and it proved difficult.

“You don’t have to… fuck, fuck!” Harry moaned. She felt so good around him doing it just like she was. If she couldn’t deep-throat him he’d still be the happiest man on the planet at that moment. “Don’t have to go so deep. I wanna taste too…” he panted his words.

She pulled back when she tasted his precome and kissed her lips down his shaft to his pubes, seeing flecks of her glitter in the thatch of hair that surrounded his thick base, and then looked up at him before shifting to stand up. She dipped in to kiss his butterfly tattoo, gently poking her tongue out as she went and then upward to his pecs. Using her tongue she lapped at the muscle and wet his nipple before kissing all around, feeling his hair tickle her lips as she let her mouth drag over his skin. She traveled to the other side, her hands on his ribs, kissing and licking at his pectoral.

She sucked his nipple into her mouth and moaned when he gasped in response. Up she ventured to his swallows just under his clavicle, kissing the ink over his bone and skin and then his neck again.

“You’re gonna make me come just like this. Holy shit.” Harry was so hard it hurt and her lips on his skin felt like magic. “Please. Let me lick you too. Take this off.” He pleaded as he plucked at the fabric of her bodysuit.

Y/n stood back and began to unzip the back as she watched Harry. The girl was gorgeous already. Her hair with glitter and soft lips, round doe eyes… but when her tits softly bounced from the fabric she had them trapped under he nearly fell to his knees.

Her nipples were already tight and hard and the flesh that surrounded them was indulgent. Plump. He watched as she pulled the material down her body until she was nude. She’d had nothing on under her bodysuit.

Harry reached to cup her breasts and the moment his palms found her delicate skin and felt her nipples pressing into his hand he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple.

Harry Styles pink lips were sucking on her nipple. The Harry Styles (she repeated in her mind). She didn’t know what sort of good thing she’d done in life to deserve having this happen but she would not question it. She stuffed her fingers into his soft curls and cooed at him, “Feels so good, Harry. I love having your mouth on my skin like this.”

Harry squeezed and kneaded and licked and sucked. He peppered kisses over every inch of her breasts until Y/n was keening and her fingers were tight in his hair.

He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her toward the big bed, her back hitting the mattress solidly before he climbed between her legs and moaned at the state she was in, “Just need a taste. Is that okay?” He looked up at her, his hands smoothing from the inner bend of her knee up toward the top of her inner thigh, inches from her pussy.

“Yes. Of course, it is.” She was going to say more but the words caught in her throat as she watched him go in tongue first. Her cushiony crease was damp and tasty.

Pushing her deeper into the bed, he kept himself between her thighs before putting his arms under her hip and pushing his shoulders against the back of her thighs to keep her spread and open for him.

He began to lick and lap as he watched her eyes. The scruff on his face brushed at her soft skin and her pussy lips felt it too. But she was not going to stop him. She hoped she had scruff burn, or whatever the equivalent of a carpet burn from being eaten out by a man with an overgrown trim on his face was called.

Soft and wet and cushy. Harry was gentle with his licks and kisses. He was wetting his lips and tasting her arousal, swallowing it down, and digging in a little deeper when she started to pant and swivel her hips.

Suddenly the quick flicking of his tongue on her clit caught her off guard from the subdued licking and kissing he’d issued her at first. She moaned as she watched his pink tongue ravage her button. He was pushing into it, flicking it, pressing it down, lifting it up, and then… then he looked into her eyes as he wrapped his lips around her clit and pulled it into his mouth. Slurping noises took over the easy slushy sound of his tongue licking through her folds.

“Harry!” She craned her neck to see what sorcery he was performing, “You’re so good. Right there… yes!”

He had a few go-to cunnilingus moves. This one always seemed to get the biggest reaction the fastest. It also brought women to orgasm in record time. It took some practice but he’d suck the clit and continue flicking his tongue while applying pressure with his mouth over the pelvis.

And the way she was squirming indicated she was enjoying it very much.

He released her clit and then went back to slow licks and kisses up her crease. He stopped at her entrance and lapped at the slick spot for a moment before sticking his tongue inside as far as it would reach. Nuzzling in as close as he could get, he poked his tongue in and out and nudged his nose to her clit, rubbing back and forth.

“Fuck! Yes… Oh my god!”

Harry gently rocked his hips down into the mattress. His cock was throbbing. But he wanted her to come.

Y/n saw his motion and could tell he must be aching. And as much as she’d have loved to let him take his time and eat her out it could take awhile to get her to come from that alone. But she knew one thing that would satisfy her like nothing else.

“H…Harry?” She panted her words as he continued working at her pussy with his mouth.

He lifted his face, “What is it?”

“Would you… Do you want to have sex?” She wasn’t sure if that was where this was headed. Oral sex was great of course. But she’d seen his cock and his body was strong and lithe and she knew he’d be good at fucking. It was all she could think of. Having him inside of her, splitting her open, moving into her repeatedly…

Harry sat up, his chest red and his cock even redder, “Sure. I mean… I’d love that. But this,” he gestured toward her and then himself before putting his palm back on her inner thigh, “is only just for tonight. I just want to make that clear. I’m still on tour and… well you know.” His breaths were deep and ragged.

He hated to give the spiel right then, but it hadn’t come up and if there was one thing he learned in all of his years of having casual sex, it was to be upfront even if it put a slight damper on the mood. It was better than waiting until afterward.

She nodded and grinned, “Well yeah. I didn’t think you’d propose to me or anything. I know what this is. Just for tonight.”

Harry and Y/n positioned themselves on the bed into the pillows and Harry reached over to grab a condom but Y/n took it from him before he could open the wrapper, “Let me put it on you, big guy.”

Harry clenched his jaw and watched the pretty girl tear the wrapper and then straddle his thighs as she held his thick shaft in her palm so she could position the condom over his head before slowly rolling it down over his shaft, “Mmm… It’s tight on you. You’re so big, Harry.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Harry was a big fan of having his ego stroked. Loved being complimented. Praised. Loved when his cock was fawned over.

When the condom was on, Harry grabbed her hips as she climbed over him, lowering her pussy against his condom-covered cock and slipping up and down his shaft to wet the condom.

Glitter was everywhere. On his torso, on her tits, his shoulders, her thighs. She was too far gone to worry about what that could mean for later. She just wanted to feel him inside of her. She ached to have him inside of her.

Their mouths met again as they moved slowly together. Y/n could feel Harry’s tight grip on her thigh and then as he moved one hand to cup her ass, he squeezed and bucked up gently.

She couldn’t wait to get him inside of her so she lifted herself to her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Can I fuck myself on your pretty cock now? You ready to feel me?”

Harry moaned, “God yes.”

Harry was in awe of how she was speaking to him. Not shy and not over the top with how she was taking the lead either. She still allowed him to do things he wanted, but she took initiative and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

She grasped the base of his cock and looked down to where they were pressed together as she placed him at her entrance. Harry’s rigid cock was thick and she felt how tight the fit was the moment she slid down over his crown.

Harry groaned and moved both of his hands to her tits and squeezed as she took her time sitting over him.

“You’re so hard, Harry. So thick. Do you feel that?”

Harry’s head was spinning. Y/n was exactly what he needed for the night. The perfect combination of sexy and bold. An angel who knew what she wanted and took it. “Yes, angel… god… gonna dream of this forever,” he looked into her eyes once she was finally seated over him, his dick pressed into her so deep she was sure there had never been anyone that had reached that far into her before.

She knew this was just for the night. Understood Harry’s reasoning and figured that’s what this was going into it. But this was something she’d never forget. She���d always look back on this fondly. And even though he was looking at her in such a way that felt far more intimate than it should, she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder what it would be like to see him again. Because that was definitely not going to happen.

When she began to glide up and down shallowly they both panted in shaky breaths. Harry was glad the condom was giving him the slightest barrier so he didn’t come immediately. Because her tits and her skin, the soft specs of glitter, her lips, and tight pussy were begging for his orgasm. Begging for his come. Everything about her was sex. A gift in the form of a glittery angel that was coaxing and urging an orgasm from him.

“You’re gonna make me come so hard. Fucking perfect,” Harry whispered as she slowly ground over him and pressed her clit into his pelvis.

She nodded and smoothed her hands up, one at the side of his neck, the other on his jaw, “Yeah? My pussy feels so good, doesn’t it? Nice and tight around you. I just know I’m gripping the fuck out of your big cock.”

She moved slowly over him. Gently riding herself on his dick and keeping her clit stimulated as they kept their eyes on one another.

Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his neck and squeezed at the opposite side of his throat as she nipped his skin and drew her mouth upward to his jaw, “God it feels so good, Harry.”

It did feel good. The best maybe. She loved that she got to be in control a little. Loved how he was letting her take the reigns. But she did want him to fuck the life out of her. Put his strong muscles to work. To make a loud chorus of sex sounds and moans bouncing off the walls of the suite.

Stopping her gentle rocking and grinding she licked into his mouth slowly before pulling away, “I need you to fuck me so hard that I feel it for days. Okay? Since this is all we get, want to take you with me through the week.”

Harry let out a whimpered laugh as she removed herself from his lap. Harry followed her and climbed over her as she laid herself down on her back.

He would give her exactly what she wanted. Harry could fuck. That was for certain. He didn’t work out as hard as he did for no reason. And he was attentive so he knew he could at least make it fun. He hoped to give her an orgasm and that was the goal. But if she wanted it hard, wanted to feel him for days, he’d make sure of that.

He pushed himself between her thighs and pulled her hips toward him, elevating her bum off the mattress the slightest as he placed his fingers on her clit, “I’ll fuck you hard, angel. But you tell me if you need anything or you need me to stop. Okay?”

Y/n nodded and grinned at him, “Give it to me, Harry,” she moaned and rolled her hips upward, pressing her clit into his hand. Her thighs were angled upward with her feet flat on the mattress, her bottom resting between Harry’s thighs as he sat back on his haunches. This position would give him plenty of leverage to fuck into her hard and deep using his strong thighs.

Harry’s whole shaft was already coated in her as he lined himself up with her pussy. Removing his fingers from her clit he leaned forward and gave her tits an obligatory squeeze before he pushed his tip in, feeling the tight snap of her muscle expanding and receiving him.

They moaned in unison at the feel of him entering her slowly. He pressed in and slicked himself back out to the tip, watching the way she stretched around him, perfectly wet and aroused for him. And the next plunge he took wasn’t slow at all. She gasped as he slammed himself in to the hilt and held onto her hips, knocking her upward and making her tits bounce.

His pace was relentless and she knew it would be. He was strong and full of stamina. Each thrust and prod into her guts felt deeper and deeper and sharper and achier. She loved it.

She could barely get a single moan out with the way he was punching himself into her.

And just like she wanted, the sounds of sex surrounded them. Skin thudding together wetly, the smallest squeak of the bed rocked in time with his harsh thrust as he hammered into her, and their deep breaths and moans.

The view of her pussylips gripping him on each stroke was phenomenal. The smells, the sounds… The way her tits bounced and her mouth was dropped open. He knew at the very least she was enjoying it.

She moved her hand down her torso and to her clit while the other hand grasped onto one of Harry’s forearms where he kept a tight grasp on her hip.

Soaked. She was absolutely drenched. Her fingers slid over her throbbing button back and forth as Harry thrusted himself in and out deeper and deeper.

“This what you wanted, angel?” Harry asked the pretty girl who was quite clearly fucked out and flopping upward every time he plunged in balls deep.

Her tongue slid over her wet lips, “Oh! Fuck, Harry!” She gasped loudly.

Coming to a halt, he buried himself in until his balls were pressed into her bottom and he undulated his hips to punctuate just how deliciously deep he was inside of her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his cock grinding into her, [TK1] “You’re fucking me so good right now,” her chest was rising and falling and Harry couldn’t help when he brought a hand up to her breasts to fondle and press over her nipples, thumbs gliding over the supple skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and stretched her neck, keeping her eyes on his, “But you can always go harder.”

Harry blinked and coughed out a laugh, “Really? You want harder? Can I spank you?”

Y/n nodded quickly, “Fuck yes.”

And that was that. Harry loved a good spanking (whether giving or receiving if he were honest). He pulled out from her sweet pussy and lowered himself over her to kiss her mouth quickly.

But the moment he pulled away she was sitting up and turning herself around to give him access to her ass. On her hands and knees, she looked at him from over her shoulder and noted the way he was taking her all in.

He whined and grabbed onto the globes of her bum and smushed the flesh in his hands. Smoothing his palms over the expanse of her backside he brought them down to the backs of her thighs and then back up, letting his thumbs drag inward and through her wet pussy crease before finally issuing the first harsh strike.

She jumped at the sudden impact but when his palm came down on the other side she melted into the way his big hands felt on her. The sting and the leftover burn. Repeated smacks on either side were interrupted when he slammed his cock into her.

“Fuck I need to be inside of this pretty pussy.” He continued smacking her bum as he drove into her with long and hard strokes, bucking into her with meaningful thumps.

Y/n grasped the blankets under her and kept herself steady but by the time he was finished bruising her backside, his hips began to rock into her at a jarring pace once again. She slowly began to slip forward from his force.

With the front of Harry’s thighs pressed into the back of hers he put an arm under her middle to keep her from slipping too far down. His other hand moved from her hip down to her bum and pulled at the cheek as he rutted into her, a steady clatter of bodies knocking together.

Y/n reached down to rub her clit again, pushing Harry’s arm out of her way. He breathed out a laugh but moved his arm, bringing his other hand to the other side of her bottom, pulling both cheeks apart so he could watch himself sink into her over and over again. Small bits of her white cream were smearing over his condom and he imagined what it might look like to fill her up with his come and fuck himself into her, pushing his own orgasm deep into her insides.

“Harry!” She managed to cry out. It was difficult to speak at all but she was so close and the way he was rocking his hips into her in heavy plunges was perfection.

“I know, angel! You gonna come?” Harry’s words were strained. He was holding out for her to come first. Wanted to feel the squeeze and the throb of her pussy around him.

“Yes! Keep going!”

Harry could feel her fingers brushing against his balls as she rubbed her clit rapidly.

“M’gonna come… please, Y/n! Come for me angel!” He was trying his very best to stave off his orgasm but the view of her taking him and the sounds of him wetly plunging into her were sending him over the edge.

Suddenly Y/n removed her fingers from her clit and brought her hand behind her to grab Harry’s and pulled it forward, placing his palm over the front of her neck, “Choke me.”

Harry groaned as he put one palm flat onto the mattress next to her and used his other hand to squeeze at the sides of her neck. His strokes became slower, his hips pasted to her, pushing inward deep and heavy and sticky.

She sucked in one desperate gasp before his grip tightened just enough that she began to feel that sparkly, wooly stupor she loved with being gently choked. She reached for her clit and all she could focus on were the sounds of Harry grunting and moaning softly into her ear and the feel of his cock lodged deep into her guts. He wasn’t pulling back, only fucking himself forward, deeper and deeper as she submitted to her orgasm.

Harry could hear her wet gurgle and feel the way she vibrated under his body as he rocked into her and then the pulse of her soft walls, wrapped around his cock, gripping him tight as she fell into the realm of stupor and ecstasy.

He let go of her neck and straightened himself out, putting his hands onto her bottom and spreading her as he began to pound into her, long, smooth strokes of his cock nudging into her insides, stretching and splitting her as she came with shaky thighs.

“Fffucckk!” He threw his head back, the image of her swollen, wet, fucked out pussy seared in his brain as he began to come into his condom, filling it up with warm liquid. He groaned loudly into the suite as his balls were being properly drained, wishing, imagining he was giving her his come, coating her insides with him where her body would receive, swallow it, and use it accordingly.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Y/n gasped. He had nudged himself in as deep as he possibly could and the throb of his heavy cock in her felt like decadence. She couldn’t wait to check out the marks his fingers left behind the following day. The little secret only she’d know.

They collapsed together into the bed, Harry pulling out and carefully taking his condom off, discarding it on the floor without much care.

“You’re gonna stay here with me tonight?”

She let her fingers slowly work their way up his abs and over the butterfly, “If you want me to. I don’t mind leaving.”

She didn’t want to leave and Harry didn’t want her to either.

“I want you to stay. I’ve got a wake up at 9 am for a training session so, we can get you a taxi to your hotel or wherever you need then,” he sighed and dug an arm under her shoulder, dragging her toward himself.

Closing her eyes and smiling into his shoulder she nodded, “That sounds great.”

It was a shame this was all only for the night. He’d been an excellent lover, but it was fair of course. He was a busy, famous, pop star. She couldn’t blame him for setting that boundary. She was glad she even had the chance with him at all.  This would definitely be something she’d never forget.

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[drdemonprince]

So that was the DNC. The young liberals, white feminists, and leftists-in-name only have gladly fallen in line behind Kamala Harris, because she makes them feel good, and because all they have wanted was to find sufficient reason to stop feeling bad and get back to brunch. They've abandoned Palestine, the same way they abandoned the immunocompromised and abolition of the police, because these and so many other left political movements were little more than fashion to them. They were never interested in seeing the destruction of a political system that many of them could, theoretically, make themselves comfortable inside. They just wanted to be seen as current and good.

Did you know that there are 24 million millionaires in the United States? 24 Million. Millionaires. 24,000,000 millionaires. Up from 22 million in 2022. That's about 7.2% of the population. So much for "we are the 99%." There is a sizeable segment of this population that benefits from economic inequality and imperialism, increasingly so, as both the size of the lower class and the upper class expand.

Many millions of additional people have no interest in changing the U.S. political paradigm, because they have been propagandized to believe all compassion and competence fall away under "anarchy," or because they lack community in any meaningful sense and have no conception of how to act collectively. This is not their fault, but it means they act in ways counter to leftist organizing: calling the cops on people, refusing to show up for others, hoarding what property and wealth they do have, demanding that all acts of resistance be peaceful and brief, and pouring all of the political energies into exhorting others to vote (no matter how dyed blue or gerrymander red their districts are, no matter how genocidal, transphobic, and xenophobic all the options might be).

People think that participating in community is buying a $355 Chappel Roan ticket. The big voices for leftist organizing, supposedly, are individuals who market themselves as such on Instagram and TikTok in order to sell books, tarot decks, subscriptions, and workshops.

The sole method for social or political engagement that most people know of is making posts online, on an overblown advertising platform, and then complaining that they did not receive enough attention on their (monetized) posts. A person with shrewd social media instincts and a strong writerly voice can fake an entire political identity, professional connections, and expertise, and be followed by tens of thousands while doing nothing constructive in their day to day life or even being the person they claim to be. The more actively they post and generate revenue for Meta, the more lucrative their grift becomes for themselves and the more social power they accrue. Chasing power and profit for oneself is definitionally counter to leftist ideals. Even if they do not believe in electoralism, people like this produce endless content about the subject, because people follow it like it's sports. They're glorified entertainers, selling politically themed content, never taking themselves off the stage.

Challenge any of this and people will lash out at you, because you've attacked their cloth mother, and they're very lonely and afraid. The corporately-moderated semblance of connection is nearly all they ever get. You can't talk about sex, drugs, death, or any difficult human realities. If you don't present a disneyfied version of yourself you get accused or being a degenerate predator. If you don't participate at all, you must be apathetic, which is very bad, because having the wrong emotions or thoughts makes you evil.

The protests at the DNC were all either ill-conceived PSL honey traps leading dozens of 19-year-olds into arrest via Signal chat, or bloated 3-hour fundraising attempts miles away from the United Center and corralled by the police and Department of Justice marshalls and their collaborators. Everybody else is far away, enjoying brat colored cocktails and picking out demure tradwife clothing to disappear into for the fall. Dreaming of not having to worry anymore is akin to longing for death, and many liberal Americans have gladly embraced total obliteration.

It's not just conservatism that is a death cult. It's also the preservation of the nation-state. State-making obliterates whole cultures, languages, lands, traditions, and unique, person-to-person modes of relating. You get your food from a corporation or a government bureaucracy that does not know you and makes you fight for it, never from a person. This makes you forget that it's just persons, like the ones you know, like yourself, who do everything. It makes you cling to the state, and to normalcy, rather than speaking openly and messily to anybody else.

This is where it all begins and ends. The hope of a revolution rising up to somehow liberate Palestine was always a fantasy, the stuff of kid's movies. The truth is much darker, but more bearable, because it's real. We are very far from a dramatic political change. Most people aren't willing to even let a stranger into their homes to keep them sheltered. Did we really think they were going to rise up and put their body on the line to fight the state? Give up Starbucks and their PPO? Break the law? Lower their property value? Of course not. Get real.

And so, where do we start? By moving far, far away from the individualistic, capitalistic, clout-based avenues of political "participation" that do nothing but benefit people who present themselves as influential voices. By doing the small, slow, humble work of actual community building. Talking to your neighbors, feeding people, housing people, sacrificing something for others, driving a senior to the doctor, building a way outside of your own head.

We have to become more reliant upon one another and less moved by big personalities who will never know us or give a damn about us as people. Instagram pays me the more of you look at my posts and share them on their app. It pays every other high follower account you take political guidance from, too. You should be suspicious of me. And all the rest of them. You should place more trust in your friends, your neighbors, and the power of your own mind.

The way out of all this will not be easy. And it will not happen on here.

[eiightysixbaby]

personal jesus

word count: 8.6k

pairing: stripper!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your friends take you out to a strip club for your birthday, and you really hit it off with one particular stripper….

cw: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. mentions of alcohol consumption, billy is in this fic (I promise he’s not in it for very long it just makes perfect sense for him to be a stripper OKAY 😭) lap dances, depictions of sensual dancing/strip routines, oral (m & f receiving), very brief mention of spanking, spit kink, unprotected piv, creampie

author’s note: well. I’ve been working on this for a while now and I’m extremely happy that it’s finally ready to be shared! I highly recommend listening to personal jesus by depeche mode while you read this, considering the entire idea for this came to me while listening to that song! I hope you all enjoy, I put a lot of time into this and I hope it shows.

It’s your birthday. A day to celebrate you turning another year older. Another year closer to death, and another year painfully single and alone.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. Turning 25 doesn’t exactly make you geriatric, but seeing the people close to you hit milestones in their relationships had you feeling a little insecure on this particular birthday. Nancy was engaged, Robin and Vickie just celebrated their 3 year anniversary of dating, Chrissy and Steve had finally made things official a month ago and were sickeningly cute together. It just had you longing for a connection.

You’d had horrible luck with guys lately, and it was weighing on you. You wanted someone special to spend your day with, someone to hold you at night and stick by you forever. Or, at this point, you were even okay with just having a little fun. Any sort of male attention was fine with you, wanting to end the drought you’d been experiencing.

So, it was only natural that the girls decided to take you to a strip club this evening. The car pulls up to the door of the seedy looking building, everything very discreet from the outside. You’re wearing a shimmery silver dress with very thin straps, the fabric stopping above your mid thigh. Sheer black tights with tiny sequins adorn your legs, accompanied by silver heels with straps that you wrap around your lower legs and tie. You step out of your Uber and into the parking lot, heels clicking on the pavement. Here goes nothing.

You pull the door open, being greeted by a rush of blasting air conditioning, and the strong smell of alcohol and cologne. You see all of your friends at a table close to the stage at the center of the floor, and they immediately turn and wave at you. You prance over to them eagerly, receiving hugs from all of them along with shrill ‘Happy Birthday!’s. Robin immediately pulls out a sparkly sash that reads ‘Birthday Girl’ and throws it over your head, letting it rest diagonally across your body. Her and Vickie had actually come up with this idea for tonight, knowing it would be fun for you to let loose a little. You all start to catch up with one another, diving into the latest gossip and life updates.

Conversation lulls briefly, Chrissy taking this as her opportunity to pull out a tray of homemade cupcakes from their hiding spot under her chair, Nancy sticking candles in each one.

“Guys, do we really have to sing?” you groan, smiling despite your reluctance.

“Yes! We have to sing you happy birthday!” Chrissy insists, her delicate hands grabbing your forearms gently and squeezing. “You’re 25! This is exciting!!”

Nancy’s hands hold a small lighter, fingers cupping around each candle as she lights them individually. The diamond on her ring finger glistens in the lights of the club, catching your eye. You snap yourself out of the self-deprecating thoughts before they can even start, remembering where you are and how tonight is about you. Once every candle is lit, the girls gather close around the table, singing happy birthday to you rather loudly and theatrically. You’re a flustered mess as you giggle at them, blowing out your candles swiftly after they finish. They all clap and cheer, Vickie passing cupcakes around on small plates to everyone. You order a drink, your personal favorite, deciding you need to catch up with your friends who already have their beverages.

The lights in the club dim as you take a bite into your cupcake, strawberry icing greeting your tongue. A spotlight shines on the curtain at the back of the stage, and several whoops and hollers erupt from club patrons, including you and your friends. Your drink is placed in front of you by a server, and you take a sip, letting the alcohol sear your mouth. An electric buzz runs through you as the first sip travels down your throat, and the house music cuts. A new song begins and your heart starts racing. As excited as you were, you’d never been to a strip club before, and you felt your cheeks grow hot in anticipation.

The song that plays is ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine, you recognize it instantly. As cliche of a choice as it might be, you can’t pretend like it isn’t the perfect song for something like this.

The curtains flutter and a male figure appears, your head whipping in his direction in an instant. You can’t deny, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, curly caramel hair styled into a mullet, but it totally works on him. His teeth are perfect, and his body, oh his body. He’s wearing leather pants and a white button up shirt. Most of the buttons are undone, exposing his muscular chest. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and you can tell his biceps are begging to break out of the fabric. He has a black bowtie snug around his neck, and for some reason it makes him all the more attractive. The crowd cheers as he parades around the stage, holding his arms out in greeting as he walks the perimeter. He makes a show of undoing the last few buttons on his shirt, fingers slowly popping them out one by one. You and your friends cheer excitedly, all of you in fits of eager giggles.

“This one is Billy,” Robin leans in and whispers to you. “I was informed there’d be three performers tonight, and based on the stars in your eyes we’re off to a great start,” she teases you, and you swat her away with a laugh, eyes still trained on the stripper, who you now know to be named Billy.

He trails his hand down his bare chest slowly, grinding his hips into his hand when it hovers over his crotch. You’re practically swooning in your seat and based on the wolf whistles erupting from women around you, you’re not the only one. He takes his shirt off fully, throwing it into the crowd haphazardly. He parades around a little bit more, showing off that spectacular body, before he stills and the lights change color. The song starts to fade out, fading into a different one.

‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails begins to play through the speakers, and you notice movement behind the black curtain once more. Another man steps out, a striking contrast to Billy. He’s lankier, very thin, and his energy is far more submissive. It’s attractive all the same, and your eyes turn their focus to him. He has a head of shaggy brown hair and bangs that fall in his light brown eyes. His arms and chest aren’t as toned as Billy’s, but it works for him. He’s also wearing the black leather pants and white button up that Billy came out in, finished off with the same black bowtie. He commands the room better than you’d have expected him to, kneeling on the floor of the stage, leaning back on one hand as he rolls his hips upwards. He moves fluidly, and the way his hand glides down to grab his dick beneath his pants makes you sweat.

“Who- who’s that one?” you ask the table, leaning into their personal space a bit too far - but you’ll blame the alcohol.

“Jonathan,” Vickie smiles, and you’re impressed that they seemingly did their research before coming here tonight.

Jonathan and Billy both walk to the end of the stage, right in front of your table, and they both catch the sash you’re wearing. They wink at you, somehow in unison although it couldn’t have been planned, merely a glorious coincidence, and you give a flirtatious little wave in their direction. Jonathan shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders, throwing it in the opposite direction of the crowd as Billy had thrown his. It’s funny, but until now you didn’t even take note of the shiny metal poles fixed to the stage. Each man positions himself at one, and your eyes are transfixed on them. You can’t wrap your head around the way the two of them spin on the poles, how strong they must be to support their bodies like that. Billy has toned arms and a defined chest, so he fits the type, but Jonathan… you wouldn’t have expected this sort of strength from him. You’re absolutely entranced watching them move, and you don’t know how much time has passed before the music starts to fade again and the lights dim.

Various whoops and hollers erupt once more, wolf-whistles and claps of hands, and you can only assume whoever’s about to come out next is the crowd favorite. You chew on your lip in anticipation, watching as Billy and Jonathan simply walk back towards the curtain, standing in front of it unmoving. The previous song has completely faded out, the room dead silent for the first time since you got here. It only lasts a moment, though, before a new song announces itself over the speakers, without warning.

Reach out and touch faith.

‘Personal Jesus’ by Depeche Mode, it’s not a hard one to clock after that opening line. The curtains open in the dark, a spotlight coming on to illuminate the new figure. Your jaw drops when you see him, luckily catching yourself before your drink falls from your hand. You don’t need any more explanation as to why he’s the fan favorite stripper. He’s gorgeous - long brown curls cascading over his shoulders, a sheet of wavy bangs falling just above his eyes. He has a silver lip ring, and a piece of black jewelry in his left eyebrow. He glides his tongue along his top row of teeth in a smug open-mouthed chuckle, knowing the effect he has on the room. He wears the same leather pants, but he has a black button-up shirt on in place of the white ones the other two men were wearing. The way he moves in perfect time with this song makes you believe he must have lots of practice - this is his song and he’s making that clear. He walks easily to the end of the stage, stopping right in front of your table. He unbuttons his shirt in the most sensual fashion you think you’ve ever seen, nimble fingers drawing out every movement, making it take longer than it truly needs to. You can’t help but giggle when Billy and Jonathan come to his sides, pulling the garment off of him. The shirt gets tossed directly at you, the glowing birthday girl, and you gasp in surprise.

“And this one,” Nancy leans in close to your ear, “-is Eddie,” she winks at you, your hands clutching the shirt as you stare up at the man on the stage.

He’s even more glorious with his shirt off, his body littered with tattoos that you think you might want to lick. He has a tie around his neck, not a bowtie but a standard tie, and he tugs on it with force, dropping himself to his knees as if yanked by a leash. His eyes meet yours, unwavering as he watches you. Deep pools of brown that you feel like you could drown in. He lowers his torso to the ground, reaching a hand out and closing his fingers maybe two feet from your face, as if grabbing something.

Reach out and touch faith.

He’s grinding against the floor now, Billy and Jonathan entertaining different groups in the crowd from different sides of the stage. Eddie leans back on his heels, rolling his hips up into the air, one hand tugging on that damn tie and the other gliding slowly down his body. He grips his crotch, the shiny silver rings that adorn his fingers glistening from the bright lights above. You think you see Chrissy literally swoon beside you, and even Nancy’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed pink. Robin and Vickie are slack-jawed - impressed with the way these three guys know how to command the attention of a room. Your heart pounds in your chest with every rumble of the bass over the blaring speakers, your brain melting into a euphoric feeling.

Just as you think you’re able to catch your breath, Eddie jumps down from the stage. Oh god. He approaches you, standing with his legs apart, leaving room for your legs to rest between his. He bends down to your ear, one hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Think the birthday girl deserves a special show, hm?” he rasps into your ear, and you feel your skin grow hot.

His hips roll in front of your face, you’re eye-level with his crotch. Your skin feels white-hot, you know all the attention in the room must be on this scene and you’re both flattered and a little shy. You have to refrain from reaching out to Eddie, have to refrain from letting your fingers glide up his stomach, feel him. As if reading your mind, though, he grabs your hands, sliding them up his stomach and chest, encouraging you. You’re so taken with him you don’t register that the other two strippers have joined him until Billy’s murmuring in your ear from behind you.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” his honey voice drawls, hands resting on one of your shoulders.

Jonathan comes to stand behind you as well, and in his hand is a shot of whatever liquor the girls had ordered for you. He holds it where you can see it, your head tilted back to look at him. He gives you a smile - one that momentarily shatters the raunchy stripper vibe and reveals his true kindness. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for you.

“Open,” Eddie says, smirking down at you while he resumes in giving you a lap dance, his hips grinding lower over your lap now. He’s as close as he can be without pressing his full weight on you.

Lift up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer

Your lips part, your whole body vibrating as Jonathan tips the shot glass down towards your mouth. The liquid falls in a single stream onto your tongue, and you swallow it in one go.

“Mmm, she knows how to swallow,” Eddie purrs, and you feel your face heat up under his intense stare.

You can only imagine the looks on your friends’ faces, but you hear their cheers for you along with the rustling of dollar bills that you can only assume are being shoved in the guys’ pants. Jonathan and Billy turn to head back on stage, but not before turning back to get one last eyeful of you. You blow kisses at them, giggling when they pretend to catch them. Eddie’s still focused on you, still invading your personal space. You’re squeezing your thighs together beneath your tight little dress, looking right into his eyes as he laughs to himself. He stands, walking around your chair slowly. Your left hand slips bills into his tight pants, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. Feeling a little bold, you grab his tie with your other hand and tug on it playfully, almost catching him off guard but he steels himself. He quirks an eyebrow at you, now standing behind you. He bends down, gravelly voice rumbling in your ear.

“You have no idea what that does to me, sweetheart.”

Your own personal Jesus

Eddie’s lips nearly touch your earlobe as he speaks. The way his breath makes your skin tingle can only be described as a religious experience. Ringed fingers caress your arm before he picks up your hand, placing a kiss to the back of your palm. He teasingly bites one of your fingers, flustering you for probably the millionth time tonight. He finally retreats, mouthing one last ‘happy birthday’ as he returns to the stage. He’s not done with his show though, joining his costars for a little bit of action on the pole that waits for him. His leather pants squeeze his ass so tight, you hope you’re not drooling as you watch him. You suddenly wish he was back on your lap, murmuring filthy things into your ear, fucking you senseless. But you can’t hook up with the stripper, you remind yourself, and you try to wave the thoughts away as you watch the rest of his little performance.

There’s no denying the way he locks eyes with you any moment he can, strong limbs wrapping around the pole as he seems to effortlessly spin a little. Chrissy reaches out to touch your arm, giggling excitedly.

“He can’t stop looking at you, ohmygosh!” she squeaks, pulling her lip between her teeth as you meet Eddie’s eyes once more, as if to confirm her statement.

“Where do I inquire about adopting a stripper?” Robin asks jokingly. “Yeah, um, I’d like to take that one home please… and can we wrap him in a pretty bow?” she says, pretending like she’s talking on the phone to someone important. “Seriously, I think he likes you,” she says to you, tone serious once more.

“Guys, come on. Do you know how many girls he probably does this same exact routine to?” you say, waving a hand dismissively and trying to be lighthearted, but you can’t deny the sting in your chest when you say the words.

Eddie is a stripper. This is a routine - a money maker. It’s all just a calculated game to him. He probably treats every other birthday girl the same way he treated you. Your mouth feels dry suddenly, and you throw back another shot to hopefully drown out the incoming sadness. Even if it’s a routine, it doesn’t make him any less hot, and it doesn’t mean you still can’t have fun, you think to yourself. You focus your eyes back up at the three gorgeous men on stage, watch as they move in unison, gyrating and touching their bodies and each others’ bodies. Cash is being thrown to the stage around them, raining down as the lights flash and pulse. Eddie keeps catching your eyes, winking at you for good measure. The alcohol in your system enhances the effect he has on you. He’s so close to you yet so far, you want to grab a hold of him and pull him to you.

Reach out and touch faith

The song comes to a steady close, music fading as the guys all bow and blow kisses and wave. You and your friends are all clapping and cheering with giddy delight, your head a wonderful swirl of explicit thoughts. They slip back behind the curtain, one by one, and your heart pangs for a moment when Eddie gives one last pointed wave in the direction of your table before disappearing behind the black velvet.

“Oh. My. God!” Chrissy’s mouth is agape, her lips shiny from her sparkly lipgloss. She fans herself, mock-fainting back into her chair, making the whole table laugh. You must sound like a bunch of schoolgirls, blushing and fussing over a few pretty boys.

“So, like, we’re not gonna drop the fact that Eddie is totally in love with you, right?” Robin asks, turning her body to face you.

You roll your eyes, fingers pressing into her arm as you shove her oh-so-gently. “Stoooop. He is not in love with me,” you say, biting on your lip to hold back a smile.

“You can’t even say that with a straight face! You, at least, are in love with him,” she says matter of factly, nodding her head once with finality.

“I am not!” you meekly defend, taking a bite of another cupcake to avoid talking more.

“Oh come on, babe, you’re not fooling me. I’m not into the guys, I was just watching for your reactions the whole time. You are sooo crazy for him,” she laughs, Vickie nodding along as she talks.

You feel your cheeks heat to an impossible temperature, shaking your head incessantly as you continue to devour your dessert.

“Hey, at least he gave you a little souvenir,” Nancy says, nodding towards the shirt that he’d thrown at you, which now rests on the table top. You’d nearly forgotten about it. The fact that it was once on his gorgeous body, and now you have it, makes your head spin.

The topic of conversation eventually shifts, easing the pressure on you to answer their every question about Eddie. Your thoughts, however, linger on him. You were totally fucking into him, and you’re screwed. All he was doing was acting out a routine, probably something he does for every birthday girl or bachelorette that steps foot in here and has money to offer. That fact didn’t stop you from wanting him, though, your mind wandering to how it would feel to have those rings of his pressed deep inside of you, his lip ring cold against your mouth and the skin of your neck.

“Hello? Anybody home in there? Did you have too much to drink? Oh my god, are we gonna have to take you to the hospital on your twenty-fifth birthday?” Robin’s voice breaks you from your trance, your eyes widening in realization that you’d totally drifted off to outer space for a minute there.

“What? Oh god, no. I’m fine, sorry, just zoned out a bit,” you give them a reassuring smile, not wanting them to press you again about the too-attractive men that were all over you tonight.

“No worries, we were saying we were probably gonna get going, it’s pretty late,” Vickie jumps in, sticking out her thumb and motioning towards the door.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I’m getting tired anyways,” you affirm, moving to stand with the rest of the table.

You bid your friends goodbye, giving each of them a hug and thanking them for setting this outing up for you. You decide to hit the bathroom before you leave, declining Nancy’s offer of a ride home, so they all go on without you. You make your usual promises to text them soon and plan another get together before they leave you, stepping out into the cool night and going home.

Entering the bathroom, you find that you’re alone, much to your relief. You stare at yourself in the mirror, genuinely enjoying your appearance tonight. You wonder if Eddie thought you looked good, too. You let yourself wonder if he truly was interested in you like your friends were insisting. Sighing, you sit down on the toilet, pressing your palms to your cheeks and tugging the skin down frustratedly. You wish you’d been in a setting where you could’ve asked Eddie for his number or something, or even just actually had the chance to talk to him, to hold a conversation.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you finish up in the bathroom, making your way towards the door to leave. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly feels too cold, giving you goosebumps, and you quickly throw on the shirt Eddie had given you to keep yourself warmer. It’s the only cover-up you have, so, what else could you do? You totally don’t think about how it smells like him as you approach the exit. Your palm presses against the glass door, heaving it open in front of you. Heels step onto pavement, your eyes searching your bag to ensure you have everything. But as you’re looking, you bump into another figure.

“Oh shit! I’m sor-” you go to say, but the words evaporate into thin air when you see who you’d run into.

His leather jacket covers his arms and torso, dark brown curls draped over his shoulders. He has a cigarette dangling from his full pink lips, and a silver lip ring catches the light from the parking lot lamps for just a moment as he turns. Deep brown eyes meet yours, a soft expression on them. He recognizes you instantly, of course.

“Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention,” he apologizes sincerely, eyes raking over your frame, but not in a way that makes you feel small or uncomfortable.

“No, that’s my fault too. Sorry,” you admit, looking down at your high-heeled feet. You’re suddenly shy, and you wish you had some more liquid courage to down right about now.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. If you didn’t catch it earlier,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N,” you tell him your name, taking his hand in your far softer grip, bouncing them once in a greeting.

“Nice shirt,” he says, eyeing the black button down that rests loosely on your body.

“O-oh! Did you want it back?” you ask, embarrassment creeping up your spine. He wasn’t supposed to see you in his shirt, it was just to keep you warm until you could get home and change. Your eyes look towards the ground, suddenly too shy to look at him even though he’d quite literally been grinding on you an hour ago.

“Keep it,” he says, smiling brilliantly at you. “Looks better on you, anyways.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice impossibly quiet. A small smile tugs on the corners of your lips. Why is your heart pounding so hard?

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, sweetheart,” he continues as if reading your thoughts, and his deep syrupy voice is reassuring as he places a gentle hand on your arm. “Promise I don’t bite…. unless you want me to,” he says, giving you a cute little smirk.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a giggle. You scrape the toe of your shoe on the concrete absentmindedly, looking down at it as Eddie watches you.

“Did y’have a nice birthday?” he asks coolly, his index and middle finger delicately holding the cigarette at his side as he leans against the wall of the building.

You feel your cheeks heat, and you curl your lips inward to hide your smile a little. “I had a great birthday,” you say finally. You shove your nerves down, reminding yourself of the way he was all over you before. Maybe your friends were right, maybe he really is into you.

You feel like the universe is giving you a chance here, giving you an opportunity to talk to Eddie one-on-one like you’d wanted. Better not fuck it up, you think as you prepare your next words. “There was this really hot stripper that made the day so much better…” you trail off, shyness still evident but feeling more confident under the way he eyes you up.

“Oh? Tell me more about him,” Eddie says, stepping ever so slightly closer to you.

“Well, he’s tall and muscular and so handsome, and he has really sexy tattoos…” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile as he watches you through hooded eyes, “and he just made me feel so special, and it’s such a shame I couldn’t get his number or anything…..” you sigh exaggeratedly, your doe eyes looking up at him.

Eddie smiles, and you swear it looks shy, like he isn’t used to the compliments or the attention. Like he doesn’t do what he does for a living.

“Well, I’ll have you know there was this girl… I hear it’s her birthday, actually, and she just made my shift so much better than it could have been,” he rambles. “She was just the prettiest thing,” he says, not breaking your gaze as he does.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your chin up to him.

“Yeah,” he says softly, looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “And I think I can do her one better than just giving her my number,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, half-lidded eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes and back down again. He purses his lips in a smirk, stomping his cigarette out with the toe of his shoe.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you?”

“Hm. That depends. You’re not a serial killer, are you?” you ask, teasing.

“Oh, shoot, sweetheart. You caught me,” Eddie says, holding his hands over his eyes and peering through his fingers.

You laugh, and he thinks about how he’d like to hear that sound a lot more. He reaches a hand out for you to take, nodding down at it. “Whaddya say? Care to join me?” he asks, and you meet his eyes as he peers through his bangs at you.

His open hand waits, silver rings catching the fluorescent light from the lamps in the parking lot. It beckons you, asking you to take it. The song from earlier rings in your head.

Reach out and touch faith

You take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Lead the way, handsome.”

Eddie’s vehicle is nice, extremely nice, actually. It’s a black Jeep, black leather seats with red details and stitching. The money he makes at the club clearly pays off, you suppose. Hell, you’d seen how much cash he’d been thrown tonight alone - including what you’d contributed. He has a pair of red fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as you swat them once, making them sway where they hang.

“Are you laughing at my dice, sweetheart?” he asks, shuffling into his own seat.

“Oh, no. I’d never,” you say, biting back a smile.

His sparkling eyes don’t leave yours, pulling you in, refusing to let you go. You notice his tongue dart out to wet his lips, notice the way he leans ever so slightly towards you. The tension in the closed space suddenly grows palpable, like you could slice it with your fingernail if you reached out.

You don’t make it to Eddie’s place. You don’t even make it out of the parking lot.

You’re the one to close the distance between the two of you, leaning over the center console of the car to press your lips to his. He grunts in pleasant surprise, his hands finding their way to your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your heart is racing, thoughts going a mile a minute as you process the fact that this is really happening. You can feel the metal of the ring adorning his bottom lip as your mouth glides against his, the jewelry not getting in the way but remaining noticeable. His tongue doesn’t ask for permission, just slides its way past your parted lips. It mingles with yours, swapping spit back and forth in a heated encounter. You bite his bottom lip and tug, toying with the metal ring with your teeth. He whines, pulling away from you the slightest bit, eyes half lidded as he jerks his head to the side, motioning to the backseat.

“Get in the back,” he pants, “need you right here, right now.”

You oblige, opting to get out of the car and actually go in through the back door rather than climbing ungracefully over your seat. Eddie follows suit, crawling towards you like an animal stalking its prey, not satisfied till his face hovers over yours, his mouth dipping down to meet your soft lips. He captures them briefly before pulling away again, moving down further to press kisses to your jawline, your neck, your collarbone. You feel his tongue and teeth against the skin, biting, sucking, licking. You whimper beneath him, raising your hips to brush against his. The chuckle that leaves his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, one of his strong hands coming down to push your hips firmly against the seat.

“Such a needy thing, hm?” he tuts, looking up at you with those big doe eyes before he resumes kissing your neck.

His hand holds you in place like it’s easy work, keeping you still when your body tries to writhe beneath him. The smell of his cologne fills your nose, intoxicating as you breathe it in along with the whisper of cigarette smoke from the one he’d had mere minutes ago. The chain around his neck dangles low, the guitar pick pendant brushing the dip between your breasts that your dress leaves partially exposed.

You remember the way he teased you inside the club, remember the way he let you tug on his tie, the way his hips gyrated above your lap. You grow wetter at the memories, more than ready to actually get to have him now. You pull his shirt off of your shoulders, playfully tossing it at him, mimicking the way he’d tossed it at you. His eyes go wide at it, a hand pressing to his forehead as he pretends to swoon, making you laugh. The shirt gets discarded to the floor, Eddie leaning back over your frame. He shoves the neckline of your dress down, freeing your tits for him. You went braless tonight and you’re thanking yourself for it, the ease with which he takes one of your peaked nipples into his mouth sending you reeling. He sucks on one, then the other, his hand always toying with the mound of flesh that isn’t currently being entertained by his tongue.

“Eddie,” you whine, arching your chest further into his touch.

“What is it, baby?” he purrs, the hand on your hip now skirting down your thigh, reaching the hem of your dress and hiking the fabric upwards.

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, not begging for anything specific but just for more.

He looks at you, leaning back on his calves, hands raking over your thighs as he slides back.

“Look how pretty you are,” he muses, eyes trained on the lace between your thighs. Your dress is pushed up so far, leaving you almost entirely exposed.

He presses his thumb over your clit, just a thin excuse for fabric separating his skin from yours. You suck in a sharp breath, bucking your hips slightly into his touch.

“Oh, she wants me to touch her so bad, huh?” he teases, finger stroking over the growing wet patch on your underwear.

“Please,” you whine again, gasping when Eddie hooks a finger into your panties, yanking them down.

His big hands delicately take your heels off of your feet, setting them on the floor of his car. He tugs your panties completely off of your legs then, letting them land wherever he tosses them. His leather jacket comes off as well, being thrown into the front seat. His black t-shirt hugs his biceps well, the fabric clinging to his body in a way that makes him so much more enticing.

He swipes a finger up through your folds, collecting your slick before bringing said finger to his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting what he can of you and moaning. You’re awestruck watching him, feeling like your heart is going to beat out of your chest when his eyes meet yours, dark and needy. He crouches down swiftly, settling himself so his face is right in front of your waiting pussy. His tongue sticks out, licking up your folds in the same pattern his finger had just followed. You cry out in pleasant surprise as he begins eating your cunt, a present perfectly unwrapped just for him. He presses his tongue inside of you, velvety muscle tasting every inch of you.

His hands grip your thighs, holding your legs open for him. Dark brown eyes look up to meet yours, and the sight is unholy. The way his lips attach to your clit and suck, the way he purposefully makes a show of dragging his tongue through your puffy, swollen lips, never once breaking eye contact. It makes you want to worship him, a divine presence for you to praise.

Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares

“Eddie…” you whine, screwing your eyes shut when his tongue flicks faster over your clit.

He simply hums in response, a pleased noise that vibrates against your core. He knows what he’s doing to you, he can tell by the way you whimper and writhe beneath him. His tongue stays focused on your clit as he brings two fingers to your entrance, slipping them easily inside of you. You gasp, tugging on his hair in desperation. He groans, a deep, throaty noise that catches you by surprise.

“Keep fuckin’ pulling my hair, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your wet heat. “Wanna know how good ‘m makin’ you feel.”

Your back arches into his touch when he curls those fingers inside of you, perfect pink lips still pursed around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, tension building and building in the pit of your stomach the more he winds you up.

“Eddie, I- I’m gonna-” you pant, fingers still entwined in his curls, eliciting more pleased sounds from him.

His fingers only move quicker in response, curling inside of you and bringing you right to the edge, letting you plummet into bliss. You clench around him, squeezing his fingers over and over as he works you through your high. You jerk your hips, suddenly overstimulated, and Eddie takes the hint. He removes his fingers, his mouth unlatching from your sensitive clit.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he grins, flashing those perfect white teeth at you.

You flush, scrunching your face in embarrassment before he leans down to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you throb. You suck lightly on his tongue, letting out a breathy laugh when he grinds his hips against you in response.

“Fuck, angel, need to be inside you…” he murmurs, mouth pressing kisses to the shell of your ear.

“Mmm, not yet,” you reply, capturing his lips in another quick kiss. “If I don’t have my mouth on you in the next five minutes I’m not gonna survive,” you purr, mouthing at his jaw, sucking the supple skin of his neck.

He groans, raspy and deep, letting you mark him as your fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of his tight jeans. His erect cock hangs heavy in the thin fabric of his boxers, finally letting you gauge how big he is. You swallow, hand wrapping around the outline of his cock and squeezing. Eddie inhales sharply, dropping his head to rest on your chest. His arms tense as he props himself up, his resolve threatening to crumble with the way your thumb teases his tip through cotton fabric. You can feel the pre-cum leaking from him, sticky strings of it attaching to the pad of your finger as you tease.

“Baby, mmmmfuck,” he moans, looking back up at you with pleading eyes.

“Sit back,” you instruct him, removing your hand from his bulge. “Let me take care of you.”

He just about combusts when you clamber to the floor of the spacious back seat, tugging his boxers from around the taper of his hips. You let them drop to his ankles, pooling around his shoes. His cock springs free in front of you, heavy and leaking for you. The trimmed patch of hair at the base has your mouth watering, his balls hanging beneath like the perfect temptation. You open your mouth, making a show of sticking your tongue out as you tap the tip of his cock against it. You give teasing licks across the head, lapping up the pre-cum and tasting him properly.

He whines above you, his head thrown back and the veins in his neck pulsing. His previously cocky demeanor is gone in this moment, giving in completely to how desperate he is for you. It seems to be a give and take, both of you worshiping each other like the holiest entities.

You take him fully past your lips, saliva pooling beneath your tongue. You bob your head, coating him with your spit. The girth of him stretches your mouth uncomfortably, and you move slowly as you adjust to taking him. One of his hands flies down to your hair, gripping it to give himself some sort of leverage.

The sight of you on your knees for him, tits hanging free on your chest and your perfect lips sucking him right in has him feeling like he could melt into the seats of his car. Your big doe eyes peer up at him, feeling like a shot to the fucking heart.

“God, baby, your mouth feels like fucking heaven,” he praises, watching himself disappear into your perfect mouth.

You hum in satisfaction, picking up your pace. You take him until his head hits the back of your throat, making your throat restrict as you gag around him. The whine that comes out of him is sinful, there’s no other word to describe it, and it has you pressing your thighs together for some relief to your core that already aches for him again. His modest muscles strain against the tight fabric of his t-shirt, every inch of his body trying to maintain composure and failing. You grip his balls with one hand, holding the base of his shaft with the other. You pump his cock in your fist in tandem with how your mouth bobs on his length, other hand squeezing the squishy flesh of his balls simultaneously. He almost jumps off the seat his hips buck so hard, forcing another gag from you as his cock hits your throat again.

Your nose brushes the curly hair on his pubic bone, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mouth off of him, regaining your control. You continue what you’d been doing, both of your hands and your mouth working him closer and closer to release. Strings of curse words leave his perfect parted lips, the hand in your hair guiding the movements of your head ever so slightly.

“Babybabybaby,” he rushes out, a strangled groan escaping with the words. “Don’t wanna - fuck - don’t wanna cum yet. Need to fuck you, pretty girl,” he says, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

You press soft kisses to the head of his cock, the skin still flushed a darker shade of pink, ready and waiting to be inside of you. He pulls you up onto his lap, hands immediately cupping your breasts and squeezing as he presses a rough kiss to your lips. Your dress remains bunched up at your middle, your glistening pussy rubbing right against Eddie’s cock, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Eddie stops the slow rocking of your hips suddenly, as if startled.

“What’s wrong?” you urge, meeting his eyes that hold a guilty expression.

“I totally don’t have condoms…” he says sheepishly, biting his lip.

“Oh - I mean, we don’t need to use one, if you’re okay with that. I’m on the pill and I - I’m clean, and stuff,” you ramble, wondering why you’re finding it so fucking hard to get words out now.

“I’m clean too. Promise. I, uh, don’t exactly do this often,” he looks at you shyly, the demeanor unfitting for him. The confession that he doesn’t do this often admittedly makes your heart swell, all of those nervous thoughts you’d had about him earlier, about being part of a routine, washing away gradually. “But if you’d rather we don’t, it can wait till next time,” he continues.

“Next time?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Y-yeah. I mean, I mean if you want to see me again after thi-” you cut off his nervous stammering with a firm kiss, your fingers cupping his chin as you claim his mouth with yours. His nervousness makes him so much less intimidating, taking him down from being this larger-than-life entity, an unobtainable stripper who sees attractive women every night, to just being… a regular guy. A cute, sweet, charming guy who’s also insanely sexy.

Pulling away, he smiles lazily at you, kiss-drunk and awestruck. “Yes I want to see you again. And yes I want you to fuck me, right here right now,” you reassure him, your sultry gaze enough to make him do anything you could ask of him.

“Fucking deal, babe,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. His tattoos are on full display, and your eyes rake over him, your cunt pulsing with all of your filthy thoughts. He smirks at you, clearly liking the way you drink him in, biting his lip as you raise your hips slightly so he can position his cock at your entrance.

You sink down onto him without a warning, the two of you gasping in unison. You grip his shoulders for leverage, the stretch to fit him slightly uncomfortable despite your extreme arousal. You work yourself down, down, down, slowly until you’re fully seated on him. He sits heavy and thick inside of you, making you ache with an enticing kind of soreness. Your walls flutter slightly around him as you wiggle your hips around, getting used to the feel of him. His hands grip your hips, his lips parted and his eyes screwed shut as you start to find your bearings on top of him. You dip your head down, rolling your hips on him as you suck a brutal hickey into the column of his throat. Your teeth gnash at soft skin, tongue soothing the sting afterwards. A low growl escapes him, fingers squeezing your doughy flesh as he starts to rut himself into your soaked cunt.

Breathy moans leave your lips, your jaw hanging open as he fucks into you faster. Your tits bounce in front of his face, and he wants to take them into his mouth and stay latched on forever. Perfect swells of skin, all for him to touch and kiss and suck. His hands grip the soft globes of your ass as his mouth sucks the skin of your chest, making you moan when his fingers squeeze hard.

You’re so fucking full of him you feel delirious, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every deep stroke he delivers to you. His name is tumbling from your mouth in a rhythmic pattern, over and over, like a prayer. You really can’t get that damn song out of your head from before, and it makes so much sense why he chose it to be his.

Your own personal Jesus

You want to praise Eddie right beneath the roof of his Jeep. Want to shout his name from the rooftops, make the whole world know how good he’s fucking you right now. You want to follow every word he says, every command he gives you. You want to pray to him every night before you go to bed, you just want to worship him. The way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his lips suck on your neck make you feel like you’re being worshipped, too. He sucks and squeezes and fucks like this may be his last opportunity to, like he’s savoring every possible bit of you and committing you to permanent memory.

You bounce on his cock, gaining some more control as Eddie’s thrusts slow down with fatigue. You take the reins, cupping his face in your hand and kissing him hard. Licking into his mouth desperately, humming when his tongue meets yours. But then he somehow takes control again, making you pliant for him even as you ride him with vigor. He squeezes your jaw, letting your mouth fall open before he spits into it, a string of his saliva dropping onto your tongue. You swallow it, not needing to be instructed, and you swear Eddie gets even harder inside of you. You recall Eddie’s comment from earlier, when Jonathan had given you the shot. ‘She knows how to swallow.’

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, jaw tight and the veins in his neck prominent as he stills your bouncing on top of him and thrusts up into you.

He goes so deep you’re left seeing stars, lurching forward and gripping his shoulders for stability. Your body feels like it could crumple into itself if you let it, every one of your limbs overtaken with pleasure. You feel a familiar tension building higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the occasional smacking of your lips against his fills the vehicle, the air growing humid with every hot breath that leaves your mouths. The sounds he makes are downright obscene, any bit of composure he’d had completely slipping away for you. His thrusts get faster, faster, and you let your fingers drop down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud.

“Ohhhh fuck baby,” Eddie moans, watching the way your head tips back as you pleasure yourself. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Eddie,” you cry, thighs trembling as your orgasm crawls closer and closer.

His fingers squeeze your hips impossibly tight, one of his hands letting go only to deliver a swift smack to your ass. You whine, cursing under your breath as the pads of your fingers circle your clit again and again. Eddie fucks you ruthlessly, pulling almost entirely out just to sheathe himself inside of you again, taking your breath away. The friction and the fullness is euphoric, your body giving way completely to pleasure as your second orgasm finally rips through you. You’re screaming out for him, chanting his name again and again as you come undone on his cock. You soak him, lewd, wet noises coming from you as he continues to thrust beneath you.

“‘M gonna cum so fucking hard, baby,” he rasps, looking at you through his lashes. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside. Inside Eddie, please,” you rush out, begging him to fill you with his seed. He lets out a strangled whine at this, gripping your flesh even harder.

You swear his eyes roll back into his head, hips stuttering and his cock pulsing as you feel the warmth of his cum painting your insides. His final thrusts are sloppy as he gives you every last drop of his cum, your mouth hung open in a silent moan at the overwhelming sensation of him gliding against your sensitive walls.

His chest is heaving with each breath he takes, his palms splayed out across your lower back, holding you close to him when you slump forward. Your legs feel like jelly, weak and trembling from exertion. Your mind is fuzzy in the best way, a smile on your face when Eddie tilts you to look at him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your entire face, loving how blissed out you look. “Wanted to have you all to myself during our whole show tonight, god…” he continues, smirking a little as he shakes his head.

“I could say the same to you,” you reply, looking at his lips as you talk.

His mouth catches yours in a lazy kiss, tongues dancing together sloppily. His fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, slowly guiding you up and off of his softened cock.

“So, do I have to shove more dollar bills in your pants for all of that, too, or?” you joke, earning a laugh from Eddie that presents itself in a harsh puff of air from his nose.

“Nah, that’s on the house, baby,” he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

You both sit in silence for a moment, your delicate fingers tracing patterns up and down his arms. He looks at you like you’re an angel sent from the heavens, those chocolate brown eyes admiring you in the kindest way.

“Do you, uh, still wanna come back to my place?” he says finally, that ill-fitting nervousness creeping back into his voice.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to ponder, pulling your dress back up over your breasts and tugging the hem to rest normally on your thighs. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have a stripper pole in my living room,” he says with a smug grin. “I’ll give you your own private show.”

“Sold.”

[allfearstofallto]

I Wonder if You Look Both Ways When You Cross My Mind

Yandere! Lyney x Fem! Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

“I'd like to give one last thank you to my assistant, Lynette,” Lyney called to the large crowd, before turning to you who still stood nervously on the stage. All the hot lights and loud cheering had you stiff as a board, wondering if your idleness made the show boring. But he still lifted your hand and placed a chaste kiss upon the back of it, “And another thank you to my wonderful audience volunteer.”

Another round of applause rang through, followed by a bow from Lyney and the curtains falling. Once all of the many eyes were off you, you felt as if your shoulders could finally slump, you could relax. Lyney, still gripping your hand stroked his thumb across it, a gentle smile on his face. You were starstruck at being able to meet the Lyney, not able to pull away from him and barely even being able to speak, other than what would be considered typical fangirling jurgen.

“You were an excellent volunteer,” he praised you while mystically pulling a flower from the sleeve of his shirt, “And a rather beautiful one at that, if you don't mind me saying. Have you ever considered acting? Maybe in a certain magician's troupe?”

You flushed from his bombardment of compliments, your hands trembling around the stem of the ruby red rose, “Oh, I could never-” you began to deny, but one of his hands was already at your cheek, calming you before you could speak ill of yourself.

“Nonsense,” He hushed you, “A beauty like you needs to be seen by the world, don't you think?”

Stage fright was the least of your problems. You found yourself lacking in fluidity, stiff when eyes were on your and not interesting to look at. Not eccentric and loud like Lyney, but not cold and captivatingly mysterious like Lynette. There was nothing you could do that would add to an already complete show, so politely, you declined.

“Of course,” Lyney said, seeming like he was forcing the words through gritted teeth. When you turned to leave, he squeezed your hand, a little too tightly, almost painfully. You let out a yelp and looked back at him, but he let you go with a playful laugh and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

You found yourself at another Lyney show only a few nights later, having luckily won a ticket in a random drawing, much to your surprise, but you weren't upset about it. The energy of the crowd was almost addicting and the show never dull. Even though he seemed to perform everyday, Lyney had a way of making his set fresh, keeping it from ever growing boring.

Then came the part where a number was drawn, choosing which lucky audience member would join him on stage. Familiar butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you remembered your own number being picked during the last show. That same mixture of joy and fear. The crowd waited with bated breaths for who's number would be called.

“Seat number 47,” Lynette spoke softly into her microphone. Hushed whispers traveled across the room, waiting for the person who's number was called to stand. For you to stand. It was your seat number.

You could hear whispers about how you'd been chosen only a few days earlier as your feet that felt like lead carried you towards the stage. Lyney, once again, took your hand and helped you up, the same as before. Your body shook as you nervously smiled up at the man, who held your hand as he walked you to the center of the stage, eyeing you the entire time and not once the crowd.

“I should tell you, my darling audience that this decision was indeed rigged,” he squeezed your hand again as a wave of murmurs filled the room. Somehow those words made your heart drop to your stomach as sweat began to pool on your forehead, “I couldn't think of another way to introduce my newest partner and my perfect girlfriend,”

Dumbfounded didn't begin to describe the look on your face, nor the bewilderment you were feeling. You tried to see if he was referring to anyone else, but you were truly the only person on the stage and almost as if to prove his point, the back of your hand was kissed, his deep blue eyes lingering on your face as he gestured for the crowd to applaud again.

“I am a man that's not easily charmed, yet she truly took my breath away,” noises of interest followed and all you could do was stand there, opening and closing your mouth, unable to think of what to say. You could barely stand silently in front of a large crowd, let alone tell them that something was wrong.

So when Lyney leaned forward, pressing his cold lips against yours and placing a hand on the small of your back, you did nothing. When he pulled from that kiss, flashing you an almost sinister smile with eyes that looked empty, your voice bitched in your throat, almost keeping you from speaking a word.

“Forgive me for my vulgar actions, my dear audience!” Another statement spoken to the crowd as he held you firmly in place, “I simply can't keep my hands off of my sweet, my darling, my love, ma chérie!”