#tiny dancer thoughts

[tiny-dancer-thoughts]

an afternoon nap is worth it in the moment, but not worth it as much when the 2am insomnia hits

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

WHEN I SAY SOFTLYYY SLOWWWLYYYYY

[itscooltoskate]

the way she pushes him around 😭

he's never beating the tiny sub allegations

[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

*to the tune of tiny dancer* it’s a little bit slutty / this feeling inside

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes, BDSM, WC 5.6k

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[girlrotterr]

— "𝘚𝛨𝛦'𝘚 𝑇𝛨𝐼𝛮𝛫𝐼𝛮𝐺 𝛢𝛣𐒆𝑈𝑇 𝛭𝛦 𝛦𝑉𝛦𝑅𝑌 𝛮𝐼𝐺𝛨𝑇, 𐒆𝛨!"

𝑃𝛢𝐼𝑅𝐼𝛮𝐺: loser!ellie x stripper!reader

𝘚𝑌𝛮𐒆𝑃𝘚𝐼𝘚: loser!ellie headcanons!

𝛢/𝛮: first attempt at headcanons!! soo this may be a little jumbled but I absolutely loved making this!!

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who swears it’s the last time she’s coming to see you because she can’t risk embarrassing herself again. But the moment she remembers the rhythm of your body, her mind drifts, and suddenly she’s back at the club, dollar in hand, cheeks warm as she recalls the tiny, breathless “Hello..” she squeaked out the last time. Before she knows it, she’s there again, telling herself it’s just one more time.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s made herself a regular at the club, nervously occupying the same table every night, hoping for just a glimpse of you. But her dorkiness draws attention; other dancers lean over, offering her dances with winks and playful smiles. She goes stiff, almost panicking, stuttering, “Oh, no—I mean, no, thank you,” glancing toward the stage, desperate for you to see that she’s loyal to one person only. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s just one dance.” Too polite to shut them down, she mumbles, “I, um…no, sorry,” rubbing the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact like her life depends on it. “I’m, like… kinda into someone already,” her voice is so quiet that the other dancers smirk, teasing her about her crush. She turns bright red, waving them off, mumbling, “It’s…not like that,” even as her eyes drift to the stage. 

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t help but stare when you’re on stage, entranced by every movement, forgetting herself so completely that she grips the edge of her seat, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. The second you look her way, though, her cheeks flush crimson, and she fumbles over her drink, trying to play it cool, but you see it—the way she’s completely, hopelessly hooked on you.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie whenever she thinks she’ll act smooth next time, she ends up a flustered mess. Her hand trembles midair as she finally gathers the courage to slip a dollar between your thong; the moment their fingers brush, her eyes go wide, and she swears her heart might actually stop.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to mutter something cool under her breath, like “you’re so sexy,” but it comes out so soft and awkward that you have to lean in to hear her. Your knowing smile makes her cheeks heat up even more. 

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who barely finishes her shift at her part-time job before she’s rushing to her phone, pulling up her bank app to see if her paycheck hit. The second she sees it’s in, she’s already thinking about all the ways she can spend it on you. She might be broke for the next two weeks, but the thought of seeing your face light up is enough to keep her going.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie hyping herself up by imagining what she’ll surprise you with next. The moment her shift’s over, she’s browsing for little things you’d love: those fancy earrings you mentioned once, a necklace she thinks would look perfect on you, or that one bottle of perfume she remembers you ran out of. By the time she’s done, she’s practically holding an empty wallet, but she doesn’t even care.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who shows up at the club with a nervous grin and a freshly wrapped gift just for you, stuffed in a little paper bag she decorated herself to save money. She’s a bit embarrassed handing it to you, mumbling, “It’s nothing fancy,” but her heart’s racing as she watches you unwrap it. Every time you gasp or smile, her face lights up even brighter, totally worth every last cent.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who sits at home counting change, literally living off instant ramen, but with zero regrets because she already spent her last dollars on that pair of heels you were obsessing over. She pictures you wearing them, looking absolutely incredible, and can’t wait for your next dance. Even though she’s practically starving, she figures seeing you in them will more than make up for it.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t even afford the gas to drive herself home but still manages to slip a folded bill to you at the club, the look on her face a mixture of pride and shyness as she mutters, “Just…y’know, for you.” It’s her last dollar, but when you smile and lean in to thank her, she’s practically glowing, whispering to herself that she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who hypes herself up to ask you out after your shift, but when she sees you coming her way, her mind goes blank. “You’re, like… really good at…” she blurts out, regretting it the instant it leaves her lips. Blushing hard, she watches you raise a brow, her heart racing as she shuffles awkwardly on the spot. But when you smile at her, she’s secretly thrilled.

⋆⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie dresses in a rotation of baggy jeans that hang a little low on her hips, with boxers peeking out and a series of painfully awkward T-shirts proclaiming phrases like “Raw Sex” or “Big Dick Is Back In Town” in bold, obnoxious letters. She strolls in with her half-tucked T-shirt, completely unaware of how ridiculous she looks, thinking they make her seem cool.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to keep her composure as you eye her stupid shirt, but the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. She fumbles, wishing she’d worn anything else, but it’s too late. You lean in, whispering, “Nice shirt,” and Ellie is left a red-faced mess, speechless, trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her or if you actually think it’s… well, nice. “It was laundry day…” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her shirt, tugging it down to cover the waistband of her jeans, as if you won’t notice the bold letters across her chest.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who goes completely stiff when you slide onto her lap, her eyes wide as she tries to figure out where to put her hands without losing her mind. Her palms are already clammy, and she stares up at you, clearly overwhelmed, the tips of her fingers hovering, barely daring to graze you. As you lean closer, brushing your chest against her, she bites her lip to keep from making a sound, her breath catching. When you take her hand and guide it to your waist, she’s sure you can feel her fingers trembling, cold against your skin. You whisper something teasing in her ear, and she’s suddenly even more nervous, her pulse racing as she clings to your words.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s a flustered, shaky mess when her fingertips brush the soft skin , cheeks flushed red as she tries to avoid looking too overwhelmed. You can feel her hands flex slightly, as if she’s afraid to grip you too tightly and ruin the moment. Every little movement from you has her body tensing, her fingers trailing tentatively over you, and the way she’s practically holding her breath gives her away. When her fingers graze your ass, she flinches, almost pulling back, but your playful smile makes her stay put.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie whose cheeks are flushed, and she can barely make eye contact, her voice a hoarse whisper as she mumbles, “I—I don’t usually… um..” When you rest your hands on her shoulders, guiding her hands more firmly around you, her fingertips sink into your waist, icy and shaky. She tries to lean in like she knows what she’s doing, only for you to kiss her neck, leaving her a quivering mess. She tilts her head back, giving you full access, her breath hitching audibly, and she prays you don’t tease her about it. But you do, whispering against her ear, making her shift in her seat as her face flushes an even deeper shade of pink, almost whining in response.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

proposing what I'm going to call Gaylor's Razor, which is: never explain normal shit as being part of a secret message that can only be decoded by over-analysis.

"These Taylor Swift lyrics are actually coded messages saying that she's a lesbian and is forced to stay in the closet! Any lyrics that are clearly about being attracted to a man are just to throw us off the scent!" Sometimes people, like Taylor Swift, are straight and write about being straight, because they are straight.

"The fourth series of Sherlock was deliberately bad because it was actually a coded message to us fans that there is a secret fourth episode that will make Johnlock canon and will actually be good!" Sometimes writers (even experienced writers who are normally good at their jobs) will write something that's not good, because no one is perfect. They're not going to waste everyone's time and money and energy creating something terrible on purpose as part of a grand master plan.

"Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the Canadian Olympic ice dancers, are secretly married (with kids)! Their public relationships with people who are not each other and them repeatedly saying 'we dated as kids and now we're just friends' are just to hide the truth! Which they need to hide for some reason! Their relationship is obvious just from their physical chemistry when competing! JUST LOOK AT THIS TWO SECOND CLIP OF HIM BLINKING AT HER!" It seems counterproductive to put all that thought into hiding a relationship that doesn't need to be hidden but then also telegraph that same relationship in front of millions of people through planned choreography.

"But BB, what about times that people really are speaking in code or hiding something due to outside influences?"

If it requires huge leaps in logic, like adding all the letters in a sentence together and dividing by seventeen and that number matches the binary sequence for the color yellow so YELLOW MUST BE SIGNIFICANT, it's not a secret code.

If it requires focusing on teeny tiny details but discards huge ones, like analyzing someone's micro-expressions but handwaving away what the person is actually saying out loud with their mouth, or focusing on one specific line instead of the entire scene or song or whatever, it's not a secret code.

If both supporting and contradictory evidence are used to come to the same conclusion (ex: when Taylor says something that I interpret as gay, that means she's gay, and when she says something that I interpret as straight, that still means she's gay and just hiding it), it's not a secret code.

Trying to apply fandom meta analysis techniques to real life is a really good way of fall into conspiratorial thinking that can be easily exploited. You can totally try to predict what's going to happen in a story or choose to interpret a scene in a specific way; you can't do that in real life with real people. That way lies the kind of nonsense that leads to shit like "this image of pizza on a children's toy is actually subliminal messaging by The Cabal™ that proves that Pizzagate is real."

[whambamsami]

private show

summary: your shitty boyfriend wants to go to a strip club for his birthday. one of the dancers is desperate to give you the attention you deserve. stripper!bucky pt.1

pt.2 pt.3

warnings: 18+, adult themes, eventual smut, language, alcohol, let me know if i miss anything!

note: not proofread, so sorry if there's any errors/plot holes! let me know if there's anything i should fix <3

You didn’t want to be here.

Not in the dimly lit, velvet-drenched VIP lounge of a high-end strip club your boyfriend had insisted on for his birthday. Not in the too-tight dress he told you to wear. Not beside him while he ogled other women like you weren’t even there.

“Loosen up,” Nick said, draping his arm around you, with that smile that had won you over months ago, but now just rubbed you the wrong way. “It’s my birthday party.” 

You’d smiled too. Barely. Enough to keep the peace.

He’d begged for this, told you only an insecure woman wouldn’t let him go on his birthday. Hell, he’d even wanted you to tag along.

You thought he wanted you to come with him and his belligerent friends to see that it wasn’t all that bad, to make you more comfortable.

But you were starting to think he got off on making you watch. 

He was generous enough to at least take you to a club that let both genders dance alike, and it was almost overwhelming, seeing men and women’s bodies, some fully exposed, some adorning tiny leather getups, gyrating on stage.

Your boyfriend, the perfect gentleman. 

And he wonders why you won’t take him home to meet your parents.

His friends are all practically howling at a woman onstage, pushing your boyfriend up to get closer to her. She’s wearing nipple pasties, crotchless panties, a pair of stilettos that have you fearing for her ankles, and a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Not that Nick would notice. He never noticed that kind of thing when it came to women. That, or he didn’t care.

“You won’t mind if I get a private dance, will you, babe?”

You wanted to feel angry at him. For him to see just how fucked this entire situation was. You should be feeling more.

But you just felt disgust. He made your skin crawl. You couldn’t give a shit about what he did here. He’d lost you the second he suggested this. 

So you nod tightly. An apology flashes in the woman’s eyes as she slinks off the stage next to him. 

You can’t be mad at her. It’s just business. 

And honestly, the fact that someone else would be filling in for you tonight, pretending to derive any pleasure from whatever Nick planned on doing, was a relief. You weren’t sure you would have it in you.

Not wanting to hear what his pitiful friends had to say about the situation you now found yourself in, you made a break for the bar, flagging down a topless bartender and politely asking for one of the craft cocktails. 

Hey, at least you could get something out of tonight. 

The bartender returned with your cocktail in hand. On the house, he’d said. You wished he was just being friendly, but the look in his eyes told you what this really was.

Pity. 

Whatever. The drink was good. Strong. Exactly what you needed to dull your senses a little, to get your mind off how you even ended up in this club in the first place. 

As you sipped, admittedly a bit faster than you should, the music shifted- bass-heavy and seductive.

The next performer was about to take the stage. 

You turned to face the velvet curtains that hid whoever was up next. Maybe you could pick up a few things, some tips that you could bring to your next relationship.

Your next boyfriend would be more appreciative, you promised yourself.

Better in bed, too. 

The second you saw him, though, everything else blurred.

Huh. A male performer.

All’s fair, right?

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark stubble shadowing a wicked mouth. Ice-blue eyes that swept the room with slow, calculated confidence. His body was lethal, dressed in nothing but black dress pants and a white button-down-half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, like sin in motion.

Your breath caught.

The performer didn’t smile. Not at first. 

But you swear he made eye contact with you.

And when he did, he flashed his canines. Just for a second. Like he knew every dirty thought that was flashing in your head. Like he knew something you didn’t.

The lights dim. The music gets louder. Or maybe everything else gets quieter, you’re not sure.

And suddenly, he’s all you could see.

He walks onto the stage like he’s stalking prey-calm, confident, dangerous. Not a trace of performance in his stride. He doesn’t play it for laughs or gimmicks. He doesn’t wink. He hunts.

The music pulses dark and slow. He unbuttons his shirt one button at a time, each flick of fabric revealing warm, taut muscle, tattoos, scars, shadows that make your mouth dry.

He glances down-just once-and finds your eyes again in the dark.

You squeeze your thighs together, shift again, try to look anywhere else-but it’s no use. He knows what he’s doing. He knows he’s got you.

He unzips his pants. Just an inch. Just enough to make your exhale stutter.

And the second you breathe out, his tongue drags across his bottom lip.

You’re going to combust.

“There you are!” 

You’re snapped out of whatever spell he had you under.

Your boyfriend returned from his little dance, wearing a smile that was a little too wide. Nick and his friends surrounded you at the bar, cutting off what you could see of the performance, much to your disappointment. You didn’t even care when you saw him whispering excitedly to his buddies, when you watched them pat him on the back like he’d won some kind of game, when their eyes would dart over to you like you didn’t know any better. 

Like you were stupid.

You steal a glance at the stage to try and catch the end of the man’s performance, but all you see is the swish of curtains closing as he disappears backstage.

Could this night get any worse?

As if the bartender could read your mind, he appeared again, placing what appeared to be a very expensive bottle of chilled champagne in front of you. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t order-”

“On the house.” he stated simply, as if you should have known. The little gold name tag that rested low on his waistband told you his name was Sam. 

God, at least the service here was great. 

Nick and his friends hooted and hollered, reaching for the bottle, excited to grab a glass, but Sam stopped them, pulling the bottle just far enough out of reach. 

“Sorry, boys, but I’m under strict instructions that this is for the lady only. No sharing.”

Your boyfriend’s lips pursed. 

“What, did somebody roofie that or something? Babe, you’re not drinking that. I don’t trust it.” and to solidify his point, he wrapped his arm around you. His sweaty, gross arm. 

You hated that he still felt like he could touch you like this. 

“Actually, sir, that bottle is for her to take to one of the private rooms. This doesn’t happen often, but she’s been asked to join one of our dancers.”

Your stomach dipped.

The champagne sparkled in the light, a little ribbon of condensation sliding down the glass like it knew how flustered you felt.

“She’s been… what?” Nick scoffed, voice rising with laughter he clearly didn’t feel. “Asked to join a dancer?”

Sam nodded, unbothered. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this. 

“That’s right. Bucky requested her personally.” You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of a smile on his face, like he was secretly enjoying this. “Very rare, especially for him. I’d take it as a compliment.”

Nick scoffed again, turning to you like it was some kind of joke. 

“You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

You blinked. Slowly. 

Then you looked down at his arm around your waist-the one that had gotten too heavy, too tight, too possessive over time-and peeled it off like it burned.

“You got a dance too, right?” you said evenly, reaching for the neck of the bottle, “At least mine is free.”

Nick’s friends laughed awkwardly. He didn’t.

“He’s probably just trying to upsell you some bullshit champagne fantasy. It’s a trick.”

Sam snorted as he grabbed two champagne flutes.

“Yeah, well. If it is, it’s working.”

Nick reached for your waist, and for once, you were thankful that he was so fucking sweaty all the time, because it let you slip out of his grip. 

“You don’t know what kind of guy he is.”

That made you laugh. It sounded more bitter than you’d ever heard it.

“He’s a stripper, Nick. Not exactly looking for Prince Charming right now. But whatever kind of guy he is, it looks like he’s interested in treating me a bit better than you are.”

Then you turned, grabbed the bottle, and followed Sam toward the back, heart hammering, adrenaline singing through your veins.

You didn’t know what was waiting for you behind the curtain.

But whatever it was?

It had to be better than this.

[tiny-dancer-thoughts]

Hozier and YEARNING (all caps) is a dangerous combo. beware

[strayingawayy]

dance class with daddy!

...where your little girl teaches her daddy, the main dancer of one of the biggest kpop groups, how to dance

“you’re doing it wrong!” your daughter shouted, hands on her hips as she glared at minho.

minho, ever the professional, stopped mid-spin, eyes wide. "what do you mean, i’m doing it wrong? i’m literally following you!" he tried to mimic her tiny movements, his arms flailing in all the wrong directions.

“no, daddy! like this!” she spun in a perfect circle, her arms extended gracefully, before stopping to point at him again. “do the feet! the feet!”

minho blinked, clearly confused. “the feet? you didn’t tell me about feet!”

“do the feet!” she demanded, bouncing on the spot, her voice serious like a little dance instructor.

you were on the sidelines, biting back your laughter. minho, the literal main dancer of stray kids, was struggling to keep up with your toddler. it was hilarious.

minho tried again, his feet doing some awkward shuffle. “like this?”

“no! no! you need to do the other feet!” she screeched, pointing at the floor dramatically. “other feet, daddy!”

he froze, looking at you for help. “what other feet?” his voice was desperate, almost pleading for you to intervene.

“i have no idea,” you said, barely containing your laughter. “she changes the choreography every five seconds. just follow her.”

you watched as your daughter stomped over to minho and grabbed his hand, tugging him into position. “now we jump!” she announced proudly, before proceeding to jump up and down in rapid succession.

minho gave you a wide-eyed look, his body already aching from the "dance." “she’s a drill sergeant, not a dance teacher.”

"jump, daddy!" she yelled, practically jumping herself into the air, her little legs barely lifting off the ground. minho sighed, giving a half-hearted jump. “like this?”

“no!” she shouted. “like this!” she then proceeded to twist her body in a way that looked like an interpretive dance move gone wrong.

you were wiping away tears of laughter, watching minho try to follow along. every time he thought he had it, she changed the move. "she’s a genius" you teased.

minho collapsed onto the couch, defeated but amused. "i’m officially her backup dancer."

your daughter, hands on her hips, nodded seriously, as if she were the one making the final judgment. “good job, daddy.”

minho grinned, rubbing his sore arms. “i’m never going to live this down.”

but you knew, as the three of you giggled together, that these were the moments minho would treasure most. no stage, no spotlight—just his little girl and the other feet.

___

@staytilldeath @somedumbthings @itisjustpaula

[my-castles-crumbling]

🆘💃 - January 15 - jegulus - discord server microprompt challenge - word count: 398

"Sirius where the hell are you?" James hissed into his phone as he stood backstage. "You need to get here now!"

"I'm almost there, Prongs! Did you get in okay? I left the tickets-"

"At the door, yeah, I got in fine! But fuck, mate, you didn't tell me these dancers were so bloody fit," James whispered, blocking his mouth with his hands as he stared straight ahead at the most beautiful person on the planet.

The man in question was currently sitting on the floor, wearing a leotard and leggings, stretching while laughing with a few other dances. But even though all of the dancers were stunning, this man...he was perfect. His curly black hair was pulled back a bit in a tiny bun, but little tendrils fell onto his face and to the nape of his neck, only accentuating his pale skin and piercing gray eyes. Even as he laughed, James could sense a haughtiness about him that only made him more attractive. And though James prided himself on not just being attracted to people based on their bodies...well, the muscles that wrapped around his arms and legs, evidence of his dancing skill, only made James drool more.

"I mean I only see Remus, so-"

"Well, more for me, then," James murmured, still openly gaping.

But as he stared longer, he started noticing things. Little things. Little familiar things.

"Hey, Pads? Who did you say got us these passes?" he asked, stomach dropping to the floor as the man met his eyes, a smirk forming on his godlike face.

"Oh, my brother, Regulus! He's in the company, he should be back there somewhere.."

But as James panicked, he also started tuning Sirius out. Because the man was standing and walking toward him.

"It's rude to stare, you know." And oh, his voice was like silk, and his smirk cause dimples in his cheeks.

"I...couldn't help it," James admitted, staring into his eyes, far beyond coming up with a clever excuse. His breath, along with his ability to think, was gone.

"Hm," the man's eyes flickered over James's body and his skin heated as nerves and pleasure pooled in his spine. "Well, you're honest. Want to help me stretch, then?"

"Yes," he nodded feverishly, mouth going dry at the thought.

The dancer smiled. "Alright. I'm Regulus. And you are?"

"...Fucked," James answered honestly, already following Regulus away.

[kisses4themissus]

Girl Scout Cookies | M.R Blurb

lovebug series | send me your lovebug thoughts!

- - - - - - - -

Tiny footsteps was hidden under the hustle of the ED department, lacey sighed as she walked through the hospital’s ambulance bay, jake right behind her, carrying a backpack.

Jake smiled as he approached central to see dana with her arms open for a hug.

“Oh there’s a dangerous pair!” Dana teased, embracing jake in a hug before moving ot hug lacey who smiled and quickly reciprocated the hug.

“Is robby expecting you? What are you two doing down here?” Dana asked, looking at the playful smile on jake, “Lace had me help her drive around the neighborhoods nearby-!” Jake was cut off by lacey who was now standing straight, opening her coat to show her girl scout sash, her dance leotard underneath.

“I’ve been getting people to buy lots of my cookies aunty dana!” She beamed, quickly walking to the inside of the station and rolled her shoulders back. “I’ll show you!” Lacey looked around for someone, her little eyes switching from residents to patients then to the security before landing on langdon who sat at a desk, scrolling on his phone.

With a straight face lacey marched over and tapped frank on his leg to get his attention; as he went to greet the dancer he was stopped as she gently raised her hand and spoke. 

“Hello there i’m lacey, let me introduce myself, I am almost six years old, i am a ballerina and a soccer player in the off season, i’m also a girl scout and i hope to raise money for my troop, would you like to buy a box of cookies from me–!” Lacey’s eyes narrowed as she read frank’s badge before nodding. “Would you like to buy a box of cookies from me, Dr. langdon?” She asked, watching as a grin grew on frank’s face.

“You seem like a trefoils kind of guy..” Lacey added.

He sighed and placed his hands on his knees. “I don’t got any cash on me, ms lacey..” He played along, lacey just smiled and motioned for tablet in jake’s off hand. “I have venmo, paypal and accept tap to pay.”

Langdon let out a hearty laugh before nodding, pulling up his apple pay on his phone and motioned for lacey and her tablet. “Alright, you got those trefoils for me?” He asked, lacey beamed and began to list of the cookies in stock.

Robby sighed as he walked out of the trauma room, his brows furrowed as he saw a small crowd around central, he walked up worried a nurse had been hit by a patient but sigh in relief as he saw a mini line with lacey at the front, holding her tablet up as donahue tapped his card on the square reader lacey had attached to her pink tablet.

He walked over and smiled down at lacey who was not looking up as she tapped on her tablet. “No cutting the line please, i have lots of cookies for everyone..” She spoke, not herding as jake began to snicker as robby stared at lacey.

“I’m sorry miss but I don’t believe you have permission to be selling in my ED department..” Robby crossed his arms over his chest, watching as lacey looked up at her dad with a straight face and nodded.

“I have permission!” She defended. Making robby smile at her antics. “Oh you do, do you have proof?” He asked, thankful the ED hadn’t been busy at the moment. “Mhm!” She shrugged off her coat and pointed to the top of her sash where her full name was embroidered.

Lacey Robinavitch

“My daddy is the day attending sir!” She sassed, earning a laugh from robby, he quickly picked her up and motioned for his staff to break up the line. Robby carried her towards jake and grabbed her tablet to scroll through her sales.

“...where have you taken her?” Robby asked jake, a bit shocked at the amount she had made. 

“Just a few neighborhoods and only a few people answered, she’s mostly a big sell out here.” Jake explained smiling as lacey had been up to five hundred dollars already, the top of her troop by a lot.

“She’s hitting up the ICU waiting room next..” Jake joked, looking as lacey counted her own crumbled dollars she had in there from chores.

Handing to jake she grabbed a box from her backpack and walked to earl who sat by central, eating his sandwich. “Here you go mister, on the house!” She smiled before walking away, waving as earl thanked her.

“Alright, alright go up to your mom before gloria finds out i’ve got a cookie dealer down here..” Robby smiled as jake and lacey walked to the elevators to the ICU.

Mel sighed as she ran up to central, santos and whitaker behind her. “Is she here still?” Mel asked, looking around for lacey. Robby chuckled and shook his head and pointed upstairs. 

“We’ll be back!” Santos told robby, as he went to protest collins shushed him, following the interns. “You just had to make her leave the floor!” Collins sighed before moving to the elevators leaving robby laughing as he looked over the ED to see some patients and residents with girl scout cookies.

Later that day, robby watched you counted the last of cash lacey had accepted that day.

“Including card, she’s made eight hundred and sixty dollars…i think she’s gonna be a businesswoman micheal..” You said in disbelief at the amount of money. 

“She was a hit in the pitt today..” He sighed, a grin on his face.

“...she’s like scarily good robby, i’m not joking she sold three boxes to gloria, saying how she knew what kind of woman she was and pulled out three kinds of cookies!” You laughed, shaking your head as you sipped your wine.

“She wasn’t a s’mores kind of lady..” Lacey sighed, walking into the kitchen, her princess pajamas, a capri sun in her hand. Robby nodded and helped her on a chair and cheersed his water bottle with her juice pouch.

Lacey sat with you and robby as you three talked over your day, sipping on your drinks in peace as if you three were older friends who were now catching up.

[charlvr]

- the universe's cosmic joke | Daniela is not in love

Pairing. Main: Daniela Avanzini x Reader | sub: Megan Skiendiel x Reader

w.c. 3.2 k

Read the main story: here

Daniela Avanzini was not in love with Y/N L/N.

Or at least, that was what she told herself, over and over like a prayer she could recite in her sleep. She repeated it in the quiet moments between practices, in the stillness of the dorm room at night. She repeated in the brief glance shared across crowded hallways, in the silent sighs escaping her lips when their hands brushed accidentally. It was a truth she clung to because she had always known what her life was supposed to be: ordered, controlled, disciplined. Mapped out by clear routines, dreams carefully nurtured through years of hard work and unwavering focus. 

She had been born with a purpose, or so she had always believed. From the instant her tiny feet touched the polished wood floor of a dance studio at just three years old, the world had watched her with wide eyes and whispered promises. She would be a star. She would be brilliant. She would be everything. Daniela never questioned it. She didn't need to.

So when Y/N L/N arrived at Dream Academy, quiet and gentle, all soft smiles and a curious sort of determination that didn't quite match the cutthroat world they inhabited, Daniela paid little attention. Y/N was good, yes. Talented, yes. But not exceptional. Not unforgettable. Just… good. Daniela’s eyes had always been trained to find brilliance, and Y/N, for all her earnest effort, wasn’t that.

And yet there was something about Y/N that made Daniela hesitate, anyway. Something that made her pause the first time she watched Y/N laugh in the middle of a routine she’d just messed up, cheeks flushed with embarrassment but eyes bright with something Daniela didn't recognize. It was a kind of genuinity Daniela didn't understand. She was used to people who moved with purpose, who danced to win. But Y/N? She moved like she was dancing for herself. Like she didn’t care who was watching.

Daniela told herself that was why she offered to help Y/N after that late-night rehearsal. It was curiosity, maybe even a little bit of pity. Nothing more. She was the best dancer in the room, and Y/N was struggling. It was a simple kindness. A moment of generosity from someone who had more to give. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how Y/N’s smile made her heart stutter in incomprehensible ways. Or how she’d had to Google “how to tell if you’re allergic to a teammate” because every time she caught Y/N’s gaze, her cheeks would burn and her body would flush.

No, she decided firmly. It was just curiosity, that was all.

“Want me to walk you through that combo again?” Daniela said, her voice as casual as she could make it, her expression easy. She was already half out the door, but something had made her pause, turning her back around to look at the girl who was still breathing hard, sweat clinging to her hairline.

Y/N looked up, surprised, and Daniela found herself memorizing every detail of that expression. “Me? Really?”

Daniela smiled, the way she always did when she wanted to put someone at ease. “Yeah, you. Unless you think I’m secretly plotting your elimination.”

The second the words left her mouth, she winced. They felt too real, too close to the kind of thing that actually happened in a place like this.

But Y/N laughed—a startled, breathless sound that startled Daniela in a way she wasn't prepared for. It tightened her chest and made her pulse quicken, and for a fleeting moment, she found herself wondering how she could make that laugh hers and only hers, before her senses kicked in and she quickly brushed the thought aside, confused by what had come over her.

After that night, Daniela declared her curiosity satisfied. Better not to mess with things, people, meant to be left alone.

She never planned to stay behind so many more times. She certainly never meant for those late hours in the studio to turn into something else entirely.

At first, it was just about the dancing. Y/N would watch her with wide eyes, trying to copy the way Daniela’s feet moved, the way she let the music live in her bones. Daniela would correct her posture, show her how to let the music fill the spaces between every breath. Y/N would listen, nodding seriously, and every time she finally got it right, her face would light up like she’d just discovered the secret to flight.

But then it became something more. Something dangerously close to attachment. The nights turned into a quiet ritual: just the two of them, feet moving in the near-dark of the studio, breath misting on the mirrors. In that quiet, they found a rhythm that felt almost like home, a fragile sanctuary built on laughter and the soft scuff of shoes on the floor. Y/N made her laugh in a way no one else did; laughter that peeled back the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders. With Y/N, she could almost forget that every move she made was meant to be watched, every smile carefully polished and perfect.

Almost.

Then came the finale, the stage lights hot on her skin and the roar of the crowd like a heartbeat under her feet. Daniela had always imagined this moment: the applause, the confetti, the validation. But when they won, when her name was called alongside Y/N’s, Daniela was no longer sure she really cared about the cameras or the bright glare of the lights that celebrated her hard work. All she really saw was Y/N. Y/N’s wide eyes and trembling smile, the way she reached for Daniela’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. And in that instant, that one perfect moment, Daniela realized she didn’t want to let go.

—

The feelings that followed were slow and consuming, creeping into the edges of her thoughts like a shadow. A longing that settled in her chest, making her breath hitch every time Y/N brushed against her shoulder in the practice room. And the shame that followed close behind, coiled tight in her throat, always there to remind her: this was only friendship. This was normal.

Because to admit there was more than that? Daniela couldn’t even begin to consider it.

Still, there were moments—late at night after the dorm lights had gone dark—when she let herself forget. Just for a little while. She’d press closer to Y/N in the cramped twin bed they sometimes shared, their laughter softening into quiet murmurs and unfinished sentences. She’d memorize the lines of Y/N’s face, each freckle and mole, telling herself it was only comfort. Only the warmth of two friends too tired to care about boundaries. But then she’d breathe in the scent of Y/N’s shampoo on the pillow, her hand drifting up to brush a strand from Y/N’s face, lingering, her fingers trembling with something she couldn’t name. And the guilt would come crashing in like a wave, pulling her under until all she could do was lie there, perfectly still, and wait for it to pass.

She told herself it would. That it had to.

But every smile Y/N gave her tightened something in her chest that felt like betrayal. Every time Y/N’s touch lingered, Daniela felt her world tilt, her heart beating too fast as if gravity itself was shifting. She stumbled through each day, wanting, aching, for Y/N to catch her.

But it was a want that had no place in the life she’d planned so carefully.

When the rumors started, little jokes on lives about Dani x Y/N, teasing comments from fans about how close they were, she laughed along. She let them think she was immune, that none of it mattered. Like her every thought wasn’t consumed by the need to quiet the feelings she didn’t want to name. 

She wasn’t in love. She wasn’t. She repeated it so many times that some days she almost believed it.

It was after one of their late practices, both of them spent, sitting side by side on the cool studio floor with their heads tipped back against the mirrored wall. Shoulder to shoulder, legs stretched out in front of them, breathing slow and heavy. Daniela turned to look at Y/N, at the flush of her cheeks and the soft curve of her neck, and for a single breath she let herself wonder: what would it feel like to kiss her? To thread her fingers through Y/N’s hair and never let go? The thought slammed into her like a punch, sharp and breathless.

She looked away quickly, a flush rising in her own cheeks. 

“I should… I should go shower,” Daniela said abruptly, pushing herself up. “I have to go live with Manon and Lara later.”

Y/N blinked at her, a little surprised, but understanding nevertheless, “Oh, okay. I’ll definitely tune in.”

Daniela forced a smile, her heart pounding a little too fast. “Yeah. Sure. I look forward to it.” She caught the flicker of Y/N’s smile at her words, turning quickly before Y/N could see how her hands were shaking, or how her eyes had lingered on the other girl’s mouth just a moment too long.

And when she said it outright, during that Weverse Live—“Enough with the gay allegations. I’m not into girls.” The words slipped out easier than she’d expected, like she’d been rehearsing them for weeks. 

For a moment, she felt something in her chest loosen, like saying it out loud had finally make it true. Like it had erase the way her pulse stuttered whenever Y/N smiled at her, or how every accidental touch felt like it left a brand on her skin.

It didn’t. But she told herself it did.

Because that fit her plan. It fit the life she’d been building ever since she was old enough to understand that the world didn’t have room for girls who wanted things that didn’t fit neatly in the lines.

So, she tried to convince herself those feelings would just vanish on their own. That the ache she carried like a second skin, and the way Y/N’s laughter haunted her dreams, would finally fade.

And it seemed the universe finally listened—but in all the wrong ways.

—

The interview was nothing at first. A shared sofa, a round of questions they had all answered a dozen times before. The lights were hot, the smiles practiced. Megan and Y/N had been seated next to each other, unusual but not worth sparing a second thought about. Probably management testing out a new pairing. But one slip, one awkward laugh in front of the camera later, and suddenly the whole world decided it was something more.

Daniela watched it unfold in real time. She didn’t even have to look for it; it found her on its own. Soft-focus edits, bright colors, captions that blurred the line between teasing and obsession: #MegY/N, a hundred thousand hearts and counting. Their names tangled together in ways that made Daniela’s stomach twist.

She told herself it didn’t matter. That it was just the fans being fans: harmless, if a bit overzealous. That the only reason it bothered her at all, if she would even call it that, was because she didn’t want Y/N to feel cornered by something she hadn’t asked for. That it was about boundaries, not… whatever else she might be feeling.

But the feeling clung to her anyway, stubborn and familiar. It settled behind her ribs like a quiet bruise, pulsing there whenever the world got too quiet, whenever her thoughts wandered where they shouldn’t.

She was used to control, to order, to plans she could see and hold and predict. But this was none of those things. And she didn’t know how to keep it from slipping under her skin.

The next day, she watched from across the practice floor as Y/N and Megan followed a manager out. No explanation. No glance back. Daniela stayed where she was, stretching in the corner, feigning indifference. She didn’t ask what it was about. She didn’t need to.

Sophia filled in the blanks later, her voice light, almost dismissive. “Probably just PR damage control,”  she said, fingers tying her laces with practiced ease. “Nothing I would worry about.” Daniela only nodded, her smile brittle and small. She didn’t ask why Sophia felt the need to say it, and Sophia didn’t try to explain.

And for a while, it did seem like it didn’t matter.  Megan and Y/N stayed polite but distant, the space between them unchanged. Practice took over: long hours, tired bodies, the endless push toward perfection. Daniela let the rhythm of it all carry her. Let the burn in her muscles and the steadiness of routine drown out the rest. Let herself believe it would all settle back into place.

Until it didn’t.

Y/N hadn’t shown up for their usual after-practice ritual—the quiet hour that felt like it belonged to them alone. Daniela waited anyway. She stretched in the low light, the music a soft whisper in the background, glancing at the door every few minutes like she could will it to open. Like Y/N would slip inside with a sheepish smile, hair damp from a quick shower, and lean close to murmur, “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

But the door stayed closed, and the room felt too big, too empty.

Eventually, she texted.

Daniela: Where are you? We’re supposed to go over the new routine.

The reply was quick. Clipped.

Y/N: Sorry! I forgot. PR assignment. I’ll catch you up later.

I forgot.

Daniela stared at the words, her phone suddenly unnaturally cold and heavy in her hand. A tightness formed in her throat, one she didn’t know how to swallow down. One she couldn't explain away.

That night, she opened her laptop and saw the photos. Y/N and Megan, heads close together over steaming cups. Later, at the arcade. Then, the park. For the camera, she reminded herself, trying and failing, not to overanalyze every frame. Every smile. All for the camera. But the images felt like salt in a wound she’d never let herself touch.

When Y/N came back to the dorm, cheeks flushed from the cold and a spark in her eyes, Daniela forced a smile. She asked how it went, careful to keep her voice light, careful not to let the bitterness slip through. She secretly hoped Y/N would say the date had gone badly. That it had been a disaster. But Y/N’s easy laugh was disarming, and Daniela tried to let it wash away the questions clawing at her throat. She did her best to pretend she didn’t notice the lingering scent of Megan’s perfume clinging to Y/N’s coat, sweet and sharp and so very much not hers. Fought the urge to scrub every trace of the other girl away, to reclaim what felt like was slipping through her fingers. So she sat there, acting like everything would be the same. Like the quiet dread that had begun to creep in could be ignored.

But the shifts started small and slow. A lean here, a shared secret smile there. Y/N’s laughter ringing out for Megan, bright and unguarded. Megan’s hand resting on Y/N’s arm, soft and familiar. All of it quiet, but expanding, slipping into the spaces Daniela had once thought were hers alone.

She tried to tell herself it was okay to be jealous. That it was about friendship, about wanting to be the one Y/N came to first, the one she trusted with those soft, easy smiles. She was allowed to want that, wasn’t she?

But even that excuse was starting to crumble, thin around the edges and frayed where she pressed on it too hard.

Weeks passed, and the feeling only grew. Daniela hated how she noticed it all. The way Y/N’s eyes would light up when Megan walked in, the way Megan would catch her gaze and smile, something tender flickering between them like a secret only they shared. The way they found each other without trying, like pieces of a puzzle that had always fit.

She tried to ignore it. The voice in her head, the twist of something deep in her chest. Told herself she just wanted Y/N to be happy, even if it meant sharing her laughter with someone else. That it wasn’t her place to feel more than that.

And maybe that was true. Maybe it should have been.

But every time she caught Y/N’s eyes across the room—soft, open in a way that made her breath catch—she felt the truth settle deeper in her bones: it was more than she could admit. And it wasn’t going away.

One night, after another long rehearsal, Daniela lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The dorm was too quiet without Y/N’s laughter to fill the dark, too still without the gentle weight of her presence pressed close. The air conditioner hummed low, Manon’s breathing a distant, steady hush. Daniela’s phone rested on her chest, heavy and unyielding, each second of silence pressing down like a secret she didn’t know how to hold.

Y/N was out late again, probably with Megan. Daniela forced a smile when the thought crossed her mind, even as something sour tugged at the edges of her calm. She turned her face to the pillow, trying to breathe through the emptiness that had settled there like it had always belonged. Like it was just another part of her she couldn’t cut away.

Then her phone buzzed, and she hated how her heart jumped at the sound.

Y/N: Hey, still awake? Sorry if this is random, but I was thinking about that transition you showed me earlier. I think I finally got it.

A small smile found her lips despite herself. As if the simple fact that Y/N had been thinking of her at all was something she could cling to. Her fingers moved before she could second guess.

Daniela: Show me tomorrow. I want to see it.

It was an easy thing to say. Just a dancer checking in on another dancer. Just a friend encouraging a friend. But even as she typed it, she felt something tighten in her chest, wrapping itself around her heart and refusing to let go.

Y/N: Deal. But only if you promise not to laugh when I mess it up again.

Daniela’s smile softened, but it didn’t bring her any relief.  Her throat felt too tight, her pulse too loud in her ears. She read Y/N’s message over and over, each word gentle and warm, but weighted with something she couldn’t push away.

Daniela: I never laugh at you.

She paused before sending it, reading the words again and again, as if she could convince herself that they were only what they seemed. Something a friend would say, nothing more. But each time she read them, they felt heavier. Like she was trying to wrap all the feelings she couldn’t admit into something simple, something safe. But it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t simple. And no matter how she tried to pretend, it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like everything.

Y/N: Good. Because I always feel like I’m better when you’re watching.

Daniela set her phone aside, her breath catching in her throat. She pressed the heel of her hand against her chest, like she could hold the sudden, overwhelming warmth there in place. But it was no use.

Because the truth was already there, raw and electric, pulsing through every breath, every heartbeat. The truth she had tried to scrub away like a stain she could wash out. The truth she had prayed over like a sin she could somehow unlearn.

And if Daniela thought that admitting it would make things better, if she thought that finally facing what she had been running from would suddenly fix everything, she was wrong. It didn’t make the feelings any smaller. It didn’t make them any easier to bear.

Daniela Avanzini was in love with Y/N.

And she didn’t know what to do with that truth.

-

catch me dropping a megan's version too (?)

Read:

⁺ Megan is not in love

listen to. (i have a song, wait wait. i'm just too tired to find it rn, will update)

[jjjjisun]

Little Cousin Haerin

Haerin X Male OC | 6667 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

—

It would be another long week, Jae thought to himself as he half-heartedly packed things into a suitcase. Visiting the family for the holidays was something he had to do every year. They had been going to the farm since he could remember, always in the three or four days surrounding Christmas and always right when he'd love to be at home re-watching all first three seasons of Game of Thrones and partying with his friends on break from school.

But that didn't change the fact that he'd be in the backseat of the car for the 5-hour drive south to their grandparents' farm that very morning. He would still have to endure his sister's music choices or his dad on the cell phone for work - and all for an extra-long weekend with the ENTIRE family.

It wasn't all bad; it was always a blast. Jae was usually just irritable when he anticipated being unable to stretch his legs for that long. The family farm was full of great features and plenty of space for all twenty-some of his family coming in to stay. Their grandfather had done well for himself and had built guest cabins to house each of their children's families, all oriented around an impressive central building for he and their grandmother. The goal was to keep the family returning each year; it had worked like a charm so far.

So, as Jae packed in the car, his younger brother and sister got in the car with their parents and headed for the farm, and he tried to focus on all the good things that would come out of his trip. He was fond of spending time with his cousins with whom he'd so long been close; he'd get quite a bit of relaxation time, and he might even be able to blow off some steam in town with his cousins if they got to feeling rowdy. In particular, his cousin Haerin, who was closest to him in age, was always fun to hang out with. He might be inclined to find her attractive if he weren't her cousin, but he'd tried his best not to think of her that way.

When he arrived at their family's cabin, "Owl Perch," known for the large painting of an owl over the fireplace, he would have been hard-pressed not to find Haerin attractive. Dressed in a white golf shirt and jean shorts, she was positively adorable and just as much so when she came with her breasts bouncing over to the car before Jae could even step out. She sent her greetings, saving the last one for her favorite cousin, Jae. She threw her weight on him a bit more heavily than the rest, greeting him with:

"Jae, I'm willing to bet you need a beer after that drive—" she knew me too well. “Do you mind if I steal Jae from you and we say hi to grandma and grandpa and maybe sneak a beer, Uncle?"

"Sure, Haerin," said Jae's father, "but Jae, you're carrying in your suitcase, I'll leave it out here for you."

"Yes, Pop!" Jae said with a drawl, heading off behind his bubbly little cousin. At 18, she hadn't yet graduated high school, unlike Jae, who was already a sophomore in college. He was willing to bet she would enjoy maintaining her innocence while walking around any college campus with that figure. As do many girls Haerin's age, she had a perky pair of breasts peeking out through the unbuttoned neck of her snug polo. They looked more prominent than he remembered on her tiny frame. She was athletic from her dancing at her high school (yes, naturally, the little brunette was a dancer), but Jae liked to think she hadn't quite taken on the snootiness he was accustomed to like the dancers he had gone to school with. Despite her looks, he truly liked her ability to have fun in any situation and be genuinely interesting.

So while they walked in stride to the "big house," as they'd all taken to calling it, Jae and Haerin began to catch up while Jae recalled what he'd liked so much about his younger cousin. She updated him on everything in her life, mostly typical of a cute, brunette high school dancer, but Jae eagerly took in all her rambling. Haerin did the same thing for Jae, grilling him about what college would be like and whether he had a girlfriend. They eventually said hi to their grandma and grandpa and grabbed that much-needed beer, opting to enjoy it on the massive front porch as they awaited the rest of their relatives. Haerin stretched out her long, thin legs and inadvertently displayed their tanned and toned nature in full to her admittedly affected cousin.

The rest of the family shuffled in little by little, and by early evening, they were gathering in the big house for their kickoff dinner. Jae and Haerin split up at one point to unpack their things and get situated for the week. When he next saw her, it was amongst the hollering youngsters and warm droll of the entire family in the large foyer of the big house. It seemed like it went on forever; there were so many family members and much to catch up on. Yet, after what could have been an hour, their grandmother called for everyone to head to the dining room. It wasn't until they were all seated that Jae saw Haerin in her slender, light dinner dress that hugged her frame.

As usual, Haerin sat near Jae and the other cousins their age. There was Jae's younger brother and sister, Haerin's two older brothers, and the three children of both families of his father's older brother and sister. It could get a little overwhelming at times, but once the commotion died down, Jae shared a host of laughs and cajoling with his cousins and siblings. Haerin was alluring to Jae; he couldn't help but take in her glowing nature and how she sparkled when she smiled. His eyes moved involuntarily to Haerin's chest when she giggled and pushed her breasts together innocently. But it was more than just her handful-sized breasts and gorgeous smile that did it for her; it was simply a shine.

She touched his arm, and he caught her eye once or twice as she looked at him. If Jae hadn't been so caught up in her angelic aura, he might have said she looked seductive, but it was lost to him. The meal came without further thought about his growing affection for his cousin (save that she caught his gawking eye when her shoulder strap slipped down, and the dress revealed slightly more skin than before).

So the two talked, mingled after the meal, and helped with cleanup—stopping for the occasional exchange of a laugh or bump of the hip when Haerin passed Jae in the kitchen. When they were cleaning up the flour from the pasta-making, they got into it with each other, extending fingers swiped across a flour-coated cutting board toward each other defiantly.

They swiped a cheek here and there and closed their eyes; Jae's hand felt something soft before quickly moving away and taking a defensive stance. Doing the same, Haerin began laughing adorably as she reveled in their battle. She looked down at her chest... so did Jae. A precise imprint of a finger in the white flour, or no.... it was four fingers. If he looked closely, it became clear what his hand had grabbed at when they were horse-playing;

Haerin saw it, too. But it was only a fraction of a second that Haerin's brows raised and eyes met Jae's before she looked away and returned to her business. It made him feel strangely... comfortable, considering the potential embarrassment of the situation. He went bustling about the kitchen with his cousin and the rest of the cousins and certainly didn't fail to miss that Haerin had made no move to wipe his handprint from her breast—four fingers on the skin and the palm over the thin top of her dress. The eking thought lingered though, a prodding announcement going off in their heads that something was feeling differently. Something they hadn't seen coming. Something that made Haerin continue her flirtatious interactions with her cousin even though they were family. They were family! But once again, the moment came and went. Haerin was going her separate way and Jae his before they reconvened for movie night in the big house's colossal family room.

Everyone took their places, the parents pairing up near their favorite brother or sister and the cousins sticking together across the room. Their cousins littered the floor, and Jae lay sideways on a comfy chair, with Haerin taking a seat on the rug, leaning back on the vast cushion.

Once again, his eyes floundered at seeing his petite brunette cousin, now in a taut black tank top and gray cotton short-shorts. The drawstring of the tiny shorts dangled below just a sliver of Haerin's taut stomach. It revealed itself more when Haerin stretched her arms above her head, and Jae couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the sparkle of a piercing at her belly button. Even sitting there, trying as he might to ignore her when the movie started, Jae began to sense her as the younger ones started to settle. She was wearing some kind of lotion, she must have, he thought, as his eyes unintentionally inspected her slender leg and looked for signs of it. He could feel her soft brunette hair against his legs sprawled out on the couch. He could hear her breathing, and his eyes again found the rising and falling of her bosom seen just over her shoulder.

So when Haerin first turned to address him, he hadn't even realized...

"Earth to Old Jae!" Haerin whispered, louder this time after her cousin hadn't answered the first time, "Got any room left on that couch, or are you going to make me sit on the ground the WHOLE time?"

"Oh...Uh... I can get up," Jae said, stuttering and leaning upward as if to give her his seat.

"No, silly, just scooch back a bit. I'll lie in front of you," Haerin said, smiling and ambling up toward him. He barely had time to move before she plopped down in front of him and was lying in front of him almost close enough to be spooning.

He wondered if anyone would find the new position of his cousin strange, but upon looking about the room, he saw that most adults were slumbering or simply not looking toward them, and the cousins were all lain out on the floor in front of them. His worry subsided, if only until his little cousin turned her head a bit to ask:

"Would you mind sharing the blanket a bit? It seems I came a bit underdressed," she said, causing Jae to give her body a once-over with his eyes and smile in agreement.

He grabbed the edge of it and tossed it over the two of them, once again scanning the room to see if they'd attracted any attention. They seemed to be in the clear... wait... what was that? Upon throwing the blanket over his cousin, he hadn't noticed until it had settled atop them that Haerin had scooted back and her soft little tush was snuggled directly into his lap so that he could feel her warmth through their clothing. What's worse was... oh no... he had, in all the commotion of his cousin laying so close and arousing him, become slightly erect. It was more than somewhat erect though, there was simply no way that Haerin didn't feel his cock pushing against her.

But she didn't say anything, look back, move, or even hint at her disapproval. Maybe she hadn't felt it.

'Oh God,' Jae thought, feeling Haerin's pert little ass move against his stiff cock. She wasn't ignoring his growing problem; that was for sure. He thought maybe she was just trying to preserve some of her dignity and move out of the way, but another flex of her bum and he was nestled snugly between her cheeks. If there had been any doubt, it was cleared when she wiggled her adorable bum rhythmically against him for a never-ending period of seconds.

This was too much for him... It was so sudden, so unexpected. But it wasn't unwanted; he had somehow figured that out in his mind right at about the time that Haerin had started pressing her cheeks against his increasingly hard member. So when she began wiggling that way, his hands got the better of them and grabbed at his cousin greedily. They reached her hips and tugged at them, causing Haerin to settle deeper against him, his shaft pressed firmly between her butt cheeks. They reached for her abdomen, one feeling a piercing where he'd first imagined it, the other testing whether she'd let him near her chest.

Neither of them had bothered to check, but they remained undetected beneath their blanket. As Haerin felt her cousin submit to her playful teasing, his hands landing daringly higher up her body, she had felt the same desire as Jae. Somewhere between watching how he got along with her younger sisters, how he'd picked her up so strongly when he'd first arrived, and his intoxicating presence as she sat beside him at dinner...she had felt this coming too. So when he came short of her breast and placed his hand upon her ribcage she unquestionably moved it the rest of the way to her chest, where it came to grasp at her tit and feel the erect nipple beneath her shirt.

Taking her acceptance as permission, he started emboldening his fingers' movements. The fingers of the hand upon her breast began searching to pinch her nipple gently through the cotton. The other hand, flattening upon her belly, began sliding further southward. Upon his palm, Jae could feel the scratch up the metal piercing, but her skin was unutterably smooth. He slid his palm, the tips of his fingers making contact with the scrunchy material of her elastic waistband. They hesitated there momentarily, wondering if he should press on, with his eyes looking guiltily about the room to see if he'd been stopped.

But Haerin was much to aroused to stop now, she thrust her butt defiantly into her cousin's lap and felt his shaft squeeze between her cheeks. And he knew what that meant, pressing his fingers into her soft skin to slide beneath the band. His fingers pressed on, expecting to find resistance but not finding it. She must have shaved recently, very recently. Her mound was smooth and soft, urging his fingers lower. Still they probed and found only the soft warmth of her young pussy. Slowing upon the first touch of her outer lips, they stopped there, waiting.

Haerin moved her hips to urge him onward, but to no avail. He just stayed there, one hand tucked down the front of Haerin's tight little shorts and the other firmly palming her tit. 'What was he waiting for,' she thought, 'surely now he hadn't lost his nerve.' She tried the juke of her hips once more but nothing. She was about to turn around and sort things out when she saw her older cousin Jinwoo looking their way.

He'd always been fond of her, or perhaps it was more her looks. Maybe he was too fond of looking at her at times, but they'd never gotten to know each other well, so she just found it harmless. But now he was looking their way, and Haerin could only wonder whether he knew what she could feel- that Jae's hands were anywhere but where a cousin's hands were supposed to be.

She had to test him, and she thought fast. She looked right at him and stuck her tongue out, smiling. He hesitated for a second, keeping his composure in his stare before cracking and smiling her way. The embarrassment of being caught staring by his cousin and the adorableness of her look had prevented him from seeing anything more.

Jae's hand had stopped though, and in the few seconds that followed Jinwoo looking away, they had returned to her belly and retreated from their much desired place at her quim. She gave him two quick squeezes of her bum as if in apology or out of encouragement for him to press on. He responded a little, thrusting back against her and beginning to move his hand about once again on her breast. When she had him confident once again to get more affectionate, she was practically ready to fuck him right there on that couch in front of the whole family.

And Jae was nearing the same point; his naughty little cousin's antics and the way her petite frame felt against him were too much to bear. Only hours before he had been admiring the way she'd grown up and now he had her wrapped in his arms with her soft butt wrapped snugly around his cock. So as his hand pressed back beneath the final barrier of her shorts, they both held their breaths a little... God, they wanted each other.

A loud sound came on the TV; both Jae and Haerin's eyes shot to the television where the closing song and credits had begun to play. For his life, Jae could not remember what they had been watching. All this incestuous touching with Haerin had him.... WAIT, he still had his hands all over her!

He quickly removed himself from his precarious placement all over his cousin, and Haerin slid forward on the couch. They separated, and the blanket drooped between them as the lights flipped on and their grandparents began saying their goodnights. Jae was lying there like a deer in the headlights, hoping not to attract unwanted attention. They didn't receive any and remained like frozen bodies until the children had all successfully pleaded to start another movie.

Some of the adults decided to leave, and among them were his aunt and uncle, who insisted that their daughters, including Haerin, come to bed. So Haerin got up, tossing a parting glance at her elder cousin, who couldn't quite make heads or tails of it, though he was pretty sure his cousin wasn't finished with him yet from the looks of it. He stayed for probably half an hour more before becoming bored with his now regrettably alone situation on the couch.

He bid the family farewell and headed back toward his family's cabin. He couldn't take his mind off what had happened between him and his cousin the whole walk. On one hand, it had all been so sudden, and this was his cousin he had been spooning in there. He thought he should be feeling guilty but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. That was the other hand- the part of him that knew that the gorgeous little brunette he'd seen as he pulled up to the farm or sat next to admiringly at the dinner table was irresistible to him. He knew that if he could, he'd have ravished her tiny body right there on that very couch. The thought that the whole family would have seen didn't seem to faze that side of him at all.

That side of Jae won out as his feet carried him toward his bedroom; heck, that side of him nearly diverted him to Haerin's bedroom instead. But it was also that side of him that came upon what awaited him when he opened the door to his bedroom. His bedroom was situated below the rest of the house, the hill it was built on giving him his walkout and a lot of privacy. But it wasn't the beautiful view over the moonlit pond... he thought maybe he was seeing things. But there, laid out on the bed and sunk into his comforter, was the unmistakable body of Haerin herself. Moreover, she wasn't quite how she'd been when she left him on the couch. Well, she was mostly the same, save the shorts that were pushed down and bunched around her ankles as she lay face-down on the bed. As he'd felt before, she wasn't wearing any panties, and her ass looked just as amazing as it had felt against his lap, arched slightly there on the bed - there was no way she was sleeping like that.

He stood in the doorway, stunned and unable to believe what he was now staring at. He again cast his eyes from head to toe, his heart jumping at the sight of the gorgeous brunette dancer. She wasn't looking at him; she looked asleep. What an odd way to fall asleep, he thought with a smile as he closed the door behind him.

"Haerin," he whispered, taking a step towards her.

"Haerin," he called to her, louder now.

But still she didn't move, and as he came to her side, she kept up the act, if it was an act. Jae didn't catch it in the dark, but Haerin smiled when he first called to her, unable to keep a straight face until just before he'd move close enough to see it.

He was short of breath as he moved behind her. Her pussy was glistening even in the low light; she must have been touching herself recently or having a delightful dream. Her white ankle socks were stretched over her feet, barely at the edge of his bed. Her shirt was still on, but it was pushed up just below her breasts, leaving everything below naked and fully visible to her cousin's lustful eyes.

There was a reason she was here, not in her bed, bottomless, or in the PJs she'd brought. And despite the part of Jae that had him hesitating to touch Haerin earlier that night, screaming that he couldn't, Jae was moving ahead without him. His hands moved to his athletic shorts and pushed them down, boxers and all, with Jae stepping out of them handily. His cock sprang to attention; it had been ready since the second he walked in the room. His mind was set to its purpose.

Jae moved forward and pressed his knee to the bed. His cousin didn't make a sound even as her body moved on the bed, even as he lifted his other leg and straddled her. 'There's no way she's asleep,' Jae thought, 'and this is what she's here for anyway,' he convinced himself. As he felt it, his hand pointed the head of his cock toward its target, the tiny opening he could see between the legs of his slumbering cousin.

He could feel his thighs against the naked lower half of his cousin and his hands took hold of her sweet young ass. He briefly debated checking for certain whether she was awake or not, but when he felt the heat of her opening against the head of his penis, all bets were off. Sleeping or not, he had to fuck her, he had to sink his cock at least once into the little brunette who had been torturing him all day. And so, he took a deep breath, and just before he could sink his rod into Haerin's amazing little pussy, she surprised him. He couldn't see it in the dim light of her bedroom, but with his hands grasping her soft cheeks he could feel her butt move in the direction of his penetrating head.

'Or did it?' he questioned. But it didn't matter because nothing else was in his head when he first felt himself enter Haerin's forbidden tunnel. It was so warm and wet already; he couldn't believe the feeling - it consumed him. Sinking into her, feeling her insides wrap around him and surround him with wonderful heat, he could feel himself still holding his breath. He finally breathed fresh air when he heard his cousin Haerin take one, herself. It was cute, a little gasp as he entered her and her fingers grasped at the pillow her head lay gently on.

Jae leaned forward, pressing the final inch or two of his length into his cousin. As his hips met her cheeks and his hand left her ass to push back a lock of hair, he checked her face to see if she was still pretending to be asleep. She was, the corners of her mouth feigning a slumbering peacefulness still. She was helpless to him though as he withdrew, once again feeling her pussy walls sliding against the sensitive tip of his penis. Her mouth became an adorable grin, and she could not betray the delicious pleasure her cousin was delivering her.

Jae took another peak at the angel's face, finding her beautiful brown eyes peeking through barely opened lids. Her teeth flashed white with a sexy smile, and then she pursed her lips gently before saying,

"Bad boy, you can't put your big cock in your little cousin..."

It was a whisper, sleepily spoken, but it made Jae shiver with excitement.

"Don't do it again, you can't fuck your naughty cousin's tiny..." she quivered as his tip lingered at her entrance,

"tight..." she uttered as it left her clinging lips and then tapped down upon her pulsing and sensitive clit,

"wet............" he lined up, she was still whispering.

"ooooo.....ugghhhhh," she squealed as Jae plunged forth into her and took her needy pussy once more.

It was a quicker plunge this time, her slutty and intentionally unconvincing words of refusal had assured that. Jae needed to be buried inside the little brunette immediately. He found her back arched again, though, willing him deep into her womb as she met his thrust with her own.

Her back formed a sloped arch just north of her bubbly white butt -- a perfect place for his hands to brace himself to fuck her harder, if she wanted it, 'did she?'

"what if I just wandered into the wrong room cuz' I was so... ooouuuwhhh..." he penetrated Haerin again, finding himself balls deep before she could finish her sentence, "sleepy and a little drunk?.....uugggh fuck it's big....."

Jae tried to formulate a response to explain why he'd just decided to push his cock into the slumbering dancer he'd found bottomless on his bedspread. She beat him to the punch:

"or what if that sleepy and kinda drunk little girl wanted you to ........unnngggghhh...." she trembled as he unsheathed once more, "stop being so.....mmmnhh.... gentle," she directed her eyes toward him and spoke directly: "fuck her the way you wanted to when you saw her dance a few weeks ago."

She was right; weeks before their trip, he'd gone one weekend with his parents to see Haerin dance for an idol audition. In her short skirt and belly hugging uniform top, he remembered being forcibly immersed in a daydream of her rhythmically swinging hips moving not to the music but along the course of his cock, as it was now. And so, wanting her now and remembering how much he wanted her then, he took hold of her supple lower back and plunged his entire length into her in one strong movement.

She cooed, and she flexed at the hips into his depressed fingertips, but she didn't discourage him as he removed himself and hesitated only a fraction of a second before impaling her once more. He started to build a rhythm and so did the gentle smack of her cheeks against him as he poked at her naughty pussy entrance and then buried himself deep into her core easily in her soaked state.

He wanted to be deeper, to feel more of her tiny pussy sucking him in, but he couldn't. Instead, he slid out, leaving her empty and lonely, before filling her eagerly once more. Over and over he fucked her from behind, his weight depressing her lovely body into the pillow-top. She looked so intolerably sexy there - all he could do to appreciate it was fuck her more.

And she was beginning to show her appreciation in her ways. Her back reached the peak of its arch, her butt thrust proudly into the air. Her moaning and fidgeting increased, so much so that he could feel her beginning to get antsy and so pinned down beneath him. Though he, admittedly, took a few more greedy strokes deep inside of her to savor the prone position he was fucking his sexy little cousin in, he eventually realized the potential benefits of releasing the squirming little minx to act out her naughty desires on him.

Pulling himself from her heated center, he took hold of his rigid shaft and wiggled his tip about her entrance and to her ultra-delicate button. She hummed with pleasure before trying to wriggle her way free so she could fuck him the way she wanted. He let her free but first caught her when she'd made it to her back and revealed more of her taut body to his wanting eyes.

Haerin's eyes found his, wondering why he'd stopped her when he saw what he wanted. She pecked him first, pursed lips against his unsuspecting ones. But when his hand reached the bottom of her already scrunched tee, she laid on him a kiss he'd not soon forget. Their tongues intertwined, their lips melded, their hands searched for the next place to touch.

And so they went on, making out like two teenagers, Haerin was a teen, and the softness of her body, the perkiness of her tits and the sweet youth in her moaning and cooing made her the most desirous one on earth at that moment. So he let her roll about him, straddling him now as she worked her hips just right to reinsert her cousin's member.

"Is this what you want, Jae?" she whispered again. "Do you want me to put this monster back inside?" She took a grasp of his head and shaft and rubbed it hastily against her moist lips.

"I've wanted to fuck you for so long, uggggghhhh," this time it was Haerin urging his cock into her, "I've even thought about you when my ex was fucking me a few times.....oooooohhhh.... but he was never so........uhhhh..... fucking...... big."

"Ohhh.....Jae, it feels so good!" Haerin exclaimed as she came to rest atop her cousin with his cock lodged as profoundly within her as possible. Jae wondered whether they could be heard, worrying more when Haerin started to gasp and move up and down.

In and out his big cock went, stretching Haerin's pussy walls as it filled her, and feeling it release suction as his tip peered between her lips on withdrawal. Haerin placed her hands on his chest, only able to appreciate its firmness and her cousin's physique. She braced herself there, her elbows close enough together that her perky teen titties squeezed between. With a beautifully arched lower back, Haerin bounced her hips off her cousin's as she impaled herself over and over.

"Oh my God Jae, fuck me right there," he took hold of her hips, helping her, "keep fucking me like that.....ooouuuhhh..." he clapped his hips against hers causing him to bottom out inside her continuously.

Jae rolled Haerin onto her side, spinning her about just so that he was spooning her in front of him, but her back lay flat against the bed. Sprawled out there in front of him was her beautiful body, ready to be filled with her cousin's incestuous cock and her tits ready to be held in his hands. Their hands touched as they both reached to guide Jae's cock home. Haerin smiled as her cousin closed his hand over hers, and they both connected Jae's tip with the mini brunette's opening.

He lingered for what seemed like an eternity for both of them but was only actually a few seconds before burying himself to the hilt once again in her sprawled out body. Her tiny ass looked so cute curled in front of him, white and smooth and soft and all the better when seen with his cock sliding through into her pussy.

"Haerin, I'm getting close," Jae warned, her increased tightness in this position catching him off guard. The feeling of her body so fuckable and bendable to his will, and the softness of her amazing breasts jiggling in his hands as he slammed into her suddenly had him unsure whether he'd be able to contain himself inside his cousin.

"I'm not on birth control....ooooo... fuck.... You can't come inside me, Jae...." She whispered loud enough for Jae to hear still, feeling a pang of disappointment strike him. "Daddy didn't want me getting any ideas, so he wouldn't let me get it! Don't cum inside me..... ooooouaahhh...." She pleaded as his cock sank and retreated mid-sentence, "I could get pregnant.... You don't want...Uhhhhhghh... to get your little cousin pregnant, do you?"

Jae didn't have an answer for her. He was pretty much speechless at the words that had come out of her mouth. Hearing her say 'daddy,' and the talk about getting her pregnant had his cock pulsing out of control and it was all he could do to keep sending it in and out of Haerin's quim.

"But you can't come yet, honey..... ugghhhhh...." She pleaded as he rammed her again,

"I'm so close... just like that...... oooouwhhhhh..... don't stop!" she cried.

Jae was spreading her cheeks a bit to get a good angle with which to penetrate her, and he had found the perfect one. As he slid his thick rod into her repeatedly, she began to squirm, flexing and twisting involuntarily as his tip poked her just right inside.

"Riiiiiggghtt ttttttherrree..... RIGHT THERE..."

She was getting louder, and Jae had to move a hand to gently cover her mouth so they didn't attract an audience. Placing a few fingers over her lips she quieted, and surprised him by taking a finger in her mouth and sucking it, so only the sexy hum of her moans escaped around it. With one hand wrapped snugly around her to hold her close, and the other being licked at by her dexterous tongue, Jae was fucking his cousin harder than ever.

She was yelping and squealing at one point, still with her lips pursed around his finger to quiet her. She even nibbled a bit on it when the pleasure became too much. But it didn't hurt, the feeling of her warm pussy engulfing him was all he could feel.

"Don't stop..... don't stop..... don't stop....." she was able to breathe out.

He couldn't stop; he wanted her to have the orgasm of the lifetime, and from the quaking of her body in his arms, he figured she was having it. But what he didn't expect for, halfway through the little dancer's pleasure-fit, was for her taut, wet, little hole to clamp down on him as her insides spasmed in climax. He didn't expect them to suck at his invading member and send him over the edge unwillingly.

And though he immediately tried to pull his spurting cock from inside her, Haerin had already locked a leg around his and dug her butt deep into his lap to fill herself as she came. He could do nothing, and you could scarcely blame him as he began to flood his cousin's womb with his forbidden seed. She shook and she moaned, she could feel the warmth of his cum adding to the spreading heat of her orgasm, and it caused her eyes to roll backward in disbelief.

She cooed and gasped for air as her cousin painted her insides with sperm. She felt so incredibly naughty then, come-to enough to know that it was her cousin that was filling her pussy up with his spunk so wonderfully, and feeling so naughty and sexy because of it.

She jammed her cheeks into his lap, taking his cock as deep as it would go; she felt the movement urge another pump from his tip, deeper into her than before. Jae trembled at the incredible sensitivity the brunette minx's fidgeting had brought to light.

He held her tight, her t-shirt bunched up over her chest and his arm and hand pressing her titties this way and that. He knew she had been serious when she'd asked him not to cum in her, but as he thrust one final time into Haerin, his cock let out a defiant last stream of seed. He was indescribably pleased, balls-deep in his naughty cousin and feeling their combined fluids mixed inside her.

They both looked down as his hand took the base of his immersed shaft and slid it from her glistening lips. The walls immediately closed behind his retreating cock, and when his head finally departed from between her clinging labia, it was followed by an obvious stream of his cum. They watched her freshly-fucked opening as more of his sperm bubbled out.

"Oh no," she said, "oh no..."

Jae didn't know what to say, and when he saw her a pulse of his jism come from inside her he knew that they were probably in some trouble.

She looked too sexy though, naked and glistening with sweat, still smiling despite the predicament. She didn't look disappointed or even as worried as he. Therefore, he didn't feel as bad when he decided to go for it and point his softening, but not nearly soft cock back toward her opening and shove forward. He felt their fluids guiding him quickly in, and she was still just as hot inside as seconds before. They both inhaled sharply, and Haerin gave Jae a discerning look. But she couldn't look upset for more than a second when the very same sensitivity that Jae felt had Haerin's face revealing her pleasure, unable to be concealed.

"Jaennnn...." She whined. "You came so much.... It's all inside me. What if I get..... you know...."

Jae slid back a bit and buried himself once last excruciating time. Haerin yelped, too. "Pregnant?" Jae replied smartly.

"Yeaaahhh.... Oh God, it feels so good..."

"You're right..." Jae said smiling, "that would be very bad..." he flexed his cock as much as he could inside of her.

"You know, you aren't supposed to fuck your naughty little cousin..." Haerin said, putting a hand against his face.

"Oh yeah?" Jae questioned, leaning into her.

"And you aren't supposed to fill her naughty pussy with so much of your hot... sticky... cum."

Jae couldn't help himself, kissing his cousins feverishly. His tongue explored hers, which she offered willingly, and his hands began to search her body once more. His fingers played at the piercing on her stretched tummy. His cock may have slipped from her for the moment but it didn't matter, because he was inside her teen pussy again not a few minutes later. The two cousin's fucked through most of the night.

The next day, he and Haerin took care of the (incest pregnancy) situation, taking advantage of it once behind one of the barns on the property, with Haerin's hands pinned against the red siding as her cousin stuck himself straight up into her. They fucked in the shower and once in a changing room when they went into town.

Jae knew he shouldn't be so excited to be banging a brunette dancer like Haerin since she was his cousin. Still, as he pumped into her on the floor of the pontoon boat their grandparents had let them take out together and then released his umpteenth jet of cum into her, he simply didn't care. And when Haerin missed her period a few weeks later, it was only after he'd filled her correctly face down on the kitchen counter at his college apartment that she'd revealed her little secret.

[httpknjoon]

have you ever tried this one? | myg

plot | that time popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi had a very *intense* staring contest throughout the whole concert.

w.c | 1581

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff (?), enemies to lovers

note | it's juno so.... 🥵

main masterlist

DAY 53 of Love Is... On Tour

Another day, another reason to fight over something.

Cute. For someone who looks tiny in their oversized sweatshirt, you sure do hold a lot of power over a lot of people, Yoongi thought. Just a lift of your finger while you were singing could mean something. Maybe you want to change the tempo or you want to improve something. He can see gears working in your head while you sing the lyrics of your songs. It's crazy how your mind and body coordinate well while focusing on different things. Your fingers rhythmically tap on your thigh, following the beats. Yoongi strummed on his guitar while watching you sing in front of the band, waiting for any signal.

"And I heard you're- Wait, wait, wait. Let's pause."

Just three songs left during the rehearsals, you raised your right hand, making the band stop from playing. Instantly when the music stopped, your eyes directly met Yoongi's.

"Can you please quit staring at me," you said, annoyed.

Yoongi looked around to make sure that you were talking to him. But he was met with his bandmates looking back at him, confirming that yes, you were talking to him.

His eyebrows raised, "Me?"

"Yes, you are literally throwing daggers on my way ever since I stood here." you confronted him.

"I am not." he denied. Was he looking at you? Yes. But is he throwing daggers? Definitely not.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. You swore you could feel his intense eyes on you in every movement you make. Every time your eyes land in his direction, you immediately find him looking back at your fingers, your thighs, or just you. Sometimes you would notice a small quirk in his lips while staring at you. But most times, he has this blank space on his face, making you want to shrink in your comfy sweatshirt.

"You do it every rehearsal! It's weird." you insisted.

The people around you— Art, Cal, the other band members, and a few of your dancers— simply looked at each other. It's been weeks of you two working together and bickering over things. Everyone knows you hate each other's guts. At this point, you are just kids with these "fights".

You see Yoongi chuckled, putting a hand on his hip, "I'm just paying attention, waiting for your hand cues. It's something musicians usually do when rehearsing with the band."

Okay, that's reasonable— But still! You felt blood rushing to your cheeks but your jaw clenched. Because of course, the sarcasm in Yoongi's defense didn't go over your head. You were about to refute when Art clapped his hands together, signaling a time-out.

"Okay, please stop with this. We only have a few songs left and everyone deserves to rest before the show." he reminded you and your bassist. "Yoongi, please avoid looking at YN. YN just be clear with your signals. Raise your hand or something. Are we cool with that? YN? Yoongi?"

Yoongi sighed but nodded his head. Before nodding your head, you still caught that smirk that formed on his lips. The rehearsals continued as planned. Yoongi barely looked at you anymore and looked down at his red guitar instead, giving all of his attention to it. You don't know if he's being sarcastic. But you kept on biting your cheeks when you found him in the same position every time you looked at him again. Fuck, he's really not looking, huh?

You continued singing for a few more minutes, sipping water in between. You never raised your hand again for any cues.

"Okay, please enjoy your break. Thank you, everyone." Art said before letting everyone go.

You were walking behind Cal, on the way to your dressing room, when you felt someone following behind you.

"I didn't know you were a diva like that," Yoongi whispered.

His warm breath fanned your ear in that quick sentence, making you ignore the shiver you felt by his warmth and surprise appearance. He didn't even wait for you to look back and reply. Instead, he walked passed you and caught up with his band members outside the arena.

Now, someone's throwing daggers.

Minutes before the show, in the crowded backstage, Yoongi can feel your eyes drilling holes at him while Paul fixes his shirt for him. You were already dressed up and someone is just fixing your in-ear for you. You stood six feet away from each other but managed to have a quiet, petty argument. He stared back at you, raising an eyebrow. You squinted your eyes before rolling it.

I hate you, you mouthed.

He mouthed back, Diva.

Although you find one of the people on stage annoying, you don't let it affect your performance for the night. But you're petty and so is your bassist. At every chance you two get, you look at Yoongi and you always find him staring back at you even while strumming his guitar.

Some fans noticed it and began posting about it online, noting the chemistry between your eyes. Even the crew members felt awkward with how you and Yoongi always caught each other's strong gaze.

"What the fuck is happening between you two?!" a voice in your in-ear asked while you were hurriedly changing your clothes for your next song.

You didn't have time to reply with that one and just continued the show with a new plan in your head.

"Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing. Oh yeah, you just get it..."

After arresting one of your cute audience members and tossing them their fuzzy pink handcuffs, you began singing one of your hit songs. You are now in your sparkling, red bodysuit that goes with a mini skirt at its ends. It used to have a longer skirt but it got shorter after the bit earlier. You also have your matching boots with you that make you taller than ever.

"Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics..."

Your staring contest with your bassist is still going on. And if you stop to do one of your choreographed dances, your eyes occasionally focus on Yoongi.

"Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs? Oh, I hear you knockin', baby..."

The fans cheered when the screen showed him, who was trying to stop himself from smiling while looking at you.

"I know you want my touch for life. If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno..."

At the end of the chorus, you still manage to continue your starting battle with Yoongi since you are walking around the stage. The only time you looked away was when another voice spoke,

"YN, if you want to continue your staring competition with Yoongi, can you just stand next to him? It's hard for the camera to catch you when you keep turning your head in his direction." the voice said, obviously giving up on telling you to stop whatever you and Yoongi are doing.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah, ah, ah..."

You followed what you were told and stood next to him as you two looked at each other's eyes. You were pointing your finger at him as if you were singing those words to him.

"Wanna try out some freaky positions?"

A line before the infamous part of the performance, you stood in front of your bassist. Your back is to the audience, who is already losing their mind on what they are witnessing. You kept eye contact with him as you felt excitement fluttering in your chest.

"Have you ever tried this one?"

A smirk forms on your lips before squatting down and bouncing up and down, like you were riding an imaginary dick. The fans are livid, the rest of the band is laughing, and Yoongi is lost for a second, unconsciously biting his lower lip while still exchanging intense eye contact with you. You winked coyly before getting up and turning around to resume.

"I know you want my touch for life. If you love me right, then who knows?..."

Although dumbfounded for what felt like a minute, Yoongi still played his bass guitar perfectly. As soon as the chorus was done, you reached for Yoongi's chin and made him look at you.

"Adore me, hold me, and explore me. Mark your territory. Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one..."

With your angelic voice and pretty face in front of you, Yoongi just lost the game. He studied your eyes, then your nose, down to your lips that's saying those words to him. He is like under control by your angelic appearance. Suddenly, you don't mind him staring intensely and closely at you. Closer than the rehearsals earlier.

"Adore me, hold me, and explore me, I'm so fucking horny. Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one..."

If you hadn't gently pinched his chin during that line, Yoongi would have just lost it and forgotten that you two are in front of 35,000 thousand people.

Just before the last chorus, you let go of him and ran back to the center stage and danced while he played the riff. He watched behind you, and stared for a few more seconds, before shaking his head, enjoying the music the same way you do.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love!"

note | haha petty people

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[hazelira]

moonlight lullabies

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

The first cry shattered the quiet night.

You stirred slightly, blinking blearily at the clock—3:12 AM. The baby monitor glowed softly beside the bed, echoing Han’s tiny, hiccuping wails.

Before you could even shift to get up, Heeseung was already moving.

"Go back to sleep, babe," he murmured, voice thick with sleep, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "I got him."

You let your eyes flutter shut again, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, but not before seeing Heeseung’s broad back disappearing into the hallway, his steps quiet but sure.

Heeseung sighed, rubbing his eyes as he pushed open the nursery door.

Han’s tiny face was scrunched in frustration, his little fists curled tightly, legs kicking against the crib mattress.

"Shhh, Han-ah," Heeseung whispered, already scooping his son up with practiced ease. Han’s cries stuttered for a moment, then picked up again in weak little whimpers as Heeseung cradled him close.

"Okay, okay," he soothed, bouncing him gently. "I know, baby. You’re not happy right now, huh?"

Han only responded with a sniffly little hiccup, nuzzling into his dad’s chest, his tiny fingers clutching the fabric of Heeseung’s sleep shirt.

Heeseung sighed, exhaustion clinging to his limbs, but the moment he felt that small weight against him, something deep in his chest melted.

"Guess we’re staying up together now, huh?"

Instead of heading back to bed, Heeseung made his way into the living room, his arms tightening around Han as he rocked him back and forth. The moonlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a silver glow across the hardwood floor.

Then, without thinking, Heeseung began to hum.

At first, it was a tune without a name—something gentle, soft, almost instinctual—a melody born from a place of pure love and exhaustion. But then, the notes started forming into something familiar.

I wanna hold you, just for a minute…

The lyrics of "Polaroid Love" slipped past his lips in a whisper. His voice was low and tender as he slowly danced in the empty living room, his bare feet gliding across the cool floor.

Han sniffled against his shoulder, still fussy, but his cries had begun to fade into sleepy murmurs.

"You like that one, huh?" Heeseung chuckled softly, adjusting his grip so that Han’s tiny head rested perfectly against his chest. His palm rubbed soothing circles along his son’s back, matching the gentle sway of their movement.

The baby let out a deep sigh, his fingers slowly uncurling from Heeseung’s shirt.

Heeseung smiled.

"I used to sing this song all the time," he murmured, even though Han was too little to understand. "I didn’t know I’d ever sing it to you like this."

He turned in slow, easy steps, letting the soft glow of the streetlights outside bathe them in warmth.

"You know, Han-ah," he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of his son’s head, breathing him in, "one day, when you’re older, I’m gonna teach you how to dance. You’ll be the best little dancer, and all the girls at school will love you."

Han gave a tiny, contented sigh, completely relaxed in his father’s arms now, eyelashes fluttering against his chubby cheeks.

Heeseung smiled, pressing a delicate kiss to his baby’s forehead. His heart swelled with something so big and so overwhelmingly soft that he thought he might burst from it.

"Yeah," he whispered. "But no rush. Right now, you’re still my little baby."

And so, Heeseung kept rocking him under the moonlight, humming softly, dancing like they had all the time in the world.

The warmth of Heeseung’s arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the softness of his quiet humming were enough to lull Han into a deep sleep. His little fingers twitched against his dad’s chest, his breaths coming in slow, even puffs.

Heeseung sighed in relief, shifting his weight slightly so he wouldn’t disturb the peaceful baby nestled in his arms.

"You finally knocked out, huh?" he whispered, smiling as he gently brushed a stray wisp of hair from Han’s forehead.

He turned his head slightly, only to find you standing in the hallway, watching them with a sleepy smile.

"You’re supposed to be sleeping, babe," he murmured, his voice still hushed.

"So are you," you teased, padding toward him. You reached out, gently running your fingers through Han’s soft hair before pressing a kiss to your husband’s shoulder.

Heeseung let out a soft chuckle, his free hand pulling you closer by the waist. "I tried putting him down," he admitted, his lips grazing your temple, "but you know how he is. Stubborn, just like his mama."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "He’s stubborn like you."

"Okay, maybe it’s a little bit of both of us," he conceded with a lazy smirk.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his arm as you both gazed down at Han, so tiny and peaceful in Heeseung’s hold.

"He loves you," you whispered after a moment.

Heeseung felt something tighten in his chest at your words.  

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know it—Han had been attached to him from the second he was born, always clinging to his shirt, gripping his fingers, seeking out his warmth before anyone else’s.

But hearing you say it like that—soft, full of love—made it hit even deeper.  

He pressed a lingering kiss to Han’s forehead, then another to the top of your head.  

"I love him more," he murmured.  

You smiled, nudging your nose against his shoulder. "I know you do."  

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in the quiet hum of the night, a family tucked into each other’s warmth.

Then Heeseung exhaled, tilting his head toward you with a soft grin.  

"So, think we should risk putting him down?"  

You glanced up at him, amused. "Oh, absolutely not. He’s gonna wake up the second you try."  

Heeseung sighed dramatically, adjusting Han’s weight against his chest. "Guess I’m sleeping like this, then."  

You giggled, placing your palm over his heart. "You say you wouldn’t hold him forever if you could."  

Heeseung’s gaze softened. "You’re right," he admitted, rocking the baby gently. "I would."  

And just like that, Han let out a tiny little sigh, his small hand uncurling to rest against Heeseung’s chest.  

Your heart melted instantly.  

Heeseung smirked. "See? He knows his daddy loves him."  

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your smile never left your face. "C’mon, let’s go back to bed. You can keep holding him—I won’t even judge you."  

"Wasn’t asking for permission," Heeseung teased, already making his way toward the bedroom, Han cradled securely in his arms.  

And as the three of you curled up together beneath the warm covers, you realized something—  

Midnight wake-ups, tired eyes, sore arms… none of it mattered.  

Because this was home.  

Right here, wrapped in Heeseung’s warmth, your son sleeping peacefully between you—  

This was precisely where you were meant to be.  

The soft glow of the nightlight cast warm shadows across your bedroom walls. The only sound in the room was the quiet rustling of sheets as you and Heeseung climbed into bed—Han still nestled securely in his father’s arms.

Your gaze flickered to the bassinet beside your bed, its plush interior untouched.

"You know," you murmured, barely holding back a smile, "we bought that so he could sleep in it."

Heeseung glanced down at Han, his tiny body still curled into his chest, then back at you with a lazy smirk.

"Yeah, but look at him," he whispered, rubbing slow circles along Han’s back. "He’s comfortable like this. Right, baby?"

Han let out a soft sigh in his sleep as if agreeing, his tiny fingers gripping Heeseung’s shirt tighter.

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. "You’re such a pushover."

"And you’re not?" Heeseung shot back, quirking a brow. "You act like you weren’t just about to let him sleep on you if I hadn’t gotten up first."

You sighed in defeat, rolling onto your side to face them. "Maybe."

Heeseung chuckled, shifting carefully to lean back against the pillows. Han’s little body adjusted instinctively, his chubby cheek pressing against his dad’s chest, warm and safe.

You reached out, running your fingers through Han’s soft hair. "We should at least try putting him in the bassinet," you suggested, even though your heart was already screaming no.

Heeseung scoffed. "Yeah, and have him wake up the second I move?" He shook his head. "Not happening."

You bit back a giggle, watching as Heeseung tilted his head to press a slow, gentle kiss to Han’s forehead.

"Besides," he murmured, "he’s only this little once."

Something in his voice made your heart clench.

Because he was right.

Han would outgrow this phase—these late-night cuddles, how he fit so perfectly in Heeseung’s arms, and how he clung to his daddy like he was in the safest place in the world.

One day, he’d be too big for this.

But right now?

Right now, he was still your tiny baby boy.

You sighed, pressing yourself closer to Heeseung, your hand resting over his as it gently cradled Han.

"Fine," you whispered, smiling as your husband kissed your temple. "He wins tonight."

Heeseung chuckled softly. "He wins every night."

And with that, the three of you drifted off together, wrapped in warmth, love, and peace that only existed in moments like this.

The bassinet would have to wait another night.

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