#Screen Addicts Studio

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 4) - Above The Gods Eye

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I had envisioned bonus chapters as not too integral to the main plot (as in, you will be able to follow the story without reading them), but this one... this one might just count.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A series of moments from the vault, occurring in part eight of the story, now yours to enjoy. 🤍

The one with the second sons…

The photoshoot has wrapped, and the cast of House of the Dragon has drifted into all corners of the set, exchanging laughs in between much-needed sips of caffeine. The next item on Entertainment Weekly’s agenda is the video segment recordings, pairing cast members for various games and interviews.

Fabien and Freddie finished their narrative recap of season 2, with more jokes than actual informative recaps. Harry and Bethany played a game where they guessed whether the line is from House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones. Tom and Emma played a ‘which sibling' game, leaning into the dynamic between Aegon and Rhaenyra that clearly should have been explored in previous seasons.

As it happens, Matt and Ewan are paired up for an Aemond or Daemon game, meant to give the audiences a glimpse of what to look forward to. Their notorious rivalry, culminating in a battle that will be their last. 

The two film their segment in Studio E, the set consisting of the great cellar of the Red Keep where Balerion’s massive skull looms on a pedestal. The dozens of candles surrounding it have been lit, casting dramatic shadows as they take their seats, facing each other in what could easily be mistaken for the start of a duel.

“My name is Ewan Mitchell and I play Aemond Targaryen,” Ewan starts.

“And I’m Matt and I play the Daemon Targaryen,” Matt follows. “And we’re about to play Second Sons: Aemond vs Daemon.”

“Let’s go,” Ewan rolls his shoulders, his sense of competitiveness all fired up, intensified by the fact that the man in front of him potentially could become his rival off-screen. That is, when it concerns the battle for your affections. 

He can still hear it ringing in his ears, the sound of your laughter in the background, distracting him during the photoshoot. That laugh, so addictive, so yours, was a melody he could listen to forever - except when it’s Matt Smith who’s the culprit. 

The lads take their cue to read the first prompt displayed on a screen above the camera. The game begins. 

“Who is the better swordsman?” Matt reads aloud with a smirk. “Well, that’s obviously Daemon, mate. He’s older - ”

“Age doesn’t always mean better,” Ewan counters smoothly.

“Ah, but he’s battle-tested. He fought in the Stepstones, and was the Commander of the City Watch, for heaven’s sake. What’s Aemond got?”

“Aemond spent years and years training with Criston Cole in the Red Keep yard, honing his skill,” Ewan argues. “He clearly has the dedication. He’s disciplined.”

“Training,” Matt scoffs, turning to the camera as if sharing an inside joke. “Put Aemond out there in a real battle, then we’ll talk.” 

“Alright, alright,” Ewan concedes, biting his cheek to keep from saying more. “Next one. Who’s the better dancer at the royal ball?”

Matt can’t help but chuckle, “Neither of us are inclined to - ”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“But if we had to pick, then I'd say Daemon. We saw him dancing in the first season, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think Aemond would be much of a dancer,” Ewan says, before adding with a smirk to the camera, “unless it’s with Vhagar.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matt asks him. “Short of dancing partners, is he? Can’t say I’ve got that problem. I’ve got Rhaenyra, I’ve got my daughters, and of course, the lovely Alyna.” His voice drops at the mention of your character, and he notices a telling flicker in Ewan’s expression. The younger boy latches on to it, hook, line and sinker. 

Ewan’s brows scrunch, not missing the bait. “Oh, she wouldn’t dance with you,” flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Alyna wouldn’t?” Matt tilts his head, feigning hurt. 

“She’s… she’s too busy fighting the war,” Ewan quickly musters. “She’s got better things to do.”

“Mate, I think we all are. But that wasn’t the question.”

“I just don’t think she - ”

“She’ll dance with Daemon,” Matt says confidently. “Once she realises how good he is, then it’s game over.”

“I disagree,” Ewan easily says to the camera, willing the viewers to side with him.

“Next,” Matt continues, “Who’s more likely to get into a fight at the tavern? Is this… so far, it's been all Daemon! This one too.”

Ewan nods, but adds slyly, “Aemond’s not one to waste his time at the tavern, no.” His answer is an apparent concession to Daemon, until he adds, “which is why Alyna would prefer to spend her time with him. He’s calmer… more reliable… no unnecessary tavern brawls or anything…”

“Calmer, mate?” Matt rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself. “Come off it, yeah?”

“Compared to Daemon, he clearly is.”

“He killed Luke and Rhaenys!”

“That was an accident,” Ewan shrugs. “He feels bad for it.”

“Alyna better steer clear,” Matt points to the camera, making his point. 

Ewan shakes his head in protest, “I don’t agree.”

“So, for this one, again, it’s Daemon,” Matt finishes. 

Ewan lets it go, the Alyna comment lingering in the back of his mind. It didn’t seem like an Alyna reference; it felt like a message to you. His stomach twists, suspicious of the other game Matt seems to be playing at. Turning to the prompter, Ewan reads, “Who’s got… the better hair care routine? Oh wow.”

“Daemon’s been at some dingy castle,” Matt says, “clearly no showers there. Forget it.”

“Aemond’s got this locked down,” Ewan grins.

“Has he? Alright then,” Matt responds, amused. “He does have that pin-straight hair, doesn’t he? It’s almost like… well it’s almost like it’s a bloody wig!” He laughs, and some of the onlookers behind the camera mirror the sentiment. 

“I did read somewhere about Aemond having a 20-step hair care routine… ”

“20 steps? Blimey, mate. I’m surprised he even makes it out the door,” Matt says. “Would you say he’s got better hair than the women on the show? Than Alicent or Alyna maybe?”

“Oh,” Ewan leans back, mulling it over. How to one-up Matt without making it seem too obvious? He’s about to respond, when he hears some soft giggling in the corner. It appears that you’ve made your way into Studio E with Phia and Liv. The sound came from Phia, who gives him a thumbs up when she notices his diverted attention. 

Matt notices your presence too, and when the director waves a hand for them to carry on, he answers for Ewan, “We could say Aemond has the better hair. Alyna’s way too busy training with Daemon anyway. We do tend to get into that rough and tumble during our sword fights.”

“Mmm,” Ewan narrows his eyes. He then ignores or conveniently forgets the fact that it’s Matt's turn to read the next question. “Who’s more likely to fight a dragon for their lover?” 

The two men lock eyes, the air between them charged, more so due to your appearance. If a rivalry is what the viewers expect, then that is what they’ll get. 

Matt puts a hand up. “I think Daemon’s the one with the guts to fight a bloody dragon. Daemon will stand against anything and anyone. Without a doubt.”

“It’s different with him, though, isn’t it?” Ewan responds. “Daemon would be doing it for the glory. He’d be doing it for himself. Whereas Aemond… he’d be doing it out of pure devotion.”

“Are you talking about the same devotion he had for his brother? I’d say he’s more likely to burn his lover to a crisp, than fight a dragon for her.”

“There is a completely different dynamic with his brother,” Ewan explains. “I think that when Aemond falls in love, there is nothing at all that he wouldn’t do for them. In season 2, we already kind of saw him leaning into this reputation of being the most wanted man in the realm. So… he’d fight anything for his lover, that’s for sure. He’d burn the seven kingdoms down if necessary.” He turns to look at the camera, but he catches your eye instead. You’re shaking your head slightly at his answer, but the small smile that graces your lips tells him that you enjoyed it. 

He simpers at your apparent show of approval, but Matt cuts the shared moment short. 

“I think Aemond’s a young buck,” Matt says, “who’s desperate to make his mark. He wouldn’t know the first thing about devotion. But Daemon… that’s been his internal struggle this whole time. He’s proven that he stands behind his brother and Rhaenyra, no matter how much he tries to act to the contrary. But yeah, we’re going a bit off track here. What was the question? Who’d fight a dragon… ”

“For their lover,” Ewan finishes. “I would still say Aemond. Daemon is too unpredictable.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Matt wags his eyebrows at him. “But I’m standing by my answer. We clearly saw Daemon basically pledge himself to Rhaenyra in the last episode. What more proof do you need?”

“Aemond’s got something up his sleeve,” Ewan says. “He just wants to be loved, that’s it, and when he finds that, there’ll be no question of what he’s capable of doing for Al - ” He catches himself at the last second, before he fully lets slip your character’s name. “I mean - ”

Matt’s eyes light up, sensing an opportunity. “For Alys, you mean?” To the camera, he adds, “spoiler alert, everyone.”

“Right,” Ewan lets out a breath, “Of course.”

“Can’t be anyone else,” Matt challenges him. 

“I don’t know for now,” Ewan tries to keep up. 

“You currently have a bit of a lack in the lover department,” Matt smirks. 

Ewan narrows his eyes at the apparent insinuation. He better be referring to the show. “Fine, then, we can give this one to Daemon. But as to their real-life counterparts,” he locks eyes with you again, “who’s to say? I bet I have this in the bag.”

Matt follows his line of sight, pleased when your attention switches to him. “I think that’s yet to be decided.”

“Alright, we’ve got some more,” Ewan quickly says, in an attempt to divert Matt’s gaze from you. 

Matt reads, “Who’s more likely to maintain a good social media presence? Oh, bloody hell, we’re crossing over into uncharted territory with this one.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I’ve never touched it myself,” Matt shrugs. “I’m not on anything, only Facebook for a moment ages ago, but I did not have any desire in going back. Oh wait, we’re meant to answer for our characters. Apologies.”

“Hmm,” Ewan nods. “I don’t know if Aemond would be on social media, no.”

“Yeah, this is a weird question,” Matt says. “Maybe Daemon then? But only to post pictures of Caraxes or something. What do you think?”

“Yeah, Daemon can take this one,” Ewan replies. “Personally, I’m not on social media too much - ”

“But didn’t you jump into the fray recently? With… which one was it?”

“Instagram? Yeah, yeah, that was something.” His mind flashes back to the pictures he had up, both attesting to his love for you. But you had asked him to take the latest one down, which led him to deactivate the account altogether. Temporarily. If the fans assumed that the action was meant to symbolise an end of his involvement with you, then now would be the perfect opportunity to prove them wrong. “I did have to take a step back, because it was kind of overwhelming. I just needed to take some proper time off.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know,” Matt says. “Did you actually share some photos there?”

Ewan smiles, pleased at being able to answer this question. “Yeah, I shared a few of my most treasured ones. They were some great pictures, but I’ve got loads more of the same in my phone, and I - ” He throws a warning glance to the camera “ - I think I’ll be keeping those to myself for now.”

Matt, oblivious as to what he’s hinting at, reads the next one. “Who’s the better brother?”

“Aemond for sure.”

“Clearly Daemon.”

And so the banter continues for a couple more prompts, sharp yet flowing naturally, foreshadowing the frenzied fan reactions when the segment is shared online for all to see. 

The one where Ewan needs his cowgirl…

Ewan paces around his dressing room, settling into his outfit, awaiting his cue from set. The outfit is a bold mix of traditional Western elements and high fashion: a tailored deep brown leather jacket with intricate embroidery, a crisp white shirt with ruffled cuffs, fitted trousers, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. His boots click against the wooden floor as he moves. He’s nervous but determined to impress you, even though it’s always been you with a knack for making his heart race.

After a while, he makes his way out of the dressing room and into the bustling set. The set is decked out to the theme. The director and crew are scattered all around, but Ewan focuses solely on finding you. 

When he finally does, his world seems to slow down. You are standing near a vintage saddle, dressed in your own Western-inspired attire. Your smile is radiant as you speak to your assistant, and the way your eyes light up when you see him makes his heart skip a beat. No, it never gets old, he realises, you will always have a maddening effect on him.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and saunters over with as much swagger as he could muster. “Howdy, darling,” he greets in his best cowboy lilt.

You look him up and down with a smile. “Why, hello, good sir,” you say, even doing a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, gesturing to the expanse of the set. Ready to be my cowgirl, darling? He wants to ask instead. 

You hum a response. “As I’ll ever be. I’d say you’re a natural at this whole cowboy thing.”

“Oh, darling,” he smirks, “you’d be surprised by what I can do with my lasso.”

“Down, Mitchell.”

“Whatever you want, my cowgirl.”

The atmosphere is electric throughout the shoot, with Ewan constantly leaning down to whisper suggestive lines in your ear. 

He finds himself getting lost in the intensity of the shoot, but his focus remains on you. It isn’t as if you are making it easy on him, with your lingering touches and flirtatious remarks. 

The camera's shutter clicks away, and Ewan and you pose for one perfect shot after another. The set is alive with activity, but he only sees you, the lighting casting a warm glow on your rouge-stained cheeks. Forgetting where he is for a moment, his hand reaches up to caress your face, and he leans in slightly. 

You pose accordingly, likely thinking that he’s just giving the shoot what it demands. 

“What was that you were saying about a lasso?” you smirk, in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it only spurs him on. 

“Care for a demonstration?” he shoots back.

“Why not?” you reply easily, adjusting your stance. 

“We may need a more intimate setting for that, darling.”

“More intimate than this?” you laugh breathlessly, the warmth of it fanning his face. He’s close enough that the tip of his nose brushes against yours. 

He smiles, deaf to the low warning that escapes your lips when he leans in for a kiss on instinct. 

Just as his lips are about to graze yours, the director’s voice cuts through the charged silence.

“Cut! Break, everyone!”

The spell is broken instantly. Ewan pulls back, his expression shifting from one of intense concentration to surprise and a hint of frustration. 

You stand facing each other, flustered and left wanting. Ewan wants nothing more than to just reach for you and pull you in a closet, and show just how well he can use that bloody lasso. If you want him to. But he forces himself to croak, “To be continued, darling?”

You mirror his heated gaze, nodding once, before turning on your heel and heading to the break room. 

When the set is mostly emptied, Ewan picks up the hefty lasso that’s been put aside. With a determined look on his face, he swings it expertly through the air, causing a resounding thwack. The movement is deliberate, a release of his frustrations about you. About Matt. About everything. 

But it doesn’t quite bring him the relief he needs, because only you can offer that. 

It’s only ever been you. 

The one with the first date…

You glance at your phone to check the time, heart fluttering with anticipation. Matt had promised to pick you up at 2, and it is only a minute past, but you’re already standing nervously in your living room. Not a moment too soon, your buzzer alerts you of his arrival, and you press the button to allow him upstairs. 

You sneak one more glance at the mirror, smoothing a hand over your t-shirt and jeans. You opted for a casual look, dressed up with some jewelry and heeled boots. 

Finally, there’s a knock at the door and you grab your purse as you walk up to meet your awaited visitor. 

There he is, standing in the doorway, as impossibly charming as ever. Matt’s dressed in a perfectly fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, paired with staple dark jeans. His tousled hair looks like he ran a hand through it on his way over, and his signature mischievous grin plays at the corners of his mouth as he takes you in.

“Hello there,” he greets cheerfully.

“Hey, Smithy,” you blush under his gaze. 

“You look absolutely incredible,” he says, his gaze sweeping appreciatively over you, “As can be expected. You are my Alyna, after all.”

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice soft, almost breathless. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Glad to hear it. I was worried I’d underdressed,” he teases, though the way he carries himself shows that he knows exactly how good he looks. He steps a little closer, his hand lightly grazing your arm as he does. 

“You ready to go?” he asks, his voice just a shade deeper, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that still catches you off guard, no matter how exposed you have been to his charms.

“Yeah,” you nod, suddenly aware of how close you’re standing, the air between you thick with tension. “Let’s do this.”

The late afternoon air is crisp as you walk with Matt down a quiet street near Hyde Park. The anticipation from earlier has settled into something more relaxed, yet there’s still an undercurrent of excitement, an unspoken awareness of the new territory you’re both navigating.

Matt leads you to a small café tucked away from the bustle of the city. It’s quaint, with ivy creeping up the walls and soft lights glowing through the windows. As you step inside, the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries envelops you, and you can’t help but smile. The interior is just as charming as the exterior, and a few patrons sit scattered throughout, each absorbed in their own worlds. Too absorbed to notice two somewhat renowned actors entering the premises.

“Pick a spot,” Matt says, his hand gently brushing the small of your back. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a warm tingle up your spine.

You choose the table with a view of the park just beyond the glass. Ever the gentleman, Matt pulls out a chair for you before settling into the one across from you.

“Hope you like this place,” he says, his tone easy and genuine. “It’s one of my favourites. Feels like a bit of an escape from everything, you know?”

“It’s perfect,” you reply, taking in the cozy atmosphere. “I can see why you come here.”

A waitress comes over to take your order, and Matt gives you his recommendations which you happily go along with. The familiar way with which she addresses him as Mr. Smith confirms his frequent visits. Once she leaves, you lean back in your chair, letting yourself relax into the moment, though you are aware of his eyes watching you the entire time. 

“So, how are you finding the city? It’s different from set life, that’s for sure.” Matt asks, his eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. Something you can’t pinpoint just yet, though it’s not unfamiliar. You’ve seen that look before. From Ewan. The sudden thought of him drives a wedge in your focus, and you have to shake it off before you answer.

“It’s been great,” you say, smiling. “It’s nice to be able to explore it more this time around, since I've got some downtime. And, of course, the company’s been pretty good too.” You add the last part with a playful tone, which makes him chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eye. “But don’t let Ewan monopolise all your time. I’m around if you ever need a break from him.”

The mention of Ewan brings a subtle shift in the conversation. It’s light, but there’s a hint of something more - an awareness of the connection you share with Ewan that both complicates what you have, or what you could have, with Matt. 

“You’re a good friend, Matt,” you say, your tone still light but more sincere. “I appreciate that.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “Friend, sure,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “But, just so you know… I’m here, if you ever want more than that.”

It’s a simple statement, but the weight of it hangs in the air between you. He’s not pressing, not trying to make you uncomfortable, but it’s clear that he’s laying his cards on the table. Matt’s always had a way of being direct without being pushy, and this moment is no different.

You meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. There’s a part of you that’s tempted, drawn in by the way he makes you laugh and feel seen. But there’s something - someone - holding you back. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, smiling softly. 

Matt nods again, his smile resurfaces, as sure as the sun rising. “That’s all I ask.”

The waitress returns with your coffee and pastries, breaking the tension with the clink of cups and the sweet scent of buttery croissants. 

After a moment, Matt takes a sip from his own cup and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I heard that drinking coffee in a café like this can increase your charm significantly. I think it’s working, do you?”

You play along, pretending to consider this. “Hmm, I don’t think you need help in that department. But… I’ll still be careful. Just in case you charm me into agreeing to a second date.”

Matt leans closer with a grin. “Second date? Love, if I’m being honest, I’m already planning our third date.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics - your favourite places in the city, funny stories from the set, and his many revealing anecdotes about Fabien. Like the one where he got properly sloshed after a night out at the pub, so much so that he stuck some croissants in his washing machine thinking it was the oven. 

“To his defense,” Matt exclaims as you giggle uncontrollably, “the two appliances are similarly shaped!”

As the date progresses, you feel undeniably warm and comfortable in Matt’s presence, but you also can’t ignore the lingering thoughts of Ewan. Your phone had buzzed at some point, and when you snuck a glance at the screen, it lit up to reveal three missed calls from Ewan One-Eye. He knows you’re on a date, so he must be interrupting on purpose. Thankfully, Matt’s enthusiastic regaling keeps you from lingering on Ewan - from worrying about him, missing him… from wishing that he could freely allow himself to take you on a date just like this. 

As you and Matt stroll back to your apartment, the city lights cast a warm glow on the pavement, creating a magical backdrop for the end of your evening. His arm around your shoulders brings you a sense of ease, and you no longer feel that nervous flush as earlier. 

He walks with you inside your building, and when you reach the door to your apartment, Matt pauses by the entrance, turning to face you with a gentle smile. “Well, this has been quite the evening,” he says. “I’m really glad we got to do this.”

You return his smile. “Me too. It’s been a lovely night.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a shared look that speaks volumes without words. 

“Well, I - ” you swallow, your nerves returning, “I better head inside.”

As you reach for your keys, Matt’s hand gently wraps around yours, causing a jolt of electricity to travel up your arm. “Before you do,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

You look up at him. Screw your newfound sense of ease. Your heartbeat now pounds in your ears like an erratic drum. “Oh? And what’s that?” But something tells you that you know just what he means. 

Without breaking eye contact, Matt leans in slowly, his face drifting closer.

“This,” he mumbles the word as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then his lips touch yours.

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Some notes in the margins...

This poll caused quite the stir amongst yous, I see. Consider me amused. Since part 9 isn't out yet, and my mind isn't set either - if you've got something to let off your chest, some supporting arguments, you've got one more chance to let me know below (or let each other know) 😉 I always read all your opinions, and they are properly taken into account. What did you think of Matty after this?

When Ewan called her at the end of part eight, do you think she had company? Anyway, something sweet is coming in part nine with Ewan and his darling!

To those who are seriously worried about the outcome, note that is and always has been a Ewan x reader fic. I am a Ewan girl just like yous. Hold fast and have fun on the wild ride, darlings 💙

[biteyoubiteme]

Omg congrats on 1k!!!

Soobin in the killa and gbgb performances have been killing me lately.. 🫠🫠 can i request a fic where reader goes down on him after his performance for either of these songs? Seriously never wanted to drop to my knees and suck a dick this badly in my life before this man 😵‍💫

baby, now, now, now, now

soobin x gn!reader

synopsis: he just looks too hot after a performance.

warnings: 🔞!!! oral (m!rec) prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1k

an: thank you so much! it was actually so hard to pick between gbgb and the killa for this lol but these photos spoke to me and picked themselves out. I go crazy watching these performances so I get you on a deeply personal and spiritual level okay and I rewatched the killas stage so many time to get inspo for this and omfg thank you for this ask I love watching that stage. but I hope you like this! not proofread forgive me sweet angel im forever indebted to you

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

It was not the first time you’ve seen the performance but it was the first time you’ve been there in person. This was entirely different from all the practices you’ve sat in on, every misstep followed by yeonjuns guidance, the soft laughs shared between the people in the room aiding the relaxed feel of the studio. 

But here, sitting in the little private suite overlooking the stage you’re at a loss for words. No one should look that hot on stage, not even your own boyfriend. Maybe it’s the lights that hit soobin just right, the way they keep catching his hair; shiny with sweat. The big screen zoomed into every detail, black tank top stuck to his skin, his bicep flexing just enough to make the wrap around his arm look as if it would pop off from the force. 

It’s enough to make the crowd go wild, the echoing cheers and screams louder than you imagined them. Every single one of them fawning over the way he looks, the way he moves, so in sync with yeonjun. It's almost impossible not to keep your eyes trained on soobins hips. Shirt cut just long enough to reach the waistband of his pants, just short enough so that every time he moved his arms or rolled his body it lifted up, exposing his midriff. Watching them dance during practice, Soobin was mostly dressed in sweats and a hoodie, unbothered by appearances when no one was around to see. Now here it's the opposite, your mouth watering at the way he's moving. 

You're familiar with the way his hips move without anyone around, here with everyone watching it only makes jealousy bubble up for a second. And when he stretches back, arms above his head, so much of his skin on display for the camera to catch. It was addicting to witness. 

When the two of you finally met backstage soobin couldn't tell if you were angry or tired. Never did he expect you to lead him over to the nearest dressing room, the lock twisted before you pushed him against the door. 

“I'm all sweaty,” he chuckles, hands instinctively on your body already, head rolling back as he lets you kiss up his neck. 

“I don't care,” you mutter, hand reaching down to palm him over his pants. 

It took very little for him to get hard when it came to you. Just knowing you were watching him set his nerves aflame, but he worked so well under the slight pressure. He knew what got to you, knew the possibility of this very thing happening now, he could scope your neediness as easily as he could his own, both of you tethered together in that department just fine. 

When you got down on your knees before him, fumbling with the button on his pants, he was whimpering, and already praying no one would walk past and hear him. The second you got your hands on him he was moaning in the back of his throat, pursing his lips as if that would help any with the sound. 

You don't even have to work to build up any spit, your mouth watering on its own just having his pretty cock in front of you. Your thumb rubbed over his slit, spreading the beading precum around his pink tip. “You looked so good out there,” you say in between kisses along his shaft, “performing so well I couldn't stop thinking about sucking you off,” 

You trace your fingertips across his veins, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. “You sounded so pretty on stage, will you make sure to let me hear you while I make you feel good?” 

He doesn't even get to finish his nod before your mouth is on him, so hot and wet he can't help the moan that leaves him. You hum in response, the vibration traveling up his spine and down his knees. He could buckle under the feeling alone, your free hand not circling what does not fit into your mouth is wrapped around his balls adding enough pressure to make him see stars. 

Reaching out to the door handle for leverage, he needs anything to keep himself up, his head rolling back as you try to take him deeper down your throat. Even just the wet sounds of your working mouth makes his thighs tremble. 

You move to pull away for only a second, enough so that you can go back to using both your hands when he pushes his hand into your hair. “No please don’t stop,” he whines pushing you back down onto his cock. You give a muffled yelp that has him moaning when he hits the back of your throat, so slick with your saliva he pumps in and out of your waiting mouth with ease. You don't even care about not breathing, on the cusp of just about to choke and pure bliss as he uses you. His hips work just as well as you knew they would, your hands wrapping around his thighs to help keep yourself still for him as he thrusts. 

He's a mess of whimpers as he feels his orgasm build, your nails digging into the fabric of his pants, “oh god- I’m about to cum- I’m- I’m cumming- I’m-” he lets your head go as he cums, body slumping against the door as his cock twitches on your tongue, mouth flooding with his release, the saltiness so familiar to you as you swallow.

When you pull away his cock is slick with your spit, rivulets still connecting you to him as you giggle. You give him a few loose tugs, his hips jerking back at the stimulation to his sensitive tip where you place light kisses. 

He reaches out to brush his thumb across your cheek, tracing it down to rub at your just fucked red lips. “You're so good to me, what did I ever do to deserve this mouth?”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! also a little thank you to @beomiracles for looking at this and not letting me set myself on fire over it

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 1: Smoke and Mirrors

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7k

Chapter 1/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I was going to wait to post this since I have fifty-leven WIPs but to make up for me not being able to write for a while and also finishing two stories in the coming weeks - here we are. I'm nervous about posting this one for some reason. Hope y'all like it.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Track 1 - Smoke and Mirrors (each chapter is a track)

In the world of music, there's no denying that Velvet Rebellion's sound is electric, their melodies are undeniably addictive. But offstage, the drama and chaos surrounding this band have been the subject of endless tabloid fodder. It's a classic case of the music being sweet, but the rest of the package is a tad sour. Will their rock 'n' roll lifestyle ultimately overshadow their undeniable talent? That remains the question on everyone's lips.

The TV channel flicking produced a rapid succession of blips and static.

"You know, when it comes to Velvet Rebellion, it's clear that Natasha Romanoff is the best thing about the band. Her vocals are just on another level!"

"Oh, absolutely! Natasha's stage presence is incredible, and her voice, that raw emotion she pours into every note, it's what sets them apart. But let's not forget the rest of the band; they bring their own magic to the mix!"

Another press of the button. Another channel emitting the same rhetoric. 

"So, what are your thoughts on Velvet Rebellion, the band that seems to be taking the music scene by storm?"

"Look, I won't deny that they've had their moments. Natasha's got a powerful voice, and they've had some catchy tunes. But let's not forget, there's more to rock 'n' roll than just one person. We bring our own unique sound to the table, and we're here to show that rock isn't a one-trick pony."

Suddenly, the screen goes black. The television has been turned off. The room is silent. 

“Whatever,” The mysterious person tsks. There are better things to do. 

In the dimly lit room, the first flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a shadowy figure, and a guitar's haunting melody echoed through the air. It was a simple beginning, a humble birth of sound that would eventually become the anthem of a generation.

Images flashed in rapid succession—a chaotic whirlwind of memories and moments that had defined their journey from obscurity to stardom. The flashing lights of a small, dimly lit club, the very place where they had played their first gig, gave way to a sea of screaming fans, arms raised in fervent adoration.

“Bucky! Bucky!”

“Steve, we love you!”

Talk show interviews brought them into living rooms across the nation, their faces beamed into millions of homes as they shared their stories and their music with the world. The camera panned to Natasha, her fierce gaze unyielding as she answered questions with poise and grace.

And then, there were the guitars. Guitars being smashed in a blaze of glory on stage, a ritual that had become their trademark. The destructive catharsis of the act symbolized the release of their raw energy and passion into the world.

Groupies and fans clamored for their attention, their devotion evident in the longing looks and outstretched hands. Each face in the crowd told a story of how Velvet Rebellion's music had touched their lives.

Late-night studio sessions followed, with the band working tirelessly into the early hours, crafting the songs and lyrics that had earned them their place in music history. In the dimly lit room, the flicker of a cigarette lighter once again marked the beginning of a new song.

Magazine covers splashed with their images adorned newsstands across the country. Excerpts from clippings of their first studio album, "Velvet Love," told a tale of raw, unbridled emotion set to music—a story that had resonated with countless souls.

The montage painted a vivid picture of a band that had journeyed through the highs and lows of fame, never losing sight of the music that had brought them together. Velvet Rebellion had carved its path through the music industry, leaving an unforgettable mark on the hearts of those who had listened and loved.

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

Sunlight filters through the curtains of Natasha and Wanda's cozy Los Angeles apartment. Disheveled yet determined, Natasha sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her guitar. She strums the strings absentmindedly, searching for that inspiration that once fueled Velvet Rebellion. Her fingers danced over the strings of her trusty guitar, each note a whisper in the quiet solitude of the bedroom.

Natasha's hair framed her face, and frustration lined her expression as she strummed the chords once again. The next album's melodies were meant to be born here. Yet, inspiration remained at arm’s length, teasing her like a fading dream.

"Come on Natalia," she whispered gruffly, remembering the name she had left behind long ago.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the muted TV on the dresser. A NEWS REPORTER's face appeared on the screen, accompanied by headlines that could never escape the relentless clutches of the media. She searched for the remote to turn up the volume as the face of one of her bandmates, Tony Stark’s pictures appeared. 

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“In a surprising turn of events, Velvet Rebellion's Tony Stark was arrested last night for public indecency.”

Natasha's eye-roll was instinctive. Tony always had a way of making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“...fans and critics alike have noted the band's gradual decline, and it seems the once-revered punk rock indie sensation is now on the verge of falling apart.”

The reporter's words cut through Natasha's indifference, a scalding reminder of the shadows that had been gathering around them. She couldn't deny it; the band had been stagnant for too long.

Fury sparked in her eyes, and she clenched the neck of her guitar, momentarily abandoning the song. The Velvet Rebellion of yesteryears, the band that had ignited stages and won hearts, couldn't be reduced to this—a spectacle of controversies and dwindling star power.

Returning her attention to her guitar Natasha sighed. The room's stillness hung heavy as she gently laid the guitar down on the floor. It felt like a futile effort, the muse remaining frustratingly out of reach, leaving her with an empty canvas and an aching desire to create.

Her gaze dropped to the small, black notebook, its pages filled with aborted attempts to capture the essence of their experiences and emotions in song. But today, those pages mocked her, an unforgiving reminder of the creative void that had taken its home within her.

Just as her frustration reached its peak, the bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, and in walked Wanda, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her hand. She plopped down on the bed beside Natasha, her eyes rolling in a knowing, teasing manner.

“How’s writing going?” Wanda asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to plop into her mouth. 

Natasha let out a weary sigh, her notebook momentarily forgotten as she shared her woes with her best friend.

“You have no idea. It's like I've hit a wall, and I can't seem to find my way around it.” Natasha said. “How are we supposed to come up with another album with no songs? It’s been two years. We’re going to be known as one-hit wonders.”

“First off that’s a bit dramatic,” Wanda attempted to calm her down. “We made the hot rock and alternative songs billboard charts for our debut. I think the momentum is still there.”

Wanda cast a glance at the muted TV screen, where a news reporter was still busy dissecting Tony's latest escapade. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, mirroring Natasha's exasperation.

“And of course, our dear Tony adds another branch to the publicity tree. It's almost impressive how consistently he manages to get into trouble.” Wanda shook her head. 

After placing her bowl of popcorn on the dresser, Wanda decided to abandon her sitting position and instead flopped onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. She grabbed Natasha's small notebook, a curious glint in her eyes as she skimmed through the handwritten lyrics and scattered notes.

“You know, Nat, I think I see where you're stuck.” Wanda hummed to herself for a moment. 

Turning her attention to Wanda, Natasha felt her frustration momentarily ebb away, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?” Natasha eyed her. “Please, share your wisdom.”

Wanda's eyes sparkled with an unexpected idea, and she pointed to a particular verse in the notebook. Her voice took on a sultry, poetic quality as she suggested a new lyric.

“How about this: "In the shadows of desire, we ignite the night."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as the words resonated deep within her. She quickly reached for her instrument and strummed the guitar, incorporating the new lyric into the melody, and in that instant, it all fell into place. A smile grew on her face, and she turned to Wanda.

“Wanda, that's brilliant! Thank you!” Natasha leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I know why I keep you around.”

Wanda beamed in response. 

"Speaking of," she began, her voice casual yet laced with an underlying purpose, "we've got a gig this weekend. It's a birthday party for Harley Jameson, you know, the producer's daughter."

Natasha's response was swift and uncompromising, her will clear in her refusal. Her head shook slightly as she firmly voiced her decision, her thoughts already drifting toward the disturbing pattern of her bandmates taking liberties with decisions without consulting her, the lead.

"Absolutely not, Wanda," Natasha declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Aren’t we better than performing for snot-nosed brats?

Wanda, ever patient and understanding, propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Well, when that snot nose brat is paying us fifty thousand dollars plus a retainer,” Wanda shrugs. “And all the booze and food we want.” Her words were measured, spoken with the calm that came from knowing this conversation was inevitable." Nat, remember," she began, "you're the lead, not the boss. We haven’t been taking gigs because you've been declining. You know we need to keep the momentum going."

Natasha's jaw clenched in frustration. She leaned back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she contemplated her response.

"There's a reason, Wanda," Natasha explained, her voice tinged with concern. "Our brand has taken a beating lately with all the scandals we've had over the years. It’s not a good look being so new. I want us to lay low for a while, let the storm pass."

Wanda sighed, her eyes reflecting her understanding of Natasha's concerns. But she also recognized the band's need to keep going ahead despite the challenges.

"Nat," Wanda said, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I get it, I really do. But we'll be fine. Harley's party should be a breeze, and I promise we'll stay out of trouble. We'll stick to the music, no antics."

Natasha's hesitation lingered. Ultimately, the trust she had in Wanda, her lifelong friend and partner-in-crime, began to outweigh her reservations. She finally nodded, a reluctant but willing acceptance of the gig.

"Alright, alright," Natasha conceded. “We'll do it. But just this one, and we'll play it safe."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with a victorious smile, recognizing that she had won this battle for now. With that agreement, they returned to their songwriting. 

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

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn of Harley Jameson's grand estate, Velvet Rebellion gathered on the makeshift stage. Around them, staff and party planners began to decorate the backyard. Their instruments glistened under the setting and stage lights. 

Natasha, her guitar slung securely across her shoulder, couldn't help but notice Tony, seated behind the drum kit, his sunglasses doing little to hide the lingering effects of his earlier indulgence. She approached him with a stern expression, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Tony, you better get it together," She warned. "We're not messing this up tonight."

Tony, ever the charmer, brushed off her concerns with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

"Nat, I promise, I'm fine. See?"

With that, he launched into a lively drum solo, his sticks dancing skillfully across the drumheads. The rhythm was tight, the sound electrifying. Natasha couldn't help but acknowledge his undeniable talent, even as she sighed in resignation.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "the sunglasses are his secret weapon now."

Standing beside Natasha, Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His quiet and calming presence was a balm to her nerves.

"It's alright, Natasha," He reassured her, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll get through this gig, just like our old days. Tony’s recovering but he seems fine."

Together they glance back to their bandmate who was more than likely inebriated. Tony chugged a bottle of water, before crushing it and dropping it down onto the floor beside him. 

Natasha's gaze softened as she looked at Steve, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, he’s the epitome of fine.”

“Okay,” Steve pulled her gently to the side. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” Natasha shrugged. “I just can’t help but think that gigs like this are beneath us. I mean we went from performing at the MTV Video Music Awards to this? A sweet sixteen?”

Steve looked at her. He had been through thick and thin with Natasha and knew the depth of her concerns. 

“Natasha,” He replied. “I get your worries, but I promise this is a good thing for us. Todd Jameson is one of the biggest music producers in Hollywood right now. There will be a lot of executives here just to support his daughter. Think of what that could mean for us.”

“Fine,” Natasha nodded. “But if he fucks up I kick his ass.”

“Oh, you bet. Right after I’m done kicking it,” Steve joked causing Natasha to burst into laughter. 

Natasha steps back over to the mic. “Alright let’s take it from the top.” 

As Natasha prepared to lead the band into their rehearsal of the first song, the peacefulness of the backyard rehearsal space was abruptly disrupted by the arrival of Harley Jameson. She swept onto the scene with all the extravagance befitting a Hollywood princess, accompanied by a harried-looking party planner and another woman, who appeared to be a guest.

Harley, the embodiment of a spoiled heiress, immediately began issuing orders with a sense of entitlement that left the party planner flustered.

"No, no, no! These decorations are all wrong! Change them around! The mirror ball should be over here. And I want a live peacock by the pool. It's not too much to ask, is it?" Harley demanded impatiently.

The party planner, clearly overwhelmed, tried to keep up with Harley's demands. "Harley, we only have a few hours before the party starts. It's going to be challenging to make all these changes in such a short time."

Harley huffed, uninterested in the logistical challenges she was causing. "I don't care about that. Just get it done. My dad said I could have whatever I wanted."

Meanwhile, Harley's attention shifted to Velvet Rebellion, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Oh, my God! I've been dying to meet you! I'm a huge fan!" she exclaimed with excitement. “I’m so happy I could get you here.”

She bounded over to the band, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she was creating, and introduced them to the party planner and you.

"This is Velvet Rebellion!" Harley introduced with enthusiasm. "Steve, the keyboardist, Tony on the drums, Bucky on the electric guitar, Wanda, the second lead singer and bass guitar, and Natasha, the incredible lead singer!"

You and the other woman exchanged glances, your expressions a mixture of frustration and amusement at the whirlwind that was Harley Jameson. You gave a small wave, opting to be in the background of this exchange. 

Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, managed to maintain her composure and put on a friendly smile despite Harley's overwhelming energy. She nodded graciously at Harley's enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you so much, Harley!" Wanda replied with genuine warmth. "We're thrilled to meet you too. Your party looks like it's going to be incredible!"

Harley's energy showed no signs of waning as she delved into the details of the band's performance. When Wanda mentioned their planned first song, "Smoke and Mirrors," Harley immediately piped up with an alternative suggestion.

"No, no, no," Harley interrupted with fervor. "I want you to start with 'Ink and Whiskey.' It's my favorite!"

Natasha, who had been preparing to protest the sudden change to their setlist, hesitated as she saw Wanda's meek demeanor. However, it was clear that Harley's demand had disrupted their carefully planned sequence.

Natasha began to voice her concerns, but Harley's retort was swift and smart-mouthed. 

“We’ve already planned this out for-” Natasha began. 

“Oh, you can change it, can’t you? It’s just a silly setlist,” Harly questioned. 

Before Natasha could respond, you intervened with a calm yet authoritative tone.

"Harley, let's tone it down a bit," You advised, your demeanor oozing an air of authority that surprised Natasha. Harley listened, her earlier defiance giving way to a more composed demeanor.

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Harley shrugged. 

Natasha found herself intrigued by your presence and the respect Harley seemed to show you.

"Alright," Natasha conceded with a smile, "since it's your birthday, we'll start with 'Ink and Whiskey.'"

Wanda offered a nod of agreement, and the tension in the air began to dissipate.

Harley, feeling triumphant, turned her attention to the party planner.

"Sarah, darling, let's make sure everything is perfect. I want it to be a night to remember!" Harley changed the subject, pulling you both back into a conversation with ease. 

Sarah, the party planner, nodded and tried to hide her relief that the brief crisis had passed. 

"Of course, Harley. Everything will be just as you want it."

Natasha watched the exchange between Harley and Sarah, her curiosity piqued more by you. 

“Who’s the chick?” Natasha pointed over to you with a tilt of her head. She got shrugs from Steve and Bucky. Tony was way too distracted to answer as he flirted with one of the staff. Wanda squinted to see if she could guess. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m guessing it’s not her mom.”

“Interesting,” Natasha mumbled to herself. She shook her head. There was no time for whatever the thumping in her heart was proving to be. She was here for the band and for the music. Also for the money, she couldn’t forget the money. 

As the preparations for the party continued, your cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the conversation flow. You excused yourself with a polite smile and stepped away from the group, heading toward a quieter corner of the backyard a few feet away.

Natasha couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation, the tone of your voice suggesting a heartfelt exchange, likely with a significant other. Natasha discreetly glanced in your direction, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Your voice held a gentle warmth as you spoke softly into your phone, your words filled with affection and longing.

 "I miss you too, sweetheart. Yeah, the party's getting started here in a couple of hours. It's not the same without you. Can't wait to see you soon." You smiled. 

Natasha couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but the tenderness in your voice painted a clear picture of a loving connection between you and someone special.

Meanwhile, Harley, always the inquisitive host, began questioning Steve and Bucky about the band and its music.

"So, guys," Harley started, her interest genuine, "Have you ever thought about going solo? I am dying to know the secret."

Steve and Bucky, accustomed to answering these questions, engaged in a friendly chat with Harley, even if they also found her annoying. 

As Natasha discreetly observed you from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but be captivated by your natural beauty. You were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and form-fitting jeans, a look that should have been unremarkable, but on you, it was utterly captivating.

The way your hair was styled, framing your face in soft waves, added to your appeal. Your skin had a radiant glow, and your features held an understated elegance that drew Natasha's attention. Despite the casual attire, you exuded a timeless charm that was impossible to ignore.

Natasha found herself admiring the effortless beauty that seemed to emanate from you and she wanted to know more. 

Just as Natasha started to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, you turned around with a warm smile, catching her off guard. She quickly toyed with her microphone stand, feigning indifference.

You found her reaction amusing but were soon drawn back into your phone conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the person on the other end of that call and what had sparked such a genuine smile on your face. 

She toyed with the mic stand for as long as possible, physically forcing herself not to look your way. It’s a few more minutes before you returned to the group. You turned your attention to Harley and Sarah.

"Harley, don't forget, you have that hair appointment in an hour," You reminded her, glancing at your watch. "We need to make sure you're all set for your big night."

Harley, momentarily distracted by the band's presence, nodded in agreement.

"Oh, right! Thanks, y/n. I'll head out now," Harley replied with a grin. She turned to the band and offered her farewells. "Catch you all later!"

With that, Harley and Sarah departed, leaving Velvet Rebellion alone in the backyard.

As the group began to disperse, you took a moment to say goodbye to the band. 

“See you guys tonight,” You said. “I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need refreshments just ask one of the staff and they will be happy to help you with anything you need.” 

Natasha responded with a small smile and a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the brief but pleasant interaction.

Once you, Harley, and Sarah were out of earshot, the rest of the band couldn't resist teasing Natasha. Wanda, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, chimed in.

"Uh oh, I know that look," Wanda teased, earning a knowing chuckle from the others. Natasha's momentary fascination with you hadn't gone unnoticed, and her bandmates were more than happy to playfully nudge her about it.

“There’s no look, I don’t have a look.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, you don’t,” Wanda grinned. “Any bets on how long until she gets her number?”

“I say within the hour,” Tony raised his hand pulling out a single, crinkled five-dollar bill from his back pocket. 

“Fifteen says they sleep together after the show,” Bucky shrugged. Steve is the only one to remain silent. 

“I don’t know,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for later. The girl barely said two words to any of us.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Now, can we rehearse like a proper band?” 

She tried to erase your image from her head as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. 

From the top. 

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

The night was alive with energy as Velvet Rebellion took the stage, the crowd gathered around, eager to soak in every note of their music. Natasha oozed confidence and charisma, a star in every sense of the word. The opening chords of "Ink and Whiskey" filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. This birthday party was a rager if she’d ever seen one. Natasha always considered rich people stiff and uptight. Going to plenty of parties once their debut kicked off their careers. Stiff drinks, weird pleasantries, and even more drugs. She was being proven wrong with this particular shindig. 

She moved to the edge of the stage, her presence magnetic. She sang with a passion that could be felt in every corner of the space, her voice carrying the weight of their lyrics. The audience couldn't help but be drawn into her performance, and they eagerly joined in, singing along and dancing to the beat.

Wanda, standing beside Natasha, bled a different kind of cool and calm. Her steady presence provided the perfect balance to Natasha's fiery performance. It was clear to anyone watching that their dynamic was the secret to their success.

Natasha lowered her head, giving Wanda the floor to sing her part of the chorus. Wanda’s hands moved steadily between the chords as she sang into the microphone. 

Ink and whiskey, the pages of our hearts,  

Tangled in the chapters where love starts,  

In the darkness, our secrets we confide,  

With every word written, our souls collide

Natasha steps forward, moving close enough to the microphone so that she and Wanda could harmonize the last verse. Her eyes travel from Wanda’s, smiling as they share in the energy and joy of being on stage before she maneuvers herself to face the crowd. 

In the night's embrace, our love's sweet refrain,  

Ink and whiskey, like a runaway train,  

Through the highs and lows, we'll find our way,  

With every word we write, love's here to stay

In the front row, Harley danced with her friends, reveling in the music and the excitement of the night. The atmosphere was electric, and the joy was contagious.

As Natasha sang, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on familiar faces among the sea of B-listers and music enthusiasts. But the one that stood out the most was you. Your eyes locked, and Natasha couldn't resist a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of your earlier encounter.

You raised your glass in a silent toast and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end. You weren’t a huge fan of the music genre but you could see why Velvet Rebellion was such a rising star amongst new artists. Their stage presence was undeniable, the song was catchy and the beat was electrifying. It helped that Natasha was cute. All good things in your book. You can’t take your eyes off the stage as they move into their next song. It’s a bit disjointed considering Harley made them change the setlist around the last minute but it seems smooth either way. Natasha dances a bit for this one, her body movements fluid and effortless. Almost as if she’s had some training. 

You’re momentarily distracted when a distant family member comes to say hello. 

The show must go on as Natasha continues to sing her heart out. 

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

The final notes of their setlist rang out, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Velvet Rebellion had given their all, and now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going.

Wanda had convinced Natasha to stay a while longer, promising that the night was still young and full of possibilities. Tony, ever the charmer, remarked with a grin, "I see a few MILFs in the crowd that I wouldn't mind mingling with." He slipped into the crowd with ease, chatting up the first single woman he saw. 

Natasha, however, remained all about business. She stood at the bar, surveying the party and keeping a watchful eye on her bandmates. The chaos and revelry around her seemed to blur into a colorful swirl of dancing bodies and laughter.

It was then that you approached her, catching Natasha's attention. Your presence was a welcome change of pace, and Natasha couldn't help but appreciate the genuine compliment she received.

"You guys were incredible," You said with a smile. "I'm impressed."

Natasha, always a woman of few words in such settings, offered a gracious nod of acknowledgment. 

You extended your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself, "I'm y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Natasha shook your hand firmly and replied, "Natasha. Likewise."

You couldn't help but notice Natasha's reserved demeanor. Almost as if she felt too cool to be here. 

"I couldn't help but wonder," You began, your curiosity evident as you raised your voice above the music. "why aren't you out there dancing like the rest of your bandmates?"

Natasha offered a wry smile and shot back, "I could ask you the same thing."

“Touche,” You nodded. “I’m not much of a party girl.” You turn towards the bartender. “Do you want a drink? Eric here makes the best mojitos.”

“Sure, I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Natasha asked. 

“You heard the woman,” You jokingly said to Eric as he began to make your drinks. As you focused your attention on grabbing a few napkins, Natasha gave you a once-over. Your party dress was a delightful balance of simplicity and style. The knee-length and backless dress showcased a flattering silhouette, hugging your curves in all the right places. The deep, midnight-blue fabric was decorated with tiny, shimmering glitter that seemed to twinkle with each movement you made. Its sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps added a touch of femininity to the ensemble, while the mid-thigh slit allowed for easy movement as you moved. The overall effect was a cute yet elegant dress that perfectly suited the festive atmosphere of the party.

Natasha's observant eye caught the jewelry adorning your wrist. It was subtle but tasteful, hinting at a level of refinement that didn't go unnoticed. It was at least half of her salary for tonight’s show. This only interested her more. She needed to know who you were. She wanted to know the mystery behind you and your name. 

“Here you go,” You step back over to Natasha to hand her a drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“Not at all,” Natasha shrugged. 

"You know, if you're looking for a bit more quiet, we could step inside for a breather." You suggested, tilting your chin towards the house. 

Natasha considered the offer, realizing that a change of scenery might be a welcome respite from the party's chaos. With a small smile, she agreed, "That sounds like a good idea."

You led Natasha through the sea of people and inside the mansion to a nearby office where the music's relentless thump was muffled, and the atmosphere was quieter. It was a welcome change from the frenzied party outside.

As you settled into seats close to each other on the couch, drinks in hand, Natasha couldn't help herself and began to ask you questions. 

“Why did you ask me in here tonight?” Natasha asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I have been invited into much worse places.”  

“Thanks, I think,” You chuckled. You sensed Natasha's curiosity and offered a simple explanation, your eyes holding Natasha's in an unspoken connection."I enjoy meeting new people," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "And I've decided I wanted to talk with you."

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze thoughtful. "I also wanted to apologize for Harley's behavior earlier. She can be... spirited at times."

Natasha waved off the apology with a small smile, understanding that spirited was one way to describe Harley's antics.

You went on to explain, "Usually, I don't speak up like that, but my uncle has a way of spoiling Harley. It's... complicated."

Natasha's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Your uncle? He’s Todd Jameson?"

You took a moment before revealing, "Yes. He and my dad are half-brothers. Making Harley my little cousin. I don’t admit it often."

The revelation left Natasha intrigued. She had heard the name Todd Jameson before, a figure of significance in the entertainment industry. The connection between you and Harley was now becoming clearer, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the family connection.

“That would make your dad…” Natasha began. 

“Nick Fury, the one and only,” You finished for her. “Different fathers. My dad is somewhere out there tonight. It’s a thing I don’t like to admit to strangers.”

“I get it,” Natasha nodded. 

The revelation about your family connection to Todd Jameson made Natasha pause for a moment. She had always admired the award-winning jazz player turned talent manager, Nick Fury, from afar. His contributions to the music industry were legendary, and Natasha couldn't deny that she was a fan of his music.

She decided not to fangirl, though, and instead offered a genuine smile. "Your dad is a legend. I've always been a fan of his music."

Your eyes lit up with appreciation. "Thank you, Natasha. I'll be sure to pass that along to him." You set your half-empty cup onto a coaster, before turning back to Natasha. “So, watching you on that stage. Not many people have that star power. I was wondering if you have experience dancing? You were incredible.” 

Natasha's eyes sparkled as she recalled her performance. "The way I danced on stage during our set, it's a part of who I am. I guess you could say it's a bit of my background showing through."

Your curiosity piqued, and you guessed, "Ballet, then?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, I did ballet for sixteen years as a child. I even got into Juilliard."

Your eyes widened in admiration. "That's amazing, Natasha. How did you get into singing and music?"

Natasha took a sip of her drink and smiled as she delved into the story of how she got into music. It was a story that she didn't often share, but there was something about her conversation with you that made her feel comfortable opening up.

"It all started back in high school," Natasha began. "I was really into dancing, and it was an elective at my school. But then, one day, I decided to join the choir on a whim. And I fell in love with singing and songwriting. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I needed something to keep me out of the house and off the streets."

She paused for a moment, reminiscing about those early days. "So, I started writing songs, and my friends Wanda and Steve would go over to Steve’s small bedroom. We'd play our rented instruments and experiment with different sounds. It was just a fun little hobby at first."

Natasha's gaze drifted, lost in the memories of those simple beginnings. "Then Bucky, Steve’s best friend well, he's always been a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a talent for the electric guitar. And Tony...his dad's pretty wealthy and bought us all our equipment. Plus, he's good at the drums."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "It was a bit of a motley crew, but that's how Velvet Rebellion came to be. We started playing in small venues, dive bars, and country clubs. And somehow, we made it here."

Natasha's usually guarded demeanor had softened in your presence, and she found herself enjoying the opportunity to share a piece of her journey with someone who seemed genuinely interested in her story.

“I love that,” You nodded. You and Natasha share a smile before she asked. 

“Is your boyfriend here tonight? I don’t want to keep you too long,” She fished for more information. 

“No, no,” You shake your head. “No boyfriend. You?”

“Not really into monogamy at the moment,” She shrugged. She doesn’t know if this statement will bite her in the ass later but for some reason she trusted you. “Tell me about you. Are you in the family business or?”

"I've always had a bit of a connection to the music world," You began. "As a teenager, I sang a few backup vocals for artists my uncle produced. I guess you could say I almost pursued a career in music, but life had other plans for me. I got pregnant at seventeen. Dedicated to finish school and go to college."

You took a thoughtful swig of your drink and continued, "Now, I'm a publicist. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good at what I do.When I'm not working, I'm taking care of my daughter, Isabella. She's nine years old and the light of my life."

Your face softened as you spoke about your daughter, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. "She's with her dad for the weekend," you added, "and we co-parent quite well."

Natasha was genuinely interested in your life outside of the party scene, and she couldn't resist asking, "Do you have any pictures of Isabella? I'd love to see her."

Your eyes twinkled with delight as you pulled out your phone and began to share a few adorable images of your daughter. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she admired the photos, enjoying this glimpse into your world beyond the music and the party.

“Here she is at gymnastics practice,” You flipped through a few pictures of Isabella’s smiling face. “And swim. She is a little spitfire and she wants to do it all.”

“Wow,” Natasha smiled as if Isabella were her own child. “Do you ever want more?”

“Maybe one day,” You said wistfully. “For now I feel pretty full with everything in life. You?” 

You noticed the change in Natasha's expression and asked, "Is something on your mind?"

Natasha sighed, leaning back into her seat. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for motherhood," she admitted. "I have a younger sister, Yelena, she’s attending the University of Cambridge in England now. She's even developed a bit of a British accent." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

"But," she continued, "I enjoy the fast-paced life, the music, the performances, and the constant movement. A significant other won’t quite understand that I don't always have the time. Not that I don’t ever want that someday but…” Her voice died down. 

You listened empathetically, understanding the complexities of Natasha's life as a musician. "I get that," you acknowledged. "But it's essential to find the right balance for you, whether it's in your music career, personal life, or something in between. My dad was able to do it. When he crossed over into hip-hop there was definitely a lot he missed but he still made things happen"

“Really? Well, I will have to ask him for pointers.” She grinned. 

Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, there came a polite knock at the office door. A member of the party staff popped in to inform you that they were ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley.

You turned to Natasha with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting and talking to you, Natasha," you said genuinely.

Natasha, not wanting the connection to end, began, "You know, I'd love to..."

But before she could finish her sentence, your cheeks flushed, and you interrupted already knowing what she was going to say, your voice bold, "Are you going to call me, or are you going to leave me hanging in the wind?"

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at your sudden assertiveness. It was a pleasant surprise. "I’m not that type of woman," Natasha said. At your look, she laughed again. “You got me there.”

You returned her smile and handed Natasha your phone, saying, "You'll just have to trust me with your number instead, and I'll call." Asking for her number instead eased the pressure off Natasha, and also your nerves at hoping she’d call. 

You gave Natasha a wink and chucked a thumb over your shoulder to indicate you were going back to the party. Natasha nodded and watched you walk away. When her eyes trailed lower she doesn’t even feel guilty about it. 

Natasha left the office, rejoining her bandmates outside in the backyard, just as they were preparing to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley. The festive atmosphere was in full swing, and the energy of the party was infectious.

As the crowd gathered around Harley, Natasha's eyes scanned the faces, and they landed on you, who was standing among the partygoers. Your eyes met, and you shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had developed.

Tony, always quick to pick up on things, couldn't help but tease Natasha when he noticed her grin. "So, did you get her number?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony's assumption but then burst into laughter. "No," she replied with a playful smirk, "she took mine."

The party was still in full swing when someone on stage stopped the music with a loud, "Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention, please?"

The spotlight shifted to the stage, and all eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. It was a friend of Harley's, and he had a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke into the microphone.

"I have a special surprise for our birthday girl tonight," he announced. "We have someone here who's agreed to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Harley, and I think you're all in for a treat."

A collective cheer and applause erupted from the crowd as they eagerly anticipated the surprise. The spotlight moved to you, highlighting your face and putting you on the spot. You managed to not look like a deer in headlights which was a feat in itself. Natasha's curiosity was piqued, especially considering you had mentioned you weren’t much of a singer.

You tried to protest shyly, but the crowd begged you to come up on stage. Encouraged by their cheers, you reluctantly made your way up to the spotlight.

Once on stage, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath, your nerves palpable. You began with a little birthday speech, your voice tinged with affection and humor.

"I want to wish a happy birthday to my cousin Harley," You began, your smile directed at the birthday girl. "Even though she's a bit of a brat," you teased, earning laughs from the crowd, "she's my brat, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then, as expected, you began to sing "Happy Birthday." Your voice, which you had modestly downplayed earlier, was nothing short of remarkable. It was soulful, sweet, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated through the entire backyard.

The crowd, including Natasha, was utterly blown away by the unexpected talent that you possessed. Your voice filled the air, making the birthday celebration even more special and memorable. It was a moment of pure magic, and Natasha couldn't help but be captivated by your incredible singing ability.

Natasha decided two things then and there. One, she really liked you, and two, boy, was she in for a ride.

---> next part

[sexysadie23]

Drew Starkey is having his much deserved moment. one of the best actors (if not the best actor) on the show.

i watch outer banks and am amazed by his skill and presence on screen. He genuinely commands every scene he is in and it’s not because he’s attractive, but he is one of the rare actors that have a powerful range. He can be the damaged psycho killer, the addict, the romcom sweetheart. I am in awe even of his short film performances.

From now, his career will never be the same. I love obx, but the jump from being a Netflix character to indie film star is something that won’t be ignored by prestigious studios and directors. He’s on track to oscar nominations, I will tell you now.

And he absolutely deserves it too! The amount of talent he has shown and the amount of time he has been forging his career is insane. We are so lucky to bare witness to the growth of someone so rare, skilled and unique.

[hoshiputa]

Cyber

💌 woozi x female reader

📩 Request: Phone sex with Woozi.

cw: nsfw, smut, established relationship, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc), masturbation, exhibitionism

word count: 1.2k

It was past midnight when your phone started ringing. You grabbed as fast as you could, because you already knew who it was.

Lee Jihoon. Your beloved, hard working, super famous boyfriend.

He usually called at that time when he was at the studio, because that was when he had a break. The only difference today was that it was a video call instead of the usual late night voice calls.

“Hi, babe!”

“Hello.”

Jihoon immediately smiled at you through the screen, the well known blue lightning of his studio making him look as beautiful as ever. His phone was set at the perfect angle, showing off his muscled arms.

“What's with the video call?” You asked. “Not that I'm complaining.”

It was always good to see him, of course. Especially when he had been away for days like this, working day and night to produce another masterpiece for his group, unable to come back home for you.

“I wanted to see your face,” he said softly.

“Aww, I miss you!”

You rolled around in your bed, kicking your feet in the air like the main character of a teenage movie talking to their crush for the first time.

“What are you doing? Did you eat?” Jihoon asked.

“I was just watching some Netflix. And yes, I had dinner. What about you?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“I ate instant noodles,” he confessed.

“Lee Jihoon! What did I tell you?!”

“It was just this time. Please forgive me.”

Staring at your boyfriend through your phone screen, you felt your heart ache. You hadn't seen each other in a week and it was starting to make you feel sad.

“And how was your day?” You asked him.

“It was nice… I just stayed here for the most part of it.”

Jihoon giggled, like being trapped in a music studio for the whole week wasn't a complete nightmare like most people thought

“You're the only person I know who doesn't complain about work.”

“What can I say? I like what I do.”

Jihoon leaned against his chair, pushing it back a little just so the screen could show up from his thighs to his face. It was unusual, because normally his video calls were filled with awkward close ups of his face.

“Sir, are you trying to seduce me?!”

Jihoon giggled, the kind of laugh he let out every time he did have something up his sleeve.

“Actually, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

Not even intense therapy through the twenty years of your life would've prepared you to watch your boyfriend pull out his cock on camera. Your jaw dropped at the sight, his length standing up hard and nice as he smirked at you through the screen.

“What— Jihoon! What?”

You had no words, so you just kept staring at the screen. Mouth watering, body heat going up, thighs clenching as you sat up on your bed.

“I've been missing you,” he said, hands wrapping around his length. “This much.”

“Oh, God.”

You rolled around on your bed, screaming into your pillow as you held tight against your phone.

“I was jerking off to one of your pictures, and then I thought… We could make it better.”

There was this thing. With Jihoon's busy schedules and all of the time you two had to spend away from each other, both of you agreed to share and save each other's nudes.

“I can't stop staring at your dick.”

You chuckled awkwardly, being washed over by the memories of Jihoon on top of you, his cock stretching you out and hitting just right. It wasn't fair you had to be away from him.

“So… Can you take your clothes off for me?”

You weren't the exhibitionist type. To be honest, you weren't any type before Jihoon — just some boring random girl. Then he came into your life and showed you his ways, and now you were addicted. So you didn't think twice before ripping your clothes off so fast it made Jihoon giggle.

Laying on bed, you lifted up your phone, showing off your naked body for him.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Jihoon said, hand slightly stroking his dick.

It wasn't just missing him. And it wasn't just desire and lust. You actually yearned for him. Not only his body, but hearing those nice words coming straight out of his mouth and being whispered to your ears, his soft hands touching all over your body, wrapping around your neck.

“I miss you so much,” you whined.

“I miss you too, babygirl,” he sighed. “I wish I could be there to spread you out and fuck you senseless.”

“Shit, don't say that.”

“Why? Am I making you wet?”

For someone who wasn't into exhibitionism, you for sure felt the urge to touch yourself to make Jihoon know how much you missed him. And it was sinful, to say the least. To wrap your fingers around your hardened nipples and watch Jihoon touch his hardened dick, biting his lip as you showed off like you were his favorite movie star.

“Fuck, you know how much I love those tits, right?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Of course you knew it. You knew it because every time Jihoon got you naked, he sucked on your nipples like his life depended on it. And oh, how you missed his mouth on your skin.

“What about spreading your legs for me? Will you show me your cunt?”

Hearing Jihoon asking so nicely and calmly for something so dirty made you gasp softly, reminiscing all of the times it was his hands spreading your legs open for him to dive into your wet pussy and suck on your juices like it was his favorite drink. When you opened your legs and leaned against your bed frame, Jihoon let out a soft moan as he pressed his thumb against the tip of his cock.

“That's right, you're such a good girl,” he smirked through the screen.

You watched as Jihoon started stroking his cock a little faster, biting his lip as he watched your naked body. It felt good to know he needed you that much, so much only a picture wasn't enough. Your head ran over all of the times you had his fingers inside you, playing with your cunt just to tease you. All of the times he fucked deep into you as you begged for more.

“Are you touching yourself, babe? Let me see it,” he said, now slowly stroking his cock.

You hadn't noticed your free hand slipped in between your legs, because you were lost in thoughts about having Jihoon's muscled arms around you.

“I— Can't help it,” you said, slightly embarrassed.

“It's okay,” he smiled at you. “I'd love to watch you fuck yourself.”

You bit your lip at his words, fingers pressing against your clit as you moved them in circles. You thought about Jihoon and how he was perfect with his hands, his soft fingers plunging into your cunt.

“That's perfect, babe. We can do it together.”

Your head was spinning when you buried two of your fingers inside your wet cunt, the phone in your other hand showing Jihoon's eagerness as he stroked his cock faster.

“You want this cock?”

“Yes.”

You whined, gasping as your fingers fucked into your cunt. The only problem was they weren't as thick and good as Jihoon.

“I want your pussy too, babe,” he said. “You always take my cock so well.”

Jihoon gasped, biceps flexing as he moved his hand faster and faster around his leaking length.

“Yeah, I love your cock,” you moaned, fingers brushing against your own walls.

“Oh, my love, you look so good when you're desperate for my cock.”

Jihoon leaned back against his chair, hand working even faster and harder around his thick cock.

“I wish I could be coming all over you now,” he said.

Your toes curled and your legs clenched, the way Jihoon always painted you with his warm cum imprinted into your brain.

“I'd treat you just right, my princess,” he let out a gasp. “Let you ride my cock just how you like it.”

“Fuck, Jihoon!” You whined, back arching against your bed.

“Are you going to come? From watching me jerking off to you?”

“Yes!” You moaned.

It didn't take long. The mix of Jihoon's words, the sight of his beautiful cock and your fingers stretching you out, your orgasm hit so hard you rolled your eyes and let your phone fall from your hand. From the noises you heard from Jihoon, you were sure he had finally come too. Laying on your side, you grabbed the phone to watch a messed up Jihoon staring back at you. There were strands of his hair falling on his face and his breathing was just as hard as yours.

“That was so fucking hot,” he said in between sighs.

“Oh my God, I love you,” you confessed.

“I love you too, babe.”

[zep-zep-blog]

Any HCs for Vox with a gn!Reader that loves to mess with his tie? Either grabbing it to pull him into a kiss or just to help him fix it every morning?

YESS 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Vox x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff/headcanons

Cw:None 💅🏼✨

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He def was confused when you first did it and let's just say it wasn't the best knot lol.

He taught you the proper way, but he framed it as teaching you a better looking knot.

He feels strange when he doesn't have his tie tied by you every morning and he def can't leave without you kissing him.

It's like that scene in the Incredibles when she pulls him into a kiss while he's leaving.

He can't get enough and you def have him wrapped around your finger.

It's become his addiction, his routine, and he basically can't function without you tying his tie/bow tie and pulling him in for a kiss every morning.

If you're bored, he lets you fidget with his tie, loosening it and tying it again while sitting in his lap while he works.

He gets a laugh at the different patterns and colors of ties you get him (tvs, wifi symbols, etc)

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He stood there watching silently as your hands worked effortlessly at his bowtie, it was like muscle memory for you at that point. Sure you had started off with the worst tie tying ever, but hey, who doesn't?

You finished it off, creating a perfect bow. As you fluffed it a bit, he had a small smile as he watched you. Your hands then went to the edges of his screen and you pulled him in for a kiss like always. It was clockwork for you two, it felt like if you didn't do this you would feel off the entire day.

You kissed him once more and let him go to his filming studio for another show for one of his many channels. But, you both knew that he would probably come back in a few hours for you to hang out with him in his moniter room.

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I totally did not post this before finishing (I totally did smh) anyways, hope yall enjoy o(^▽^)o

Requests open!

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 14<-

Part 15

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Angst, Smut, Under 18 DNI!, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Pet names, oral (f receiving), face sitting, handcuffs, dom!reader, choking

Word Count: 6.6k

Note: Here you go. A very very soft bdsm. Thought it would fit with Seungmin. Let me know what you think about it. I really hope you like this part. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always a blessing! I’m always open for suggestions and requests.

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

The next few days didn't get any easier for Seungmin. While you were busy with meetings, one afternoon you saw him storm out of the studio. He didn't even raise his eyes and his face was petrified and covered with stress and anger, which was unusual for the loving and good-natured singer.

Puzzled, you joined Han and Chan in the studio to tell them when their next appointments were.

"What's wrong with Seungmin?", you asked as soon as you closed the door behind you.

Han was sitting on the couch, looking over Chan's shoulder at the screen where they were working on a song. Jeongin stood at the microphone, going over the verses on the sheet of paper in front of him.

It took a while before he noticed you and waved at you through the thick glass.

Han didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. His spicy cologne messed immediately with your self control.

"He had singing lessons and was unhappy with his vocals there, and here in the studio he was so tense that his voice then completely failed", he explained, running both hands under your shirt where he placed them firmly against your stomach. He was once again greedy, addicted to every touch he could get from you.

Once you were alone Jisung just couldn't keep his hands off your body.

"He wasn't bad. I think he's just way too hard on himself and the comeback stresses him out so much that he loses his nerves”, Chan said, giving Jeongin a thumbs up to start the next take.

His voice sounded incredible on the track and Chan also grinned enthusiastically when there was nothing left to improve.

"Very good, Innie. We're done", he said and Jeongin smiled in relief. He came out of the recording room and as soon as he was in front of the couch, he leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips before dropping down next to Jisung and you.

"Seungmin is a perfectionist. If he doesn't meet the hundred and ten percent he's set as his goal, he'll fall into a hole", Jeongin explained and took a water bottle from the floor and took a big sip.

You pulled your legs in and snuggled closer to Jisung's chest while he played with the edge of your bra under your shirt.

"Yes. He's always been like that. He's a control freak and when he loses control he beats himself up for days", Chan agreed.

You had noticed that too. Seungmin was also kind of possessive about things that were important to him and he seemed to think that he always had to be in control. Jeongin put a hand on your knee, which you took thoughtfully and played with the rings on his fingers in your lap.

"Isn't there a way to help him?", you pondered aloud, and Chan turned in his chair to look at you. He took off his headphones and it was obvious he had asked himself that question many times before.

"I think that once he manages to give up control, it would help him. It's probably what he wants all along but can't bring himself to do it."

You nodded slowly and intertwined your fingers with Jeongin's.

Jisung's hair tickled your neck as he brushed his lips hungry over your collarbone, and his fingers on your ribs finally made you relax. Chan turned back to his screen and tapped his thighs.

"Hannie you're up next!"

Directly he groaned loudly and closed his eyes on the crook of your neck.

"Why now, when Y/N is here?"

"You'll still see her all evening when we get home", Chan said with amusement. It was still unusual that you all would actually live together soon, and you kept forgetting it too. Secretly, you wondered if it would ever become normalcy for you to have the boys around all the time. For now, it was still too good to be true.

"Come on move it, Ji!", said Chan, and his tone was so dominant that you almost went to the microphone yourself. However, you could see his smile in the reflection of the screen.

"I'm afraid you'll have to play with Jeongin for a bit now...", Jisung cooed and turned your head until your lips hovered in front of his. He wasted no time in kissing you and as he did, his hands wandered under your shirt, lifting it a bit as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them and making you gasp against his lips.

Greedily he slid his tongue into your mouth and you both smiled into the kiss. You could feel his heartbeat against your back and would have loved to rip off his clothes here and now. When you were together, you could always think you were teenagers in heat who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Jeongin elbowed Han in the side, making him finally let go of you.

"Come on! Otherwise we'll never get home!", he drove at him, and his cheeks had turned rosy as he had watched you making out without restraint.

Jisung chuckled at the Maknaes look and then got up to disappear into the recording room.

Sighing, you snuggled up to Jeongin and laid your head in his lap. With a gentle smile, he stroked his fingers through your hair, and so you listened to Han as he rapped his parts like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But the thoughts of Seungmin wouldn't let you go. You wanted him to feel better and the words of his members kept playing in your head.

Gradually, an idea began to crystallize as to how you could help him.

As soon as you got back to the dorm, you were enveloped by the smell of fresh Bibimbap. As if automatically, you all drifted to the kitchen where Minho was cooking for you.

"Finally you made it home! Took you long enough", he exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder at you as he handled pots and bowls.

"You cooked for us, my sweet jagi?", asked Han excitedly, picking up a bowl brimming with bibimbap, but not before gratefully placing a hand on Minho's shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pulled himself to safety just in time before Minho lashed out and could hit him with the wooden spoon.

"I'm dying of hunger", Chan sighed, and there were already three empty bowls at the kitchen table.

"The others were here before you. But you're lucky. They left some."

Minho handed Chan a bowl next, while you were already sitting at the table, unable to take your eyes off Minho.

His hair shimmered like the shells of hazelnuts in the light and with the kitchen towel over his shoulder, while busy cooking he looked so outrageously hot that heat rose in your cheeks.

Chan handed you his bowl and waited for the next serving, which he passed to Jeongin before taking one of his own. Together you sat down at the table and ate in a comfortable silence.

There was something familiar about it, and you felt strangely at ease.

"This is so good", Jisung mumbled with his mouth full and his cheeks chubby. But he somehow managed to stuff even more into his cheeks.

Chan nodded in agreement and Jeongin shoveled almost all of it into his mouth in one go.

"Yeah. This is delicious!", you agreed, and finally your rumbling stomach gave rest.

Minho leaned back in his chair next to you and put an arm around your shoulders. He looked tired and stretched his back.

"I'm glad you at least like it."

"What do you mean?", directly returned Chan, glaring at him across the table. Jeongin and Jisung also stopped eating for a moment.

"Seungmin came rushing in and disappeared into his room without a word. He looked pretty beat up."

Chan pressed his lips together and Jisung continued to chew a little more concerned as well.

"I guess today hit him harder than I thought...", murmured Jeongin softly.

"Already in a few weeks our album will be released... He has to be in good conditions again by then", Chan said worriedly, already seeming to rack his brain on how to help him.

"Maybe I can try to talk to him...", you spoke up and the others looked at you thoughtfully.

"Yes. Maybe that's really a good idea", Minho said, and the rest nodded in agreement as well.

"You can definitely give it a try. He won't listen to us anyway", Jisung said, continuing to poke at his rice.

So you made your way to Seungmin's room as soon as you finished eating and knocked on it.

"Min it's me. Can I come in?"

Silence. Without further ado, you simply pushed down the door handle and slipped into the darkened room. Quietly Day6 played in the background, which made you smile. You discovered Seungmin lying on his stomach on his bed, his face buried under a pillow and still in the clothes he had worn to the studio.

Silently, you sat down next to him on the edge of the bed and let your eyes wander around the room.

It was plainer than Felix and Hyunjin's, and except for a few albums and records, there was nothing hanging on the walls. He was definitely the cleanest of the guys and while Han and Changbin's room was pure chaos, here everything was neat and tidy.

"Do you want to talk about it?", you asked carefully, watching his hands tighten on the mattress.

It took him a while to get his head out from under the pillow and rest his chin on the back of his hand. Just when you thought you should just leave because he didn't want your presence here, he began to speak:

"I sometimes think that Chan made a mistake when he chose me..."

He put his head to the side and looked at you properly for the first time that day. The sadness in his eyes put a lump in your throat as he continued to speak.

"Maybe he never should have put me in the band."

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked down into your lap in despair. That he had such strong self-doubt would be crushing to anyone who knew him and what a talented artist he was.

"What, are you seriously doubting Chan?", you asked, kneading your hands in your lap.

"No. I'm doubting myself. What if I'm not good enough after all? What if I'm just a burden to Stray Kids because I can't get anything done?"

He ran his hand over his face, and the stress he was putting on himself made his voice tremble.

"Stop it! Minnie you're not just extremely talented. What makes you is your extreme diligence and perfectionism. That's what makes you special. Your place is in this band and you are an damn good artist, through and through", you assured him emphatically. At that, you grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly.

"It's so crushing. I always want to be better than good, to live up to this life that the fans give us..."

He looked at how your elegant fingers cupped his hand and somehow your words actually managed to get through to him a little. Even though he liked to block out what others told him because his own ambition didn't allow him to accept compliments, it was different when you said it.

It felt honest and wholehearted.

"But you don't do that by destroying yourself with self-doubt."

"It's just me. I'm just like that. I'm too dogged. I'd like to turn it off, but I don't know how..."

Thoughtfully, you watched him straighten up and sit next to you on the edge of the bed. As he did so, he didn't let go of your hand, but held it firmly in his lap with both hands and hung his head.

"What if you just let go of control for once? Let yourself fall...", you said quietly, stroking his leg with your bare leg.

His gaze wandered from your arms over your body, which showed seductively under the light shirt and shorts, that you slipped on after work. The shorts sat tight against your thighs and he admired how beautiful you looked even in casual clothes.

"How?"

The question floated weightlessly between you, while in his head the memory of your hands and mouth around his cock played restlessly. He had thought of it often the past few days when the chaos in his head threatened to overwhelm him.

You moved closer until your thigh was firmly against his and stroked your hand up his leg.

"I can show you how it's done", you breathed against his ear and brushed his jaw with your lips, making his heart skip a beat.

Your eyes met and he looked curious. Curious about you, your body, and everything that was going on in your head.

"Do you trust me?", you asked, looking him in the eye.

Without hesitation he nodded.

"Yes. Completely."

"Then let me take care of you, Minnie."

With those words, you climbed onto his lap and slid your hands under his shirt, pushing it up to spread kisses along his firm stomach. He exhaled a fluttering breath and his hands were immediately on your hips.

You licked a straight line up his stomach to his chest and he pulled his shirt over his head to toss it aside. Curious, you looked at his torso, its muscles working firm and defined under your fingers.

"Let me see your tits, doll", he murmured, running his hands up your sides with hungry eyes. With a tight smile, you pulled your shirt over your head and he unfastened your bra and pulled it off you as well. His hands stroked your belly and he was completely engrossed in the sight of your naked body.

His scent enveloped you like a warm blanket and reminded you of a soothing field full of lavender, freshly washed clothes and roses.

"So pretty...", he murmured to himself.

As if to take in every detail, he gently stroked your ribs, over your breasts, and took them both in his hands, where he circled your nipples with his thumbs.

"How in the hell you are so beautiful?", he whispered, also more to himself, and his hands continued to wander over your shoulder blades, up to your neck.

His gaze lifted as well, and as soon as your eyes met, you held your breath as you saw with how much adoration he looked at you. His hair fell into his eyes and he looked as if you had fallen from heaven directly onto his lap.

With both hands you grabbed his face and let your lips collide. You waited so long for this, that your heart pounded restless in your chest. He tasted like ripened strawberries and sweet rice. Like a dessert you couldn't pass up.

His tongue stroked your lower lip and you sighed into his mouth as he kneaded your breasts firmly once his tongue slipped into your mouth. He was trying to let you take control and even though he didn't think it would work, it felt more than good so far.

You pushed him back onto the bed with both hands on his chest until he was under you, and you licked dominantly into his mouth as you rolled your hips against his. He growled as he felt your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts against his bulge and grabbed your hip to press it harder against his growing boner.

Breathing heavily, you detached yourself from him for a moment and brushed your hair out of your face.

It was relieving to see that his eyes had regained a bit of the energetic sparkle, and the way he lay beneath you like that, with tousled hair and a cute smile, made your heart pound.

"Do you really think you can do that, little toy? Take the upper hand and be dominant?", he asked challengingly, and you knew it was probably the first time for him not to be the dominant part in bed.

With one hand you pulled his head back by his hair to close the other around his neck and choke him a little to state your point.

"You shouldn't be so naughty and do what I say!", you started and the game was fun now. With wide eyes he stared at you in surprise, but he was even more surprised by the enormous stirring in his pants that you triggered with your determining manner.

You bent down to him again to kiss him. This time harder and with light pressure on his neck until you felt his growing length clearly under you.

A rasping gasp escaped him as you ran the hand that wasn't on his neck between you and palmed his hard cock through his pants.

"Want you so bad", he mumbled into your mouth.

"Want you to fuck me."

You grinned at his needy tone and gave some pressure to his length.

"Yeah I know. Not yet, baby boy. First I want you to eat me out like the good boy you are. Would you do that for me?"

"If you sit on my face..."

Your eyes met again and you paused for a moment.

"Are you sure?", you asked, and he nodded.

"I want you to ride my face. Give you full control."

You nodded curtly and he helped you get rid of your shorts and underpants. Then you climbed up to him and positioned yourself while holding onto the headboard. Your thighs were on each sides of his head and you hovered over his face, a bit apprehensive about placing your entire weight on him.

His hands stroked over your ass, down to your legs and while looking at your body from this position, his fingertips caressed your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their path.

His face between your thighs was a sight that made everything inside you tingle. At first Seungmin lifted his head up to meet your dripping pussy. You didn't dare lean your weight on him for fear of hurting him. But the sight of your soaked pussy right in front of his face made him hungrier. Suddenly, there was a kiss being placed on your clit and a second later, he gripped your hips and sat you onto his face. The sudden contact, made you exhale sharply and his soft lips clouded your thoughts. Once your weight came down to his face, he moaned automatically into your pussy.

Seungmin looked right up at your body. He enjoyed how your breasts and stomach do cause a bit of an interference in his line of sight to your face and he had rarely seen anything as beautiful as your curves.

His tongue slid between your folds and he tasted your wet cunt like it was an expensive dish.

He sucked on your clit and would have loved to drown between your legs. You tasted better than anything he had experienced before and the sight of your quivering body above him made his length pulse painfully in his pants.

He didn't know if he preferred looking at the expression on your face or your body. Everything was inexplicably beautiful and engaging that he didn't dare look away while he worked your aching pussy with his mouth. His fingers dug into your flesh on both sides of your thick thighs, taking away your ability to move away from his face.

The tingling in your lower abdomen brought you the sudden urge to move your hips and when you did, you felt his nose bump into your core, just adding to the pleasure. Your movements on his face blew a fuse in his head. He almost came in his pants like that. Both of his hands immediately dug into your waist and began to rock your cunt against his face. Your one hand flew into his hair and pulled overwhelmingly while you tried to support yourself on the headboard with the other.

While his tongue slid inside you and played with you like you were made of butter, you couldn't suppress the sinful sounds anymore. He hit just the right spots and within seconds your brain was mush.

Your hand in his hair tightened as you wailed out broken cries. When the other kids heard that, they knew you must have helped him with more than just words.

He just couldn't bring himself to look away. Not when your back was arched beautifully and your lips formed a soundless O with every sound you let out. His tongue didn't let up either. His mouth was incessantly suctioned over your cunt, tongue flicking and rolling over your clit. The sight of Seungmin underneath you was honestly one of the sexiest things ever.

"Minnie... I'm gonna... God... I'm not gonna last long”, you somehow stuttered between your pornographic whimpering.

In response he growled something, but you only felt the vibration of his words right at your cunt and immediately your head fell back as you felt you walls beginning to quiver on his tongue.

He was drunk off your taste. He realized that he had discovered a new addiction. He could be smothered by your thighs all day if he could and you would let him. Your mouth dropped open into a silent scream as you grinded your hips down onto his lips, his tongue sliding over your pussy with more pressure.

The knot in your stomach formed in the blink of an eye and your body reacted faster than you could comprehend. You didn't manage to see the orgasm coming or even to anticipate it. Not with how he digged the tips of his fingers into your waist, leaving behind delicious bruises, yanking you down onto his expectant mouth. Your hips automatically rolled against his face from his guided movements and the world around you began to spin, due to the way he licked a broad, heavy swipe from your hole all the way to your clit. So many sensations hit you at once and you felt like you were in another world.

The way he groaned against you, throaty and also seduced by your charms, like you were a delicacy, made the sound vibrate right through your spine and into your head.

Before you could realize it, it was right there.

Your body took on a life of its own and chased the high down, rubbing and shifting yourself against his unrelenting tongue. He only needed one more stripe with his tongue and your orgasm bursted upon you with shattering delight, flaming with hot pleasure in your belly and blooming through you from there.

Your voice pitched even higher and he engraved your whining in his memory, having rarely heard anything more beautiful. Even though your high washed over you, he did not stop. Meanwhile your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you unwittingly grinded your hips further against his face.

His nose bumped perfectly on your clit, each moan of yours encouraging him to keep going. His chin and nose were by now shining from your wetness and he licked even deeper into you.

He felt your legs trembling next to his head, wanting to make the next climax even more violent.

"Ah... Min. S-shit Seungmin, please don't stop...", you moaned out and clawed harder into his hair to keep his head in place.

His name never sounded so good to him until he heard you moan it. He was so close to his own release just by the way your plush thighs squeezed at his head. It already hurt how hard he was, but he wanted to satisfy you and let you take the lead. This is exactly what turned him on in a way he never expected.

Stress was the last thing on his mind at the moment. All he could think about is how badly he wanted to fill up your cunt. It only took a few seconds and your body was seized by a climax that made you see stars. Stifled, you moaned his name like a mantra and he only let go of your pussy once he had licked it all clean, as if he didn't want to waste a drop.

Breathing heavily, you rolled off him and had to stare at the ceiling for a while until your vision cleared. Seungmin wiped his mouth with his shirt and watched with a smile as your breathing slowly calmed down.

"Fuck that was good...", you mumbled as soon as you had found your voice again.

You straightened up a bit and looked at him. He looked like a different person. His eyes shone with energy again and the typical carefree expression was back.

"I needed that...", he replied, running a hand through his thick hair.

Quickly, you put a hand to his chest and pushed him back onto the mattress.

"You didn't think I was done with you already, did you?", you asked teasingly, the corners of your mouth lifting at his confused look. Before he could answer, you put your lips to his and kissed him intensely until he grabbed your hips and pulled you back on top of him.

Quickly you unzipped his pants and he shook off his underpants in relief as well. His cock stood up accusing and red from all the tension. You elicited a gasp from him as you took his length in your hand and pumped a few times. You kissed along his jawline and smiled as you noticed him trying to get any control over you with his hands out of habit.

You ran your thumb over his tip and spread the precum on it. His thighs twitched desperately and he was sure he was going to go crazy if he didn't feel your pussy around his cock soon.

You were playing with him and he knew it.

"I want to fuck your tight little pussy...", he panted impatiently and reached for your ass, kneading your soft flesh between his fingers.

You teased him further by spreading wet kisses on his neck and pumping his cock too slowly to get a release.

"Have you already forgotten that you're not the one in control, Min?", you asked mockingly, biting his earlobe, making him shiver.

By now he was looking at you with begging eyes like a puppy and you would have loved to give in. You would have loved to be used by him again so he could pound into your pussy until you couldn't walk anymore.

But you tried to show him how he could give up control.

Teach him a lesson and maybe a little payback for abusing your mouth without consideration while at work.

"You may fuck me and come inside me. There's only one rule," you began with a sweet smile and he buckled his hips into your hand to finally get some more friction. But you didn't give him that.

"What?", he asked desperately, unable to stop watching your hands move around his throbbing cock.

"You can't touch me.... Do you think you can do that? Give up control completely for once?", you asked with a gleeful undertone and he stared at you in torment and at the same time with a newly kindled fire in his eyes.

He nodded vehemently and that was enough for you.

"Good boy. Don't make me punish you if you don't do as I said."

It was a seductive warning and he nearly bursted as he took his hands off your ass and pressed them down on the mattress beside him. Wide-eyed, he watched you as you placed his cock at your entrance and slowly sank down on it.

He stretched your walls just right and it took you a few seconds to get used to his length. You started moving up and down on his cock. His eyelids fluttered as soon as you began to move on top of him and at the first thrust of your hips, a naughty moan escaped him that he had never heard from himself before. Your hands were on his chest, while you moaned as you rocked your hips.

His eyes rolled back and a stifled gasp escaped him as your warm cunt swallowed him whole.

Immediately, he started snapping his hips into you and with each time your hips rolled against his, your surroundings faded more into the background.

"Fuck... fuck... God, you're crushing me”, he cursed, trying to claw his hands into the sheets to keep from grabbing your bouncing breasts. As much as you would have loved him on top, there was something sexy about having him under you, letting you take control.

It was almost impossible not to touch you as you bounced up and down on his cock and as soon as he felt your fingernails drilled into his chest his hands shot to your hips to press them hard down on his cock.

Quickly you grabbed his wrists and pressed them over his head. Only when his cock slipped completely out of you did he realize his mistake. Desperate for more, he wiggled his hips into you, as if he could restore friction that way.

"What did I say, Min? No touching!"

Your piercing eyes and the sweat on your face made you look like a queen and he could only stare needy.

"I think I need something to make you listen to me."

You looked around the room to find anything that would help you and that's when he breathlessly spoke up.

"Drawer."

Questioningly, you looked down at him and had to grin. He was a pussydrunk mess. His hair was stuck in his forehead and his mouth was open from panting so hard. You pulled open the drawer in his nightstand and pulled out something heavy that lay cold in your hand.

"Actually, I was going to use these on you", he muttered, smiling in amusement as you looked at the handcuffs.

"Not today. But that will help", you said, letting the rings around his wrists snap shut. That way he couldn't move his hands above his head either and was completely at your mercy.

"Is this the payback for me fucking your mouth last week?", he asked, his voice raspy from the bliss his head was floating in.

"Maybe," you replied, lining up his cock again until it had disappeared balls deep inside you.

Directly the handcuffs jingled above his head as his arms jerked and his biceps tensed deliciously while he somehow tried to regain control over the situation. But relatively quickly he realized how his entire body was on fire just because he couldn't direct and control you.

With each thrust, your pussy made wet noises around his dick and he breathed heavily.

He wouldn't last long, that was for sure.

The cool metal of the cuffs dug into his skin, leaving a pleasant ache as you used his cock to satisfy yourself and move on to the next climax. He was moaning your name before he even realized it himself, and the way he broke completely under your influence was really cute.

"You like that, don't you, baby boy? I can make your stress go away anytime you want," you cooed, not slowing down in speed.

He only whimpered through clenched teeth as the sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room. You closed a hand around his neck and squeezed until you felt his dick inside you twitching.

"I've tried many times", he gasped, humping his hips harder into you.

"Reliving your stress?"

"Yes, I..."

His face burned with heat, mouth dry as he tried to swallow, to loosen his tongue. But the hand around his neck swirled a whole new set of feelings inside him, and all he could do was watch his dick enter and exit you.

"I touched myself."

"What did you think about?"

You felt your walls tighten and you were about to come for the third time. Seungmin's hips also twitched uncontrollably.

"Thought about... 'bout you."

His words choked halfway through as your two highs built like a tsunami.

"Tell me what you've been fantasizing, Min," you moaned, letting his dick slam into you as deep as you could. His fingers tightened and clawed painfully into the sheets right above his head, and the world around him faded into glaring white light.

"Fucking you. Tying you up and thrusting into your sweet cunt until you cry and scream my name..."

That was enough to push you over the top. Your third orgasm made every one of your muscles spasm and you moaned his name so loudly that even the block next door could hear it. Your hand unconsciously choked him harder, making him gasp for air.

That was the last straw for Seungmin as well. Your walls tightened around him and milked him dry until he couldn't even form a word anymore. He shot his load into you and you savored your highs to the last second, rolling your hips slowly and emphatically against his a few more times.

It was filthy, the way your juices mixed with his cum were sticking and leaking down his balls with each bounce. You both breathed loudly and as you slowly came down from your dazed state, you collapsed on top of his body.

With your ear to his chest you listened to his heartbeat and how it slowly calmed down again parallel to yours.

After quite a while, he stirred again:

"Do you mind setting me free?"

You had completely forgotten about that. With a giggle, you straightened up and climbed off of him to look in the drawer.

"There's no key, Minnie", you muttered in amazement, looking at him. When realization hit him, he sat up and groaned in annoyance.

"Shit... Fucking Han must have took it."

"Why does Jisung have the key to your handcuffs?", you asked incredulously, helping him clean himself and yourself up with the tissues on his nightstand.

"You're still asking? You know Jisung. He and Hyunjin stole them to annoy me...", he said, trying to get the handcuffs open with sheer strength, but it wasn't possible. You couldn't hold back the laughter anymore, even if Seungmin found it less funny. You had to put a hand in front of your mouth, to muffle your chuckles.

"I'll go get them”, you said, slipping back into your clothes.

"Shit... This is going to be awkward. These idiots”, you heard him grumble as you disappeared through the door. In the living room, you found Han, Hyunjin, and Minho in front of the TV, watching a horror movie.

"Finished already?", asked Minho sarcastically and you just stuck your tongue out at him.

"If Seungmin is still tense now, no one can help him," Jisung said and that confirmed your assumption that they probably had heard some things.

"Shut up! I need the key!"

Questioningly, they all looked at you and Minho stopped the movie.

"What kind of key?"

"For the handcuffs."

It took a few seconds and you could see exactly how Jisung's face lit up when he realized what you meant.

"But you're not wearing handcuffs...", said Hyunjin loudly, and that's when Minho facepalmed a hand to his forehead. With a loud snort, Jisung slapped the couch as he understood the situation and cackled like crazy.

"What, I don't get it?", Hyunjin muttered as Han held his stomach laughing and fell against Minho, who also giggled loudly.

"Seungmin's stuck in his own handcuffs!", shouted Jisung, clapping his hands in disbelief. Now Hyunjin realized it too and joined in the laughter.

You just crossed your arms and waited until they calmed down.

Han wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and managed to sit up a bit, but he still giggled like a child.

“Ji I swear to god! If you don’t tell me…”, you warned, but he cut you off, by holding both his hands up in defence.

"Okay. Okay... The key is in the bathroom behind the towels."

Immediately you turned around and could hear the laughter even in the bathroom.

As soon as you released Seungmin, you wanted to apologise, but he pulled you to him and kissed you so quickly that you let out a startled breath.

His hands stroked through your hair and held your face as he kissed you with so much passion that you lost your balance. But he held you tight and murmured against your lips, with his forehead pressed against yours:

"Thank you. You really helped me a lot."

A warm feeling flooded your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck to reunite your lips with his.

"Stay with me for tonight! We don’t have to do anything. I just want you to myself as long as possible.”

You looked at him with a broad smile and nodded flustered.

"Yes. Okay."

Your room wasn't ready yet and your new bed still couldn't be delivered, so you originally thought, you would stay at your old apartment tonight. But Seungmin had other plans, when he pulled you with him onto his bed and showered you with kisses. Not a single thought wasted on his doubts and fears.

You snuggled up together under the covers, watched really bad romance movies, and made fun of the characters and the bad acting. In a quiet second he realized how long he hadn't felt so free and careless.

All his bad thoughts that had strangled him vanished the second you looked at him and he didn't even noticed it. He watched you unobtrusively and felt such deep gratitude for your very presence in his life that he was sure he would give you anything he could and even more. You only had to ask and he would turn the world upside down just to see you smile.

Now, for the first time, he completely understood his members when they talked about you making the band complete.

But he would never have said all that out loud. Instead he made fun of you when a single tear flowed down your cheek because of the surprising sad ending of that terrible movie and laughed at your pouty lips, when you tried to push him off the bed as revenge.

->Part 16

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[gavisuntiedboot]

Hey, I love your gavi fics. Could you do one where reader is very confident and flirty, always making him nervous with how straight forward she is. Loves to compliment him and kiss his hand. Maybe even him getting teased my his teammates about it.

sry this is extremely specific 😅

Forward (Gavi x reader)

This was such a cute request omg.

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

"Good morning Vogue Espana! I'm y/n, and this is Valeria, and today we'll be playing Vogue's 'Bestie Quiz'!"

You looked over at Valeria and gave her a wink, causing her to roll her eyes and laugh. The two of you made up 1/2 of Rumores, a Spanish pop group that rose to popularity through TikTok because of your relatable lyrics and how easily people could connect to the group members. You all had fun and bubbly personalities, still fimlimg vlog-style TikToks despite blowing up. Since you dropped your first album as a group, everyone was eager to get a piece of the next hot thing.

You had been contacted by an agency in Spain to get signed, and all moved into Barcelona within about a month. Since then, it had been borderline mayhem. Award shows, fashion shows, exclusive parties - the works. You were now at Vogue Espana headquarters, preparing for a group cover shoot. The editors had asked you and Valeria to pair up and make some video content, as you both had addictive personalities and bounced off each other really well. Long story short - any time you two filmed together, it got millions of views.

"Alright y/n lets start off with an easy one: what is my Starbucks order?"

You tried to cross your legs, almost falling over in the chair, causing the whole production crew to laugh.

"Ignore me almost dying. She's only asking me this question because she knows it really embarrasses me to my core to order this, especially here in Barcelona! It's a venti iced caramel macchiato, 9 pumps of caramel, extra caramel sauce on the top and bottom. Can you imagine having to say this out loud?"

The set was filled with laughter. They cut the take to get your makeup touched up, which was now melting off under the bright studio lights. You both continued to quiz each other, laughing and bantering playfully. You looked down at the cue cards with the questions, letting out a loud groan at the next question.

"Val this is rigged in your favor. How come I get all the hard questions and you get this? It's literally the easiest possible question?"

"Stop complaining because the producers think I'm cute and want life to be easy for me. Just ask the question."

"Okay okay: Who is my celebrity crush?"

"Oh wow you're right. That's so easy it's borderline cheating. Have you not seen her social media? Of course it's Pablo Gavi."

You leaned over the back of your chair dramatically, fanning your face.

"Ughhhhh Gavi! Have you ever seen a man so fine and so talented and so freaking delicious?"

Everyone in the studio had to hold back their laughter as so not have it be heard in the recording.

“She’s obsessed you guys I don’t even know how to explain.”

“I think obsessed is the wrong word.”

Valeria turned to you and gasped, getting up from her seat and running over to you, wrestling your phone from your hands. She pulled it free, walking up to the camera with it.

“Let me just make sure she has no inappropriate notifications. Not obsessed? Please look at her Lock Screen. It’s literally taking over her life.”

You hid your face in your hands as your screen lit up, revealing a picture of Gavi from the World Cup as your Lock Screen. The camera zoomed in on you, capturing your embarrassed reaction.

“Listen listen listen. I’ve been a Barça fan since forever. He’s fine and talented. How am I supposed to not fall in love with him?? I feel like that’s too much to ask for.”

Your crush on Gavi was not a secret by a long shot. It has been obvious to your audience since the World Cup qualifiers, when you posted a picture of him in the white uniform, captioning the photo “who is this and where can I find him 😍😍”. Your followers had come through, sending his handle in your DMs several thousand times. You followed him on Instagram and started fangirling in the comments of all his posts.

@uruser

“ Great job today Pablo 🥰”

“My favorite color is now pablo- I mean purple 🥵”

“The only heat in Qatar is gonna be you on the field 😘”

One day, as you did your makeup on a livestream, idly talking to your phone, you noticed the chat moving at a much faster pace than you were used to. You looked at the messages, trying to read something, but it moved so fast the letters blurred together.

"Wait wait how do I stop the chat I can't read you're all typing too quickly."

You figured out how to stop the comments flying by your face, reading the words "GAVI FOLLOWED YOU BACK".

You screamed at the top of your lungs. You started jumping in excitement, shaking the floor so much that your phone fell to the floor. Comments continued to fly in about how this was the beginning of your love story.

This was officially your in. Now that he followed you, you were able to swipe up on his Instagram stories. Every couple of days when Gavi would post, you would leave him flirty messages, never thinking he was going to respond.

"Amazing goal Gavi! You know you could score with me any day tho ;)"

This unfortunate cheesy message got a like. When you saw the small scarlet heart, you almost went into cardiac arrest. It was working. Slowly but surely you were getting him to recognize you.

Gavi hated pulling out his phone in the locker room. He would instantly hear wolf whistles and cheers from his teammates.

"Ay, Gavi, who are the messages from? The pop princess or the real princess?"

He would turn bright red, hiding his face in his shirt. He had seen your comments, and he didn't know who you were at first. He approached Pedri one day, asking him if he knew who you were.

"Gavi please be serious. You haven't heard of Rumores? They're opening for Rosalia this summer. They're super talented. And each member is hotter than the next."

"Wait," Balde chimed in, "who from Rumores is sending Gavi messages?"

"y/n"

Balde's eyes widened to the size of satellites. He grabbed the phone and started recording a voice message on the messages between you and Gavi.

"y/n my darling, this is Alejandro. Forget about this idiot Gavi and DM me your number. Let me appreciate you in a way that he cannot."

Gavi grabbed the phone back. The voice note had already sent, and you had opened the message. Shit. He was practically shaking, not knowing what to do.

"Ale! Why would you do that?" He asked, trying to look away from the three dots that indicated you were typing.

"Pablo you idiot. Do you know that she was number 5 in the "World's Hottest Women" ranking? She won best face AND best ass in Spain last year. If she wants a Barca player and you're fumbling, I am willing to step up." Gavi shoved him on the shoulder, eliciting a laugh from Pedri.

"Hermano, talk to her. She has made it more than clear that she likes you."

Gavi looked at his phone again, still confused as to what to say, when a new message popped up on the screen.

"Thanks for the offer Ale, but I'm still holding out hope that Gavi will message me back one of these days ;)"

He smiled and bit his lip, locking eyes with Pedri, who wiggled his eyebrows at Gavi suggestively. He hit the older boy on the shoulder, and they went out to his car. When they arrived at Pedri's, dragged Gavi onto the couch to show him clips of you talking about Gavi.

*y/n being in love with a spicy midfielder for 17 minutes*

"Pedri why do you have this video in your favorites?"

"Be quiet and watch."

The video started playing, and Gavi was stunned when you popped up on the screen. It was a clip of you at an award show, dresses in a gorgeous maroon two-piece that showed your midriff and lower stomach, as well as ornate stomach jewelry.

"y/n you look absolutely gorgeous this evening. We heard you were a Barcelona fan? Is this true? And if so, who is your favorite player?"

You smiled widely, causing Gavi's intestines to twist into pretzels.

"Of course I'm a Barca fan. All hot girls are Barca fans. My favorite player of all time is Messi, but on the current squad? Pablo Gavi. He's so talented and not to mention gorgeous."

Gavi brought a cushion to his chest and hugged it tightly. He was used to people calling him attractive in comments, but it was different seeing it live, hearing it from someone who the whole world thought was gorgeous. The next clip was a TikTok, in which you and Valeria danced in matching Gavi and Pedri jerseys.

"See Pablito, she already has your shirt for when she comes to the games to support you."

That comment earned Pedri a swift smack, which he was unable to dodge. Gavi continued to watch the rest of the video, borderline kicking his feet at how fuzzy he felt hearing that you thought he was hot and talented.

"Thanks for watching the Bestie Quiz! Make sure to like the video and subscribe to Vogue Espana. Bye!"

The camera switched off, and you and Valeria stepped off the chairs you were sat in. You immediately got onto Instagram live to pub the video.

"Hey everyone! We just got done filming for Vogue Espana's YouTube channel! Make sure to tune in when the video comes out. And... tomorrow we'll be touring a certain football stadium. Make sure you're following us here and on TikTok to stay up to date with all the latest from us!"

Gavi's jaw dropped. Of course he tuned into the live. He was eager to hear the sound of your voice, see your face lit up with joy. He had been thinking about you for weeks now, unable to say anything to you from embarrassment. He didn't know how to be charismatic and suave and the man that the internet portrayed him to be. He was a dork. He didn't know how talk to you. So when he heard that you were visiting a football camp, he texted the groupchat.

[Gavi]: Is that girl group coming to Camp Nou tomorrow?

[Pedri]: ah ah ah no one respond. Gavi, go ask your admirer. A good way to start a conversation.

[Ansu]: ^^^

[Alejandro]: retweet

He rolled his eyes. They were right. It was the perfect opportunity to reach out to you. But he was still nervous - what if he didn't live up to your expectations?

He typed out a simple message and hit send with his eyes closed.

@pablogavi - are you coming to el campo tomorrow?

"Valeria, remember how you told me that he would never talk to me because I was 'creepy' and a 'weirdo'? Well, eAT YOUR WORDS HE JUST MESSAGED ME!"

You flopped onto the couch, kicking your feet like a lovesick teenager.

@uruser - if I am, will you give me a special tour? xx

@pablogavi - i'll try

The next day you were positively giddy with joy. You were going to get a private tour of Camp Nou with your three closest friends. And you were going to be breathing the same air as Pablo Gavi. This was your chance to shoot your shot. You put on a black tank top and some light wash jeans that enhanced your award-winning ass. You turned on a livestream so people could watch you and Valeria do your makeup, playing Meg Thee Stallion as you got ready. You started dancing, twerking a little bit in the mirror.

"She's practicing for later when she sees Gavi."

You slap Valeria on the arm, the chat exploding at the idea. You ended the live shortly after, getting in your car to be driven over.

Gavi was a nervous wreck. He had changed his shoes three times, wondering which pair of Dunks would impress you the most. Gel or natural hair? Should he wear his classic long sleeve or just the jersey? Pedri's honking was disturbing the whole neighborhood. He ran downstairs (he picked the gray dunks), getting in Pedri's car as fast as possible.

"If Alejandro get to her first, you only have yourself to blame."

Gavi laughed lightly, but he felt like he was going to be sick.

You and the girls arrived to Camp Nou at 10am, eager to take a tour. You were greeted by several members of staff, including Sara, who worked the team's social media. She would be following you all throughout the day to get clips for the official Instagram and Twitter accounts. You walked into the office, greeted first by Xavi. You were all super excited to be in the presence of the coach and World Cup winner. He spoke with you about the history of the club, then lead you through the facilities to the locker room, where you would be meeting the players. Your group members walked in ahead of you as you grabbed a selfie with Xavi.

Gavi would never admit it, but he stood on his tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse of you. He was in jeans and a jersey, ditching the long sleeve since he wouldn't be hurting his arms (not because he saw a video of you saying that you were in love with his arms. That could never be the reason). You walk in and it was like someone had lit his veins on fire. He was so overwhelmed by your gentle laugh and your bright smile. Your eyes scanned the players and landed on Gavi, biting your lip and winking at him. He looked to the floor, hiding the satisfied look on his face from the cameras recording. You greeted all the players, and after getting past Ferran and Alejandro, you got to Gavi. He put one sweaty hand out for you to shake.

"Nice to finally meet you, Gavi. You're even better looking in person."

You shook his hand and pulled him in, giving him a kiss on each cheek. Typical for Spain, but not something you had done for the other players.

"I as well also think meeting you is good." Gavi stammered out, making absolutely no sense. You smiled at him, causing his heart to race faster. Your hand lingered on his for a moment before you moved on to Pedri.

"You're going to make a really bad impression on Xavi if you break our young talent in the middle of the season." He said to you, causing you to pull away and laugh, pretending you didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about. At the end of the greetings, the team members pulled out the shirts that had been prepared for all of you. Sara pulled out yours and handed it to Gavi, knowing keeping you together would produce the best trending content. Fan service pays the bills. He unfolded the shirt and saw your name at the top, and under...

"Number 6?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow at you. You looked at him from your seat, patting the spot next to you. He reluctantly sat down, and held up the shirt for the photo. You placed your hand over his for the photo, and he felt like he was 12 again experiencing his first crush. When the photographers looked down to make sure the shot was clear, you leaned into Gavi's ear.

"I wanted to wear your new number. I hope it can bring you some good luck."

"You... you want me to have g-good luck?"

"Of course Pablo. When you do well you're happier, and then I'm happier."

Gavi was going to explode. What kind of woman were you? Who was this forward about their feelings? He took a deep breath and composed himself. The girls were all taking sneaky pictures, wanting to capture the moment that you and Gavi first fell in love (because they knew that you would never let him out of your sights now). His teammates were snickering, in awe of how the firecracker that they had come to love was now a pile of mush, blushing like a schoolgirl and stuttering over his words.

"Alright, we're going to film some challenges in pairs now. The rest of the team will get their pairs. Gavi and y/n, you're going to come film with me." Sara said, walking quickly outside the locker room, expecting you both to follow. Gavi got up quickly and gestured towards the door.

"Um, after you."

"Wow, you're such a gentleman." You said, giving him a gentle squeeze on the bicep before you followed Sara. What was he supposed to do now?

You walked outside into the stands and both took your seats, handed personal mics to attach to your shirts. You clipped yours on in about a minute, having done this numerous times for different shoots. Gavi, on the other hand, was struggling slightly.

"Do you want some help, Gavi? Of course that would require me to touch your chest."

He looked up at you, wire still tangled. "You're going to touch my chest?"

"Only if you want me to gorgeous." You replied with a wink. He didn't trust himself to make words, so he nodded instead. You gently grabbed the wire, threading it through his shirt, fingers lightly brushing against the toned muscle of his chest. You clipped it at the top, smoothing his shirt when you were finished.

"All done. Now we need to test them out with a sentence to make sure the staff can hear. I'll go first. Test sentence: Gavi is adorable and I'm going to ask him out before I leave today."

"You're going to do what?!" He said, eyes widened, sweat glands activated.

"It's just a gibberish test sentence. Your turn."

"Um, hello?"

"It needs to be longer than that." You said, getting comfortable in your seat.

"I don't know what to say." He said, smiling shyly and looking down.

"Try whatever comes to your mind Gavi. Literally anything."

"Okay. Ehem test sentence: I'm really nervous around y/n so I hope I don't make a fool of myself in this video."

Your cheeks heated up but you looked away, trying to play it cool. You loved that you were making him a little bit flustered, but he was gaining some confidence to respond. The camera crew stated that you were rolling, and you looked at the camera.

"Hello everyone! I'm y/n and I'm here today with Gavi, and we're going to be playing Barca's 7-second challenge!"

"Ah, my brain is too slow for this game." Gavi said, tossing is head back. The staff handed you the envelopes, and you began.

"Alright I'm going to be asking first. Name three Barca players that contributed to a goal against Real Madrid."

"Ah easy. Leo Messi, Luis Suarez, and me." He said, winking at the camera.

"Good job. You would have been my first answer." You responded. Your rizz game was insane today. You wanted to make an impression- who knows if you would ever have a chance again?

It was Gavi's turn. He opened the envelope and read the question.

"Ah this is too easy. Who are 3 Barca players that have worn the number 6?"

You smirked at the camera. "Super easy. Denis Suarez, Xavi, and the best looking in number 6, Gavi." You said, winking at him. He smiled widely, turning away from you.

"Ah lalala don't let Mister Xavi hear you say that."

After you finished filming the game, the sun had moved from the middle of the sky, making the field more pleasant. The staff informed you that the final piece of content you would be filming would be Gavi showing you how to play football. Gavi was excited. Finally something he could excel at (and maybe embarrass you for once). You both got onto the field, and you laced up the football boots you had been given by the staff. From your position on the ground you looked up.

"Should I keep one untied so I can play as well as you?"

"I- I think you should keep them tied. I'm used to falling, but I don't want you to get injured."

"Awe how cute Pablo you don't want me to break my face." You said, getting up from your spot on the ground and pinching his cheek. It was quite warm to the touch.

Once the cameras were rolling, he taught you some basics, and then he decided to show off. He started playing keep-up with the ball, moving from hit feet to his thighs to his head and shoulders. He passes the ball to you, and you tried to receive with your chest, forgetting about the extra tissue there. You bent over in pain and he came up to you, checking on you.

"Don't worry I'm fine. But if you ask nicely I'll let you kiss it better." He stood frozen with his hands on your shoulders.

"I, I, I- do you want to do something else?"

"No no, it's hot watching you play."

Gavi was at his end. He was embarrassed beyond belief. He could not believe how forward you were, and he could not believe how much he liked it. He felt special - wanted. He brought you to the front of the box, deciding to end the day by teaching you to shoot a penalty. He helped position you, and you two spent the next ten minutes making shots at the goal and joking with one another. At the end, the crew came and collected your mics, and you waiting for the other girls and players to join you.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Here, can you sign my jersey?"

You handed him the pen, turning around and lifting your hair out of the way. He bent over slightly, uncapping the pen with his teeth.

"Who should I make it out to?" He asked.

"Make it out to your future wife. Or future long-term girlfriend if you don't believe in the institution of marriage." You felt the pen meet your back, smiling to yourself.

"I have never met a girl that was as forward as you. It's a little intimidating."

You turn to him, taking your pen and sticking it into your back pocket.

"I know I've said this a million times on every platform, but I think you're cute and interesting. I'm not going to be shy about that. If I make you uncomfortable though I'll stop."

"No no. That wasn't a complaint, but I was wondering...."

"Yes, dear husband?"

"Were you serious about asking me out?"

"My God Gavi. I have made it so painfully obvious that I'm had over heels for you. I have to ask you out as well?"

"You make me shy! I can't even begin to think of where I could take you on a date. I'm just going to let you stay in the driver's seat and I'll keep being a little stupid."

"What're you going to do when I come to one of your matches? Blush and giggle in midfield?"

"You're going to come to a match? The we have to go out before then. Let me get the awkwardness out over dinner so when I'm on the field, you'll be the one blushing and swooning."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: this is so long omg :') thank you so much to whoever requested this. It was really fun to write a super confident character. I hope this is what anon was looking for, and I'm so sorry if not. I hope y'all enjoy this one, and please leave any feedback in the comments/ send them in my asks!

[lynnpool]

Coffee

Inspired by Coffee by Chappell Roan

Mentions of physical abuse, angst, not a happy ending (spoiler?)

(I haven’t seen this done before but if it has been done I’m sorry)

I had just got home from work, tossing my keys and purse on the floor. I look around my bare studio apartment, a twin size mattress, a microwave, and a 32 inch tv being the only things to my name. I left my shared apartment with Wade a little over 2 months ago and I haven’t spoken to him since.

We had a fight. I don’t even remember what it was about now but it got him so worked up for some reason. I let my smart mouth fly off the handle again and in a fit of rage he had slapped me. The man who I loved, who was supposed to protect me, put his hands on me. I’ve never let a man lay hands on me before and I didn’t intend to again. So I packed a bag and left.

I stayed in a hotel until I found this apartment, not that it’s much better. I’ve been saving money over the last two months to hopefully buy myself some furniture for this place.

I sigh, plopping down on my mattress on the floor, turning the tv on to flick through the channels mindlessly.

My phone lit up beside me.

Wade: Can we meet for dinner at Nico’s? I want to talk..

Can’t meet you for dinner at the Italian place

It’s where I met your family, some words were exchanged.

He’d texted me a couple of times over the past couple of months, trying to get me to meet up with him to talk. I wasn’t ready yet. I ignored his texts, hoping this would all go away.

I think back to the first time Wade took me to Nico’s. It was a nice little Italian place on the corner by his apartment. We had been officially dating for about a month. He told me he had some ‘acquaintances’ who wanted to meet me.

When we made it there I met Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead(that’s a mouthful), and her girlfriend Yukio. As the night drew on, I had realized they were more than acquaintances. They were his friends, his family as much as he’d deny it. By the time we got our food, he was in a full-blown fight with Colossus, yelling across the table about how he’s ’not a child’ and he’ll ‘never join the X-men’. “We don’t have to take this shit!” He grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the restaurant dramatically.

He later apologized profusely and made plans to take me back there, just the two of us.

I frown down at the text message on my phone, deciding on whether to answer or not. I thought maybe I might be ready, but there’s no way I’m meeting him at Nico’s. It’s too intimate of a place. I wrack my brain, thinking for another place to suggest.

I’d suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn street but

you’d buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so

The first place that popped into my head was Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children. Definitely not going there. That’s where Wade and I first met. My friend brought me there, claiming the drinks were killer (they weren’t). I learned later she was just looking for a bad guy to take home.

“What’s a pretty place like you doing in a girl like this?” I hear a chipper voice from behind me at the bar. I turned to see a man in a red suit leaning against the bar, looking me up and down. I giggled at his pickup line as he called to the bartender. “Weasel, her drinks are on me!”

We made simple small talk for a while before he leaned over to me, “Wanna cut the shit and head back to my place, hot cakes?”

It was like mortal combat in that bitch. Round 1, 2, 3, 4. From that day forward I was like a crackhead waiting for his next high, eagerly waiting for my next bootycall from Wade. I was utterly addicted to him.

I’ll meet you for coffee, cause if we have wine

You’ll say that you want me, I know it’s a lie

My mind finally settles on coffee. Seems safe enough right? I tap away on my screen,

Me: How about coffee? That little place by the markets?

I shut the phone off quickly, leaning my head back against the wall with a sigh.

If I didn’t love you, it would be fine

I’ll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place

I did still love Wade. I just won’t allow myself to be hurt in that way. I felt betrayed by the one person who was supposed to protect me.

My phone buzzes beside me on the bed.

Wade: Sure! Meet you there in an hour?

Me: Sure. See you there.

I sigh, pushing myself off the mattress on the floor and making my way to the bathroom for a shower. It’s just coffee, right? What could go wrong with coffee?

I take a quick shower and put on some comfortable clothes, a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater with some sneakers. I make my way out the door and down the stairs, onto the chilly street outside.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket as I walk.

You said let’s do the park, cause I love the park

That may be true but God forbid it gets dark

Wade: What about the park? I know you love the park.

I sigh, thinking back to the times Wade would take me to the park. I loved to just sit and read in the comfort of each-other’s silence. And after we’d spent all day there and the sun set, making it impossible to read, we’d cuddle and watch the stars.

Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I walk, the wind chilling my face.

Here comes the excuses that fuel the illusions

But I’d rather feel something, than nothing at all

Me: It’s too cold for the park.

I find an excuse. I know under our old circumstances Wade would have brought me a blanket or given me his jacket if I was too cold. Tears stream down my face as the memories continue to flood in. It’s the first time I’ve cried since I left Wade’s apartment. I’ve felt numb for months until now.

I’ll meet you for coffee, cause if we have wine

You’ll say that you’re sorry, I know it’s a lie

Wade: Just coffee, then.

Wade begged and pleaded with me as I packed my bag to leave. He told me how sorry he was, how he didn’t mean it. You don’t just slap someone and not mean it.

If I didn’t trust you, it would be fine

I’ll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your-

I stop on the sidewalk, realizing I’m now in front of the coffee shop. I did trust Wade. I do believe he let his feelings get the best of him and he didn’t really mean to hurt me. But it doesn’t ease the pain in my chest.

I look up into the window from across the street, seeing him sitting at a table, scrolling on his phone. I take a deep breath, my nerves growing in my chest as I cross the street.

We’ve been here before

And I don’t need it anymore

We had argued before but we’d always talked through it after we had our space. But nothing like this.

I reach for the handle of the door, taking a deep breath.

So let’s not do coffee, let’s not even try

It’s better we leave it and give it some time

I turn around quickly, making my way back down the street in the direction of my apartment, tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t do this. Not now.

If I didn’t love you, it would be fine

I was still madly in love with him. I knew if I let him speak, I’d be at his place by the end of the night. I just can’t go back that easily.

Cause if we do coffee, it’s never just coffee

It’s never just coffee

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Fate Of A Fae - Part 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Soulmate Match: You know on sight. Friends also know when they meet you if you're a match for one of their friends.

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a meddling, pain in the ass Sprite, who you wrongly thought would leave you alone once you introduced her to your best friend, Darcy. News flash, she doesn’t and she won’t. Not when she thinks you’re a perfect match for two of her best friends. Could she be right? Maybe. Just don’t tell her that.

“Never tell Natasha Romanoff she was right” - Clint Barton

Chapter Summary: Tony explains what he knows about your medication.

Chapter Warning: Mention of arsehole parents, past trauma and being medicated.

It’s an hour later when Bucky tucks you into bed. You’re exhausted and emotional drained so the fight you put up is minimal. He sits with you a moment, noticing how you’ve automatically laid in the middle of the bed. A spot he hopes you’ll soon take in his own bed. Steve one side and him the other. As you snuggle down into the sheets and let out a soft sigh, he fixes the sheets around you again and softly strokes your face, humming a Russian lullaby to you.

Natasha smiles when she hears it, remembering the sound of Winnie humming it to Bucky in the hospital after he’d been found. A tortured prisoner of war cannot be made comfortable by medication but by the soft hum and voice of his mother. She gravitated towards the screen that separated your bedroom from the rest of the studio apartment. A vintage store find that you and Clint had found when you could only leave the apartment with him, Nat or an appointed guard from Happy’s team. Peeking around it, she’s joined by Tony, who can’t help but feel his heart warm at the sight. He types on his phone that he needs to speak to Barnes and shows it Nat, she nods and knows this is probably about your medication and what it really is.

“Yasha.” She whispers. Bucky sighs and gets up from the bed, placing a kiss to your temple before meeting them at the screen.

“Can’t this wait?” He whispers back harshly. Tony walks back to the kitchen and flicks his head for Bucky to follow him. Natasha follows but positions herself so she can keep an eye on you through the gap between the screen and the wall.

Tony pushes your boxed medication towards him.

“Do you know what this is?” He asks him.

“No, she said it was a muscle relaxant.” Bucky replied.

“Well, it’s not. Do you remember the trouble at the shareholders meeting? A couple of them had ideas about a pharmaceutical company using our factories for production and I refused.”

“Well it didn’t make any sense. Plus you said the ethics didn’t line up so I backed you.”

Tony nodded.

“It’s because they make this. It’s not a muscle relaxant James. It’s a species suppressant. Those arseholes must have put her on them as a kid. Stop her wings and ears growing back.”

Bucky growled deep in his chest and clenched his fists.

You stirred in the bed and Natasha gestured at him to be quiet. He took some deep breaths and made his way to the screen to check on you.

“So what do we do?” He asked, eyes fixed on you.

“You get her off them as soon as possible before there’s any long term damage.”

“Long term? She said herself she’s been on them since she was a kid!!” He whispered harshly.

“But these are worse Yasha.” Natasha replied. “They’re highly addictive, she’s gonna have to detox.”

“You’ll need a plan from Banner and Cho. There on their way back from DC now. They’ll give her a full review tomorrow, results the following day. I’m going to warn you Barnes it won’t be pretty. The fact her ears look like they’re growing back could mean the her body is already fighting against them and the meds, well they’ll fight right back.”

“How are her ears growing back if she’s on them?”

“Wild guess?” Tony replied “And personally I’d even ask Shuri’s advice on this one, Cho’s too, it could be because of you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Excuse me?”

“How is it? Where the scales, skin and metal meet?”

Bucky huffed and moved away from the screen, dropping himself on a stool at the kitchen island in a huff.

“It’s better isn’t it?” Tony asked. Bucky nodded.

“There’s lots written about our kind, all of us, changing when we meet our soulmates. Wounds being healed, forced transfers switching back. It’s so we’re at our best for them. Your shoulders have gotten broader, your eyes are brighter gold when your dragon shows and your shoulder is improving. Her ears will likely be the first thing to right themselves. They’re smaller, less to grow back. Her wings will take longer and from what I remember her telling me, there’s a lot of scarring. This won’t be easy James.”

Bucky nodded.

“There was a lot written post war, as well as Shuri’s recent stuff, people recovering in their soulmates company. I’ll send you somethings over.”

Bucky nodded again.

“Romanoff walk me out?” Tony asked, Nat nodding and following him out to the hallway.

Bucky zoned out their whispering, as he thought of you and what your childhood could have been like. You were missing all the things that made you appear fae and for them to put you on those drugs? Why had nobody ever told you what they were? Were you willingly on them? He was brought back to himself as Natasha slid into the seat beside him.

“She didn’t know Yasha.”

Bucky shook his head.

“How’d you know that’s what I’m thinking?”

“Because I know you.”

“You’re sure?”

Natasha nodded.

“The first time I saw her scars we were in a dressing room, she refused to try on the dress I’d picked out for her, I pulled back the curtain as we were arguing and I saw them. She shutdown completely so I took her to a bar. Four drinks in she told me about her parents being arseholes. Six in and she’s telling me what they did. All she’s over wanted is to be a true fae again.”

“She is a fae!”

“That’s not how she sees it.”

Bucky leaned back on the stool and ran his hand over his face. Natasha moved from his side, returning with two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka, quickly pouring one for each of them. Bucky took the shot and without looking at Natasha asked a favour.

“Find out where her parents live.”

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@calwitch @animegirlgeeky @jenniferpendragon @sebastians-love

[thefangirlfever]

I needed to make a post about this because...well, the title says everything.

First of all I would like to say that I'm feeling a bit anxious sharing my thoughts about this. I don't know if I'm the most qualified to talk about this but it has been bugging me.

I know a lot of people have already discussed the way Miguel, a POC and a latino man out of all people, has been oversexualized to a point that it feels fetishy and a bit concerning sometimes. I think we can all acknowledge this and that already gives us a lot to think about.

But what I think is really interesting is that not only is Miguel an intentional thirst-trap, he is a thirst-trap created mainly by a team of male producers/ writers. From what I read, the people in charge of his character design were men (I want to say that I am by no mean attacking anyone who worked on this movie. They did an amazing job and I am just sharing my thoughts, not saying they are bad people for this choise or anything. Thank you).

And I find this very telling. Because when I first saw this headline, I thought "Oh finally, women have been given the chance to freely thirst over a male character the same way men do." And I think it was a big mistake from me to think this way. (First of all, there are also men and non-binary simping over him). Because, let's be real for one second there, do we really want to thirst over characters the way men do? I have been an anime fan for years and let me tell you, the way a lot of men/ fanboys view female characters is simply gross (I know, I know, not all men). It's also something I noticed in comics and video games. Like, have you seen the outrage when a video game studio wants to propose female characters who do not look like what some p*rn addicts imagines women are?

My point is that Miguel has been created not with the female gaze in mind, but with the male gaze (and it hurts to say this). That's what I got from reading the part of the interview. The emphasis on his butt, the overly masculine, muscular body... Miguel was created not by following what women like in men but by what men imagine that women like in men.

This is also something we can see a lot in various medias over the last years, especially in the romance genre. The way some "desirable" men are depicted do not fit what women seek in a partner but what men imagine women want (ofc every woman has different criteria when it comes to this). I think it's very blatant when you compare medias written by and for women like Shonda Rhimes's shows, Bridgerton, Outlander... and medias written by men. So, in the end, I think that Miguel has been created with that in mind "Let's make a big, tall, dark and broody, muscular matcho man. That's what the female public wants." (ofc it's never as simple as that but you get the idea).

So... does this mean that it's bad to simp/ thirst over this character? Surprisingly I'm going to say no and I even think that it's important that the women in this fandom keep making content around Miguel! Because when we write fanfictions, draw fanarts of him... we are now picturing him with a real female gaze and that's what brings even more complexity and depth to this character.

I have seen so many interpretations of this character since I joined this fandom and a lot of them were really cool/ beautiful, showing just how much people love this character. When you think about it, it's crazy that a character who only got 15 minutes of screen time can have such a strong effect on a fandom, meaning that he is more than just a thirst trap. I genuinely think that the content created by the fans gives this character his humanity back (because, yes, being sexualized to no end deshumanizes a person. Go argue with a wall, thank you very much). I've seen so many tender, soft but also funny depictions of him making him more than just some ass shots on the big screen. And even on the NSFW corner of the fandom, some people out there are really making him more than just this "feral beast" that we have been sold by giving him back his tenderness, his sensuality...

So, yeah, take this headline with care and think what you want of it. Those were just my thoughts. Feel free to disagree, tell me if I got something wrong or just leave your thoughts under this post because I'm genuinely curious of seeing other fan's opinions. I apologize for the mess of this take.

And now I'm going back to sleep.

[crtstormie]

If Val still abuses Vox like stated in the old lore, would he and Angel be able to relate? 

Tw: discussions of abuse

If you weren’t back in the early days of the fandom, back then we barely knew anything about Vox. All we knew was a few limited and obvious things like he was an entertainment overlord and one of the three Vees. 

However, one of the things we later learned about him in a livestream is that him and Val are in some sort of relationship and that Val is obviously abusive towards him. 

This was a part of the old lore and while I’m sure Val can get violent from time to time, it seems from episode two that this new idea of Vox has a lot of control over Val’s anger and wouldn’t really allow him to crack or break his screen.

But back then we didn’t know this. Remember when we thought Val would be the leader of the Vees? 

Considering that we also still thought the Voxtagram stories a were canon and Val is shown to break Vox’s screen often, we had a very different interpretation of him.

And with the popularity of amazing fan song ‘eyes on me’ from paranoid dj that also shows their relationship as abusive at the end of the video, this was all we thought their relationship would be like. (Ok but honestly eyes on me is amazing I listen to it like every week) 

Now, how did this relate to angeldust? 

We knew a lot more about Angeldust because he is part of the main cast, and when addict released the show was making it very obvious that Val was his boss, abuser, and that hurts and affects him daily.

When the show released we get a sneak peak of how manipulative Val is in episode 2 when he convinces Angel to come to the studio, but it is the worst in the infamous episode.

This episode’s entire theme is about Val and just how horrible he treats Angel and has no regards for his feelings, body, or well being.

I could go into more detail on just how bad Val is to Angel, but that’s a sensitive topic that’s been discussed to death already.

But as we see at the end of ‘poison,’ Vox gives Angel a look that I can only describe as smug jealousy. 

Which Vox, I love you, but that is disgusting.

In this frame it’s shown to us that Vox is jealous of Angel because Val focuses a lot of his time on Angel and not him, but… Angel is literally getting raped without his consent? 

Vox may be Val’s on and off boyfriend, but he’s very aware of what Val does to his employees, especially Angel. It’s part of why he works with him.

But comparing someone who youre partly letting get abused in your workplace by you’re friend and work partner to jealously because they are getting abused and beat by that person daily to be jealous of because Angel spends more time with Val than he gets to? 

I’m sorry Vox, but that sickens me to an extreme level.

Of course I could just be reading to far into that one frame, but in the context of the show Vox is an egotistical overlord who is already shown to not care for his own employees. So why would he care about what Val does to his?… except when they are the source of his anger and time.

Now, theoretically, let’s say that in the new lore Val is still abusive to Vox at times. Ignoring how close they were in the finale song in episode 8. 

Val is poison to everyone around him, even the people he’s the closest to.

Would Vox and Angel be able to bond over this? I say no.

Angel is a sinner, which is on the lower part of the class system in hell. It’s normalized that someone like him can be treated however it applies to a contract they signed.

There’s no sympathy for him by others except when they care for him and what it makes Angel do to himself (Husk) or when they know just what goes down in that studio (Charlie) 

But I highly doubt Angel and Vox are any sense of close.

Vox mainly works on his floor, and Angel works in the studio. They obviously have met and vox still has that.. *ew* resentment to Angel, but that’s really it.

Now, vox on the other hand, is a powerful level who is on the same level, if not more powerful that Valentino because he’s the leader of the Vees. 

Even if Val abuses him sometimes, he’s probably… into that. 

Look at that waist and tell me that man isn’t a bottom, you get the point.

Val and Vox’s story hasn’t been told to us yet, but by using background information like a old picture of them from presumably the 70’s and how close they seem, I theorize they met a little after Val died and teamed up to become more powerful. They were a little attracted to one another, but it never did and still isn’t official, even if they look and act gay as hell. (Heh) 

So Vox is on the same level as Val and has been close to him for 50+ years. They’ve had plenty of good moments, even if they are both awful people.

Oh yeah, let’s talk about that.

Since Vox is also on the same level as Val, he still is a awful person as well see in episode 2,4, and 8. (His appearances) 

Even if he Dosent sexually assault his employees, he still treats them horribly, as does Velvette. I assume this is common practice for overlords to treat their souls poorly, but it’s still not a good practice. I feel bad for the fish guy who had to make angelic security on the spot, he looks as stressed as me.

He hypnotizes people into trusting him and buying his technology, which is just evil businessman behavior. Someone said he reminds them of lord business from the LEGO movie, and I see it.

He is also very petty towards Alastor in almost every way, immediately trying to brainwash his audience to not listen to him.

I’m not saying being petty is a sign of being a awful person, but for Vox it contributes.

There’s the… look in episode 4, which I’ve already discussed, but it’s important to note that Vox is in Val’s studio DURING Val shooting and mistreating his stars.

If he regularly does this is then he is more than aware of what Val does to his employees and only gives them disgusted stares back. Like all he sees in them is what Val sees, useless whores for content.

Which is obviously not good lmao

And then in episode 8 (and partly episode 6 if you look into it) 

Vox is shown to have spying technology all over the city which is how he regulates his users behavior. He uses this tech to spy on alastor and the others and make fun of them like he’s watching football. 

At the end of the episode, we see him happily dancing with Valentino and Tounge kissing him, showing us even more that they’re in love in their own sick twisted evil way.

Angel on the other hand, is shown to be better. 

He’s in a hotel for redemption and throughout the season we see him slowly kicking his old habits like self destruction, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, distancing himself, etc. 

(With the help of Husky ofc huskerdust for life) 

And by the end of the season we see Angel being a lot more genuine to the others in the hotel and I only imagine he gets better once they find out it’s possible to be redeemed.

Vox is not shown to want to be morally better in the slightest, if not worse. 

He wants to one up Alastor, he wants to take over hell with the other Vees, and he will do it however he wants because he’s a cartoon supervillain. 

I’m not going to touch on what I Think of Val and Vox as a ship in this but what I will say is that Vox is a cartoon supervillain, doing things that even though horrible in the universe are just seen as goofy to us viewers.

Val on the other hand is scarily realistic, a abuser who manipulates his victims and forces them to have sex for his own benefits. I think that’s the main thing that sets me off for them, even if they are evilly perfect for each other. (So I’m gonna steal vox from Val) 

Vox is in a much different position with Val than Angel is, equal to if not above him while Angel is very below him. We see Angel stand up to him in episode 6, but I just know he was beaten the hell out of the next day and broken even further.

Vox would belittle him, so the only way I see the two even talking genuinely is if Angel starts it.

This isn’t like Angel and Husk, where they’re both washed up losers who are going through situations similar enough to bond, there’s an extreme power imbalance that wouldn’t make it as meaningful as Angel and husk’s talk.

There’s an amazing comic, I’ll add it below, but it’s actually what got me thinking about this topic.

If Vox comes out with his screen cracked after Angel was also hurt just to yell at the other becuase he’s ruining their image, then I see this potentially working.

They could share a sweet line like Angel showing concern for Vox’s cracked screen considering that’s his face and it must feel like having you’re skull cracked open. Angel has probably been driven to that level before.

However I have this one image in my head.

If Vox and Angel are both slightly talking and then they both say, “Val can be… rough.” 

I think that perfectly shows how different the two’s situations are with him.

Vox would say it all horny with a tint of love to his voice, while Angel would say it actually despaired and quiet. They see Val’s actions differently because they are affected differently by it.

Vox isn’t scared of Val because he is on the same level as him, and I think that’s the main reason to why they wouldn’t kconnect.

Besides, both Vox and Angel are either too egotistical or have too many walls up to have a legit conversation about Val without knowing each other at all.

If anything Vox is only a contribute to why Val focuses on Angel so much, their relationship is toxic af and we see in ep 2 that Val likes to get a reaction out of Vox. It’s sick and twisted but I wouldn’t put it against him to do something like that.

So, in conclusion I don’t think Angel and Vox would be able to relate to each other because their situations and relationships with Val are so different, even if Val lets it out on Vox time to time his main target is Angel. Angel gets hurt almost every day and I’d say Vox only gets hurt every couple months on a really bad day.

We know a lot of the lore has changed since the pilot and the Voxtahram stories most of these claims come from arent even canon, so I probably just ranted about nothing.

Regardless Thank you for reading, and goodnight. If you have any genuine thoughts about this feel free to share in the comments and reblogs, I’m curious.

[silverstar-1117]

addicted to you - chapter 2

˙⋆✮Pairing; Lee Know x Afab!Reader

˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮Summary; Minho hadn’t seen his childhood friend in years but you had truly never left his mind. Even though he was the reason behind your absence all he wanted was you to come back.

˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮Warnings; implied afab reader, (they/them pronouns used), slight angst, my own inability to update consistently (sorry lol), this is my first kpop fanfic pls be nice to me im a crybaby

Chapter II

MINHO- STRAY KIDS DORM

All he heard was noise when he walked in the door, he sighed as he closed the door behind him. Slipping off his shoes he padded into the living room to figure out what was causing his group mates to be so loud this late at night.

“Look, there they are!!” Felix shouted pointing towards the screen of the tv, “Birdie’s on stage!”

It felt like a punch to the stomach hearing their name after what he had said the last time he saw them. God, it was all he could think about. How he basically told them they never mattered to him when he knew that was far from the truth. All he wanted was to take back what he said and just act as happy as he should’ve been after seeing them for the first time in years.

“I didn’t know they were performing with Enhypen now! I knew they left Aespa’s staff after their last comeback. Do you think we could get Birdie to dance with us?” Hyunjin was the next to speak about the other dancer. He hated what he was hearing. Why did he do this to himself? He knew there was no one else to blame but himself.

“We follow each other I don’t think it would hurt to ask them to just come practice with us sometime.” Felix replied.

“Ooh, I’m gonna DM them right now. Maybe they’ll reply when they’re off stage” Hyunjin immediatley pulled out his phone before the other boy could even finish his sentence.

Felix laughed before chuckling out, “I need to tell Chan hyung that they’re dancing with Jake now!”

x

Over the next few days it seemed as if around every corner all he heard was Hyunjin talking about Birdie. About how they were dancing on a new show or about how they posted a new dance cover on instagram, or even that they agreed to dance together.

His mistake was just following him around. He had no escape. He makes himself even more miserable by scrolling through their posts. He saw them at practice, at the park with other friends, and photos of just them going throughout the day. God, he missed them. He couldn’t even fault Hyunjin, he knew how amazing Birdie was. They lit up the whole room when they were present and they could befriend anyone in a second. The proof of that was apparent. TXT, AESPA, and ENHYPEN were all scattered around their life. At every broadcast it was like it was never ending. Everyone wanting their own moment with them, his own members included.

They wanted nothing to do with him and they made that clear enough that anyone could see. They were professional and polite but he knew them. There was nothing behind those eyes like there used to be, no warmth or care for him. To protect themself he at least knew that much. Because of him, too.

“Birdie is going to meet me at the studio in an hour! So i have enough time to grab us snacks and drinks” Hyunjins voice came from the hallway. Felix responded, “Tell them I said hi and that it’s my turn next time!”

Only twenty minutes later there was already a new instagram story waiting for him when he opened his phone. Hyunjin and Birdie playing around and dancing. He already regretted opening his phone. They were dancing, obviously . If it just ended there maybe he wouldn’t feel like he wanted to punch something. Or himself.

Hyunjin had his hands around Birdie’s waist as he stepped towards them. Birdie danced away and back into his arms. They still had the same fluid and controlled movements that he remembered. He remembered when he was the one holding them as they danced around the studio late at night. He missed those nights. He never thought that he would have a last one. He had foolishly thought that they would have a million more nights together.

HYUNJIN - DANCE STUDIO

Birdie’s laugh echoed around the studio, bouncing off the walls and mirrors. “Stop!! I think they’re cool. You’re just a fashion disaster!” Their smile was wide and it lit up their whole face. Hyunjin watched them as they stood up from the floor and skipped towards him, “It’s not my fault i have better taste than you”

He scoffed, “Yeah right, you know i have better taste! I see what you’re wearing” It made an exaggerated frown appear on the other dancers face. “Well, that means we just need to go shopping together! Soon!”

Hyunjin pulled their hands towards him, starting to sway the both of them back and forth. “How about we order chicken and we can talk about where we wanna go?”

After the food had been ordered and delivered, with the help of one of the jyp staff members, they both laid out on the floor while they ate and chatted for the next hour and a half about anything and everything. With bellies full of chicken and soda, Hyunjin rested his head on his arm while laid out on his side, listening diligently to the dancer speak. “I mean, I don’t know I guess the name just has a negative meaning to me now. Don’t get me wrong the name has served me well for years.” They shrugged, “it just doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

He looked at them before moving over to pull their head onto his lap, “Why don’t you like it anymore? You seemed to at one point, so what’s changed?” Birdie sighed as Hyunjin started to run his fingers over their hair line.

“I got it from someone. They were apart of my life since I was small. They left though, no goodbye or anything. Just looked right at me knowing they were leaving and didn’t say anything. Like i didn’t deserve to know.”

Birdie looked up at Hyunjin trying to smile but only managing a slight frown. “Lee Know hyung? Right?” He guessed, even though he was pretty sure of the answer.

“Yeah. Minho and I grew up together. I thought we were pretty close, you know?” They laughed. “Guess it was just me”

He folded his body over hers as best as he could, tickling his fingers down the bare skin of her stomach the peeked out from their shirt. “Guess we’ll just have to find you a new name then, huh cutie?” Birdie giggled up at him before swatting his hands off of her. “You’re so silly, huh Hyunnie?”

hii again!! i’ve finally finished this chapter. i had 0 inspo and i switched stores at my job so i’ve been stressed :( i hope you enjoy the new chapter!

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Four: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 8.1k

I wake up to the smell of French toast coming from the kitchen; I smile, realizing what day it is. I groan, feeling the muscles in my back stretch and my spine pop. I throw on my jeans and exit the room. I find you in the kitchen, you were dancing to Prince on the radio, in an oversized band tee, not noticing me behind you. I realize the shirt you’re wearing is mine, a shirt that I haven’t seen in almost twenty years. 

“Merry Christmas.” I say and you yelp, awkwardly stumbling back into me as the spatula falls out of your hand. I hold your waist and you're laughing loudly. 

“Jesus Christ. You scared me!” You cup my face and kiss my lips softly. “Merry Christmas.” 

I smile against your lips, gripping your waist. “I was wondering what happened to this shirt.” 

You blush, winking at me. “You left it at my house.” 

“I’m sure I did.” I laugh, gently patting her ass as she goes back to cooking breakfast. I peek out the windows, the snow was pretty melted already. It seemed warmer than usual. I feel my phone ringing in my pocket, and I see that it’s Ted, I smile when I answer. 

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.” I say with a grin.

I hear him giggle. “Merry Christmas, dickhead. How you doing?” 

I glance over at you, and you look up, smiling sweetly at me. “Better than I have been.” 

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” 

“Remember the girl?” I whisper. “The one I told you about.” 

“The girl…the girl. Oh!” He laughs loudly. “Wow, man. That’s amazing. Are things…are things well…?”

“Things are incredible.” I grin and I pull my hair up in a half pony. 

“Good. I love to hear it.” He coughs a little. “Happy seven months by the way.” 

I glance at the date on my phone, he was right. I was seven months clean. I’ve never had that much time under my belt. “Wow. I didn’t even realize…thanks, man.” 

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He says, and I hear him let out another hacking cough. “The boys talked about meeting at the studio, Gareth told me you’ve been writing?” 

“Uhhh. Been preoccupied to finish, but yeah.” I smile. “I haven’t sang anything yet, it’s been a while.” 

“You know whatever you do it’s gonna come out amazing.” He’s coughing again, and I can’t help but feel a little worried. 

“You alright, Teddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wrong pipe is all.” He laughs. “Where you at? East coast or cabin?”

“Boston. I have to go back to the cabin in a few days for my next therapy session.” I had almost forgotten until now, I would’ve been fucked if I missed it. 

“Okay, why don’t we plan to meet at the Boston studio after New Years? Bring your girl.” 

My girl. 

“Okay.” I smile. “What are you doing today?”

“Nellie is coming to town with the grandkids, been some time since I’ve seen them.” I can hear a smile in his voice. “Julie is coming too.” His ex-wife. 

“Ohhhh.” I grin goofily at the phone. “Rekindling things hopefully?” 

He laughs. “We’ll see. Enjoy your day, Eddie. Love you.” 

“Thanks, man. Love you too.” 

I hang up, you ask me who was on the phone, and I tell you it was the man who saved my life. 

We had finished breakfast, had light conversation about the plans for the day. Gareth had video chatted me, and when he saw your face on the screen, I thought he was gonna pass out. You had taken the phone from me, laughing and talking about things from the past. Gareth kept saying “oh my god, oh my god” which was weird because, he was the one who gave you my phone number. I had shrugged it off, he was probably excited that it actually happened, that we were in the same room together after so many years. When she had given the phone back to me, Gareth had smiled large. 

“You look good, dude.” He grins, sipping his coffee. “Email me that song you wrote, I want to add the melody notes.” 

“It’s not finished yet.” I sigh. “I don’t even know if I want to record it, it’s different from our regular stuff.” 

“Nothing wrong with being different, didn’t you tell me that?” He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. 

“It’s…it’s almost like a ballad. I guess, I don’t know. I started it in rehab and then picked away at it when I hid out in my cabin. There are definitely parts that we can add the heavy stuff to, I don’t know.” I laugh awkwardly. 

“Dude, stop being hard on yourself.” He smiles at me. “I’m sure it’s great. Go enjoy your day with her and I’ll see you soon.” 

“Alright, man.” I smile. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

He gives me the middle finger. “Merry Christmas, bitch.” 

I hang up, putting my phone on silent and look up at you. You were coming towards me with a wrapped present in your hand.

“What?” I laugh. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t get you anything. Why did you get me something?” 

“Relax. I’ve actually had this forever.” You sit down next to me, curling your legs under you. “I got it for you before…well, before everything.” 

You hand it to me, and I can tell you were telling the truth because the corners on the wrapping paper had wear on them. I stare into your eyes, trying to comprehend. “Come on I’ve waited fifteen years to give this to you.” You laugh and I smile at you, tearing the paper. My eyes immediately fill with tears, remembering. 

It was a music transcript notebook that I had my eyes set on at a record shop back then. It was 200 pages of smooth paper, leather bound; I remember this being expensive. 

“This…you got me this?” I look in your eyes and you nod. “How…what? Why?”

You shrug and give me a sad smile. “Because I loved you.” 

I rub my palm over my trembling lips, running my fingers over the pages. It still looked brand new after all these years. I feel my heart shatter in pieces, I feel every regret and mistake swim through my mind. You take my hand in yours, dipping your head to look in my eyes. “Hey, look at me.” 

I clear my throat, looking at you, feeling hot tears on my cheeks. You cup my cheek, wiping my tears away with your finger. 

“This isn’t me giving you this to remind you of what could have been or to have you beg for my forgiveness. Because I’m not gonna do that. I forgave you a long time ago, that’s why I hung on to this. It reminded me every day of the good. Not the bad. Never the bad. Because you were always good, Eddie.” You curl your fingers through my hair, and I shake my head at you. 

“I was only good because of you.” I whisper, wiping the snot from my nose. 

“That’s not true and you know that.” You say, moving your other hand to the other side of my face. “It just took you a bit to catch up, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“Look where I ended up.” I cry softly. “Look what I did to myself for all those years, how is any of that good?” 

“Look where you are now.” You say to me, opening the binding of the book to a blank page. You point to it. “Blank page. New chapter, better life.” 

I stare at you in awe, wondering if this was a cruel dream and I was actually held up in that hotel room in Manhattan, overdosing, imagining things like this. I take your face in my hands, kissing you sweetly, you curl your hands through my hair, and I press my forehead against yours. You were real. This was real. 

“Thank you.” I whisper to you. “Thank you for everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile against my lips and pull back, gently running your hand over my cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” I whisper to you, pressing my lips to yours again, cupping the back of your head. I pull you by your thighs onto my lap, gripping your ass and your waist. You lean back, pulling my shirt off of your head and press your lips to mine again. I hold onto your back, clawing at your skin, as I continue to massage my tongue with yours. You grind against me, and I groan into your mouth, instantly getting hard. I kiss your neck, lick down to your breast, and take your nipple in my mouth. You let out a sigh, your back arching and I hold you tighter. You hold onto my shoulders, pulling my face to yours, kissing me deeply. I feel your hands unzip me, and I groan against your skin as you take my cock and bury me inside you. I hold your hips as you rock, the beautiful moans that you breathe out send shivers down my spine. I cup your breasts, rubbing your erect nipples as they bounce in my hand. 

“Unghhhh baby, you feel so good.” You moan loudly and my head falls back against the couch, rocking you faster. “Ahhhh, fuck.” 

“Mmmm.” I moan, pushing myself deeper into you, arching my hips. “You like that baby?” 

“Fuck Eddie.” You gasp out a shaky breath and I smile, hearing you say my name like that awakens a wild animal in me, I just want to feel all of you and more. I meet your lips, wrapping both my arms around your waist and turn you onto your back. I hold your leg over my shoulder, slamming into you, feeling every inch of your wet pussy swallowing my dick whole. “Just like that baby, don’t stop, don’t stop…annnnghhhh!” 

You’re getting so loud, and I feel myself shudder, pornographic sounds and grunts escape my mouth and I feel you clench around me. “F-fuck…ohhh…unghhh…”

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come…oh my…oh…unghhhhhhh!” You cry out as your orgasm rocks your entire body, I keep fucking you, and you’re still screaming as your pussy continues to clench my cock. I groan loudly, feeling my eyes roll back and I feel the warmth come out of my cock as I come inside you, I don’t stop thrusting until I’m completely empty. You’re still trembling underneath me, still moaning as the stimulation you feel starts to settle. I swallow a lump in my throat, pressing my lips to yours, thrusting into you once more. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manhattan. 

The second to last city of the tour. 

I haven’t used heroin in two weeks. Two long, boring, fucked up weeks. 

Everyone keeps saying how proud they are of me and that I’m doing the right thing. But am I? Do they know that behind my stupid smile and my sense of humor is a fucking ticking time bomb ready to go off and take everyone down with them? No? Yeah, probably not. I’m not that easy to read anymore. I’m still a drug addict and I still know how manipulate people into believing my lies. The ache and the urge to use is so hard to resist, I feel like I’m slowly dying. Everything makes me sad, I cry all the time. I feel like a fucking pussy. 

The shows we’ve been putting on have been unreal though. We’ve had to do double shows because the stadiums have been sold out.

I should be grateful; we have great support from our fans. We had a meet and greet and had met a beautiful young woman, who couldn’t have been younger than twenty-one, who was battling terminal cancer, told us that our music keeps her going on the worst days. I hugged her while she cried, held her face and told her that she was strong, that whatever happens she will walk out of here knowing she made a difference in my life. And when she left, I locked myself in the bathroom, weeping because it was too much. It was all too much, feeling her pain, seeing it in her eyes. I made Ted take down her email, her mother’s email. I don’t know why but I needed to know what happened to her. 

We were on stage now, finishing the last song. I wailed on Sweetheart; my hair was sweat soaked and whipping around me as I head banged around the stage while Gareth slammed on the drums. I bring my mouth to the microphone, singing the last verse, and look back at Gareth, he grins, hitting the double bass petal, snare and we fade out. The roar of the crowd vibrates our bodies, thank them for coming to the show. I toss my guitar pick in the audience and blow them air kisses. 

The boys and I went to a local bar to celebrate, naturally, I had gotten extremely drunk. But they didn’t seem to care, I mean, if they did, they didn’t say anything. Being drunk was better than being sober and when I was sober, I kept seeing the girls face with the cancer. I couldn’t even see straight; I was surprised I made it to my hotel room. 

I don’t even think I shut my door, because as soon as I walked in to empty my pockets, I couldn’t believe what I had placed on the table. 

Sitting so perfectly beside my cigarettes, lighter, and loose cash was a little plastic baggy with light brown powder, and two capped needles. I feel a laugh escape my lungs; I don’t believe this is real. When did I buy some? Was it at the bar? Was it outside the bar? I really don’t remember. I held the baggy in my palm, staring at it like it was the missing piece of the puzzle. 

I didn’t even hesitate; it was like riding a bike. I had done the first shot; it had burned like hot embers in my veins. It made me sweat; the summer air didn’t help, but sitting on the floor next to the air conditioner did. The top two buttons of my shirt were undone, I didn’t take the necklace off. Maybe I should’ve. I press the needle into my vein again. Same spot, uh oh. I smile at the burn again; I probably should’ve waited before I did it again. My head feels heavy, but I am so fucking high I don’t even care. 

I look at the syringe, there’s still some in there, I clench my fist, looking for a different vein. It was just enough to…

Suddenly I’m in my back, staring up at the ceiling, everything feels foggy, I can’t move. My heart isn’t beating, or is it? 

“Look at what you’ve become.” I hear your voice and I slowly turn my head; I taste something foul in my mouth, something warm is spilling onto my cheeks. I see your face, kneeling next to me. There is no way you’re real, looking at me this way, your face cold, your eyes blank. “Just a dead man, laying on a cold floor with a needle in your arm.” 

My body reacts, I feel it trembling. I can’t speak, my limbs don’t work. Nothing is working. I feel calm though, isn’t that weird? 

Did the show really go well? Or did I imagine that too? I think I forgot the words to a song…but Gareth had took over. Have I been high this entire time? 

It’s quiet now. The room is still, I think I see Gareth…he’s screaming something at me. But he’s not angry, he looks almost scared, and he’s weeping. I can’t hear him; I can’t hear anything anymore.

“He’s still coding.” 

“Adrenaline.”

“Are you crazy?” 

“Just do it!” 

“Fifth narcan given.” 

“Eddie? Eddie? Can you hear me?” 

“Still no response. Eyes fixed and dilated.” 

“He’s not dying tonight! Do you know who this is?! Do another narcan, I’ll start compressions.”

“Can you step on it, Mike?!” 

“Give me the adrenaline.” 

“You’re crazy if you think it’s gonna work. Fifth narcan given. No response.” 

“Give me the fucking adrenaline!” 

“It’s not gonna work! Doug, don’t!” 

A loud, deep, gasp escapes my lungs, and my vision clears. I’m in the back of an ambulance, my shirt is ripped and there is a needle sticking out of my bare chest. I feel sweaty, I feel clammy, I think I’m still dead. I stare at the wide eyes of the paramedic and try to ignore the vibrations of what I assume is adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I pull the needle out of my chest, and I feel immediately trapped. 

“Stop the truck, let me go.” I say, my eyes wide. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital.” The man who I assume is Doug says. “Whatever you took is not fully cleared from your system.” 

“Nope, no hospital, let me the fuck out.” I go to crawl off the gurney and two strong hands push me back on the bed. I start to struggle, and I end up elbowing Doug in the face. He falls back, and the other paramedic tries to restrain me.

“Mike! Stop the truck! Code gray!”  I rip the CB radio off the wall, and I smash it on his head. I was a trapped animal in a cage, and I needed to get out. The ambulance slams to a halt, and I smash my shoulder against the back doors, awkwardly stumbling out and I start running. Well, running as best as I could. We weren’t that far away from the hotel, and I was grateful when the building came into few. It must’ve been late, because when I walk in the lobby the only person there was the receptionist and she looked at me like I was a walking zombie. 

I try to smile and wave to her, and I can only imagine what that looked like to her because she looked even more terrified. I make it back up to my room, everything was thrown everywhere, the bed was a mess, the floor had medical equipment laid out. There was a puddle of whatever liquid had come out of my mouth on the floor by the air conditioner. My phone, Sweetheart, my suitcase and everything else was still where I left it. This was the third time I have ever overdosed in my life, but it was never this bad. I never had to take an ambulance ride. I walk into the bathroom, and I can understand why the receptionist looked terrified. I was very pale, almost ghostly, my eyes had dark circles underneath them. My curly hair was sticking to my skin because of my sweat, there was a black and blue bruise on my chest. I did look like a dead man walking. 

Oh, what do you know, I still have drugs. 

Did I shoot up again after having just overdosed? Yeah. Why? You may wonder. 

Well, it didn’t kill me. 

I’m sitting up on the floor of the hotel room, a stupid smirk on my face because I knew I wasn’t dying again. I know I’m a piece of shit, I know Gareth was the one who found me teetering on life and death. 

I hear three loud rapping knocks on my door. “Fuck off.” I groan out. 

“This is NYPD.” 

“I didn’t die so you can leave now!” I shout at them. 

“Not gonna do that sir. We could do this easy way or hard way, open the door.” 

I feel angry now, I stumble to my feet and whip the door open. 

“Edward Munson?” 

“Depends on who’s asking.” I let out a low chuckle, there was three officers, and they weren’t impressed. 

“Edward Munson, you have a right to remain silent…” one of the officers comes towards me. 

“Fuck right off!” I said, stepping back but he has the upper hand on me. He grabs my forearm and I swing my fist, connecting with the side of his jaw. The two other officers tackle me, and I’m still able to fight them off. I feel a back hand connect with my nose and mouth, tasting blood immediately. I’m finally forced onto my stomach, my hands are behind my back as I’m shouting profanities at them, letting them know my lawyer was one of the best in the country. They pull me to my feet, the officer that I punched looks at me like a disappointed father. 

“It’s a shame. You’re my son’s favorite band.” He wipes the blood from his face. 

“Gonna tell him to stop listening cause you’re dealing with the devil?” I grin at him, knowing very well there is blood staining my teeth. They pull me out of the hotel room, and lead me out to the lobby. There’s already a line of people outside, I see paparazzi. Oh, this is gonna be great. I wonder what the tabloids are gonna say about me now. 

Heavy metal rockstar Eddie Munson arrested in New York City for being on a drug induced psychosis and beating up cops. 

Probably not exactly that, but at least nobody found out I died for five minutes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had driven to the studio in downtown Boston. It didn’t feel like winter, it felt like a cool spring day. I had to go back up to upstate New York for my therapy session, she was impressed with what more I had to say. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to get her to not think I was an asshole. I had mentioned you, and the way she looked at me made me think I was telling her a bedtime story. I had spoken to the paramedics that I had hurt the night of my overdose, apologizing for my behavior even though it probably didn’t mean much because I still hurt them, they never wanted to press charges because they’ve dealt with worse people but since the ambulance company was state run, charges had to be filed, as well as the charges for assaulting three police officers. I had to complete a 90 day program, continue my sobriety with a sponsor and have two years of mandatory therapy. 

You were excited to see the studio when we pulled into the lot. We had stayed at my condo, and I was exhausted. I was up all night doing the finishing touches to the song I was writing. I had sent it to Gareth this morning and all he had written back after I sent it was: “Dude. I’m weeping.” 

I’m not sure if that was a good or bad thing, but as soon as we walked into the studio Gareth had tackled me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. You had laughed at our exchanged, and he had done the same thing to you. Ted had arrived soon after with coffee and bagels. He had hugged you like he had known you forever, and when he saw me, I honestly could’ve cried. He had met us when we were a struggling newbie band, we were just kids. Straight out of a small town, no dime to our name. We would sleep in his basement, he’d cook us dinner and his wife would do our laundry. He’s why we’re here today, why we can do this job and I hope he knows just how grateful I am for him. 

This was my favorite place to record. It was mostly an office building, but we had owned the studio. No one bothered us, we didn’t bother them. We purposely remodeled it to make it soundproof, there was an engineering table, with two computers, and a sound mixing station. We had three recording booths, three large couches sat up against the wall. Ted sat on one, patting his forehead with a tissue. He was sweaty, seemed a little pale but he had mentioned earlier he felt like he was coming down with something. 

I sit next to him. “How was seeing your family?” 

He smiles at me. “Oh, it was great. The grandkids are getting so big. Julie wants to go for dinner tomorrow night.” 

I smile, nudging him with my shoulder. “That’s good, right?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles, looking over at you. Gareth was showing you all the different controls on the engineering board, and how the sound works through the speakers. I follow his eyes, and I smile.

“She’s beautiful.” He says with a grin. “Don’t fuck it up again.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I laugh, running hand through my hair. I was getting nervous about the recording, and he could sense that. Gareth was the only one who read it, and now I was going to be singing it in front of everyone. Even you. I didn’t show you what I had written, it feels like a diary entry almost. Gareth had already told me that he knew what music to put in for it, I had made a note towards the end where the heaviness would come in. 

“You’re gonna do great.” Ted says with a smile. “You always do. Remember, kid. Blank page, clean slate.” He goes to stand up from the couch and I poke his ass with the tip of my shoe.

“Thank you.” I tell him, quietly. “For never giving up on me.” 

He rolls his eyes, and winks, I laugh. “Save the theatrics for later, you got work to do.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I let out a loud sigh. I walk towards the recording booth, the song in my hands. Gareth gently massages my shoulders, following me into the booth.

“You got this, man.” He tells me. “Deep breaths, sing your heart out, block everyone out, and just feel it.” 

I nod at him, shaking the nerves out of my hands as I close the door to the booth. I lay the paper on the stand and place the headphones over my ears. I hear Jeff’s voice over the speakers in my ears. 

“Ready?” 

“No.” I laugh and give him a thumbs up through the window. 

I already had the melody in my head, it was just Gareth’s job to mimic it, and Jeff would add the background after. I glance at the song, meet your eyes, and I smile. 

I begin.

“It’s cold in here, my hands shake, my bones ache. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. All the mistakes, they’re catching up, maybe I should’ve just been left for dead. My mind is broken; the walls I made are crumbling around me. It’s so easy to just be, but the ache is there, it calls to me, I just want it inside of me.  Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. Down the rabbit hole I go, how are they supposed to find me? Will I be bone, will I be ash, will I be lost for good?  I don’t regret it, it’s why I’m here, my heart bleeds in my chest. One last shot, that’s all I want, and then maybe they will heal. It’s all I dream, the clouds around me, smiling as I go. But you came back, screaming my name, and it all fades to black. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. An angel with wings, that’s what I thought, but it was a devil in disguise. I can’t go back, I have to repent, my sins are killing me. My sins are killing me!” I extend the note at the end, and I hear Gareth on the drums. I keep my eyes closed, nodding my head to his beat. I wait for three beats, one, two three…and I’m yelling out the song, feeling my stomach muscles clench as my voice comes out, sounding broken, and angry.

“Cold floors, cold walls, I can’t feel anything at all, just these thoughts that haunt my mind, driving me fucking insane, one last shot that’s all I want, I don’t want to feel this. But somehow, I’m still alive, and there’s nothing left to see. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home.”  I add the second to last verse again, followed by the chorus, and I yell, my voice fading, and I glance over at my bandmates. In the speakers of my ears, I hear Jeff, “Fuck YEAH, man!” 

I laugh, taking the headphones off my ears. You had tears in your eyes as you’re clapping, and I come out of the booth. Gareth is already whooping as he comes out of the booth, his drumsticks in his hand. 

“Play it back.” I tell them. I look over at Ted, who’s smiling with tears in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulder and he places his hand over mine. We listen to it back, and I’m amazed at how it sounds. We begin to brainstorm on what melody should go where, where to add the guitar. How heavy it should sound at the end. We spent about three hours in the studio, recording the music, adding more riffs, adding piano to it. Once it was completed to our liking, we listened. We haven’t had a melodic song like this since our first album, and I couldn’t believe that was my voice. 

“I say we go celebrate by getting some Italian.” Ted says with a grin.  

“You buying?” I grin, pulling you towards me by your waist. 

“Ha, you’re funny. Let me piss first.” He goes into the bathroom, and I lean my head against your shoulder. 

“That song was amazing.” You tell me, gently rubbing my chin. “I forgot you could sing like that.” 

“Wasn’t that great.” I say, giving you a goofy smile and you nudge me with your shoulder. 

“It was perfect.” You kiss my lips gently and I grin. 

“Ugh, don’t miss that.” Gareth laughs and pokes my stomach. “I’m starving, where’s Teddy?” 

“Bathroom.” 

I watch as Gareth walk into the bathroom and the door closes behind him. “Teddy! Are you taking a shit? Did you fall in?” 

We both giggle. I turn to you, but your eyes are somewhere else. Gareth has come out of the bathroom, his face ashen, his body trembling. “Call 911.” He says loudly. Jeff whips up his head, and the engineer is immediately on the phone. 

“What?” My heart is in my throat. 

I watch as you run into the bathroom, I go to follow you, but Gareth stops me, his hand on my chest, tears are streaming down his face. “Don’t go in there, Eddie.” 

I push his hand off me, ignoring his words and I jog to the bathroom. “Eddie! Eddie!” 

I skid to a halt, watching as you’re giving chest compressions to Ted. Gareth slams his chest into me but has remained frozen as he stares at what you’re doing.  

He’s not moving, his eyes are partially closed, and I see a little blood in the corner of his mouth. “Ted?” I almost yell. 

You look up at me, your expression in full nurse mode as you continue your compressions, feeling his pulse. “Eddie, stay outside, please.” 

I don’t hear you; I slide to the floor and move next to Ted. Trying to see, trying to understand. “Wake up, man.” I say, my heart beating fast. I hear blood rushing in my ears. I couldn’t see his chest rise and fall; just the force of your compressions trying to pump air in his lungs. 

“Eddie, come on.” Gareth sputters out, his hand on my shoulder. I slap him away, there was a cold chill going down my spine. 

“Teddy, wake up.” I’m getting angry now, I feel my throat lock up, and tears sting behind my eyes. He was fucking with us, he had to be. I place my hand on his, he was still warm, but I got no reaction. “Wake the fuck up, man!” 

I watch as you sit back on your heels, your eyes meet Gareth’s and I see you shake your head, you look at me now. “Eddie…”

“No.” I say through my teeth, I hold his face in my hands. “Teddy. Teddy. Wake up. Stop fucking with us man, stop this.” He’s not even looking at me, his chest isn’t moving. I feel myself trembling. I shake his head. “Teddy, wake up!” I feel your hand on my forearm, Gareth’s hand fisting my shirt from behind. I can hear the sound of a two-way radio outside the door. An angry, loud, groan escapes me and I’m sobbing. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking do this to me, man. Please wake up. You’re supposed to go to dinner with Julie tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m better now. I promise, just wake up. Please Teddy. Please.” 

The paramedics are in the bathroom now, and I can feel Gareth pulling me back. A loud, guttural, groan escapes my lungs as Gareth has to practically drag me from the bathroom. “Teddy!” I scream, thrashing against Gareth’s grasp. The struggle causes both of us to fall on our asses to the floor, and he’s almost restraining me. You’re in front of me now, holding my face in your hands as angry sobs and groans scream out of me. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” You say calmly. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, Eddie. Breathe.” 

“I don’t care!” I moan out, my teeth grinding. My ears still ringing, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a father and there was no way he was gone. 

“Eddie, baby, please…”

I struggle in Gareth’s grasp, my body still shaking with sobs as I see them wheel Ted out from the bathroom. A mask over his face, the paramedic on top of him doing compressions. They disappear, telling us what hospital and nothing is making sense. Nothing. None of it. 

I felt like I was in a fever dream as I pace in the hospital waiting room. I was talking to myself, reassuring myself that he was okay, that he was alive and would be cracking jokes in his hospital bed. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, even you. I had tried calling Julie, but her phone had immediately gone to voice mail. Gareth was still pale, sipping out of the same coffee cup he has been for the last half hour. 

The doctor had come, and before he could even say the words, I’m walking away from him. I’m holding my stomach; afraid my insides are gonna fall out and a jagged breath escapes me. A sound I never knew I could make before comes rattling out of me, it hurt so much. A massive heart attack killed him. 

“We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. If it gives you any sort of comfort, he didn’t feel much. If anything it just felt like a tickle.” I whip my head around to look at him, I know my eyes are wide and look feral. 

“Do you actually know that though? You don’t know what or how he felt, so don’t even fucking claim that you do.” My voice is breaking, and you pull me away from the doctor, leading me to sit. “I don’t want to sit!” I shout, but your palm is on my chest, gently pushing me down. I hear Gareth say a few more words to the doctor and he walks away. He is handing me a plastic bag, it had Ted’s key, his wallet, his phone, his fucking wedding ring. 

“They need Julie to release his body to the funeral home, have you gotten ahold of her?” His voice sounds far away, he’s still crying, and I can’t look at him, I just shake my head. My hands are trembling as I’m gazing at the plastic bag, I shake my head, rubbing the snot from my nose. Ted’s phone vibrates in the bag, and I see Julie’s name light up. I stare at her name, and I pull the phone out. I stand up from the seat, clearing my throat as I slide to answer. 

“Julie?” I hold my stomach, a small sob escaping me. 

"Hello? Eddie?” She already sounds panicked. “I have no reception where I am, what are you doing answering Teddy’s phone?”

“Um.” I let out a small groan. “We’re in Boston, at a hospital. Ted, he…he uh…” I can’t say it, I can’t fucking say it.

“Eddie…what is going on?” I hear her voice shake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my wrist falling away with the phone before I put it to my ear again. “Ted’s gone…he…he died.” 

“No, he didn’t.” She inhales a gasp. “Eddie, don’t lie to me, no he didn’t!”

I’m weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“No Eddie!” She’s screaming, a loud, heartbreaking scream. “I talked to him earlier, he was fine! He was fine! Oh jesus…”

“I know, I know. We were at the studio…and…and then he was in the bathroom. He didn’t hear me; I was trying to wake him up. Julie, I tried, I tried to wake him up, I’m so sorry.” My knees are buckling as I’m sliding to the floor, my body aching, my throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Eddie, Eddie, you listen to me right now. Don’t fall back on what you’ve come so far to accomplish. He was proud of you. Despite everything, he loved you, Eddie. You were like a son to him, don’t fall apart now. You hear me?” I nod into the phone; I can’t see straight. I don’t even remember her asking me what hospital, or when she said she would be there. I was still crumpled on the floor, you were at my side, rubbing my head, and I was scrolling through the photos on his phone. There was so many of his grandkids, his kids. There was a bunch of us performing, a bunch of random selfies because I’m sure he forgot how to flip the camera. I scroll through his contacts, trying to remember if there was anyone else, I needed to call. I stop when I see your name.

What?

You’re not looking at me, you’re talking to Gareth about something I’m not bothering to listen to. I click your contact name and see a thread of text messages between you and Ted. It goes back seven months ago. 

What the fuck?

Before I could even make a comment on what I have seen, the doctor comes back, asking if we’d like to see him. I place the phone in my pocket, I would deal with this later. I didn’t even know how to react towards you, why were you talking to him seven months ago if you just met him today? I get up from the floor, and I realize I’m ignoring you. I turn to kiss your lips quickly, Gareth, Jeff and I follow the doctor to a hospital room. I watch as you sit down, waving at me defeatedly, looking tired, sad. I could feel my heart breaking and I didn’t even know why.

They tell us as soon as we’re outside the room that we would have to go in one at a time. Jeff goes in first; I’ve never seen him cry before, and when he came out, he looked like he was about to pass out. I fist his shirt to get him to stand upright, and I hug him to me. Gareth goes in next, he’s in there for a few minutes until he comes out, wiping his eyes, looking at me like I could shatter at any moment. 

I pat his back, reassuring him that I was okay. But I’m not sure if I was.  I step into the room; the lights were bright. Ted was laying on his back, a white sheet was up to his chest. My stomach clenches again and I have to support myself on the bed rail before I sit down. 

I take his hand; it was so cold. I had to warm him up. He shouldn’t be cold. Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at his face. I’m not sure if he looked peaceful, or if he looked dead. 

“I still think you’re fucking with me.” I tell him quietly. “After all those times you brought me back, I would think this was some sort of punishment.” My lips tremble and I feel hot tears pool down my cheeks. “Fuck you, man. Why’d you have to go and die on me? After everything – after so many years of you practically raising us to be better men, better friends, a better brotherhood. What are we supposed to do now? What are we supposed to do without you?” 

A sob escapes me, a small whimper, my head falls to his bed and I’m laying my forehead against his hand, holding it tight, my chest hurting, my stomach in knots. I feel strong arms on my shoulders, pulling me up. 

“Come on, dude.” It’s Gareth, my head falls to his chest, I felt weak, he helps me out of the chair. I feel like I’m being weighed down by cement as I stare at his body. 

“No…” I groan out loud, I sound like a kid. A kid who just said goodbye to the only person he’d ever known as a father. “I can’t leave him.” 

“It’s okay, dude. I’m here.” Gareth continued to lead me away, my head falls in my hands and I’m groaning again. It hurts, it all hurts too fucking much. 

We waited until Julie got to the hospital a few hours later, I could barely stand up when I saw her. She was cradling me like a small child, rubbing my head, telling me everything was gonna be okay. I didn’t want her to comfort me, I told her. After everything I put him through, she should hate me. She told me that she could never hate me, that I meant so much to her and Ted, that we all did. That she prayed everyday my heart still beat, and that I’d fight the addiction I so desperately craved right now. 

Once Ted was set to go to the funeral home in his hometown in Vermont, you had driven my car back to my condo. You were leaving tomorrow, going back to Maine, to go back to work. We don’t speak when we take the elevator up to my place. I’m on my phone looking at news articles, there was no way the media didn’t get wind of this. 

And I was right, the first article on Google says: Longtime friend and manager of Corroded Coffin, Theodore “Teddy” Callahan has died of a heart attack, at 58. I toss my phone roughly on the couch, you jump a little and I mutter that I was sorry. You sit next to me, wrapping your arms around my shoulders, you lay your cheek on my arm. 

“What can I do?” You ask me sweetly. 

I don’t answer you; I’m staring off, I can’t see straight. Tears still continue to pour down my cheeks. My entire body feels stiff. I had to know, I had to know why she was in Ted’s phone. Why it seems they have been talking longer than they let on. 

“How long have you been talking to Ted?” I feel you freeze next to me. 

“What? I just met him today.” 

I meet your eyes, I’m not in the mood for games. “You may have met him today, but you’ve been talking to him for seven fuckingmonths.” 

You pull away from me, rubbing your eyes. “Eddie, I can explain that.” 

“So, explain.” I feel my chest heaving. There are so many emotions: grief, anger, sadness, the urge to stick a needle in my veins. 

You just stare at me; I can tell you’re trying to figure out what to say. Realization settles in my gut and I stand up from the couch. “That letter was a crock of shit, wasn’t it?” 

“No, no Eddie! I meant every word.” Your eyes are filling with tears. 

“You LIED to me!” I yell at you. “You said Gareth gave you my number. Gareth didn’t even fuck know you were around until the other day! When did Ted reach out to you? Because I know you didn’t.” 

“After your overdose, after everything with the courts.” You sigh, standing and walking toin were me, I step back from you. “Eddie, I wasn’t gonna send you a letter at first. I couldn’t do it. It was like someone brought you back from the dead even though you were alive.” 

“So, you knew everything about me, about my struggles, about ALL of it and just pretended to care? Pretended this whole time?” I’m staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not pretending Eddie! He reached out to me because he was scared, he didn’t know what else to do. He said you kept talking about me, how sad you seemed and he thought maybe, maybe I’d be able to help. I was fully ready to just see you, rekindle our friendship but I never thought we’d end up here. When I saw you, it all came rushing back and I couldn’t control it. I love you, I have always loved you.” 

“That don’t mean shit if you came to see me out of pity.” I feel tears sting my eyes again; I just want to rip my fucking eyeballs out. 

“I didn’t! I came here because I was worried.” 

“Your aunt just happened to be away that entire week?” 

You stare at me. 

“Answer me!” I yell, my voice breaking. 

“My aunt has been dead for five years. When I travel I use her place because she left it to me.” You sound so small and I just laugh at you. 

“That’s fucked up. Even for you.” I clench my fists, pressing them to my eyes and you let out a sob. “These last three weeks, you’ve been making love to me, cooking for me, bringing me gifts from the past, telling me that you love me, when this entire time you had no intention in ever speaking to me again if it wasn’t for Ted?” 

“Eddie, I thought about you every day!” 

“Stop the bull shit! Stop it!” I clench my stomach, the same familiar ache forming. “I don’t believe you. Every time you speak, I hear a lie, even if you are telling me the truth. Is this punishment? For breaking your heart? Well, you win, sweetheart! Cause mine is a pile of fucking dust!” 

“Eddie, please.” You’re sputtering. “Let’s talk about this.” 

“No.” I shake my head at you, tears falling. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want you to get out.” 

“What?” 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

You stare at me with wide eyes, pure heartbreak and disappointment on your face. I have to look away from you, I can’t look at you. Because if I look at you this way, I’ll want to take you in my arms, kiss your tears away and pretended like this never happened, but I can’t do it. I can’t. You don’t say anything to me as you take your purse off the couch, you look back at me once and I meet your eyes. I watch as you walk away from me, down the hall until you get to the elevators. A shaky sob escapes me, and I sit on my floor, I hold my head in my hands. Before, I was the one who walked away from you, because I couldn’t handle how to be loved by you. Now, I’m sending you away, because I can’t stomach the thought of you actually still loving me, after everything, after all the pain, the things I’ve done. Maybe you really don’t, and this whole thing was just a game. 

How could you love someone like me? I’m broken, I’m damaged. 

I’m still a fucking monster. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: Thank you guys! Don't worry, it's not over! Taglist: @kellsck @bellalillyrose @iggyizalien @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @themorticians-world

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 8<-

Part 9

Pairing: Han x reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Under 18 DNI!, unprotected sex (just don’t please), Suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging

Word Count: 3.8k

Note: Well well well. I‘m back. Hope you like it! Han being equally hot and a little brat is a new kink of mine. So you’re welcome. Comments, Like, Reblogs are always a blessing and if you have ideas for prompts just tell me. ~much love babes

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

"I need help"

Han's first message on that Monday evening sounded worrisome, and since you could put off the phone call to the stylist for a few more minutes, you typed a reply:

"Are you at the studio?"

"Yes. I need you now!!!"

So you set your Ipad aside and looked at yourself again in your selfie camera. Why you checked your hair and face exactly, you didn't know yourself.

Just as you were standing in front of the door to the studio, Chan opened it.

"Hey", you said in surprise, not knowing he was still here.

"Hey. Be careful, Han is very annoying", he said and that made you smile.

„I‘m surely gonna survive our moody Jisung.“

"Yea I definitely won‘t. So i'll leave you alone."

Before he could go, you hold him back by his arm.

"You have a meeting with the choreographers in 20 minutes", you reminded him.

He nodded and looked down at you with lustful eyes.

"Thanks. Is that skirt new?"

Embarrassed, you nodded and looked down at yourself. Was the black pleated skirt too short after all? Didn't he like it?

But Chan walked a few steps around you and looked at your ass before pinching it firmly with a hand.

"You're really lucky I have to go to the meeting right now", he whispered with a dangerously spark in his eyes and immediately a warm shiver ran down your spine.

"Have fun with Jisung. He really needs some cheering up."

With those words, he reached under your skirt to feel the warm flesh of your asscheeks and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot on the crook of your neck. Immediately a sharp gasp escaped you and there he had already disappeared into the elevator.

Since the day in the studio the air around you two was even more charged with energy and you were addicted to all those little flirts that have arisen between you again and again.

Inside the studio, you found a dejected Jisung lounging on the couch in the dim light, staring holes into the ceiling.

"Hey, Hannie."

He immediately straightened up and looked at you with bright eyes.

"Finally... I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"What's wrong?"

You walked up to him and glanced at his laptop on the desk, where a white screen shone at you.

"I've been trying to write lyrics all day. I know the tune, even the damn theme, but I just can't seem to come up with the right words!", he grumbled, tossing his phone onto the desk with the blank note on the screen.

"How am I supposed to help you with that?", you asked, confused.

"Inspiration."

"Huh?"

"I need inspiration and motivation", he explained expertly and crossed his hands behind his head.

Jisung looked even hotter than usual today. He wore beige sweatpants and a black tank top that was cut so wide at the sides that you could see his defined abs peeking out. His hair was a mess from all the hair tussling, and his bright eyes looked at you so intently that you unconsciously nibbled at the buttons of your shirt.

"I thought that seeing you and being around you would help my inspiration. So please come here and sit down! When you're near me, I can work better."

"Oh well, okay... If that’s all.“

So you sat down on the couch next to him and blinked innocently at him. You hadn't missed the needy expression in his eyes, which were constantly glued to your bare legs peeking out from under the short skirt. He sat silently at the other end of the sofa for a while and you could feel how restless he was. He wasn’t lacking inspiration. He was just horny.

But you wouldn't make it that easy for him.

He was always such a tease, that you wanted to see him struggle a little bit. That's when he turned back to you.

"To be honest, I lack motivation too... To cure my artistic block, you may have to get closer."

There was a playful grin on his lips and you were having a hard time resisting his charm anyway. So you went along with his games and moved a little closer until your shoulder touched his. Seemingly by accident, you leaned forward a bit to take a look at his cell phone, which he was holding again.

As you did so, a strand of hair fell into your face and Jisung's eyes were unashamedly focused directly on your cleavage hovering in front of his face.

"Better?", you asked hypocritically, and he opened and closed his mouth in overwhelm without a sound coming out. His hands clenched around the phone that he had to hold himself due to the fact how easily it would be to reach you and rip those clothes off of your body.

"A little. But I don't think it's enough yet."

Without further hesitation, he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you onto his lap so that your face was only a hand's width away from his.

"That's even better", he stated with amusement, letting his hands roam down your sides until they were firmly on your hips.

"How are you going to write lyrics like that?", you asked with an amused laugh, and he just shrugged.

"I have to think of some first, don't I? You can help me best with that topic."

"What do you want it to be about?", you continued to ask, not wanting to be lulled by his cologne and sparkling eyes. His fingers were already circling your hipbones and with each movement of his legs under you, your skirt pushed up.

"I want to write about love, comfort and joy... So what do you think?"

You gasped softly as he suddenly pressed your hips against him for a moment. Wearing only panties under your skirt, the sensation of your bare skin on his thighs was tingling. His gaze took on a suggestive tinge and you could see his desire from a distance.

"That sounds like a good topic", you murmured, gently running your fingers over his chest.

"Do you think, you can inspire me, honey?", he asked seductively and squeezed your hips.

"I can try", you answered and began tugging at the buttons of your shirt with your fingers.

Greedily he watched your movements as you agonisingly slowly undid the top buttons one by one. You couldn’t get enough of his impatient facial expression that looked like he could hardly sit still.

Then he became impatient and asked:

"May I? Please, I need to see your boobs so bad!"

After you nodded, he immediately set to work with greedy fingers and opened your shirt. At first your bra popped out and when the shirt was completely open, he looked at your body as if he had never seen anything more beautiful. With both hands he pushed the shirt completely off your shoulders until it fell to the floor behind you.

Now you were just sitting in your black lace bra on his lap and you could already feel something happening underneath you in his pants.

"Your boobs are fucking pretty...", he murmured, stroking up your sides with warm fingertips until he touched the fabric of your bra. Almost reverently, he stroked the edge of the bra, along your breasts, until he slid the straps off your shoulders and began spreading wet kisses down your neck. Relatively quickly, he worked his way to your neckline, where there was no place he didn't explored with his mouth.

He sucked on sensitive spots and licked over your skin, as if it tasted sweeter than anything he had experienced before.

With his hands he had already hurriedly pushed up your skirt up and freed your ass. With both hands he squeezed your ass hard and pressed you firmly against his growing bulge. There he finally drove up your back to the clasp of your bra and looked at you questioningly. You could only nod, overwhelmed by his seductive touch.

With one fluid motion, he undid the clasp and tossed the bra aside. His eyes bubbled with passion and he immediately groped your breasts with his hands.

He gently kneaded your flesh and said:

"Your so fucking hot. Do you even know that, jagi?"

You laughed softly and ran your hands over his chest. He just had eyes for you and began to suck the skin of your boobs between his teeth. His sloppy kisses and licking sent the heat between your legs and you couldn't help but grind your desperate cunt against his bulge. But he took his time to worship every millimeter of your skin and kissed again your neck, up to your jaw, until he reached the corners of your mouth.

Briefly he released his lips from your heated skin to look at you.

"So you're really okay with an arrangement with me?", he asked carefully to make sure you really agreed.

"Yes Jisung. I really want this too."

"Even though I'm lousy at flirting?", he smiled and you giggled at the memory of your first encounter.

"I'm sitting half naked on your lap with your mouth all over me... So take that as a win."

"I really do", he laughed and suddenly grabbed your chin, to kiss you deeply.

His lips tasted like caramel and coffee and you wanted to taste as much of him as possible. It was addicting and when the kiss got more and more sensual, as he touched every inch of your body, you began to rub your hips harder against his bulge. Desire burned in your veins, which is why you pulled his tank top over his head in one motion and tossed it carelessly aside. So you could finally look at his defined torso and you ran your fingers over each of his wiry abs.

Meanwhile he sucked on your nipple and kneaded the other one between his fingers. His tongue moved so sensually against your aroused breasts that you had to sigh softly. Completely absorbed in your body, he let his tongue circle around your nipple and bit into it, eliciting a hiss from you. Then he worked your skin further, sucking it so hard that red spots appeared so high up your neck you wouldn't be able to cover it up.

As he looked at his work, he grinned with satisfaction. Alarmed, you stared at him and gave him a slap on the chest.

"Ji! What if someone sees the marks?"

"Then they'll know you had fun", he replied cheekily, pressing his lips hard against yours again.

By now he was getting more and more impatient and even through the fabric of his pants you could feel that his length was already painfully hard. His hips began to rub against yours and your panties were already completely soaked.

He licked his tongue keenly into your mouth and his fast movements made you drowsy. Abruptly he pushed you back on the couch by your shoulders and knelt between your legs. With his hands he impatiently pushed your knees apart to get a glimpse of your middle.

"Fuck your so wet and your just mine right now."

"I'm just helping a friend", you teased him and looked up at him through your thick eyelashes.

A breathless laugh escaped him before he literally ripped your panties off your body. It landed somewhere in the room, as did your skirt, which he pulled off so fast it made you dizzy. Two fingers stroked teasingly over your cunt, and as he did so, his eyes bored relentlessly into yours. By the time you saw the mean grin, it was too late. He penetrated you hard with three fingers and began pumping them into you, not letting you take a breath.

The teasing between you two was obviously even stronger, when you fucked.

Immediately your hips snapped up, but he pressed them roughly back onto the couch. His thumbs circled over your clit and stars danced before your eyes, while you wheezed overwhelmed.

Now you could no longer suppress the unholy sounds.

Jisung's fingers were merciless and brought you closer and closer to the redemptive orgasm in no time. All the while he maintained eye contact, enjoying the aroused expression on your face, the half-open lips, and how your body squirmed beneath him.

"Look at you, so eager and needy to be used by me - you're such a cutie", he shot back and already the knot in your stomach was tightening. Just before the high was finally reached, he pulled his fingers out of you. Stunned, you stared at him, but he just laughed evilly.

"What the fuck, Ji?"

"Just wait, and I'll think about letting you come, honey."

If he didn’t climbed back between your legs, you would have hit him. But he started circling your clit with his tongue and you were suddenly caught in the rush of arousal again. He was insanely good with his mouth tightly pressed on your pussy, his tongue softly nudging your hole and humming against your cunt as you quivered beneath him. He didn’t rushed while eating you out. His hands pinned your thighs to your sides to keep them spread as his tongue licked stripes up the center of your pulsating pussy, triggering your desperate whimpers of need.

"You look so pretty, can't wait to feel you hugging my cock“, he grunted and grabbed your thighs harder and buried his face between your legs again. He did things with his tongue that you didn't even know were possible and the sounds of his mouth on you, echoed in your head.

His words turned you on even more and you yearned more and more for release, but Jisung was a brat and played his little games with you, as always.

He forced you to keep your trembling legs spread open, cleaning up the wetness that pooled down your thighs incessantly and onto the couch but just before you could finally come he broke off each time until you were about to cry.

"Hannie, please! Don't do this to me!"

You could clearly see that he loved the small whimpers you let out as soon as he stoped the stimulation on your pussy, feeling so empty without him filling you up and he practically was enflamed by your small tears of frustration as he continuously urged you towards orgasm only to leave you desperately on the edge, clit puffy and sensitive from his constant abuse.

"So what do you want, honey? Say it!", he commanded challengingly and you had to force yourself to actually beg him.

"Fuck me, Hannie! Please fuck me already! I want your dick inside of me, now!

That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He literally ripped off his pants and underwear and placed himself in front of your entrance. He was blessed with a beautiful thick and above average dick, that would ruin you.

Teasingly he slipped his tip through your folds and you already knew that he would stretch you out. Oh he loved the look of frustration building up on your face as he continuously had denied your release, but now he wanted to fuck you, until you would scream his name. And he definitely wouldn’t go easy on you.

He sunk his whole length into you in one motion.

His movements were slow at first and he savored every second. His arms were right next to your head and he looked deep into your eyes as his speed increased.

"Fuck you do feel amazing around me... So tight", he groaned and the interrupted orgasm rolled in with triple strength. But when you saw the gleam in his eyes, you knew he was up to something again. He visibly enjoyed the desperation in your eyes and every moan that he forced out of you, with every thrust into your pulsating cunt.

He constantly brought you to the brink of an orgasm with his length, twitching deep inside your core. Just as he got the sense that you were about to cum he hastily removed himself, cruel chuckles leaving him as you almost sobbed beneath him.

"I'm going to kill you, Hannie“, you huffed and pushed your hips against him.

Amused, he ran his hands through his hair and looked down at you. As he did so, he tried to memorize every little detail of your naked body. You were perfect and he knew he was already addicted to you and your body.

"You really want me this bad darling?", he teased.

"Shut up, idiot!" you pressed out, tears in the corners of your eyes.

He would drag it out until your high came over you with such force that you were just a fucked out mess with nothing else on your mind than his dick.

With your legs wrapped around his hips, you pulled him closer to you. He reached into your hair and pulled your head back by it as he thrusted hard into your aching pussy again. This time the ruts of his hips were exaggerated and sloppy. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head while he kept a bruising grip on your thighs, burying his dick further into your cunt. The filthy sounds of your wet pussy tightening around his length filled the room, soft curses falling from his lips once your hands tugged on his damp hair, mouth meeting his in a rough, passionate kiss while he continued his pleasurable abuse on your hole. He was stirred up even more by your pleas and bratty moans and would think of them, every time he would need to get off.

Just before you finally came, he broke off again in mid-motion. The pressure aches in every fiber of your body and you feared to faint if he doesn't finally let you release.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Jisung's chest shook slightly as low chuckles left his kiss-bruised lips, hands softly pinching your ass as you wriggled beneath him, raising your hips to push your cunt further toward his leaking cock as soft pants and begs slipped past your glossy lips. He rubbed the head of his length between your folds, teasing your needy figure as you clawed your nails into his back.

"I can't get enough of the desperate tears in your eyes and the needy moans. You are so incredibly hot when all you want is my cock.“

"Fuck you!"

The insult crossed your lips before you could realize it. Surprised, he raised his eyebrows and looked as if you being bratty was turning him on even more. Before he could react, you straighten up, grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him back until he was sitting under you.

This time you were the one overpowering him and you quickly sinked down on his length. Without consideration, you started riding his throbbing dick hard while resting your hands on his shoulders.

You elicited overwhelmed moans from him and you felt him twitch inside you. Soon he was gripping your hips so tightly with his hands that there would be definitely bruises left behind.

He snapped his hips into yours harder and harder and moaned: "I'm going to make you come so hard that everyone in the building will know who's fucking you right now."

It sounded like a promise he would keep, as the knot in your lower belly was so tense by now that you would probably explode. As his thrusts got even faster and he felt you tighten around him, he pressed you down on his length with both hands and that's when you finally came.

His name kept bubbling over your lips mixed with pornographic moans and whimpers and so he kept thrusting into you, making you work out your massive orgasm until the last second. It was overwhelming and you could see stars flashing in front of your eyes.

But he didn’t let go of you, instead he pushed you back onto the couch by your shoulders while you weren't fully conscious yet.

"You didn't think I was done with you already, did you?", he asked leaning over you, slowly pushing his length into your fucked out core again. Whimpering, you curled your fingers into his back and he began thrusting into you again.

He made you cum again and again until you were an absolute mess beneath him, legs trembling, tear stained cheeks and pussy aching from his torment. You scratched his back with your fingernails, trying to find something to hold on to, while your head and body felt like you were flying in ecstasy. Either you were in heaven or in hell. Your body was on fire and Jisung fucked you so good that you were a completely cockdrunk mess.

But eventually, he couldn’t hold back anymore and his thrusts became messier, until he came inside you with a growl.

Breathing heavily, you laid together for quite a while. Even though the couch was small, you snuggled together so that you could lie on it. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you to his chest.

Your legs wouldn't stop shaking and Jisung stroked your head as gently as if he hadn't just destroyed your pussy.

"You did that very well. You're really something special, darling."

His voice was like honey and he caressed you with so much loving attention that you snuggled closer, breathing in his scent and running your fingers dreamily over his chest.

"Did it help?", you asked, looking up at him.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and looked at your face, as if in it alone he could find all the inspiration he was looking for.

"Definitely! I even have an idea for the hook already," he said with a grin, stroking his hand down your back.

"I think you're my muse."

Immediately your cheeks turned red and you hid your face against his chest.

"I'm glad if I could help“, you said sheepishly, and he lifted your chin a little with two fingers so you were looking into his eyes. The amber around his dark pupils sparkled beautifully and you lost yourself in it.

"You have to stay with us forever. Could you promise me that?", he asked, sounding way more serious. Like he was really afraid of losing something important.

"I don't plan to go anywhere“, you answered him and that's when your lips collided.

This kiss was different. It was sensual, slow and full of affection. There were hundreds of emotions all at once, all of them wrapping you in warmth. It was even as if you could feel his gratitude from his mere touch.

All of this mixed into a single feeling that filled everything like sunlight: pure happiness.

->Part 10

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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