#hot in the shade tour

[randgugotur-6]

May 4, 1990

On this day thirty four years ago KISS began their Hot In The Shade tour in Lubbock, Texas. Unknown to the band and to fans, it would be the final tour with Eric Carr on drums. The tour would run until November and cover 123 cities.

Long time fans loved the setlist as it brought back many classics that the band hadn’t played for years, while also keeping many of the newer songs in the setlist as well. In my opinion this tour was one of their best ever.....well, except for that damn “K” in the KISS logo and Eric’s drum snare sound…..lol.

I was lucky to catch three shows on this tour. Did you see KISS on this tour?

[rolandrockover]

Kiss Live - The Bruce Era and What I Love About It Vol. 1

Shout it out loud

I think they started played Shout It Out Loud live again at least from 1988, and HITS through to Revenge - with a small, but as I believe special deviation from the original version. Which is what I want to talk about here.

The part in the chorus, right after the sung "Shout it out louhouuud", where the piano kicks in and descends nobly and elegantly, savoring the harmony to the last. Whenever Bruce had taken over the piano part on the guitar, the last notes of this melody to the end swung up instead of down. That had a very uplifting effect back then, one that I miss to this day because they don't practice little things like that anymore since the reunion. I really loved those small inconspicuous moments of surprise.

I'm putting it out here because I wouldn't have noticed it being mentioned anywhere in any form. There are more such examples and in the course of this blog I would like to give more examples as much as I see fit.

As brief illustrations for Shout It Out Loud, the links start exactly at the point I mean, as always:

Budokan 1988

Detroit 1990

Miami 1992

Aaand in Detroit 1996 it was all over again:

The Bruce Era and What I Love About It Vol. 2, Vol. 3 & Vol. 4.

[nasa]

This photo contains both flight (flat in the foreground) and qualification assembly (upright in the background) versions of the Solar Array Sun Shield for NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope. These panels will both shade the mission’s instruments and power the observatory.

Double Vision: Why Do Spacecraft Have Twin Parts?

Seeing double? You’re looking at our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s Solar Array Sun Shield laying flat in pieces in the foreground, and its test version connected and standing upright in the back. The Sun shield will do exactly what it sounds like –– shade the observatory –– and also collect sunlight for energy to power Roman.

These solar panels are twins, just like several of Roman’s other major components. Only one set will actually fly in space as part of the Roman spacecraft…so why do we need two?

Sometimes engineers do major tests to simulate launch and space conditions on a spare. That way, they don’t risk damaging the one that will go on the observatory. It also saves time because the team can do all the testing on the spare while building up the flight version. In the Sun shield’s case, that means fitting the flight version with solar cells and eventually getting the panels integrated onto the spacecraft.

Our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope's primary structure (also called the spacecraft bus) moves into the big clean room at our Goddard Space Flight Center (top). While engineers integrate other components onto the spacecraft bus in the clean room, the engineering test unit (also called the structural verification unit) undergoes testing in the centrifuge at Goddard. The centrifuge spins space hardware to ensure it will hold up against the forces of launch.

Engineers at our Goddard Space Flight Center recently tested the Solar Array Sun Shield qualification assembly in a thermal vacuum chamber, which simulates the hot and cold temperatures and low-pressure environment that the panels will experience in space. And since the panels will be stowed for launch, the team practiced deploying them in space-like conditions. They passed all the tests with flying colors!

The qualification panels will soon pass the testing baton to the flight version. After the flight Solar Array Sun Shield is installed on the Roman spacecraft, the whole spacecraft will go through lots of testing to ensure it will hold up during launch and perform as expected in space.

For more information about the Roman Space Telescope, visit: www.nasa.gov/roman. You can also virtually tour an interactive version of the telescope here.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[anothermansjeans]

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

++

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

++

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

[lovebugism]

Random conversations with rockstar eddie while high that obviously lead to something dirty 👀

ty for requesting :D — eddie asks you who you'd most want to have a threesome with and confessions are shared (band!au, established relationship, mentions of weed and smut 18+, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It started out all cute, in your defense. 

The tour bus was parked in Colorado for the next couple of nights, and the mountains and trees were aflame with a very distinct golden color. You and Eddie chose to bask in the orange while the rest of the band spent the evening in the hotel.

Your night alone was an innocent one — despite the cheeky taunts and whistles from the rest of Corroded Coffin. Squished together in your bunk, the two of you got high and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing all at once. 

You share one pillow, noses mere inches apart, just barely fitting together on the small mattress. The skunky smell of weed and Eddie’s musky cologne is all-consuming, suffocating in the best way. 

Your poorly concealed giggles fill the silence of the bus as you press your palm against Eddie’s pale one, comparing the size difference between the two. It shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does.

“Would you still love me if Roger Taylor asked you out?” Eddie blurts, growing suddenly serious about the question that only just popped into his mind. 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He thought it, and the words just sorta spilled from his mouth.

Your brows pinch at the sudden question, though there’s still a small smile on your face. You can’t be sure where he’s coming from — if it’s the weed or if he remembers the one time you very drunkenly confessed to having a decade-long obsession with the blonde-haired drummer in your girlhood.

“What?” you wonder, still giggling.

“I mean, like, if he showed up to one of our shows and asked you out, would you say yes?”

You ponder the question. For a few seconds too long, maybe. Mostly because it takes you a little while to understand him through the brain fog.

“Well… no,” you answer finally, voice wavering as your eyes flit to the darkened ceiling.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. Your gaze returns to his chocolate one, made a darker shade from the black night — they sparkle, still. A grin blooms on your face. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d let me fuck him. Just one time.”

You’re obviously kidding. It’s just a stupid joke made more evident by the dumb, lopsided smile on your face and the pointer finger you hold up to your nose.

Eddie knows this, and he’s sporting his own rosy grin accordingly. A fleeting thought sears his brain. It bubbles up in his throat and tumbles out before he can stop it.

“Only if I get to watch,” he retorts, all boyish and quiet. 

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But then again, it usually is. You decide to toe the line, anyway. “Really?” you hum, shifting on the mattress to face him more intently.

The boy shrugs while you smooth ornery curls from his temple. “Yeah. You’re hot. He’s hot. One plus one equals two… Or whatever that expression is.”

“Fair,” you concede, laughing still.

“Alright. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhmm,” he nods sloppily against the pillow. “Who would you wanna have a threesome with? Like, in a different universe or whatever, ‘cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to share you in real life.”

Again, you giggle. You can’t seem to stop, apparently. You answer quicker than either of you expect.

“Umm… Maybe Nancy,” you answer with a strange sort of nonchalance. “She’s hot… And also she looks like she slaps really hard.”

Eddie’s brain goes blank. And not from the weed this time.

He knew Nancy. Vaguely. Mostly from you. She’s your old friend from high school that you reconnect with every couple of months. You don’t talk crazy often — ‘cause life is too busy for an up-and-coming rockstar and Indiana’s best journalist — but the connection is never truly lost.

And it’s not just that you chose Nancy without having to think about it very hard. He just wasn’t expecting it to be someone you knew in real life. Someone so tangible. That Roger Taylor scenario would only ever happen in wet dreams — his, namely — but Nancy Wheeler? That could be arranged.

The thought alone has him reeling.

You watch him get in his head about the whole thing, though maybe the faraway look in his eyes is just from the weed.

“Well?” you press with an urging lilt and a girlish grin. “You’re turn, Eds. Don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

He goes quiet, which is very unlike your loudmouth boy. He thinks before he speaks, measures his reply before he answers. His absentminded fingers trace up and down the length of your arm all the while, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“What about Steve?” he wonders with a painfully nonchalant inflection.

Your face screws up instantaneously. You don’t mean to act as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “Steve?” you blurt, louder than you meant to. “Like… Steve Steve?”

As in your ex-boyfriend Steve.

As in one of his best friends Steve.

As in roommate Steve the couple weeks out of the year you two aren’t on the road.

It makes your head spin something fierce.

“There another Steve I don’t know about?” Eddie jokes.

Brows still pinched and face still twisted, you question, “So you wanna… fuck Steve? Like, Steve The Hair Harrington?”

“You did,” the boy shrugs, then fakes a soft pout. “Sometimes I feel left out…”

You press your palm to his chest, pushing him playfully away. His arm curls around your back to pull you close again. The proximity is lesser now, so much so that the tips of your nose brush together and your skunky breaths entwine.

It all feels so much heavier now. The intensity of the moment makes you fight back a shiver crawling up your spine. Eddie’s palm smooths up and down the length of it in a slow and measured rhythm. It does little to ease your breathlessness.

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun,” the boy concludes with a sudden seriousness. His voice is as low as his eyelids. “And I think it’d be real hot to watch him fuck you… ‘Cause we both know he can’t make you cum like I can. Can he, doll?”

Your thighs clench together instinctually, as though to quell the sudden ache pounding between them. You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Eddie’s rosy lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile at your honeyed reaction. He continues — half because the high has loosened his tongue and half because he wants to see how flustered he can make you.

“And then he can watch you fall apart on my dick after, yeah?” he questions like you’re in any space to answer him. “Maybe I can give him a few pointers… Teach him how to fuck you properly, you know?”

The distant ache between your thighs has grown to a full bloom now. It’s a little embarrassing how effortlessly he can drive you crazy — how quickly he can make you drench your panties. You might’ve been a little shameful about it if you couldn’t feel his cock stiffening against your hip.

“Fuck, Eds…” you sigh, the words tumbling from your mouth without thinking. 

With parted lips, you drift towards the boy and his unkissed mouth. He juts his chin slightly backward, only lets your plush bottom lips graze together. You don’t know why he’s teasing you. You’re already a puddle at his feet.

With a smirk and an all-consuming touch along your spine, he makes a quiet promise. “And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

[ladythornofrivia]

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Two)

word count:

author’s note: writing more chapters of a sad dragon family series. I’ll be on a Norwegian cruise line for Italy and Greece for 2 weeks. I’m gonna be seasick, I already know it. So I’ll be writing this series before I leave. Please enjoy and have a good day.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

The preparations for the celebration of King Viserys has reached closer whilst you accompanied Alicent into the corridor, corridor after corridor of a long tour within the Red Keep. Servants bowed as you all passed. Cold bows and cold eyes lingered, despite their bare minimums of smiling graciously at your direction, as Alicent presented the halls with lavish decor. However, mostly it was green and gold. But others blended it with black and red.

As always, you’re marveled by the exquisite lace and embroidered patterns and a clear structure of its final design of artwork is invigorating. The stitching is what you’re most impressed of.

As all Targaryens and Hightowers strolling, Alicent parted ways with her children, unbeknownst to you, the one-eyed prince had his hands behind his back, violet shade of eye looming over your new gown designed by the seamstress, all soft-shaded periwinkle, strapped with gold embroidery and green and red, streaks of iridescent shun upon sunlight, your manes healthy and glowing, maintained through and through.

You knew he was watching. With his precious one violet eye gleaming at the back of your head, your body shivered in an alien sensation. As for Aemond, a dragon’s hunger is anything but stable or sane. A dragon’s hunger is like a breath of wild fire casted to the torch of the wondrous nature and life itself. The fire eats and leaves the bones of ash, dwindling in midair.

Aegon I altered the history and thus, House Targaryen must stand with unity and strength and blood.

Still parted aways after an idle chat, for Alicent to task with decorations, as her children were long gone, back into your large chambers, you were unpacking your materials for the completion on a quilt, a quilt with colorful dragons and mermaids and ships, various shades of sews and needles unpacked, as the back of your neck tingled with goosebumps as you felt a hot breath stroking.

Before you turned around, large and slender hands travelled over your clothed waist, nearly close to your chest above. A writhe of hot tingle rushing in your coils and chest. A quiet breath strained, lax down to a low hiss, a hiss nearly tickling your skin. No servants were around, no Alicent or Gwayne.

Aemond, a one-eyed prince has lurked and captured you. A princess sent by a Maiden herself. The fiery dragon must seize the princess.

You thought he has gone back to training yard with Ser Criston, as Alicent mentioned once at the entryway within a prolonged conversation.

“Aemond—”

His face inched close to yours, his supple and pretty lips touched your cheeks, trailed down to your jawline, whilst his left hand grasp your face to stay still. The pool between your legs gradually strengthened its warmth and slick, easily for the prince to prance and insert into your tight hole. Under the layers of silk dress, Aemond bunched the layered fabrics to your waist.

You never had a noble taken an interest in you. The only that interests them is the brightness of your teal eyes.

A mesmerizing glow of your hues has yanked his curiosities. His mother never mentioned him about you—not even once in a dubious talk.

Better late than never.

With his hand, fingers strapped, and his trimmed nails clutched the fabric of your corset, the laces loosener it in smooth motion, loosening around your frame, breasts ached as his hand—his cold hand—brushed and pinched your nipple while his other hand found his way your thigh, grasped as Aemond’s tongue flicked and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your clit.

A moan escaped, your mouth shielded, you face drowned in flush, as Aemond’s heart leapt in satisfaction. Humming, he stood up and inserted his fingers into your cunt, thrusting the fingers in with doubled speed as your moans grew louder, but restrained the pleasure into your chest, holding it. The walls in the Red Keep are dire; servants and nobles and guards walked passed and patrolled through wall and doors. Even the highest nobles strolled by.

“Fuck,” is all he said, as if it was a prayer. “Your cunt might be as Holy as the Maiden herself.”

His lips sucked your swollen tit.

“My prince,” you cried softly. “Please. The guards, my brother and sister will see us.”

“I do not care of their pious thoughts.”

“I’m your aunt, my pri—”

“Don’t fight it, my sweet,” he said, giving a sensual flick on his warm tongue to your swollen flesh, “I might give you a reason to have bruise on you, ones that they’ll never find on your skin.” His hands grasped your waist, trailing with soft strokes. “You’re humiliated. Maybe there’s more than meets the eye.”

Based on his words, you never thought you found it attractive, considering the soft spoken voice, hoarse with arousal.

“Don’t fight it. If you fight against this, this subtle encounter between us, you’ll never forgive yourself,” he whispered, his wet lips brushed yours. “If you have been, you would shoved me away. Would you like that, princess? Shoving me away?”

His voice ragged dampened your cunt and clit twitched at his sound.

“Seems you enjoy it. You’re a good princess. But alas,” he pulled himself afar, the warmth on your body began to turn a chill.

“I shall see you at the feast. Enjoy your stay.” His neck went for a stiff bow, but his eye glued with plea for your consideration of his statement, whether you accept his offer or not, and departed your apartment—a once organized structure is now filled with clutter and oozing sex and the arousal groans you shared has imprinted in your head, you find yourself still with embarrassment.

In a way, a blessing in disguise when no one, not even Gwayne, saw or heard your affairs with a young dragon prince.

You have seen the arrival of Rhaenyra and Daemon and the children, you had a short introduction to all Black faction.

The dinner celebration for Viserys’s nameday celebration has been all but cumbersome. You felt a subtle hostility, but to due your presence, it has lessened but somewhat guarding up—all due to pettiness.

As you, making a progression with your father, it was all but cold distance even you and Otto were near. Not once he looked at you with adoration like he shared his adoration with Princess Helaena, showing her teal beetle. The Green children are all strained; Aegon had his fair share of capable stupidity to throw down a nasty comment of his cousins and nephews.

Daeron was disappointed with Aegon’s perversions, but Daeron veered at you with a kind smile and made a polite conversation with you. Once again, Otto did not acknowledged of your accomplishments. You felt sick in the stomach, and it’s not your bright gold and yellow dress you have finished making. Tears behind your eyes was arising, and your throat budged with hot and parched sting.

Aemond clenched his fist, for his anger was directed at his grandsire for not noticing you. That damnable old fool—if only Otto sees how your talents. When Viserys disregarded Aemond, even his siblings, he wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But alas, with your existence, it’s almost as if Viserys’s existence just naturally died out.

You pardoned yourself, and Alicent thereby dismissed you, you bowed and left to your chambers, spent the rest of the night weeping, thinking what have you done wrong.

As you exited, the tensed feeling withdrew, and Otto was happy again. And so, without a doubt, Aemond gave a good jab on Otto, which caused a disastrous supper for everyone. The music stopped. As for Aegon and Daemon, they found it amusing while Alicent ordered the guards to escort Aemond way back to his chambers.

For Aegon, this was a win for him. He’s not in trouble for once.

~~~

In dreams, you have never seen your mother, what she appears like or what she sounds like or how her personality was. The only thing that is closest to being a mother to you is the wetnurse or the servants or the Septa who provided you with assistance on your daily appearances and wisdom. Whenever a servant brushes your hair, you often think of what it feels like to have a mother brushing your manes with care and doting manner, a soft voice to soothe your aching heart, where doubts and fears would go away.

In times of sleep, you often thinking of ending your life, just to see your biological mother on the other side. Or perhaps more than just seeing your mother. There are times where you hated your life, and you want nothing more but to end it.

People have often told stories of your mother, though it felt it was a grave mistake. Some say she fled away to Free Cities, some said she ended her life from the highest tower of Oldtown and fell down to the sea. There are rumors where Otto took you because you’re adopted, or perhaps he had a secret, illicit affairs.

The cold feeling rushed in you as your eyes pricked with tears. With somebody telling you stories of your late mother, it brought no peace. Only the enigma of your shadowed doubts and an endurance of chaotic insanity, to question whether your life is real, if you’re real in this world with purpose.

The servants have been kind to you more than the nobles, the more everyone pointed out your flaws and the insignificance of your existence, you lead to believe that you’ll never be loved.

And cried once more. Each night, your tears flooded in pillows and blanket, as you embraced the closest object, pretended that it’s your late mother. An endless of an anguish thought has been a hazard.

Only the echoes of the walls could hear you and the pillows has stained, under your hug squeezed the material as hard, wishing for the pain to go away.

In his awake, he’s a perfect prince, but in his dreams, he’s a beast.

A beast kept within a shell of a noble man.

He has dreamt of your teal eyes basking in his dark dreamland, your voice, how it was yearning so much more. A dark dreamland filled with scornful memories of his nephews and Aegon, and the pink dread. He had kill all of them in his dreams, even the fat pig.

With a scolding from his mother, he couldn’t care less. He wanted your presence to be acknowledged by your father, but how can Otto be so cynically dimwitted and more offensively calculating against you?

When the servants spoke over how you’re not related to Alicent, chances are why Otto was pretending that your presence is nothing more than a useless and meaningless substance of meaning to exist.

Others said that they haven’t seen you gone out from your apartments—and that was recent.

Aemond visited you, presented you with a gift, but the word from you not leaving the apartments has concerned. Thus his mind came up an idea.

You have several servants entering the room with stack of your favorite meals and drink—including lemon cakes and Dornish wine.

One knows someone’s best interest. Whoever did it, your heart is elated. As soon as Aemond came in, you hadn’t known whether he knew something that you don’t. Somehow, his intimidating presence softens your heart, prickled in relief.

For some reason, when Alicent paid you a visit, although shortened, she was concerned of your health, you hadn’t formed a proper conversation; Alicent hasted when the Council has called for her summon, but gave her regards.

Aemond accompanied you for a while in your apartments, and chat whatever discussion came up. Each minute and each hour, the two of you became close, became so close that you or him hadn’t open your hearts, despite what he did to you days ago. With your cunt coiled at his face, his voice and neck, his waist, you find yourself crossing your legs, aroused and squirming beside him. You wondered and imagined of Aemond’s tongue guiding and gliding your soaked cunt. At this moment, you wanted tackle him and suffocate him with your legs wrapped around him, taking in of your nectar.

“I’m glad you are doing well, princess,” Aemond said to you. “For I have been concerned of your well-being. A delicate flower such as you does not deserve the cruelty of my grandsire or anyone in the matter of your visit.”

“He’s always been difficult,” you explained. “No matter how much I’ve improved with my skill, he’ll never sees as his or my sister’s equal.”

“In ways my mother and grandsire are more intolerable. Though I respect my mother, I find myself with bore with my grandsire has to say. If anything, I’m glad your presence has casted a light into the dread.”

In Aemond’s case, however, found you as exquisite as gentle as the blooming flower. His one took a longer glimpse at you and notice the difference—how your eyes glinted in glee while your cheeks adorned with youthful flush and enamored smile. Oh so pure and harmless. He hasn’t seen his mother and his siblings. As for Otto, he hasn’t spoke to him since supper at Viserys’s nameday after sending a jab across the face—out of character for a self-assured prince.

Oh, to ruin you.

“Thank you for the meal, Prince Aemond. You don’t know how much I’m relieved to say this,” you said as you finished the embroidery on your unfinished dress you sewn.

Aemond found your gowns just as otherworldly as you.

Consequences won’t matter; Viserys nor anyone else in the room care for his presence. Perhaps it is a blessing, perhaps it is for the best for you to be settled here in King’s Landing, as long you’re in content, nothing else matters, but if harm does come, he shall smite the immoral act. Aemond is no perfect, but with you, he’d be at his best behavior.

“Then I shall relieve you,” he proclaimed.

You find yourself halted at his declaration and glimpsed at his resolved expression.

Something has stirred in your heart that you wanted more than the civil interactions, wanted more than having someone to converse with you.

Tossing and turning onto your bed was all but a doozy. Dizzy from pivoting and switching positions, you had enough. Dreams had come again. This time it’s Aemond calling out to you, feasting on your wet folds and pumping his lithe and graceful rugged fingers in you. Ever since the day before Viserys’s nameday, with Aemond’s thirst, your legs ached.

For a Hightower, it’s a sin to self-pleasure one’s body—a selfish immoral act.

Somehow you found it odd. If a man does self-pleasure, no court would turn the eye, but a woman does self-pleasure with hasting fingers and naughtiness is considered dire.

Faith of the Seven had their own laws, but you knew that men and women had their fair share of illest secrets. Lucky for you, Alicent and everyone in the Red Keep does not know your impure thoughts. The room became hot, then cold, then all at once, the breath in your lips became ragged and desperate. You wanted someone to hold you, treasure you, seduce with sweet nothings and sweet promises with adore.

For your years of not having a partner, you have begun to fear of not having pleasure. In the heating moment, you thought of what’s like losing your maidenhood to someone with a big cock.

You wanted a cock.

His cock.

Oh, a dragon prince. If Aemond hears your thoughts, you’d run away and never to return Westeros and give yourself a new name and fashion.

Damn the consequences and the punishments from the Lord Hand and the Queen themselves! Damn the Faith of the Seven and their laws!

With your fingers circling your clit, no climax arrived. Thus, you casted your blankets aside with a huff, setting out to see him.

Trudging through the dark halls, the guards were nowhere to be found, assuming the guards went elsewhere. As you made your way to the doors, you approached and entered the chambers where you have found Aemond on his bedside.

Your breath held back, taking in at the sight of Aemond. With his porcelain skin and his long silver-blond hair, it gleamed under moonlight, appearing paler compared to daylight. His eye had an old scar, and his eyepatch was placed elsewhere.

Watching his body rising and falling within breath, you approached him and kissed his back, planted your light kisses, feeling the smooth surface of his skin.

Aemond awoke and turned, found you kissing his back.

“My lady,” he whispered, one eye widened, as you stare at his sapphire. It was beautiful like him.

You placed your finger on his lips.

“Have you come to made a decision?” he asked.

Your lashes fluttered under his gaze. “What do you think, my prince?”

Then your lips collided with his. Aemond was taken aback of your sudden act. Eventually, his consciousness fell; with his lips shared an illicit chaste kiss, his hands uncloaked you, and roamed on your womanly body, caressing you, until you began to undo his trousers, his cock hardened.

“This won’t take long,” you promised, slowly pinning him down onto the pillows, unstrapped yourself naked and sat in between his legs. You didn’t expect for his cock to harden.

Your eyes darted to his, awaiting. And thus, you yanked his trousers downward, unveiling his hardened cock. You eyes widened at the sheer size. Your maidenhood hasn’t been taken yet. Your future prospects of marriage hasn’t arrived, but it feels as the more you wait, the more your chances of marriage dimmed. With your body descended, the maidenhood had met his engorged tip.

Aemond lay still, watching you. His sapphire eye gleamed at its victory.

Your voice moaned aloud; your maidenhood slammed down, his engorged cock tightened on your damped walls. Gradually, the pace on your hips sped. You have never felt anything as good. Prayers in the sept are insatiably helpful compare to the prince’s cock.

You have never felt so alive.

Aemond knew you’re a virgin; your hips bounced all thanks to the guidance of his hands.

He pleasured a woman in the brothel in the Street of Silk at the age of three-and-ten. As a young boy, he regretted making a decision by making himself a fool to go along with Aegon and his shenanigans. He was expecting Viserys to guide him gently into the world, but the Driftmark incident has left Aemond concluded that Viserys, his father, did not spare a single kindness or thought and only spared it Rhaenyra and her sons.

All hope was lost until he saw you—a radiant maiden.

You reached your high, as Aemond clutched your hips, spurring down the hot semen bursting the inner walls—a divine conclusion.

Gasping for air, your legs stood achingly, leaving white traces of his semen dripping down on his balls and thighs. When Aemond tried to assisted you, but instead his face met your open legs and slammed your went against his chiseled face and nose.

Fuck my maidenhood, you thought, desperate, as your hips gyrated, feeling his warm tongue and the sharp line of his nose encouraged your arousing sense to further the climax, as your right hand found its way at the back of Aemond’s hair.

Aemond find himself humming against the warmth of your cunt, mingling with his semen. It was a divination, nothing like the brothel. If only his virginity had taken by you instead of a woman who hasn’t live up to her beauty and standards of gentile and grace. Streets of Flea Bottom aren’t to be trusted. His lips kissed your inner thighs, gliding his tongue, and pumped it in between your walls.

Groaning, almost feral-like, your hips paced, your tits bouncing as your walls grew hot again.

“Relieve me,” you said to the prince, hoarse. A soft squeak caught into his ears.

I shall relieve you, my sweet. Just as I promised, he thought.

Your hips gyrated harder, until the spurring had come close; hot liquid squirted on his face as Aemond’s tongue lapped on your cunt faster than last. Your head threw back with his languid strokes on his warm tongue.

Gods it was a miracle.

He has taken your maidenhead.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your breath rasped, your hand still placed on the back of his long silver-blond hair, gyrating your tired hips against his face.

Both you and Aemond found yourselves in elation.

“Good boy.”

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @mylosz0 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @liannafae @theboleyngirlx @syraxnyra @lothiriel9

[andscene-if]

AND SCENE—an 18+ slice of life plunges you, a nepotism baby, into the major spotlight as the lead in a highly anticipated movie, navigating swarms of hate, swirling scandals, dating rumours, false tabloid reports, and invasive paparazzi.

Breaking news—the love interest role in Claire White's latest blockbuster finally has a star, and it's none other than [MC], pictured above, the youngest offspring of Hollywood moguls. Brace yourselves for a wild ride as [MC], usually seen in their parents' flicks, takes on a meatier role in one of next year's most hyped movies.

But hold the popcorn—whispers on the red carpet suggest [MC]'s previous filmography is more "meh" than marvellous.

Is this casting coup the pinnacle of Hollywood nepotism, or will [MC] flip the script and prove they're a force to be reckoned with? Love them or hate them, one thing's for sure: this star-studded spectacle is about to kick off, and only time will spill the juiciest deets straight from the set.

So, grab your shades, folks, because this Hollywood rollercoaster is just getting warmed up and PinkCelebTea will report every step of the way—you know how it is!

View comments

NEXT UP: Our insiders spill the tea—L Alvarez ain't exactly doing cartwheels about acting alongside what they're dubbing an 'untalented and undeserving' co-star. Trouble behind the scenes already?

# Choose the movie genre & title + those of your previous 4 films. # Customise your MC & public persona. # Navigate drama in front and behind the screen. # Shoot the movie cover & go on press tour. # Prove you're more than just a nepo kid...or don't. # Romance one out of four love interests. # Maybe even snag a few nominations by the end!

THE CO-STAR [M/F]—Louis/Luana Alvarez.

Appearance: 6'0. Brunette with curly hair (short for m, chest-length for f), pale skin and dark brown eyes. Signature style includes a white shirt/blouse, top buttons undone, and loose pants. Always impeccably dressed, with a flair for full-on glamour on special occasions, such as the red carpet. Personality: Reserved and quiet. While not everyone can pull off that demeanour, they do it flawlessly. Fans absolutely adore their composed exterior, noting, "it adds to their mystique."

THE MAKEUP ARTIST [F] — Red.

Appearance: 5'7. Long ginger hair, tanned skin adorned with freckles, and green eyes. Often dressed in skintight black or dark attire, with a scarlet shade coating her lips. Personality: Red exudes calm confidence with a soft-spoken demeanour, yet she's not one to be underestimated. She holds herself in a thoughtful, sensual, and quick-witted manner.

THE BARTENDER [M/F] — Zayn/Zara Lao.

Appearance: 5'11. Brunette with wavy hair (short for m, just below shoulders for f), tan skin, brown eyes, and a distinctive left brow slit. They've also got tattoos all over their body. Since the club gets hot quickly, you'll usually find them in something small and non-constricting, like a vest top and a pair of jeans. Personality: Unapologetically outspoken, they don't hold back. Blunt yet surprisingly charming, they've become somewhat of a local favourite in the area, rubbing shoulders with the right kind of people.

THE RIVAL [M/F] — Phoenix Ryder.

Appearance: 5'11. Black tightly curled hair (short for m, long for f & often styled differently), dark skin, and brown eyes. They sport a 90s-inspired style—often seen in loose-fitting denim jeans, a breezy shirt/crop top, and adorned with silver rings. Personality: Suave, charismatic, confident, and a touch cheeky—checking all the Hollywood boxes. As noted by many, "a legend in the making."

++contains mentions of alcohol and drug use, violence, explicit language, and optional sexual content++

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER INTROS

reblogs are appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Aquamarine

A/n: You admit to Billie that you miss her presence while she's on tour, and she works with you to find the best solution to ease your worries.

"What about Blohsh? I can make him special, just for you," you feel Billie pulling you closer to him, making himself a little more comfortable on the bed than before: his back against the high wooden headboard, but his arms around your waist. The cozy rustle of the bedclothes and the warmth of the person next to you can't help but bring a smile, "something like engraving with my handwriting or new gems?"

"Sounds good, of course, but I'd like something more... mysterious? You know, something that's only understandable to you and me and no one else," you feel Billie snuggle her nose into your shoulder and snort contentedly. Her measured, warm breath tickles your skin even through the fabric of your voluminous T-shirt, sending a flock of goosebumps. Another, more vivid one follows, triggered by her intimate whisper:

"What do you remember most often when I'm not around?"

You hesitate, because to pick out one thing about Billie is something that's really maddeningly difficult. Eilish doesn't rush you, just strokes your naked thighs, draws patterns on your belly that only she understands, and just enjoys the night's silence, so rare for her, so mind-soothing.

"Your eyes. I remember very often the looks you cast at me."

"And what do my eyes remind you of? What do they look like?", Eilish almost purrs with pleasure as you rest your head on her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her sly, squinting blue seas.

"Aquamarine? Or is it still blue topaz?"

"Thought about it that often?" - The singer clarifies, surprised by your so quick response.

"That's insulting, Eilish", you hum and lift yourself up a little, your palm fumbling for the phone buried in the huge blanket. It's not easy to do in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, but you manage it successfully, "I'm always thinking of you."

A gentle kiss on the top of your head as you assume your original position, returning to your girlfriend's arms. Compliment counts.

The pleasant click of the unlock takes you straight to the gallery on your phone, echoing your thoughts. A click on a recent photo, an attempt to zoom in with a gesture that almost immediately fails: Billy gently takes the phone right out of your palm. Followed by a click and a husky chuckle.

"You can look me in the eye, baby. Why do you need pictures when I'm literally behind your back?"

You freeze for a second, only then realizing the absurdity of the situation. Covering your face with your hands, you only provoke another wave of good-natured laughter.

"Look at me, my love."

The sheets rustle again: you turn obediently toward her, meeting her gaze. Then the silence fills the room again, broken harmoniously only by your breathing together. And the more you stare, the more the cool ocean blue in her eyes seems to be obscured by a misty haze, becoming several shades darker and more intense, which portends a storm of at least six points on the Beaufort scale - Eilish is getting excited, because the realization that all your attention and curiosity is now directed only to her is so pleasantly exhilarating. You realize that you feel as if you are the only white-sailed ship that the sea itself has allowed to ply her surface on this endless moonlit night. You realize you're about to drown. Because you want to.

"So what's the bottom line...?" - her whisper is practically at your lips. And even though she's lost all sense of patience, the gambling is much stronger now. - "What stone shall I present?"

"Aquamarine."

It's the last thing you say before you meet Eilish's hot lips, drowning in hot and assertive kisses.

The calm of your bedroom has been replaced by passion as quickly as the weather at sea.

[partycatty]

we back with another request⁉️

can be old or young (mk11 or mk1) johnny your pick, but what if fem!reader and johnny are sparring (likely in private, but if they wanna be risky go ahead) and reader is losing.

sooo, she flashes him her titties as a distraction and ends up getting him pinned. you can turn it into smut or end it there, your pick

love your writing 💙💙

DEAR GOD YOURE SO FUCKING RIGHT ALL THE TIME ILY, i had a SLIIIIGHTLY different image for this so HEAR ME OUT

johnny cage > eyes on the prize

warnings: Oh, these? My boobies? My massive fucking titties? My super stuffed milkies? My honker bonker doinky boinkies? My fucking fabric stretching wind flapping gravity welling sex mounds? You mean these super duper ultra hyper god damn motherfucking tits?

[ part 2 ] [ masterlist ]

after the time merger, your boss seems uneasy seeing his younger self parade around the compound like he owns the place. you're unfortunately put up to the task as babysitting him.

"private," the older counterpart summons you to the center of the room. "keep an eye on him for me, yeah? he's... well, he's me, and i don't trust him one bit." you both glance over to younger johnny, who is kicking his feet up and browsing IMDB - his own page, to be specific - with no regard for authority. you nod and walk off, approaching the younger star who doesn't notice you at first.

"mr. cage," you try to get his attention, leaning down to his level as he sits. johnny tears his eyes away from the screen to catch a good look at you in your uniform, pulling his sunglasses down his hooked nose. "captain cage requested i accompany you around the compound for safety as the time merge is figured out."

"oh, i'll follow you anywhere, beautiful," he replies smoothly, clicking and winking up at you. your face heats up, this is your... almost-boss. this version wasn't with sonya, doesn't have a kid. a part of you wonders if your present johnny also finds you attractive if this is how his younger version behaves. you'd always found him hot, but that was something you kept to yourself for the sake of his family and your career.

johnny snaps in your face with a twisted expression. "hey, since you're here, the future sucks! i've been here for an hour and i haven't seen one jetpack. not one!" he holds a finger in your face, and you can't help but stare down at him in bewilderment. how did this man become the captain of the special forces??

his complaints sprout an idea, as you try to divert his annoyance. "the special forces compound contains plenty of advanced technology. would you care for a tour?" you suggest politely, gesturing out of the room.

johnny seems intrigued by your offer, willing to follow you around like a dog if it meant getting a good view of your ass the whole way. it's your figure that intrigues him the most.

"older me was a dumbass for not tappin' this," johnny very loudly exclaims as you two walk down a hallway, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "i might have to alter my destiny... there's no way you fight with a pretty body like that."

"the members of S.F. are put through extensive physical training and discipline. i can fight, mr. cage," you reply curtly, not all too impressed by his catcalling, though his boldness amuses you.

"yeah?" he asks playfully, jogging in front of you to walk backwards as he glares at you through his shades. "care to prove it? you lose, you give me your number."

"and if you lose?" you question, crossing your arms.

"then i give you my number." jesus, he was dumb. hot, but dumb. it was impossibly hard to remain professional in front of him. you entertain his bait and open a side door that led to the garage. it was spacious and full of various tools, vehicles and weapons. the crew often met there for mass debriefs and announcements, but served as a perfect sparring location.

"you're on, dollface," johnny sneers, readying himself with an overdramatic flourished war cry. "but first, no handicaps. take all that off." he waves at your vest and various equipment strapped to you. you shake your head and sigh, readying your own pose after shrugging the extremities off and kicking them to the side. it was johnny in his coat giving you a delicious view of his chest, and you in your skin-tight underclothes. you figured regardless you'd have an advantage against johnny considering you were familiar with his fighting style, but his strength outmatched you easily. he was twice your size in muscle, after all. didn't really matter just how much studying you put into his mannerisms in combat.

his powers proved to be a significant advantage as well, doubling his strikes when most humans could only land one in the time it took. each punch you threw was parried embarrassingly easily, and each kick was matched with an even swifter swing.

despite being military trained, you couldn't help but find the fight fun. johnny would grab hold of you and spin you around, as if you were dancing, or flash one of his signature smiles at you when he felt more in charge. he'd cackle when you made a fool of yourself, swinging at nothing.

one of his backflip kicks infused with his powers knocked you straight on your ass, and johnny towers over you with a devilish grin. his legs are spread, with you on the floor between them as you catch your breath.

"do you yield, sweet thing?" he asks, bending forward to hover his face over yours. you cringe, holding your side as you try to get up, but johnny just places his boot on your chest. "you were all bark and no bite, sweetheart."

as you regain your composure, thoroughly displeased with the outcome of the battle, you get an absolutely evil idea.

"how about you get a bite of these?" you ask, smirking. your fingers find the hem of your shirt and pull upward, revealing your bra and your breasts spilling from the fabric as you lay on your back. the chill of the room defines the shape of your nipples through the bra, and johnny's eyes fixate - hard. his sunglasses comically slide down his nose and clatter to the floor, his puppy eyes wide and wanting at the sight of your barely clothed chest.

when you know for a fact he's transfixed, you swat his foot off of your chest and curl your body before placing a hard upward kick into his balls, making him yell out and stumble backward.

you stand up and brush yourself off, beaming at the actor for besting him at his own shallow game.

"you - ngh -" johnny whines and clutches his crotch, pointing a finger at you accusingly. "i yield."

you shrug innocently, reaching a hand out to him considering your positions were now fully swapped. "gotta keep your eyes on the prize, cage."

you hoist him up with a grunt, patting his shoulder.

"oh, believe me," he breathlessly chuckles. "i was." he smiles crookedly.

...did you just flash your soon-to-be-boss? is this gonna alter the timeline...?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Freebee to write whatever you want!

"Harpies," Alfred sniffed, tossing the paper aside with disgust.

Your first public outing with the family had been fine. Successful, honestly in helping to integrate you. The boys had been kind and had seemingly started to understand how to work with and around your little... quirks. But the media had lost their god-forsaken minds.

After nearly a decade of taking male children, taking in a FEMALE child? And her being a little SHY? And COVERED UP on the beach? (In a long-sleeved t-shirt and some capris you found comfortable) For shame. And Bruce to be mindful of her physical boundaries? Of course, he's a secret misogynist. Not just a gentleman and a now experienced foster parent.

"Hn."

Alfred glanced at Bruce and smiled ruefully and patting his shoulder, "Second thoughts?"

"No," Bruce said shaking his head. "I don't think it would be good for her to hot potato her around. And, it's not like we can't handle her but-"

"She is very sweet," Alfred said, pouring him tea deftly. Flipping the Tv on to see what the news was saying about it. Debating a call to the planet. To see if they'd be willing to do something about it.

"But it's just- just-"

"Different," Alfred finished nodding. "Stocking her closet was a nightmare. I don't know what I would have done without Miss Barbara's help."

Bruce smiled a little. "It'll be an adjustment." He sipped his tea and frowned at the morning talk show. Of course they were talking about you. How sickly and shy you were. Timidly participating. Sometimes holding Dick's hand, sometimes Bruce's. Sometimes playing little games with Tim. Covered up compared to the rest of them in swim trunks with their shirts off. The three of them rough housing and playing in the water while you sat in the shade and watched.

It did look odd from the outside. But- you were content. Participating how you were comfortable. On the way home you fell asleep with your head on Dick's shoulder and he carried you inside while Bruce carried Tim. It was a good day. "Should I have picked a different-"

"I never saw the ocean before."

Your quiet little voice and a persistent uncertain feeling sends them both grabbing for the remote to shut the TV off.

"No?" Bruce asked, pushing out a chair for you.

"Just lakes. But some of those were pretty big. I remember taking a old mail boat once on a tour. They showed us where Al Capone had a house."

He nodded and smiled a little, "So you had a good day?"

You nod and he reaches up very carefully and sweeps hair out of your face, "And you don't think I'm secretly a misogynist?"

"I don't know what that means."

"That I hate women."

"I don't think you hate anyone," you tell him, and now he can feel crackles of confusion leaking your as your forehead crinkles.

Bruce exhales slowly, some of the frustration he felt falling away. "Thank you," he hummed. He didn't know if it was your influence or your words, but he appreciated it. And when little arms looped around his neck and he hugged you back on instinct, he realized that, for all the differences, some things weren't going to change. Kids were kids. And he loved them. And once they were his, they were his.

[yallthemwitches]

United Front

Lily and James have the best intentions when showing up to Petunia's engagement party.

Written for Day 2 of Jily Week (hosted by @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee) , Prompt: Partners in Crime

AO3 link Here

“She’s going to be cruel.”

“Brilliant, I love women who are dastardly.”

“No, I mean she’s going to find the thing deep inside you that you hold most dear, taunt it to oblivion– then crush it.”

“Very poetic of you Evans.”

“James, I need you to be serious. I need us to be a united front.”

They walked down the main street of Cokeworth. On a normal day where she wasn’t dreading her near future, Lily would have relished the idea of taking James on a little tour of her town. The fall leaves were littering the walkways and little shops had placed out intricate decorations ushering in the fall weather. 

Lily stopped abruptly and James followed suit. Paces ahead of them was a heavily flowered awning with large pink and yellow bows plastered all over it. Cresting the door to the building was a large sign that read in flowing script:  Congratulations soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.

“Don’t weddings usually happen in a church for muggles?” James fingered one of the balloons, making it bop back and forth. 

“It’s not a wedding. It's the engagement party—now let me see you.”

Lily gave him the once over. His button down was undone just enough to see where his clavicle connected to his chest and his slacks were well fitted on his bum. 

“Damn—you’re too fit,” she breathed out. James beamed and gave her a soft kiss. 

“Thanks–”

“No, I mean really, you're too fit. She’s going to be so cross.” James’ brow crinkled. 

“Er, I’m not following.” Before Lily could explain, the door to the house burst open. Petunia was in a light yellow and peach party dress that looked like it was straight out of a 1950’s refrigerator ad. 

“What? You just going to hold court there all day?” Petunia clasped the door tightly with one hand. 

“Hello to you too Tuney.” Lily tried to remain composed. “Congratulations on your engagement! We brought you some flowers.”

Petunia took one look at the bouquet in Lily’s arms. “You really shouldn’t have.”

She took them and walked around the porch, setting them in the back corner where they were hardly visible. 

“There,” Petunia said with a nod. “Now they won’t clash with the decoration.”

James side-eyed Lily whose friendly facade was crumbling fast. The smile on her face quivered with rage.

“Who is this, why is he here?” Petunia didn’t even look James in the eye, rather giving him a once over before turning a hot shade of pink that clashed with her dress. 

“This is my boyfriend—you said I could bring him.”

“Where’s the other boy?” James head whipped over to Lily who looked just as confused as he felt. 

“What other boy?” Lily spat back, flustered. 

“You know the one who always looks sickly.”

“Oh, Remus? He’s not my boyfriend Tuney—you knew that. James is.”

James decided he had enough of being talked about without any interjection. 

“Nice to meet you…and congradu—”

Petunia gave him another once over, but this time with a more discerning eye. Her pale ears turned red. 

“I mean honestly, Lily. I can’t believe you would do this to me, you always need to be better—well come on.”

She turned her body to the side leaving an opening to enter the house. Lily grabbed hold of James’ arm and tugged him past and down a hall that was draped with various silk bows.

“Uhm—I know I’m not keen on the muggle ways of conversation but—what was that?”

Lily trudged forward still holding his forearm tightly in her hand. 

“She thinks you're fit. I told you she’d be angry—don’t worry about it.”

They reached the sitting room where a backdoor was open and a cacophony of people wafted into the house. Lily stopped walking and turned to James. She put both hands on either side of him and he instinctively lowered his forehead to rest upon hers. 

“We’re a team. A united front. We will survive this.” Lily chanted to herself with her eyes closed. 

James gave her a little squeeze and pulled her into his chest. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll have some drinks, talk about muggle stuff that I’ll pretend to understand, and then I can take you back to school, get you out of this gorgeous dress, and then we can shag all the stress of the evening away.”

Lily snorted and James made a soft smile. “You’re a git.”

“Love you too.” He gave her a kiss on the nose and they locked hands to enter the back garden. 

Outside a large table had been adorned with enough frill to supply the entirety of England. A table of drinks had been set up and Vernon stood with a few men Lily didn’t know drinking beers around it. On the other corner of the garden, a bunch of women stood tightly in a circle only to break apart to eye another party guest with disdain. 

“So—a drink?” James offered. Regardless of being the most out of place in the whole event, James carried himself as though the party was meant for him. It was a trait that in other moments might have annoyed her, but she was thankful to have some relief from the suffocating feeling of anxiety. 

James pulled Lily over to the drink table and Vernon turned with heavy effort to intercept them. 

“Lily–” Vernon didn’t smile. His eyes were wide to the point where they actually seemed to fit his head for once. He looked at James with the same expression and James’ face eluded pure joy. If there was one thing James Potter could sense, it was someone he could take the piss out of. 

“James Potter.” He offered his hand which Vernon eyed with utter disdain. James lowered his hand back to his side, unfazed by the rejection. If anything he smiled wider. 

“This is my sister's fiancee, Vernon,” Lily gave James hand a squeeze. She knew his mischievous grin from anywhere. 

James ignored her signal. “Absolutely charmed.”

Vernon coughed at the mention of charm and Lily shot James a warning glance.

“Er—I was actually hoping to see you two before Petunia came back out—could we?” Vernon gestured over to a secluded spot in the lawn far away from any of the other guests. Lily and James followed him as Vernon made a little bit too much of a show of not wanting anyone to notice.

Before they could say anything Vernon’s wide eyes soured into a deep anger. He directed his words at Lily.

“I am well aware that we were obligated to invite you on the account of you being family, but I am just going to say this once: if you plan to have any sort of performances this evening that could spoil the night, I suggest you save it for whatever circus you came from. I’ll not be having your kind come and mess up my lovely evening.”

Lily’s cheeks flushed and her eyes became glassy. She had expected them to be rude, sure, but not downright hostile to her—and even in front of someone they had no reason to question.

James’ grin had disappeared and now his jaw was locked. “Excuse me–first off you can stop pointing at my girlfriend like that,” Lily had not noticed that Vernon had clutched a finger outwards between them during his little speech, “second, what exactly are you implying?” Lily grabbed hold of James’ forearm, but he shrugged it away. 

“James–it's fine, let me handle it.” Lily tried to sound stern, despite feeling shaken from being threatened by her own future brother in law.

“Well Vernon,” Lily’s eyes were slits, “I wasn’t planning on any performances as you call it, but seeing as you are being such a bloody arsehole—” 

James hid his laugh with a cough. Vernon’s eyebrows shot up his face, his cheeks reddened to the point of purple. Petunia, who had caught sight of their gathering from the window, came rushing out towards them, looking panicked. 

“Vernon darling, what has happened?” She whipped her head towards Lily. “What did you do already?”

“Well, your bloody freak sister and her punk boyfriend just insulted me—at my own party!” Petunia rubbed Vernon’s arm while darting her head to either side of the garden, hoping that no other party goers were listening in. 

“We didn’t say anything that wasn’t already provoked, you know for invited guests and family you haven’t exactly made us feel welcome,” James shot back. 

Petunia whispered some words into Vernon’s ear and he mumbled in response back. He shot James a dirty look before thundering back over to the drinks table where the men surrounded him once more. 

Petunia watched as he left and faked a sickly looking smile at the guests who glanced their way. She spun back towards Lily.

“You need to leave. I knew this would be a mistake.”

Lily’s face flushed. The battle between anger and sadness culminated into rosy blotches on her cheeks.

“Fine. We were just going anyway. This party is a drag. Come on James.”

Lily stormed back to the door and entered the house ahead of him. James opened his mouth to say something to Petunia, but she had already departed their corner and was chattering amongst the group of women, acting as though she hadn’t just banished her own sister from her party. 

James found Lily sitting on the front stoop of the house, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. 

He sat down next to her, procuring two cans of gin and tonic from his pocket. “Nicked these as a souvenir.”

 Lily let out a meek laugh and took one from his hand. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, softly stroking her hair. 

“Sorry if I wasn’t a good teammate today,” he pushed his lips into her hair. 

“Nah, you were the best. Sorry my family is such shit—at least now you have witnessed it.”

“Yea, honestly—fuck ‘em.” Lily let out a real laugh this time and James leaned down to kiss it. 

“But, to be fair,” he continued, “ it's not everyday we get to take an excursion out of school and I get to see you in a bloody fantastic dress so, despite the tiny upset I’d say this was a success.” 

Lily leaned her head on his shoulder and took a breath. The sun was setting and the cool air was setting in. 

“What was it you promised me when we got back? To shag all my stress away?” The second it left Lily’s mouth, James’ body perked up.

“I mean, it was an awfully stressful night.”

“Yeah, awfully—we should definitely, definitely do something about that.”

James grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her up. She laughed at his enthusiasm as he practically ran them past the gate and back onto the mainstreet where Sirius’ motorbike lay waiting for them. The night born anew.

[wispyxjae]

telekinesis

genre: suggestive, mild smut, 18+ mdni

summary: jumping jiung's bones in the studio while he’s working on a new song, inspired by telekinesis that he released on fromm he knows what he’s doing w those lyrics??? he’s so sick (but hot)

cw: bf producer/musician!jiung, making out, dry humping, jiung records your moans, mentions of dom!jiung

a/n: thank you in advanced for reading my first drabble/work! i know i was originally an nct blog but piwon have taken over my life especially after i went to utop1a tour! i adore these boys so much and they made me want to write even though i never intended to >< this is barely proofread btw so sorry for any mistakes :b lastly, thank you to all my friends here on tumblr for being so encouraging of me writing and posting! i love u pookies

just imagine he shows the song to you first in his studio (before he posts it on fromm) and you can’t help but jump on him after hearing the lyrics bc he’s SO HOT?? AND TALENTED??

and everyone’s wondering who the hell is he fucking to make him write that

well…

you would smother his face with kisses right after the snippet ended and he’d be laughing so much bc he knows how much it affected you since you’re reacting so well to it

but it would quickly turn into needy desperate kisses and jiung couldn’t deny you squirming in his lap like that, making the blood rush to his cock and moaning out when you would drag yourself along it to satiate the ache between your legs, muffled moans escaping the both of your lips

between kisses he asks if it’s okay to record your moans for the next song and your brain is so clouded you just hum in agreement bc you need him so bad

he pulls away and you immediately attach your lips to his neck while one of his hands fumbles on the buttons behind you as he hits record, the other is gripping your hip to move you along and give the both of you the friction you crave

the breathing in the room becomes heavier as jiung turns back to you, pulling you to look at him by your chin. he revels in the sight of you looking so fucked out already and the two of you have barely even done anything. your cheeks are a dark shade of pink while your lips are puffy and swollen. your eyes are glazed over and your lids are slightly hooded. he loves it when you look like this. he loves seeing what he does to you and he lives for your reactions

jiung is a pleasure dom so he thrives off of you feeling good, and as much as he would love for you to keep dry humping him, he needs to feel you wrapped around him right now

“aren't you a little eager?” he chuckles at you, his voice deeper than it was a mere 5 minutes ago. you pout at his teasing because you can feel him hard under you at the same time he’s poking fun at you. “says you,” you stick out your tongue at him and emphasize your words with another drag of your hips against his while he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world

he lets out another groan at the friction and goes to kiss you deeply, cupping your ass with his hands, pushing the chair back and standing up, carrying you with him to the couch in his small studio, ready to give you everything you both have been wanting since he wrote the song thinking of you and since you heard his suggestive lyrics, knowing you were his muse

[catfern]

outback.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: trucker!abby x afab!reader

music: her - unloved

word count: 1.7k

summary: the night shift at a remote petrol station sounded like easy double pay. but nights get lonely. you've gotta find something to keep yourself entertained.

warnings: porn with a smidgen of plot, fingering, some perverted staring, tiny tiny implied age gap, australia. this is rlly just porn

fern says ⎯ THIS ONE IS FOR ALL THE AUSSIES IN THE AUDIENCE MAKE SOME NOISE!!!!!! this truly is self indulgent cause i miss flirting with hot women who call me darl.

you brought this on yourself, really.

the pale blue of the bug zapper fought a contrast with the dying fluorescents, painting half the aisles in an eery, twilight movie shade. the heat of a high december night was creeping, clinging to your shitty polyester uniform as you camp out in front of the only standing fan.

you had begged for a job, pleaded for it really, in the wickedness of this economic climate. you had run, tail between your legs, from your local chain grocery at the sight of the price of an avocado, and thrown yourself at the feet of the next passing employer. like a squire to the knights of old.

you just hadn’t expected it would be this job.

the gatekeeper of one of the last vestiges of civilisation. the night shift at a deserted highway petrol station.

the flickering floodlights by the pumps fighting an uphill battle to keep the creeping night at bay, you can do nothing but stare, eyes adjusting, ‘unadjusting’, readjusting to the dark over and over again. you’d had a total of two customers since you took over from the day shift crew. one just threw a gatorade your way in exchange for the bathroom key.

the high beam headlights of an oncoming truck shake you from your fading thoughts, baking you into the linoleum tile as you squint, blind. asshole.

you’d been warned about truckers, briefly. handsy rednecks, your manager had called them in passing while giving you a tour of the storage room. desperate old fucks who crawl like dogs to anything with a hole.

you watch with an almost bated breath as the peeling yellow cabin of the long-haul truck pulls into park, your eyes following its jaunty movement through the glass of the front windows. you’re starting to think maybe you should have brought an illegal switchblade to work. if you had one.

you avert your gaze quick, grabbing at something from the magazine rack in desperate hopes to appear disinterested, unapproachable. 15 Ways to Homeschool Your Kids. sure, that works.

the bell above the door chimes, you spy the scuffed leather boots crossing the plastic tiling with heavy footfall. 

“y’got a lounge?”

standing at the counter, you have to admit, she’s not what you pictured when you saw the truck. not that what you see is at all worth of complaint.

a thin sheen of sweat clings to her, echoes of the heat of the road. her skin is flushed, the contour of her muscle sitting, almost man-made, in a thin, cotton singlet. her hair is tied tight, her features, sharp, discerning, eyeing you down. you try not to stare, too obviously, at the soft outline of her nipple piercings beneath her shirt.

“hm?” you’re distracted.

“a lounge, darl. trucker lounge?” she repeats slowly with a bite of a smirk, looking at you like you were only a little bit stupid. your stomach drops with the honey of the nickname.

your eyes dart around the small space of the shop. you barely had space for the 3 aisles and the dingy bathroom. you clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling of fascination, “oh — uh, nah.”

she scoffs, a wicked, small laugh, before retreating to browse the snack section.

you watch her, when you think she isn’t looking. small, caught glimpses in your feigned disinterest. she’s been on the road long, a tension in the broadness of her shoulders obvious as she readjusts her posture, eyeing the chips. you try bury whatever rears its head in your stomach when you hear her groan as she squats to better see the canned fruit. a roughness in her voice, lead with age and smoke.

you drop your reading material and smile, tight lipped, polite, as she approaches the counter. a cold meat pie and a ginger beer.

"and uh — pack'a rothmans, thanks, love.”

you nod, turning to wrestle with the rusting cigarette cage behind the counter, when you hear her chuckle, breathy and deep as she talks,

“y’look a little young to have kids.”

spinning back so quick you make yourself dizzy, you swipe the shitty magazine off the counter, discarded and unimportant, “nah, i… i was just bored.”

she rakes her eyes over you, slow, and you can’t help but feel the pull, magnetic, a knot in your stomach as she studies you. you feel caught in a trap, under her gaze. looking up at her, her looming presence is becoming all too real.

you slide the pack of cigarettes over the counter, trapped meeting her eye. a smile, something sly, plays on her lips as she thanks you, moving to catch a breeze of the fan.

an uncomfortable beat of silence passes between you. well, it’s uncomfortable for you. no longer able to hide behind disinterest behind glossy paper, you instead wrestle with yourself to seem at least neutrally interested, not utterly obsessed. you wring your hands behind the shelter of the till.

the woman shakes a cigarette free from the pack, holding it between the skin of her lips. “you smoke?” she’s looking at you, through the corner of her eye.

no, never.

“uh, yeah.”

you follow her out the shop, tied to her artificial shadow in the fluorescents. something is crawling in the night, when you step outside. a cicada silence echoes across the gathering dirt and dust.

she offers you the cig she had been holding, you take it gingerly, holding it in your mouth as she holds her lighter up. she brings her hand to cup the flame, to keep the absent breeze from destroying it. you feel, just slightly, the brush of her calloused palms against the low of your cheek, and you pray that the navy hue of the bug zapper is enough to hide the heat on your skin.

smoke fills your lungs, foreign and quick, an itch inside you that feels impossible. you cough and splutter to the chorus of her raspy laughter.

“you haven’t smoked a day in your life.” she says with a lopsided smile, plucking the cigarette from your hand and bringing it to her lips, taking a long, constrastly confident draw.

you shake your head in between wheezes, “is that what everyone is always going on about?”

“you’ll get used to it, here,” 

she hands it back to you, you feel obliged to take it. to try again, as she so quietly commands. your second go is met with an only slightly irritating tickle in your throat.

“that’s it, good girl,” something that seems so unsure rolls off her like syrup, something you had never known you were so desperate for. her hand finds the small of your back, her fingers dancing circles in something akin to comfort, to praise.

you look up to find her eyes already on you, tracing the contours of your neck in icy blue form.

the smell of artificial pine and day-old dust clings to her, swallows you whole as you fall victim to her touch, light-headed and weak at the knees as her breath fills your lungs.

she’s nothing if not vocal, desperation falling from her lips in tortured moans as she presses herself into the crook below your jaw, drawing your soft skin beneath her teeth, softly licking the littered aftermath, a trail down your chest.

she’s quick to undress you, pulling impatiently at the scratchy fabric of your worn company polo shirt. she’s not phased by any forgotten need for privacy, for decency. she’s only here in passing, after all.

“oh, sweetheart,”

the lace of your bra is a temptation not lost on her, a delight she so happily indulges in after days on the road. in some perverted part of her mind, you wore it for her. maybe, in some cosmic, fated way, you did.

her hands snake down your body, helping themselves to the lux of your curves as her lips press, all-consuming, against yours. her fingers lightly spreading your legs, a mean chuckle souring the kiss.

she’s not at all easy, or kind, the way she pulls you open, watches you fall apart in the brutality of her control. she touches you like she aims to destroy you, her fingers working relentlessly to the pull of your walls, unheard to your pleas to — please, slow down.

“that’s it, darling. come on,” it’s sharp, delirious and oh so pleased to hear you, a whisper tickling the dip of your chest, watching you through the blonde of her eyelashes as you throw your head back, your body rocking to the rhythm she sets.

“p-please, fuck, jesus, fuck!” if she was any meaner, she would have laughed. but god, she’s distracted. driven mad by her own dripping need.

“you wanna come, baby? yeah, yeah?” she’s slowing down, and you chase her question with a desperate, shakey nod. “yeah, you do. come here.”

she takes your hand in hers, delicate, kind, a wicked contrast. under the guidance of her touch, you grip the stiff denim of her jeans, tender, unsure, until she leads you to the heat between her legs and you nearly melt. her hand goes to fiddle with her belt, her eyes finding yours, bleary, in the haze.

“think you can help me out, sweetheart?” she nods along with you, and you’re unsure if she’s copying you, or you are her.

“yeah — i can, please, please,” you whine, your hips still rutting a lazy pace against the now stagnant force inside you. your hand pulls, impatiently, at the waistband of her cotton boxers, pulling them down to sit unceremoniously at her hips.

“fuck, good girl,” she seethes at the languid circles you draw on her clit, gentle and paced, as you chase your own euphoria on her fingers, “come on,” a whisper, hot on your neck, “i’ll go faster if you do, darlin’.”

you pick up in a daze, so compliant to the whim of her demand, so desperate to feel her calloused fingers trace the tide against your centre. rushing that feeling, wretched to have her tear you apart.

her fingers rock against you without care, wrenching every ragged moan from the cut of your throat as her speed picks up, “that’s it, fuck, you feel so good, sweetness. keep — keep going.” hoarse whispers against your chest as she presses sloppy, undone kisses to the ghosts of your ribcage.

you watch, above the broadness of her shoulder, as a peak of the sun paints the horizon a muddy pink, your moans a soundtrack to the emptiness of the desert as you practically bounce on the stranger’s fingers, loud for your own release.

yeah, you lost your job.

⎯ kofi

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

[haunted-headset]

Wilbur talking about YN at a concert and YN just happened to be streaming and chat told her. Then once wilbur gets back from tour (theyre roommates) YN mentions it and wilbur gets all flustered 🤭

💬 Everybody Talks Too Much 💬

Summary: Wilbur was talking about Y/N at a concert and Y/N happened to be streaming & her chat told her. Then, once Wilbur gets back from the tour, Y/N mentions it & Wilbur gets flustered AF

A/N: guys go follow @joviepog, they're basically one of the reasons you guys get fanfics. Also, this title was based off of a song called Everybody Talks :p

pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!musician!reader

pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers

tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)

warnings/cw: reader & Wilbur getting flustered, swearing, mentions of whimpering audios

proofread?: *aggressively shakes head*

genre: fluff

word count: 455

"Do we have to steal Wilbur's YLYL rules again, chat?" You said to your chat with a laugh. "It seems like Wilbur's the only one who can tame you feral fuckers." You were doing a YLYL stream & your fans thought it would be a funny idea to try & send whimpering audios through MediaShare. You were not amused. Just then, a different video had been sent in. You were very prepared to pause the video or have the mods remove it, but you then saw your roommate Wilbur in the video.

"What's this?" You asked with a raised brow. You read the caption of the video, which read, "Wilbur was talking about Y/N during one of his concerts!!!!" You felt your face get hot.

In the video, Wilbur had just finished a song & he said to the crowd, "Guys, I forgot to mention, but shoutout to my roommate Y/N, because they stuck around even though I forget to pay rent half of the time & I bother her with my dumbass rambling! So, yeah, respect for my pretty hot roommate!" He said it so easily as if it were nothing. As if he didn't just call you hot.

"...interesting," you mumbled. The chat was blowing up with 'lol' messages & comments about how red your cheeks were. You didn't really care because you heard a knock at your bedroom door. You were home alone.

"Uh...come in?" you said to the knocking at the door. Wilbur then opened the door. "Wilbur?! You're back from tour?"

"Yeah," he smiled. He became Beardbur again during the tour & he looked very tired. "Sorry, I didn't tell you. I wanted to surprise you."

"Nah, it's fine," you said. "I was too busy to pick you up anyway."

"Wow," Wilbur said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart & scoffing. "I can't believe that you would prioritize your streams over me!"

"Oh, piss off," you laughed.

"What're you doing?" Wilbur asked, looking at the webcam. He looked at the video & raised a brow.

"We're doing a YLYL stream," you said. "& my chat sent a video of you talking about me during a concert."

His usually pale face went ten shades pinker. "Th-that must've been edited or something-"

"Wilbur, it's fine, I know you're madly in love with me," you said jokingly. He laughed awkwardly.

"Oh well, I'll leave you to your weird chat," Wilbur said as he quickly got up & left the room. You waved goodbye & saw that someone had subscribed & left a message along with the sub.

"WILBUR LIKES YOU! HE SAID SO DURING THE SHOW! I JUST DIDN'T SHOW YOU THAT PART!" The message said.

"...what?" You said softly.

[eksvaized]

What if, in an alternate universe, instead of being battle-hardened men, TF141 was a famous band? I know it’s a silly thought, but I can’t get it out of my mind.

In my mind, Kyle would definitely be the lead vocalist, who once in a while picks up a guitar. Like, his charm is literally irresistible, and he has this unique quality of being able to carry even the most awkward interviews: he always has the perfect timing, knowing exactly when to joke, when to lightly shade other artists, and when to not-so subtly flirt with an attractive interviewer.

Unlike his bandmates, Kyle also tends to steer clear of trouble, avoiding the drama and controversy that so often follows other bands. His biggest scandal to date, if it can be considered one, was a rumour about his escapades during the band’s tour across America. He supposedly slept with 50 different women, each one from a different state.

And while it was indeed a big deal for such news to erupt within the music industry, it didn’t come as a complete surprise, given Kyle’s reputation as a notorious flirt.

Johnny — a bass player. No doubts about that. When he’s performing during concerts, he becomes a force of nature, a whirlwind of chaotic energy that doesn’t seem to understand the concept of slowing down or taking a break. He’s constantly on the move and bouncing around from one side to another. At times, he’ll dive off the stage to interact with fans, often leaving his signature on some over-excited female’s cleavage. Other times, he can be seen on his knees, utterly lost in the rhythm of the music, grinding to its beat with his eyes closed as if in a trance—this is the most calm he can be during a gig.

Apart from his musical talents and electric stage presence, Johnny has another talent - a knack for attracting attention, particularly from the media. His face graces the pages of magazines on a weekly basis—an occurrence that he insists is accidental rather than intentional. However, Johnny is notoriously outspoken—he has never been one to hold back his tongue or shy away from expressing his opinions, regardless of how they might be received. And so, while refreshing, his candidness often lands him in hot water, especially when his remarks come across as controversial.

Price, Price, Price. Definitely a band manager, and not because I think he couldn’t keep up with the guys. Oh no, that’s not it. It’s just that in my head, I can picture him standing in the unlit corner of the backstage, a lit cigar dangling between his fingers as he counts money. Every so often, he nonchalantly tucks some bills under his belt. He thinks he deserves some extra cash because, yet again, he had to clean up the mess that Johnny made.

What did Johnny do? Apparently, he decided to wear a kilt onstage. The choice of attire wasn’t the issue itself. The problem arose from his decision to go commando, wearing no briefs underneath. Price obviously had to execute some serious damage control and pay off literally everyone who came to see the band. Otherwise, the pictures of Johnny’s dick would have flooded the internet the second people left the venue.

And then there’s Riley, who dominates the drums. Like, just imagine him on the stage, drops of sweat forming on his furrowed brow as he immerses himself in the rhythm. His shirt is discarded, tossed aside as heat radiates off him in palpable waves, and his blond hair is in disheveled from the constant, frenzied head banging — literally every woman’s wet dream.

Sadly, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stalk him on social media and drool over his shirtless pictures because all of his accounts are set to private. And because of how secretive he is about his personal life—unlike Kyle or Johnny, who don’t mind talking in interviews and sharing some details about what they get up to—the media has nicknamed Simon a Ghost.

Further contributing to his elusive image is a running joke among fans and media that the band doesn’t actually consist of three members, but is instead a duo of Kyle and Johnny. This is primarily because Simon seldom appears at public events. Even when a promotional interview is arranged for an upcoming tour or album, he tries to avoid attending by using every possible excuse, only to be eventually forced into it by Price.

What about you, though? Well, the answer to the question is obvious. You’re definitely a fan, but not the crazy stalker type. You just buy all their albums, follow them on every social media platform, and occasionally watch an interview or two, so you could gawk at how handsome all of them are.

So, when the news broke that they were having a concert in a city near you, you didn’t hesitate for a second. You purchased a ticket almost immediately, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you at the thought of watching them perform live. And the actual concert? It was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Even the fact that you went alone didn’t dampen your mood.

However, probably the part of the night that sent your heart racing, that made it beat the fastest, was an unexpected turn of events. You somehow, almost miraculously, managed to find yourself in the band’s tour bus. You were there, with Kyle’s hand lightly resting on your lower back, as he introduced you to the guys - Johnny, Price, and even Simon.

His exit left a strange silence, and your mind began to race; Price’s behavior seemed to confirm the rumors that had been circulating about Kyle might be true.

Price, to your surprise, did not seem taken aback by your arrival. He extended a hand towards you, the shake firm and lingering just a tad bit longer than necessary. His gaze then shifted over your shoulder, landing on Kyle and giving him a warning look before he excused himself to step outside.

Next, you were introduced to Johnny, whose demeanor was almost as tactile as Kyle’s, if not more so. He greeted you with a bear-like hug that almost crushed your ribs, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His wide grin was so broad it seemed almost idiotic. After releasing you from the embrace, Johnny leaned in close to Kyle, whispering something barely audible yet unmistakably complimentary, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘this one’s stunning’, before giving Kyle a hearty, brotherly clap on the back. You did your best to brush off Johnny’s remark, to dismiss it from your mind for fear of your face betraying your embarrassment by turning a bright shade of red.

Simon was sitting near the tiny window that allowed the soft glow of the moonlight to filter in. His long legs were spread wide in a display of relaxed confidence, and one arm was nonchalantly tossed over the leather couch’s backrest. He had yet to utter a single word. Which he did when Kyle mentioned you were here because you fancied a picture with them. This caught Simon’s attention.

At that point, the only thing keeping you standing straight was Kyle’s hand on your back. You knew, deep down, that you should decline this offer. Your mind was practically shouting at you to return to your rented motel room, reminding you of the early train you had to catch the following morning.

Simon turned to look at you, and you had no choice but to avert your gaze because it literally felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, as his lips curled into a sly, almost predatory smirk. “How about something better?” He suggested, his voice filled with a teasing lilt. “Have a drink with us.”

But how could you possibly refuse such an offer from your favourite band? Especially when you found yourself living the dream of every fan girl out there.

It was too tempting to resist.

[smuttysabina]

A Month with Aespa (Ch 2): An Intriguing Offer

(Male Reader x Karina, 2700 words) Tags: Nudity, Happy Idols, Tittyfucking, Sex, Maids, Awkward Dinner Conversations

Read Chapter 1 Here!

Grandfather always said that the best way to be awoken is with a woman's lips around your member; and you can hardly disagree. Alas, your usually morning greeting has been foregone this time, as you wish to conserve your vigor for your new guests. And so, dolefully, your morning glory wilts away unaided, as you go about your usual routine (minus plowing one of the maids of course). You are admittedly a touch disgruntled therefore as you break your fast in your room; a light spread supported by some coffee. The darling maid who brought it to you gives you pointed looks, obviously keen to relieve you, but you politely refuse her; truly this morning will be a trying one. Dressing yourself, as the maid makes your expansive bed, (it fits eight), you stretch and work the kinks out, already planning the rest of your day. With a resigned sigh, you ask after your guests, feeling your manhood straining against your pants at the thought of such gorgeous goddesses awakening in the nude; in your own house... You push such unctuous thoughts aside, it would be impolite to press things so quickly, best to let Aespa adjust to their new surroundings. There will be time enough later to indulge...

Your maid tactfully replies to your earlier query; it seems that Winter has been buzzing around the kitchens, shyly gobbling down whatever strikes her fancy. Ningning is apparently still snoring, asleep even at this late an hour. Giselle meanwhile has ordered her breakfast, and seems to enjoy imperiously bossing the the housemaids around; your dear informant seems quite excited by this, going so far as to suggest the idol soon may be taking certain liberties with them... Simply delightful. Finally, the socialite of last evening Karina has ensconced herself in her room, scarfing down the meal brought to her as she plays mobile games on her phone. Pleased at this information, you kindly thank the girl, wistfully holding back on granting her her usual reward; such a disruption these idols are causing!

Pushing aside the issue of a restless and rowdy staff, you decide to ease your worries with some heavy reading. Retiring to the library, you attempt to relax amongst its tall shelves and comfortable décor. Ignoring the more titillating works entirely (which are mostly unstained, guests are politely invited to relieve themselves inside of the maids rather than the books themselves), you peruse the stacks until you find something suitably dry. Depositing yourself into your usual cozy armchair by the windows, you put your legs up and enjoy the view. Grandfather's ornate gardens stretch out before you, with winding paths and ivy-covered ruins, a plethora of intimate spaces to enjoy with a lover. Burbling streams cross through the area, feeding into serene ponds and Classical fountains. There is even a pool, with an adjoining steam room and hot tub large enough to fit many guests. Feeling much more calm now, you immerse yourself in the vagaries of history, whiling away the hours until lunch is brought to you. You dismiss the maid with only a perfunctory groping, leaving her pouting as she sashays away. Shaking your head, you return your attentions to the past, where you are at least spared from such vulgar temptations.

But it seems that the Gods have not yet finished in testing their wayward son, as the buzz of excited conversation reaches your ears. Glancing out the window, you see that Aespa have discovered the gardens, and are quite enthused by what they've found. They chatter animatedly as they tour the area, walking along its shaded paths and cooling their feet in the clear water, clambering through the the trees and ruins, delighting in their explorations. Surprisingly, the sight of the sources of your rather distinct torment frolicking does not pain your loins; instead you feel only a sense of contentment at their happiness. The girls deserve some down time, and you are loath to interrupt their obvious joy. So you return to your reading with a satisfied smile, idly letting time pass until a loud splash interrupts your ruminations. Bemused, you return you gaze to the pool in time to see a goddess erupt from the water; Aphrodite reborn! You gasp as you take in the sublime spectacle of Karina shaking the water out of her hair, her heaving breasts barely contained by a jet black swim top. You are utterly captivated as she laughs gleefully, splashing towards the rest of the girls who perch at the edge of the pool. You find yourself unusually flustered at the sight of Karina gallivanting around in the water; perhaps your unnatural restraint was affecting your more than you had anticipated.

Resolving that a good wash would steady you, you head down to the communal showers (to think that some people prefer bathe alone, insanity!) to sooth your uneasy mind. After stripping in the changing room, you stride confidently into the steamy bathing area; encountering several equally nude maids who were just leaving. They giggle and roll their eyes at your chastity, surely your madness would soon pass and things would return to normal (If one counts fornicating with the hired help several times a day as normal, which they do). Stalking along the well-tractioned floor (The Old Man had insisted on being able to rail the maids safely while showering), you wrench several levers open, filling the vast room with a roiling curtain of steam. Sighing, you allow the hot water to broil your worries away, granting you some much needed clarity. Perhaps it would be best to relieve yourself with some of the maids, you would truly prefer to give Aespa more time to settle in before- ah, speak of the Devil! As if summoned by your wayward thoughts, Karina lithely glides into the showers, curiously glancing around as she takes the expansive room in. She is still in her swimsuit, most likely out of confusion from the unique (to her) bathroom, than intent to wear it while she cleans the chlorine off of herself. Karina is startled to find herself not alone, but quickly recovers her composure, giving you a coquettish glance as she fiddles with a showerhead near you. She politely ignores your staggeringly large erection, instead seamlessly complimenting you on your beautiful gardens. Your thoughts move sluggishly, but in a ringing endorsement of your upbringing, your mind automatically answers such platitudes. You both dance around the issue at hand, making inane conversation for several minutes until you amusingly inquire whether Karina will need to wash her swimwear off afterwards, considering how assiduously she is cleaning it now. She pauses at this, giving you a questioning look, silently asking if your joke indicated a deeper desire. You disarm her worries with a kindly smile to dismiss her worries of your intentions; you really would be have to plow the maids tonight... Then Karina makes her offer.

Karina proposes that she will allow you to lay with her once per day without resistance, should you spare the other members of Aespa from your attentions. Your loins roil with lust at this idea, your heart surging in appreciation of this deal. How brave she must be, to offer her own body up like this, truly she is what a leader should aspire to be; willingly sacrificing herself for her groupmates! The sheer courageousness of Karina in this matter nearly makes you weep, the romanticism of it all sends your blood singing through your veins. You nearly give in. Nearly. While your soul swoons with adoration, your mind remains relatively clear and focused, unbothered for now by the lust pounding through your body (One quickly learns to keep your head while lustful in Grandfather's house; after losing years' worth of allowance to canny maids, you figure out how to remain cognizant while engaging in vulgar activities. Also the blowjobs during Calculus tests did wonders, though you still feel strangely excited by derivatives). But even your magnificent control is being eroded away by the mere thought of carnal relations with this idol; your uncomforted manhood eagerly urging your acceptance. You are not your father's son for nothing however, and you put on a show of calm as you politely amend her offer, should Karina manage to make you finish within ten minutes; you will agree. Past that, then well, how could you concede to such a deal that would net you such mediocre sex?

Wreathed in steam, Karina is seemingly taken aback by this riposte; evidently she had thought you too consumed by lust to offer much resistance. She straightens her spine however, and takes you up on your challenge, confidently stalking close until you are almost touching. You indicate towards the clock on the wall, casually informing her that she may begin when ready; which she is. Karina breathes, "This won't take long", and squishes herself against you. When her soft hand grazes your erection you almost gasp at the electric thrill it sends through you, causing Karina's demeanor to grow ever bolder; surely she thinks that this will be easy... Falling to her knees before you, the bubbly idol strokes your shaft professionally, clearly intent on ending this contest before things get too out of hand. But you resist her efforts manfully, and she pouts in sudden irritation at this setback. So she brings out the big guns (per say), unlimbering her impressive breasts out of her top, leaning back for you to appreciate them in their full splendor. Truly, what a sight they are! While not the largest breasts you have ever seen (or carnally enjoyed), they are still beautifully shaped, and are easily the largest amongst Aespa. With a haltingly teasing smile, Karina squishes her bust together, courteously inviting you to mount them for you satisfaction. In an admittedly boorish haste, you accept, obligingly testing the softness of each breast with your member before sliding between them. The cozy closeness of Karina's bosom nearly ends you then and there; enfolding you within its sultry embrace as if graciously encouraging you to spill your seed upon her chest. As your pace begins to quicken and grow ever more regular, it seems as if you may just comply with Karina's body's seductive encouragements. Karina smirks up at you, and you realize that you are doing all the work for her; making you unmindfully forget the true objective of this coupling. With an impressed huff, you slow your thrusts, gallantly inquiring if the lady would deign to put some effort in. The lady rolls her eyes, but complies, expertly copying your earlier movements with professional ease; bringing you once more to the brink.

Evidently you were unwise to underestimate Karina's sensual skills, and your already aroused mood has really not helped with things. So with slightly desperate enthusiasm, you offer to pleasure Karina in turn, after all, it would be a poor host who does not see to his guests needs... But she brushes this delaying tactic off with negligible ease, firmly insisting that it would be the height of incivility for her to ignore her host's in his greatest time of need! Perhaps she would submit to such reciprocity once this pressing matter has been dealt with to your utmost satisfaction. Grasping at straws, you counter with the argument that the apex of any intimacy is the act of sex; so it would be unseemly to suggest the you are truly being satisfied in the highest possible fashion. Karina pauses as the gears turn in her head, glancing at the clock (five minutes left!) before muttering something rude under her breath. With a resigned sigh she releases your manhood from its fleshy prison, clambering back to her feet as she looks around for a suitable location for safe copulation. Luckily for the both of you, the showers are festooned with all manner of bars and handles; there is even an ergonomically shaped fuck-seat that supports almost any position. Courteously, you gently press Karina in which position she would like to couple in; after all, time is running out... Banishing her unease, she confidently decides that she will be on top, and firmly asks that you sit down so she might finish things. You are equally eager to proceed, less from time constraints and more at the cloying excitement that surges through you at the thought of entering Karina.

Reclining in the plastic seat, Karina swiftly pulls the bottom half of her bikini off, revealing her tender sex to you for the first time. Giddiness floors you at the the sight, you feel as if you are a virgin again, about to experience for the first time the warmth of a women. Karina blushes at your scrutiny, hands moving instinctively to cover herself before pausing; she gives you an awkward twitch of the lips. Remembering your manners, you sincerely compliment her on her beauty, before giving permission to continue as she wishes. Nodding sharply, Karina lithely straddles you, hauling your member up before inserting you fully into her font without preamble. Her pussy is exquisite. It accepts your entire length without complaint, yet also effortlessly grips your shaft; truly a divine combination that sends you reeling. Then she is riding you, her heavy breasts enticingly quivering with every movement, her dark brown nipples hardening and pressing outwards. It is a wonder that you do not inseminate her immediately, but your febrile desire to enjoy Karina to the fullest holds your building orgasm at bay. Something which grows ever more difficult as she shows off some genuinely spectacular acrobatic feats atop your cock. Her hips trace in the air mesmerizing geometric patterns, her taut stomach flexing and curling as your member is subjected to one of the most intense sexual techniques you have experienced. But Karina does not have it all her way, your own hips buck adroitly as she moves, intuitively seeking her sensitive spots even as she nimbly bounces on you. Color rapidly fills both your cheeks, until you can no longer contain the pent-up passion that has filled you since you had awoken. With a mighty groan you give in, and the damn breaks, causing you to shuddering painfully as your massive load explodes inside of Karina. Who in turn lets out a gasp of surprise, her own sex spasming as her legs twitch from her sudden orgasm. Rising from where she collapsed onto your heaving chest, Karina looks down on you with astonishment, clearly she had not realized exactly how much she was enjoying herself until your seed gushed inside of her. She blinks, before starting and jerking her eyes toward the clock... Karina appears mortified, and as you glance back you can see why, it was over 20 minutes past the starting time; even discounting the delay as you bandied terms, she had been riding you for over 15 minutes and had failed to notice it.

Blushing deeply with shame and embarrassment, she hurriedly clambers off of your dirtied member. She awkwardly showers off the juices you exertions produced, shyly rebuffing your compliments and intimacy before fleeing the room. Bemused and a touch put-out, you watch her go, perhaps she should learn to be a bit more honest with herself... Your mood is improved somewhat by the arrival of two more maids, who throw teasing glances at your crotch. Looking down, you realize that your session with Karina had failed to fully satiate the naughty thing between your legs. With a tired exhalation, you motion the girls over, and soon have one of them bent over against the wall, while the other laps at your swaying sack. Perhaps relying on the maids would not be the worst of ideas, even with your beauteous guests about...

That night's supper is a touch more awkward than the last, even with the lack of more formal wear. In a complete reversal of the previous night, Karina is rather withdrawn and shy, unabashedly chugging wine; making even Winter seem gregarious by comparison. Giselle remains as haughtily teasing as always, and seems to enjoy needling her leader's unexpectedly introverted mood. Ningning on the other hand seems mostly curious at the change, eyes darting suspiciously between you and Karina as she observes your interactions. The slightest of smiles touches her lips, before transforming into a scowl...

A/N: Well this one went longer than I expected, I hoped you all enjoyed it though! Its pretty enjoyable writing some fluff lol