#that piss-poor music backing track

[endless-ineffabilities]

Diet Pepsi (18+)

A modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader smutshot

When we drive in your car, I'm your baby So sweet Losing all my innocence in the backseat

a/n : how do I explain this? I suppose the song Diet Pepsi got stuck in my head, and when I watched the music video, the only male lead I could envision in that sorta situation is our Aemond/Ewan. So here ya go! Reading time... depends on what you get into 😉💋

masterlist

themes/warnings : pure smut, filthy actions and filthy language, complete disregard for sports car interiors, old money boyfriend Aemond x bratty internet starlet girlfriend reader, sticky surfaces, foggy windows, wayward fingers, sliding tongues, and YES YES YES

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your boyfriend glances at you from the corner of his eye, barely, his attention remaining on the road. But his veiny hand reaches over to squeeze your thigh, fully exposed beneath the scrap of pale pink fabric that you try to pass off as a miniskirt.

Mission accomplished. After only a few minutes of pretending to stew while looking out the window, he is quick to sense that something is amiss with his kitten.

"Nothing," you respond in the best downcast tone you can manage, fighting the urge to clench your thighs to trap his thick fingers in the warmth between.

"Come on now," he clicks his tongue, "don't play around."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've barely looked at me since you got in the fucking car." Poor baby. You're getting to him, as planned.

Time to rile him up in a way that only you can. "Do you think Maris is pretty?"

He scoffs, "Don't start, kitten."

"So you do," you egg him on. "I knew it. You were looking at her tits earlier. I bet you loved it when that skank bent over in front of you. Gave you a good view."

"Kitten, please," his grip on your flesh tightens, trying to get you stop. "You're being ridiculous."

"And you didn't answer my question, Aemond," you snap back, grabbing his hand and prying it from your leg.

"Fuck's sake," he groans. He then rests both his hands on the steering wheel, at the standard 10 and 2, grasping onto it so roughly that the leather squeaks.

You called him Aemond. Not babe. Not handsome. You must be pissed, for some imagined reason, and he simply does not have the time.

Impatient, he goes off on a tirade, "You've asked me this shit before, babe, and my answer remains the same. I don't care about any other girl. You're the only one that I want, that I will ever want."

Licking your lips, and looking slyly at him behind your done-up eyelashes, you say, "You could've fooled me." He raises his brow at your childishness, muscles flexing under his tight white shirt as he makes a sharp turn. You continue, "I know what I saw. You want her, is that it? Is it because she's got status like you?"

"You have status," he corrects you, "The whole damn country practically knows your name."

"But it's not the same," you moan. "I didn't come from money. My blood isn't blue."

He sighs audibly, "We talked about this. None of that fucking matters, kitten. Especially not to me."

You cross your legs, leaning against the car door as if to inch away from him, your devilishly handsome silver-haired aristocratic boyfriend. The very one you're so keen on tormenting now. "You don't know how I feel."

But he does. You've long since lost track of the countless times you've been blindsided by an uncharacteristic wave of self-doubt. You, infamous for being one of the bubbliest and most outgoing personalities on the internet, your lifestyle guides and fashion spreads a mainstay on every social media platform.

But ever since you started dating Aemond, you can't help but feel unworthy sometimes. He is Aemond Targaryen after all, a glowing young heir to one of the most powerful families in the country, his lineage extending back to the great Valyrian empire.

Old money, as they say. That was his life, but before him, you thought old money was just some fashion trend that dominated your Pinterest boards.

You met at a charity gala for the Hightower Foundation. Unaware of who he was, he was simply a hot guy you set your sights on, and you managed to get his attention by accidentally spilling your espresso martini down his crisp tailored shirt.

Women were not usually that forward when approaching him, especially not those who ran in the same circles as him, like the Baratheon sisters or the Tyrell heiress. But you were different. You were simply, unabashedly yourself. Your biggest asset was you - your personality, your style, your genuine warmth that allows you to build connections with anyone in the industry - you didn't walk into a room with the snootiness and entitlement of a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

The chemistry was instant, overriding any superficial issues that may arise from someone like him getting with someone like you. Which is why you snuck out of the gala together, and fucked each other senseless in the backseat of his car, sweaty and giggling and whispering sweet nothings like you were already long-time lovers back then.

As you are now, nearly two years later. Aemond's love for you has only grown a thousand fold, and he shows this every day.

The car idles at a stop sign. He reaches for your face and implores, "Kitten, look at me, please."

"No," you impetuously say, making him drop his hand.

"Baby, come on."

"Don't feel like it, Aemond."

The light turns green. The car zooms past houses and open fields. Shops and smaller, unknown places of business. They all come together in a blur. The tension is at an all-time high in the car, just as you intended.

He makes several maneuvers, and the scenery outside begins to look unfamiliar to you. The street you enter next is particularly quiet, almost empty, all the shops closed for the day or boarded up. It's likely on the outskirts of King's Landing, far from the Targaryen estate in its central area of Red Keep.

"You still gonna be a brat?" he asks lowly.

You smirk, "Don't call me a fucking brat."

"Have it your way, kitten," he says, and it sounds like a promise. The car pulls up to a vacant parking lot behind an old restaurant, the surrounding area covered by a thin tree line. There is no one, and nothing in sight.

He leans back, and takes a few deep breaths.

"You've been a bad girl, my kitten."

"Have I?" you bite your lip, no longer fighting the urge to clench your thighs. The miniskirt rides up higher, and his eyes become drawn to the sight, his cock hardening underneath his blue jeans.

He hums, leaning over and grabbing your jaw towards him with one hand, "Yeah, bringing shit up like that. Like I would ever look at anyone besides you."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Want me to fucking mention the time you actually flirted with the Stark boy in front of me?"

"I wasn't - "

"Shut up, kitten," he spits. "I'm not dumb."

His voice dips low, and you feel your cunny growing wet and slick. Gods, he is so hot like this. Assertive yet downright sensual. He only wants one thing, and you will surrender it to him in a heartbeat.

"What you gonna do 'bout it, handsome?" You lick your gloss-covered lips and you are caught off guard when he pushes his thumb inside and orders, "Suck."

You obey. His pupil significantly dilates in one eye, while the sapphire fixture in the other glints beautifully. He looks regal, and he's all yours.

"That's right," he breathes, his vision clouding over in lust as he feels the pad of your tongue, "fucking minx. Always so insolent, huh?"

"Mhmmm." When tears blur the corners of your eyes, he takes his hand and sucks right where you did. Then he pulls you in roughly, kissing you with everything in him, the lewdest grunts of pleasure escaping him when you push your tongue past his teeth.

"Come... come 'ere," he places you on top of himself, straddling him in the driver's seat, the lace of your underwear rubbing against his denim. "Gods, this fucking skirt." He pokes at it, lips curling. "You torture me, darlin'. Now you gotta make up for it."

You jut your bottom lip out, dragging your bright pink fingernails across his cheek. His mouth parts at the sight of his pretty little kitten practically begging for it.

"Is that so, handsome? Why don't you make me?"

He anchors his fingers in the thin bands of your underwear and in a sure and decisive flash of movement, he rips the material apart. He throws it over his shoulder, and it lands in the backseat, among the littered lollipop and bubblegum wrappers you leave behind. He loves it when you suck on that hard candy shell in front of him. It's partially the reason why your penchant for sweet treats has gotten worse.

Your pussy is exposed to the cool draft coming from the AC of his car, and it's a good and familiar sensation. He fondles your clit, little slow circles, making you whimper. He presses on, eager to unwrap his kitten like a piece of candy to be devoured. The zip of your miniscule skirt slides down, and your bare ass and cunny is revealed to him.

"Gods fucking damn, kitten," he rasps, then slowly buries three whole fingers into your slickness, spreading your folds, pumping in and out.

"Aghhhh, baby," erupts from your glossy mouth, breath hitching as he picks up the pace. In and out. Out and in.

His face appears almost sinister, clouded over in lust, his bottom lip trapped under bunny teeth, but then he whispers, "I love you, kitten. I love you so fucking much," and you see him as your Aemond. He's offering more than just his body - to you, he has already surrendered his heart and soul.

"I love you too, baby," you respond in as firm of a voice as you can manage, made even more difficult when he probes that sweet spot inside your sopping cunt.

You leak onto his fingers, droplets of your milky white substance beginning to pool in his palm.

"Ask me again," he snarls, shapely lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth.

"Wh-what?" you reply in a daze.

"That stupid question," he says. His pace doesn't slow; if he keeps up, you just might forget how to speak, save for incoherent noises that make his cock twitch.

"You'd rather be... b' with... a fancy heiress," you try, pausing when he pinches your hardened nipple over your crop top with his other hand. "Maris... Baratheon... or Floris... or - "

"Look at me, princess," he says, "You feel that? You feel me? There's your fucking answer."

"Not enough," you shake your head feebly, keeping up the ruse. Judging by the buldge he sports, he's into it too.

Smirking, he pulls his glistening fingers out of you, and helps you out of your crop top. He chucks the material somewhere, before ducking his head and nipping at the mounds of your breasts.

"Unnnghhh," you hear him, muffled by your flesh. He undoes your lace bra and sucks wildly. You cradle his head with both hands, keeping him pressed against your tits. His tongue flickers out to taste your skin, and he angles his face so that your eyes meet when he takes a nipple in his mouth.

"Shit, baby," you whimper, heating up all over from the sheer intimacy of it all.

His mouth lets you go with a resounding pop, and he tilts his head toward the backseat, hands gripping your hips to guide you. He follows suit, removing his white shirt in the process, as well as his jeans, shimmying them off his legs as he scrambles after you.

He smacks your ass with an open palm as it is raised in front of him in full view, the sharp sting of it only making you grow wetter.

You shuffle onto your hands and knees, looking back to see him already in position. His fine Valyrian steel chain dangles from his neck, the one thing still on his person. His boxers are also discarded, and his length is fully erect, slapping his stomach when he leans over to hastily cover your mouth with his. Your tongues battle for dominance, drool dripping down your chins. You feel a strain in your neck from twisting back to accommodate his kiss, but you don't care.

You feel it poking at your backside, feel him, his cock all slippery from hot precum dribbling down the sides.

He rocks back, hands digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you in the prime position for him to take.

In a swift movement that nearly drives you insane, he twists downward until his face is level with your opening, and he buries his tongue in your soaking pussy. You know he likes it rough, so do you, and this is his way of getting you ready.

"Fuuckkk," you collapse forward, the side of your face colliding with the smooth leather seat. He twirls his tongue around, and you swear you can see stars.

You must have blacked out for a split second, delirious from the high only he can give you, because a moment later you feel his tip edging itself slowly into your cunt.

"Ready, baby?" he asks.

"Fuck me," is your strained plea.

His cock stretches you out, inch by inch, your slicked walls straining against his sheer size. A whining noise leaves you, music to Aemond's ears, and when he's fully sheathed, he exhales, "So pretty. Such a good little slut for me, kitten." That sends you over the edge.

You move forward slightly, then back again, your ass slamming right into his pelvis. He gets the message, smart boy that he is.

With an animalistic growl, he proceeds to frantically buck his hips into you, his huge cock just about splitting you open. He slaps your ass as he goes, making you tremble.

Each thrust sends shockwaves throughout your body, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Your dripping cunt begins to feel that familiar ache, your lower belly spasming from his ceaseless thrusts. Your knees threaten to buckle, and if they do, you imagine that his firm throbbing shaft will be enough to keep you propped up.

"Aemond... baby... " your moans echo in the car, joined by his, "Yes... yes, kitten... so fucking good, taking me like this... pussy so sweet for me... "

The filthiest of words spill from the two of you like prayers from the damned, just begging to be answered. And seven hells, with the way Aemond makes you feel like you're floating amongst the skies, he just might be your salvation.

He does not relent, intent on rearranging your insides with how deep he buries his cock inside of you. You don't want him to stop. You never do.

You have to hold onto something to keep steady, to keep from utterly flopping down in a mindless haze. Your palms reach for the fogged up windows, and Aemond angles your bodies so that you're half-seated atop his thighs. He grabs hold of your breasts as leverage, squeezing them as your leaking cunt squeezes his cock.

The angle allows him to fill you better, and that heated coil unfurls in your belly, a signal that you are about to reach your peak.

He draws forward, pressing his mouth to the back of your neck, licking your sweat with reckless abandon.

"Baby," he moans, "I'm gonna cum... gonna fill you up... "

"Oh, yeah?" you answer in a high-pitched, wanton manner.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"You promise?"

He chuckles, and you feel the sound reverberating as your back is pressed to his chest.

"My sweet kitten," he purrs.

"I'm getting close, baby," you let him know, and he takes it as his cue to pound his cock inside faster. His lips are pressed to your ear, arms wrapped around your torso possessively.

He lets himself go, decorating your insides white with his Targaryen seed. You glance down and see it spilling out of your cunt, milky rivulets staining the once-pristine leather seat. His cock convulses in your pussy, waves of his release pulsing like fragmented aftershocks. It hits the right spot, bringing you to that little death, your walls contracting from the dizzying pleasure he gives you.

With that stupid and blissed-out smile on your face, you lean back, collapsing on top of him. You soon find yourselves curled together on the backseat, a mess of sweaty and satisfied limbs.

His silver hair is matted against his forehead, and you reach up and brush them away. He catches your hand and presses a loving kiss to the back of it.

He props his head up on one arm, as you draw lazy circles on the firm planes of his chest. You whisper sweet nothings to each other, as you had on the night you met.

"You should rile me up more often, you little brat," he smirks crookedly.

You roll your eyes, but peck his lips anyway with a cheeky smack, "Isn't that all I do, baby?"

"Sure, kitten," he says, "and I fucking love you for it."

"Oh, baby," you purr, and your wayward fingers reach down to stroke his half-erect cock. His brows raise in amusement, but it only takes several good pumps before his shaft is again taut from your touch. You whisper, "I love you too."

And so the second round begins.

Taglists (refer here to be added)

Vhagar - @gwaynehightowerswhore @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @9431789 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk

Targaryen - @angel6776 @different-tale-student @binchissimo @teasweeter @raging-panda @rhaenys-nyra @gelacat0413 @simplymurdock @yariany02 @barnes70stark @stupid---person @lonan-hane @thescooponsof @donalesaa @rosey1981 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @wabi-sabi1090 @girl-lost-not-found

P.S. eagle-eyed readers can probably spot the nod to chemical override ;)

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 30 - Apology Sex]

Pairing: service switch!Yoongi x switch f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Vampires!AU, Magic!AU

Kinks: he kneels for her & crawls to her, foot & leg worship, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m.receiving), strength kink, sex on a piano, vaginal fingering, he wants to kiss her but gets denied so harddd, Kook makes a non-sexual appearance bahahah, healthy communication, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: you really said "what if OC gets jealous because of Fringella?" and to that i say"what then?" 🤪

You don’t know why exactly you are at his wing after what he did, but here you are. The chandelier illuminates the music room while the rest of his wing is dark. The curtains behind you are pulled closed, deforming the melodies you are playing. 

They come easy to you tonight, leaving your fingers angrily because this is exactly how you were feeling. 

Angry.

Angry at the music, angry at this room and angry at Yoongi. You and he were supposed to go out tonight, but he cancelled last minute to meet Fringella instead. Bear in mind, the meeting is strictly business according to him, but it still pisses you off. Out of all the people on this earth, he stands you up for Fringella, the biggest Bitch in the universe. And that says a lot because you normally refrain from calling other women this word. It fits her however. If you could, you would change the word “bitch” to her name and it would practically be the same thing. Not only is she heartless, mean and rude, she is also one of his old lovers. Granted, it was a long time ago and he was a different person back then, but Fringella still likes to rub it in whenever she sees you that Yoongi was able to be entirely himself with her, vampire gluttony and all. And that he will always have to hold back with you.

Oh lord, how you hate this bitch. 

Your fingers slam down on the keys, the candles on the piano flicker angrily as you let the emotion flow through you. 

The longer you think about it, the angrier you get, forcing the music to cut the air in fury. 

You like to consider yourself not a jealous lover. Of course you have your moments, like any person has, but generally you aren’t a jealous lover. When it comes to Yoongi and Fringella, however, you are the most jealous person to ever exist. In your imagination, they are currently having the most intense vampire sex ever. In your imagination, he tells her how she “really gets him”. In your imagination, he kisses her afterwards and calls her beautiful. 

“Urgh, this is stupid”, you growl, hitting the keys with your hand. 

The piano complains in shrill, loud sounds. 

“What did the poor piano do to you?”

You lift your eyes to the person standing in the doorway. 

Yoongi, still dressed in his leather jacket and jeans, is leaning against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You changed out of your dress.”

“Don’t talk to me”, you hiss, looking away. You begin playing again, doing so loudly and with anger. 

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat.

“Geez, sorry. I didn’t know that I was on the naughty list too.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You’re the one in my wing. You can always leave.” 

His pissy tone hurts. Granted, you were the one who started it but he was supposed to be asking questions not throw the anger back at you. The jealousy and insecurity you were feeling all night is suddenly unbearable. 

You end the song abruptly, meeting his eyes. He furrows his brows at the sight of your tears. You stand up and stomp to him, only to swerve right past him.

“Hey”, he says, voice soft and worried. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I let it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies”, you spit and slip out of his hold to leave his wing. 

Yoongi flinches as you slam the door closed, listening to your angry stomps become quieter and quieter. Another door slams closed and then he decides not to listen in any longer. 

“What the fuck just happened?” he murmurs to himself, feeling completely and utterly lost. 

Yoongi spends the next hour coming up with what could have pissed you off to such levels. Once he thinks that he figured it out, he instantly runs to where he can hear you. 

The piano in the main sitting room. The one where you and he had this very intense moment years ago before he told you his life story and realised that he was in love with you. 

Jungkook is in the room with you when Yoongi enters. He is drawing, lifting his head at the smell of him. He gives him a sweet eye smile.

“Hey, hyungie.” 

You mess up for a second but catch yourself quickly. You aren’t looking at Yoongi, which he knows that you are doing on purpose.

“Bub, can you leave the room for a second?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. 

“Uh…”

“No. He stays”, you grumble.

Jungkook blinks in confusion, looking between you and Yoongi. He can smell the anger and tension between you and him, wondering what the hell is happening.

“Leave, please bub.”

“No. Stay.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he is a cheater.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. You frown.

“You know what? I think I just heard, uhm, Tae call for me. Uh. I’m coming, mon cher!” Jungkook says and flees the scene quickly. 

The door closes. It is just you and Yoongi. 

“So I’m a cheater now?”

“How else would you call someone who stands up his girlfriend to meet with his psycho ex instead?” 

“Let me think about it for a second. Oh yeah, innocent. I had no choice.”

“Yeah sure. You just wanted to see her. Be honest.”

“I would take an hour of someone repeatedly scooping out my eyeballs over willingly seeing Fringella. Trust me, ___.”

“It still hurts me, Yoongi.” 

“I can see that.”

“Good. You’re supposed to see it.”

Yoongi tongues his cheek.

“Where did you leave her, mhm?” You challenged him. “After you fu-”

“Don’t finish this sentence.” He interrupts you, darkening his eyes.

You scowl at him. Yoongi frowns at you. 

In the end, you are the one to break eye contact. You lower them to the piano, beginning to play again. Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs.

“Look. I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight. I really wanted to go on this date with you. I wouldn’t have cancelled it if her issue wasn’t important”, he says in a normal voice.

“Fringella’s stuff should never be important enough for you to cancel on me.”

“Agreed. Except this was vampire stuff, not Fringella stuff. Someone is illegally turning people in Geneva. Stuff like that endangers our existence and puts humans at risk. And given how I’m the only Creator alive, taking care of shit like that falls back on me.” 

You give up with a sigh. The play stops again. You meet his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I know it was important. I just hate that it had to be Fringella.”

“Guess who does too?” he says and scoffs.

You meet his eyes. He softens his gaze.

“Look, princess. I’m here now and I only want you”, he says, walking to you.

“Prove it.”

He stops and stares.

“What?” 

“Prove it. I don’t believe you.”

Yoongi sees the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. He knows what that means. He wants to make it happen for you. 

He falls to his knees right where he stands just so he could crawl to you on all fours. 

You watch it happen with an increasing pulse. Yoongi crawls under the piano to get to you, looking up at you once he does. 

“I knew I was in love with you in this room”, he whispers and lowers his head to your feet to kiss them.

“Wait. Really?” you gasp. This is news to you, making you weak both emotionally and physically. 

“Yes. I knew I loved you.” He kisses your instep. “Knew I would do anything for you.” He kisses your ankles. “Knew that I would set the whole world on fire for you.” He kisses your calves. “You made me feel again, my love.” He kisses your knees, fingers pushing up the sleeping gown you are currently wearing. “Three thousand years of not giving a shit and you made me wanna fucking feel again.” 

He kisses your inner thighs, sucking tender spots of his adoration where you are the most sensitive. You smell like home between your legs. Sitting by the piano and wearing a long dress really warmed you up tonight. Yoongi feels droop,  trapped under your dress and with your soft thighs under his lips. 

“You made me wanna be myself again, princess beloved”, he whispers and connects his mouth with your heat. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi”, you gasp, curling into yourself and grabbing his head over the dress.

He flicks his tongue. 

You tremble, resting your stomach on his head at the sudden pleasure he makes you feel. It forces your pussy to slip back on the chair and therefore make it impossible for him to taste you.

Yoongi slips his head from your dress, not daring to lick his wet lips in case it would remove your sweetness from them. Now that he got a taste of you, he can’t get enough. Having you on his lips is the only way to have heaven and Yoongi would be damned to take this away. 

“Do you not want me to serve you, my princess?” he asks and right now this nickname carries a different meaning to it. When he whispers it in such a way, it feels as if he was your humble servant and you were his royal highness. His eyes show his religious and submissive devotion as well, gazing at you. 

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t expect this”, you stutter. “You, you just told me the moment you realised you love me.”

“I should have done it sooner. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I”, you cup his face, “fuck Yoongi, now I really want you to eat me out.” 

“Me too. Please.”

You nod your head, scooting to the edge of the chair. Yoongi helps you with the last inches, pulling you against his tongue by your hips. 

He groans deliciously, pressing the flat of his hands against your lower back. 

“So good, holy fuck”, his voice tickles you, his tongue replaces it instantly. 

“This is. So nice, actually. Wow”, you get out, following it up with a moan. You put your hand on his hidden head, petting it as best as your strength allows you. 

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. There aren’t many things which feel as good as Yoongi does. Especially right now, after he confessed such a romantic thing to you.

You think back to That night. It was storming and it was icy outside. You and he fought at first until you kissed his cheek and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He kneeled for you as well back then, eating your pussy while your back was pressed against the window. He was so gluttonous back then, deeply obsessed with your taste. Thinking that it was because he realised that he loved you, makes this memory so much sweeter. 

Yoongi isn’t as gluttonous tonight. He is more calculated, knowing which spots to pay attention to because he knows you these days. He knows how to get you to sigh, how to get you to gasp and how to get you to moan. He knows the spots which don’t really do it for you and the spots which instantly get you wetter. He knows all these things because he loves you. Only you. It will always be you. 

“It’s you, my love.” He kisses your petals and swollen clit. “There’s no one else for me.” He shows you his honesty by wiggling his tongue through your folds only to end it by sucking on your clit gently. Not for long, you should feel a quick bold of electricity, nothing more. 

When you gasp and tense, he lets go of your clit again to repeat the paths of his tongue. Down through your petals and to your entrance. He tilts your hips for it, lowering himself so he is looking up at you.

Like this, he buries his tongue inside you. He moans louder than you, drooling down his chin. Your pussy makes him salivate, it always will. He didn’t know what true pleasure tastes like until he got That first taste of you. 

You are heaven. A heaven he eagerly explores with his long tongue. You moan loudly, rolling your head back. Your toes curl on the carpet, back arching sensually. His tongue is so thick, so long and wet. Because of his nature as a Gluttonous Ripper, it can grow. You can feel him in the deepest parts of you, loving and adoring you. 

“I love this so much”, you choke out, pushing him closer. 

Yoongi lets you gladly, growling deeply when his nose brushes against your clit. He inhales like an addict, feeling his head pound. His black veins grow down his face, behind his closed lids his eyes become demonic. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry”, he breaks away. 

“No. Whyyyy?” you mewl. You roll your head to the front groggily, meeting his eyes. “Yoongi, your eyes.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m selfish, it felt like feeding and, and I didn’t I-”

You silence him by grabbing his chin, bending down so he can taste your words.

“So you’re telling me that you would rather stop this than show me that you’re mine?” 

“No. Sorry”, he whispers, gazing up at you. When he is looking at you like that, you wouldn’t even think that his eyes are currently red and black like those of a monster. He looks like a devoted little puppy so ready to obey its owner. 

“Then get back between my legs and feast on me.” 

“Can I do it better?”

“Whatever helps your case.” 

“I love you, ___. It will never change.” 

You brush your thumb over his black veins, whispering your words.

“I know, Min Yoongi. I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss, but you deny him. He mewls softly, gazing longingly. You, however, never grant him his wish, straightening your back. 

You part your legs.

“Go ahead.” 

Yoongi gets to his feet and picks you up. 

“Oh? What are you doing?” 

“Making it better for you”, he says and tries to kiss you again.

You however stop him with a finger against his lips. It moves them around a little, giving you glimpses of his fangs. They look so cute to you right now. 

“Fuck, this is the worst thing you can do to me”, he presses out.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it”, you tease, scrunching your nose. 

“I already said I’m sorry.”

“I believe you. But you promised me proof.” You move closer. 

Yoongi moans softly, chasing your kiss. 

“This is your proof”, you whisper, moving back before your lips can touch.

“Fuck, this is driving me mad.” 

“Good.” You snicker and ruffle his hair at the nape of his neck. “You were trying to give me an orgasm.”

“Right. Fuck, princess. I’m going insane because of you.” 

He lifts you atop the piano and lies you down carefully. Your legs naturally open for him. You pull your dress up and over your butt so you are completely exposed to him. The piano feels cold against your butt and it’s a nice feeling to experience.

“My goddess”, Yoongi whispers, caressing your inner thighs gently. Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods or higher beings, so this nickname means a lot coming from him.

“I feel so empty, Yoongi. Hurry up”, you try not to beg, but it’s difficult not to. He makes you crave his touch.

Yoongi listens well and claims the emptiness between your legs by burying two of his long fingers in your warmth. His hand is turned to the side in this position, allowing the pads of his fingers to rub against the side of your walls. With fingers like his’, the way they enter you doesn’t matter a lot. They are long and thick enough to completely fill you, no matter the angle. 

Tonight it makes you arch your back and moan his name. 

“Do you like this?” he asks, watching his fingers pump into you. You make them so wet. He drools because of it, feeling his head pound. He craves you. How he does.

“I love it. Ahmmm”, you encourage him, writhing sensually. 

Yoongi remembers when he built this piano. It was a difficult year for him, lonely and full of guilt, and building the piano was the only joy he felt. To think that one day he will have the love of his eternal life writhing on it because he pleasures her just right, feels like an acid trip to him. 

“You’re a dream. This is a dream. Holy fuck, my love”, he gets out and kisses your warmth. You might deny him the taste of your lips, but he won’t be denied this taste. He kisses you with a dizzy head, licking his fingers each time he pulls out. 

You can feel whenever he licks his fingers clean. His tongue grinds against your clit when he does and it feels so good. 

“Don’t stop.” 

“Never. I couldn’t. Mhhhm princess…”

He connects his tongue with your clit completely, grinding the flat of it against you. He purrs into you, picking up a quick and deep rhythm with his fingers. 

“Oh! Wow! Ah!” you yelp up, body trembling in blissed shock. A groan of his name and an arch of your back follows. 

Yoongi moans with you, furrowing his brows in pleasure. This is it. You are currently existing for nothing but the bliss he makes you feel. He feels high from pride. He doesn’t need his cock to drive you wild. He knows exactly what he has to do with his hands to fulfill your every need. 

“Holy moly, this feels so good. What the fuck”, you croak out, reaching down to hold whatever you can grab first. 

It is his other hand, once dug deep into your thigh possessively, you manage to pull it away from you. He intertwines his fingers with you, giving you a loving squeeze as his other hand makes passionate love to your dripping pussy. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi, oh god, Yoongi”, you moan, allowing your legs to shake against your will. It is the only right way to handle how he fingers you. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve a hymn of their own. If somebody would dare you to describe what his hands meant to you, they would regret it because you would not be able to shut up. Not only are they beautiful and sexy, they are also makers of so many of your favourite memories. Holding hands, intertwining fingers when dancing, feeling his loving touch when you’re half asleep, feeling his grip when you are lost in shared pleasure are just a few of the things they are so good at. Cooking for you, creating for you, making music, nourishing your plants and using them to fight for good are just a few of the other things. 

Yoongi’s hands deserve their own hymn, for everything they do and especially for the way they finger you.

“Feels so good. Yoongi, your fingers, ah!”

Yoongi buries them deeper, twisting his hand in circular motions to give you a taste of them. You writhe and shake on the piano, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

You like it. Yoongi growls because of it, drooling all over you which is perfect because it means that his fingers slip so much easier. 

“Yoongi, oh god.”

“I fucking love how you say my name”, he lulls, giving you electric pleasure one deep thrust at a time. “and gotta love your pussy too, princess. Such a sweet, warm pussy. Makes me drunk on you, princess love…”

Any kind of insecurity, jealousy or anxiety you felt tonight is gone from your system. As is your anger. Yoongi’s good like that, he fucks you well like that, know you best like that. The proof of his devotion is at the tip of his long fingers, the proof of his love sits on his warm tongue. And right now he is loving you mighty well, fucking wet pleasure out of you and slurping it up hungrily.

“Yoongi-i-i”, you sob, grabbing his hair to twist it, “I’m really close, o-oh god.”

“Whenever you need to, princess.” 

You grab his hair and push him closer, rolling your hips against his face. 

Yoongi lets you, moaning blissfully. There is nothing better to him than you using his face to make yourself orgasm. He might need to write a song about it, call it something nasty because it would make you wet. He loves when you’re wet, especially when you’re wet on his face. 

“Ah, Yoongi. Oh god”, you moan and pant, smothering him in your warmth. The fingers in his hair hurt. He likes it, squeezing your other hand softly. He keeps his fingers deep inside you, letting you use them as your beloved dildo. You deserve it. You’re so perfect when you ride his fingers like that.

“Shit. It’s- now!” 

You begin throbbing around him, pushing his mouth against your pulsing clit. You mewl and keen. Yoongi picks up the rhythm you lost as your body tenses up, fingering your convulsing walls quickly all while his dripping tongue flicks against your clit in a fast rhythm. 

The consequences are inescapable. You squirt on his face, wailing his name because it feels so good when he makes you squirt. Like, so good.

He makes you feel so good in fact that you need to pull him away after your orgasm. You can’t take another one. Not for a while. 

Yoongi mewls and purrs softly, stilling his hunger for more by kissing and licking your thighs. He gets you so messy, making you sigh as you recover. 

You sit up once you feel ready, denying him of your thighs. Yoongi however is delirious, stilling his gluttony by kissing and licking your neck instead. He has to get on his tiptoes for it because you are taller than him on the piano. His strong arms are around your waist as tightly as possible, his hands are holding you possessively, his chest is pressed against yours. 

“Please don’t doubt my love for you, please. I love you so much”, he chokes out the words, sniffling against your neck.

“I love you too”, you hug him against your chest. Fingers deep in his hair. “I’m not doubting your love for me. I hope you know that.”

Yoongi sinks into your chest with a deep sigh. The kind which releases him of his long day. He mewls quietly, nuzzling like a kitten needy for love.

“Are you alright, my love? Honest answer. I know the F word is kinda a lot to handle.” 

“I’m alright now. Just glad to be with you.” 

“I’m glad to be with you too, Boongie.” 

He lifts his head, resting his chin in your boobs. He flutters his lashes at you and pouts.

“Can I please have that kiss now?” he pleads, making cute puppy eyes at you.

“Do you think you deserve it?” you tease, booping his cute nose adoringly. 

“I made you squirt?” he almost asks his argument for why he deserves it, fluttering his lashes again.

You laugh, “fine. You won me over. Come and kiss me like you missed me.”

“Oh, I did. I missed you”, Yoongi says and picks you off the piano to pull you into his beloved kiss. 

[beneatheaven]

video call sex with soobin

lowercase intended, 1,764 words, haven’t proof read

smut under cut, minors do not interact

sitting down at your desk with all your project work out, ready to go over it with your partner, soobin. you both decided to do some over the call working sessions together along because of his busy schedule. this being the first one. it kinda pissed you off, with all the free time on your side, it felt like you could finish this sooner on your own. but it's whatever, he's really smart so maybe he can carry for the both of you guys.

you receive a text saying he's ready and on is on discord. opening up the app on your laptop, and joining the call. noticing he had his camera on. you could see his room in the background. his bed nicely made and there's a pretty shelf with all his little figures. it's kinda cute, coming from him.

"hey, are you ready? oh why isn't your camera on?". his voice brings you back. "i didn't know that was apart of the agreement. why's yours on?" you say harshly. "well just so that we can see if either of us get distracted, keep each other on track.". hmm maybe he has a point..

you don't really want to turn your camera on, you're in your loose tank top and shorts, ready to sleep sometime after this. now noticing what he's wearing, he's just in a white tee and probably some grey sweats huh..."okay i'll turn it on."

after 40 minutes of going over the subject and how to equally separate the work load, you're focused on getting all the information you can for today. you had half of your screen soobin's camera screen and the other half your school work, so did he. this also being his idea, making sure that you guys could keep an eye on each other.

this wasn't so bad, soobin made a nice study playlist for guys to listen to at the same time. thinking it would've kept you distracted, but it kept you very concentrated. possibly preferring this over being in a quiet library together.

"um y/n your.. your um strap." looking down at yourself and lifting your strap back up and into place. you didn't have a bra on either so it felt extra exposed. "thanks, sorry about that." you felt a little shy about it. "no worries, um did you want to take a break? we've been working for over an hour and a half." you agreed and moved some of your things to the side.

soobin had turned the study music off as you were about to get on your phone. "so what were you doing before this?" you look over at your laptop. making his camera camera screen larger. "i was just cleaning and getting some other homework done. killing time before you were ready. i almost wanted to get a head start cause i had so much time." that last sentence coming off a little harsh. but it was true!

"yea sorry about that.. they're been giving me closing shifts recently after my afternoon classless and i don't get to do anything until i'm home." it was out of his control..oh poor soobin..

"it's fine, at least you're willing to actually do the work, i appreciate it."he smiles at your response. of course he would be helpful. "i feel kinda bad tho, wouldn't your boyfriend be mad about spending late nights with me?" he dragged out his words a little. "i don't have a boyfriend." responding immediately , felt like you had to.

he laughs slightly at your reply. "just expected someone as pretty as you are to be taken already." his words made your face feel hot, how did he do that. he's left you speechless..

"tell me y/n, what are you doing after this?" his voice became a bit deeper, with a sultry tone. "probably sleeping, wouldn't want to stay up too late." nodding his head, seems like a reasonable to do.. what's he thinking?

"well after this i'm also heading to bed, but just before i sleep i'm going to think about how cute you look in that tank top." all the heat from your face just went straight to your core. did he mean that..

he ran his hand through his hair. "and how it'd look if i just lifted it up just right above your tits.. running my fingers lightly over you." starting to squirm in your chair. how's this even happening. "i'm getting hard just thinking about it right now, too bad i'll have to imagine it." biting his bottom lip as he stares back at you for a bit. "anyways, lets get back to work, wouldn't want you to sleep late." he went back to flipping through his papers.

you blinked at how fast he was able to move from that. he can't just talk to you like that and you get nothing out of it, no fair. after collecting your thoughts you get back to work, still no music playing. you could hear soobin's breathing, and how fast your heart is beating still.

you knew soobin's eye's shifted to your screen quite often, maybe he wanted to make sure you were focused, maybe he just wanted to just be reminded how hot you looked right now. deciding to lean in closer to your laptop, your breast would squish closer together, looking like they might spill out of your loose tank top.

soobin groans."don't do that." he leans back in his chair. "do what?" playing dumb. you notice his right hand is blow his desk, what if he's stroking himself.."you seem distracted soobin, remember, we still have 30 minutes to work tonight." he rolls his eyes, "how about another break? I'm sorta getting tired of this assignment."

you lean back in your seat, keeping eye contact with him on the screen. "sure, it's up to you." soobin's right hand still unseen, you wanna play see what he's up to so bad. "oh come on, you don't wanna show me what you're busy doing?" his tongue darts out his mouth swiping across his bottom lip and bitting down on it before speaking. "so eager? our break just started." scoffing at his reply, you lean right back in closer.

"come on let me see..i'll do whatever you want right after." earning a whimper from him, he goes to move his pc camera down slightly and scoots back a little. he was wearing grey sweats, they were pulled down slightly along with his boxers. entire cock out, stroking it slowly. you could see the small beads of precum coming out from his pretty pink tip. wondering how much that pc camera cost..

you could moan at this sight, him biting his lip so he doesn't release any sounds, feeling so vulnerable from you staring at him in this state. "you look so cute soobin." his whimpers still being held back. "your turn now, please?" "fine if you say so."

thinking about his fantasy, deciding to make it real. you lift your top slowly and letting it rest just above your breast like he imagined. his faced was so torn, losing it over how hot you looked. running your fingers all over your chest, teasing yourself with your soft touches and grazes. this just felt so hot, everything about this was so hot.

"you're just as gorgeous as i imagined, so pretty baby, can i call you that?" he sounded so good. the slight whine in his voice and pauses in his sentences, you would do anything he asked. "yes please, do whatever you want." "so needy, how cute."

still playing with his tip "wish i could kiss those pretty tits, pinch them and hear your pretty moans, could you do that for me baby?" your breathing is heavy, nodding at him. lifting both your hands, with just the tips of your pointer fingers, rubbing them both your nipples lightly. you felt so sensitive, jolting at your own touches, you could hear him moaning at you. eye lids wanting to close but you kept them open and you could see his left hand going under his shirt and rubbing his chest, you could see his abs... there's no way he's real.

after teasing your nipples for a few more seconds, deciding to pinch them, immediately letting out a loud moan. "god yes, let me hear you." you could see his fist moving up and down his cock faster as he watched you tease yourself. "wanna touch yourself pretty? please i wanna see how you do it."

he's making you feel so good and he's not even here, you need him so bad after this. your right hand starts diving down to your shorts, under your panties. "let me see how wet you are baby." collecting some of your slick to show him. "your so wet, i wish i could taste you..will you let me next time?" thank goodness he feels the same way.

going back to under shorts, you flicked your clit a couple of times, earning him some more of your pretty moans. slipping one finger in, thrusting it as fast as you could on your own. left hand still playing with your breast, everything felt so good, soobin's voice praising you and moaning after. "you wanna cum so badly don't you? wish it was my fingers?" "uh huh." nodding as you inserted a second finger, his words felt so good.

"i'm gonna cum soon baby, keep moaning for me pretty. cum with me, wanna see you lose it." you both kept going until you felt that knot in your stomach snap. thighs shaking, bitting down on your bottom lip. you didn't know you could be this loud. soobin's moans when he came were so mouthwatering, throwing his head back while he came with ropes of cum. wanna taste him..

"so good baby, you did so good for me." trying to catch your breathing, pulling your top down to cover yourself, licking your cum off your fingers. "so dirty for me." "your so hot soobin." orgasm high hitting you fast, you just wanna compliment him and kiss him so bad, wishing he was here. "that felt so good, i can't believe it."

after the both of you guys calmed down, just in each other silent presence. "i'm glad that happened. i didn't really plan for that but, you just.. looked really good right now." making you blush again, he's so kissable. "maybe we could work on the project at my place next time, or yours.." "yea i'd like that."

[eoieopda]

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

[is-emily-real]

Five Minutes

Eddie anticipated his last day of summer break to pass peacefully and quietly. The plan was to stay home, meditate on the awful realities of Hawkins to hopefully give a shit about the upcoming school year (at least enough of a shit to graduate), and prepare himself to save the new sheepies he’d add to the current roster of the Hellfire Club.

There he was, deep into his meditation, accompanied by the wonderful melodies of Black Sabbath, when a frenzied knocking sounded upon his front door.

He paused his music begrudgingly and opened the door. Steve Harrington stood on his porch in all his sweaty, shirtless, unadulterated glory.

Well. 

He pushed past Eddie and slammed the door. “You gotta hide me.”

“What the hell? No.”

“Please.” The panic was written all over his face. “Just long enough so she leaves and I can get to my car.”

Eddie opened his poor, abused front door with a frown. “Get out of my house.” 

Steve flinched at the sound of a girl’s hollering and ducked behind the couch. “Five minutes. Five minutes and I’m out of your hair. Deal?” he panted.

He considered his options. He could kick him to the wolves and have an odd anecdote to share the next day, or he could let him stay and have an odd anecdote to share the next day. Only one of those options let him ogle his middle school crush for longer than a few seconds.

He was a simple man. 

“Fine,” he sighed and closed the door with the respect it deserved. “You owe me.”

Steve stood up. “Thanks, man, I mean it. She was about to kick my ass.”

“Who?”

“Max. We were helping her move in and I pissed her off.”

“Max Mayfield? Billy’s sister?”

He gave Eddie a stern glare. “Don’t bring him up. Yes, that Max.”

Two screams told him things were going to shit outside. Steve scrambled into the hallway with Eddie hot on his tail. “What did you even do?”

He winced. “I may have told her she didn’t get any more help if she was going to be a bitch.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. “You didn’t.”

“Listen, she was being a bitch!”

“Keep your voice down. I know King Steve’s never been in a trailer before, but the walls are thin, okay?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, “but she was giving Lucas shit for wanting to try out for the basketball team and it wasn’t helping anything.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see what’s wrong with making fun of that.”

“Hey, I happen to like basketball.”

“I remember.” Any tint of pink in his cheeks was purely due to the heat. Eddie opened the door to his bedroom and waved the boy inside. 

This was not how he’d planned to get Steve in here. He cringed at the thought.

“Anyways, he’s good at it, and if it makes him happy, he should go for it, you know?”

“I’m not getting invested in the social lives of children.”

“But you’d like them! They play that castle game you’re into.”

“The castle game?!” Eddie couldn’t help himself. It came out louder than he expected. “Dungeons and Dragons—”

Steve clapped a hand over his mouth. 

Something twisted in his stomach. This was… too close for anyone’s safety. He swallowed, trying to control the racing of his heart when they heard a pounding on the front door.

“I know he’s in there!” a girl called.

Steve’s eyes went wide. He left a chill when he drew away. 

Eddie tried to wipe the longing off his face as he shot him a glare. “My blood’s on your hands.” Slowly he left the room, throwing on the aloof air he’d spent so long practicing before he opened the door.

Max Mayfield stood on his porch, fire red hair matching the color of her face as she stared at him. “Give him here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice to meet you too, neighbor. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You have Steve.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin as if he were trying to think. “About my height, pretty face, huge jerk? Haven’t seen him.” She huffed. “Listen, check the woods, if he’s not back there, come back and I’ll upend my whole day to help you look, okay?”

“You suck,” she spat before she turned on her heel and stomped away.

“Love you too!” he called with a grin.

He peered out the blinds, waiting until she was several lots down before he turned away. “You owe me big time, Stevie,” he called. “I think I’m on her shit list for life.”

He entered the bedroom to the sight of a muscled back, its owner leaned close to his sweetheart. Steve brushed his fingers down its neck.

The whole situation was doing unfortunate things to him. He cleared his throat.

Steve whirled to face him. “I was just— You play guitar?”

He gave a wary look. “Yes.”

“That’s— uh, that’s… hot.” He shut his eyes tight. “I should— Is she gone? I should go.”

“Um, yeah, she’s gone.”

“Oh, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” Steve hit him with a sheepish grin. It was the most dazzling thing he’d ever seen.

“Sure,” he stammered. “See you around.” 

Eddie stayed rooted to the spot as he left. The picture of Steve’s fingers running down the neck of his guitar played on repeat in his head. That’s… hot. He listened to the crunch of gravel under tires.

He was such a dweeb.

He’d tell Jeff tomorrow. Jeff would know what to do.

(No one would believe him. Not even a little bit.)

“Steve, that’s the lamest thing you’ve ever said.” Robin continued to walk around the empty store, straightening tapes as she went with no particular fervor. 

He rolled his eyes. “If it was cool, I wouldn’t be here commiserating about it, would I?”

“Still. I know I have no game, but that was bad . Criminally bad. He should press charges.”

“Listen, some of us found out we maybe liked boys a month ago.” He started to rewind another tape. “ That’s hot . Who even says that? Also, when did I start thinking Eddie Munson was hot?”

She shot him a look over the counter. “He’s your type.”

He sputtered with indignation. “I don’t have a type!”

“Curly hair, brunette, snarky? Is none of this ringing a bell?”

“Twice doesn’t make a type. If that were the case, you’d have a thing for redheads.”

“At least I know when to admit my flaws.”

“I have flaws. I hear about them all the time from my mom.”

Robin laughed. “She’d be so upset if she knew how totally not smooth you are.”

He glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? It’s a school night. You have a bedtime.”

Headlights flashed in the parking lot. “One, it’s a curfew, and two, there’s my ride.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and sauntered to the door. “Seven a.m. sharp, dingus!” she called as she left.

“Loser!” he yelled after her. Steve shook his head. He’d be there, obviously.

The rest of his shift dragged. He was certain the store was losing money staying open this late on a Wednesday, but he got paid to be there, so it was whatever. 

Thirty minutes left on the clock. Then twenty-nine.

After what seemed like days, a quarter to ten rolled around, and he started to close up the store. He was sweeping when the door chimed. “Welcome to Family Video,” he said without looking up, “let me know if you need anything.”

“A place to hide would be wonderful.” He looked up to find Eddie Munson approaching the counter, curls mussed and breathing hard. 

Damn it, Robin was right.

“Okay, but we close in five minutes.”

“Something’s better than nothing,” he replied, hopping over the counter.

Steve abandoned his broom. Keith could whine at him tomorrow if he really cared about three whole crumbs on the floor. He walked back to find Eddie curled into a ball, tucked tightly in the corner between the overstock candy and the safe. “Who are you running from, anyway?”

“The cops.”

He blinked. “The cops?”

“Fine, one cop. But this new deputy’s a huge dick. He’s been trying to bust me over nothing all summer, and I really, really don’t want to get arrested tonight.”

“I highly doubt it’s nothing.”

“He saw me talking to Rick one time!”

“The drug dealer?”

Eddie shushed him, one long finger over his lips. “Grandma says it’s not polite to call him that.” That got a laugh out of Steve. “I met your children yesterday. They’re assholes.”

He sighed. “They’re my assholes, though. Are they adjusting alright?”

“About as well as any freshmen.”

“So, terribly.”

“Pretty much.” He attempted a dramatic flourish, only managing to knock over a box of Twix. “I’ll be a gracious super-senior and radicalize them before I hand over custody for the weekend.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate for them to learn nothing at school.” 

He was basking in Eddie’s chuckle, a warm, pretty sound, when a car came to a stop outside. His face fell. “Stay here,” he ordered and spared a glance at the clock.

9:58. Close enough.

He stepped out from behind the counter and met the officer at the door. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed.”

“I’m looking for someone, actually. Eddie Munson. Do you know him?”

“Only in passing. He’s not here. We actually haven't had a customer in the last hour.”

The officer fixed him with a harsh look. “You’re sure?”

“I’d pull the report, but I’ve already shut down the terminals, and they take forever to boot back up.”

He huffed. “How much longer are you here for?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes? I’ve just got to finish rewinding this tape.”

“If you see him, give us a call.” 

“Absolutely. Have a good night.” The officer nodded sharply and turned on his heel. Steve locked the door behind him.

The air hung tense as he returned to the counter. Eddie sat as still as stone until the car finally pulled out and started down the road. “You’re okay now.”

He unfolded himself and stood. “You’re beautiful.” 

Steve stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

He flushed bright red. “You do that well!” he said quickly. “You know, lie.”

“Oh! Thanks. Lots of practice, I suppose.” He could feel his heart fluttering. Eddie called him beautiful? What the hell was happening?

“Well, I guess I should get going.”

“We can leave through the back.” He gave the store a last glance before leading Eddie out. 

Eddie paused once they were in the cool night air. “Seriously, thank you. My knight in shining armor.”

“No problem. Just paying you back.” The silence hung for a beat too long. “I can walk you to your car?”

“I’ve just gotta cut through the fence row and I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

Steve could barely make it out in the shadows, but he could see Eddie debating something with himself. He locked the door behind them, giving him time to come to a decision.

When he turned back, Eddie pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Every semblance of a thought left his brain. Steve decided, there and then, that he liked kissing boys. He especially liked kissing Eddie. He’d never had the whole fireworks experience before, but he got it now. It felt like his head was swimming, mesmerized by chapped lips and tobacco.

Too soon, Eddie pulled back. “Was… was that okay?” 

All he could do was nod.

“Good.” He started for the trees.

“See you later?” Steve called feebly. God, he wanted to.

Bathed in the orange of the streetlight, Eddie gave him a salute. “You know where to find me.” Before he could think again, he was alone. 

Robin was going to be pissed.

[robinismywife]

[ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 ] (p.4)

PAIRING: Elvis Presley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Y/n has an interesting conversation with Colonel Tom Parker, one that makes her question everything.

WARNINGS: Idek. If you find any plz inform me!!

A/N: Most of the information in this chapter might be inaccurate but it's all for the plot girlies ;) Thank you SO much for being patient with me. I know the plot is moving slowly but believe me we're getting somewhere! <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER : PART 3

(the gif is not mine!)

"Are ya ready honey?"

"No, it's embarassing- Everybody's looking at me all weird and we're not even in there yet.." She pouted with a pleading look on her face, which had the exact opposite effect on Elvis than she had anticipated. Instead of feeling bad for her and comforting her, he burst out laughing and shaking his head in disbelief "What?! E, I think I'll just stay outside I-"

"Aw nah, I ain't hearin' none of that Y/n- I done told ya that I want ya there, honey" Now it's his turn to frown and plead, grabbing her hands soflty and rubbing circles on them.

"Really..?"

"Really. I really want ya in there with me. You're my person, you know? Everybody needs a support system, hmm? What'd you say?"

"Oh fine! But I'm only doing this for Frank Sinatra" Y/n wrapped her arm around his bicep as they stepped into the studio. The flashing lights were blinding them and she had to constantly look down so as not to step on something important and ruin the entire set up. Everybody was working hard to create a magical homecoming special just for Elvis, and Y/n couldn't believe that she was allowed to be there and watch as the two biggest stars on earth got to work together and bond over their love for music.

"Right, honey, right" Elvis chuckled at the girl, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. If it were any other guy acting cocky exactly the way he did she would've been pissed off, however, Elvis had such a charm about him that even his teasing felt like the biggest compliment.

"I ain't lying! I've been dying for an autograph- For my collection, you know?"

"You haven't asked for my autograph.." Elvis' lip jutted out slightly and dissapointment seemed to wash over his pretty features.

"Love, I get to hug you and kiss your pretty lil' pouty lips every day- Your autograph is the least of my concerns" Y/n laughed at how the boy's eyes lit up for a short moment "Now, get me to Mr. Sinatra now!"

"Yes, ma'am"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Y/n could help but stare in shock as Elvis and Frank rehearsed their duet. This all felt like a dream, a fever dream. She was sure she would soon wake up in a pool of sweat and realize that everything was her sick brain's creation. Nevertheless, the way her heart pounded and the music echoed in her head, reassured her that this was her reality. Y/n was Elvis Presley's new girl.

The thought made her a bit dissapointed, how she would be depicted in the media soon. Just another one of his girls! How long will this one last?! It all felt a little overwhelming. She truly was head over heels in love with the charismatic man before her, but what if he didn't feel the same? What if he cheats on her? What if he's cheating on a girl right now? Could she be some mistress on the side and not know it? What poor girl is left thinking he'll come back?

All these questions flooded her one track mind, making her completely oblivious of her new company.

"So you met Frank, dear girl?"

Y/n turned her head only to find the Colonel sitting next to her, his walking stick rested between his legs.

"I did, Colonel, he's a very nice man" She responded carefully, finding herself stiffening up. It's like he always wanted to catch people slipping up and saying things that they would surely regret, things that he could use against them. Y/n never trusted this man and she never really would.

"Don't be fooled, my girl," The Colonel scoffed in disagreement "That man is anything but nice"

"What makes you say that..?" Y/n suddenly felt a little sad at the prospect of Frank Sinatra being a horrible human being. The small paper with his autograph in her pocket seemed to burn her through her clothes. Was just every celebrity that corrupted after all?

"He almost ruined that boy's career in seconds, little girl," He pointed at Elvis with his pretentious walking stick "Telling reporters how Mr. Presley's music- How rock and roll music fosters negative and destructive directions in young people" The man immitaded Franks voice, obviously making fun of the man.

"I- I- I don't know what to say, sir- I guess it was new back then?"

"Still, if you ask me, that man's a hypocrite- Always bashing my boy in the media but the moment he can make profit off of him, suddenly he forgets"

"Then why did you allow Elvis to do this? If that's how you feel"

"For the money of course, dear girl, and his reputation second. But money is always the priorety. How else do you think we haven't gone bankrupt? Mr. Presley surely has a spending problem, wouldn't you say?"

"What I'd say is that makes you a hypocrite, Colonel, just like the man you've been talking down on" Y/n couldn't stop the words from escaping her lips. She mentally noted to avoid Colonel Parker at all costs from now on. She didn't have the patience to deal with him again.

"A hypocrite? Nah, my girl, I'm merely doing what he's doing- He started it, not me" He smirked at her with a weird glint in his eye. Y/n couldn't understand his way of thinking. She was truly wondering how Elvis even communicated with this man, let alone plan projects and performances.

"Besides my boy will be in the movies now, eh? No need to worry about that damn rockabilly business no more"

"Movies? What mo-?"

"Colonel why are ya talking my girl's head off, huh?" Elvis stepped up to them, teasing an otherwise serious Colonel.

Did Elvis even know about these movies? Yes, Elvis had made movies in the past but it was never anything that could jeopardize his singing career. The Colonel's words kept ringing in her head. She had to find a way to talk to him about this, see how he feels about all these plans the Colonel had made for him. God knows what contracts that greedy fraud of a man had signed without Elvis' approval.

When they were finally in the backseat of their car, Y/n could actually think without the loud piano echoing around the set. What was she even getting herself into?

Y/n thought that she knew the music industry like the back of her hand, always surrounded by the most important singers and musicians of her time. However, that all came crushing down that day. In her eyes Elvis seemed like the most powerful man, someone who simply snaps his fingers and gets everything he wants without so much as lifting his pinkie. She decided that it was all a lie, a deception. How could she be so stupid as to think that musicians were anything more than a puppet on a string? A pretty face covering a corrupted industry full of money-hungry record companies and managers, just like Colonel Parker. And perhaps like RCA?

No. Now, daddy wouldn't work there if he knew all that, would he?

And now that she was thinking about it; How could she allow herself to be involved with such a man? A man like Elvis Presley. A man so blessed yet so trapped in his own good fortune and success. Maybe it would be best if this was all temporary, if she didn't end up marrying Elvis. Y/n didn't want to be trapped in that miserable life. Obviously, she would have anything she wanted supposing she stuck by Elvis' side. Clothes, diamonds and pearls, cooks and maids all working for her, all taking care of her. She wouldn't have to worry about a thing ever again.

Y/n had to slightly shake her head in order to push away that thought. No way was she going to abandon her career and independece for wealth and comfort. She had promised herself she would never do such a thing. Never. Y/n knew she was too smart and too hard-working to go to waste. No man could ever make her change her mind, even the charming Elvis Presley.

"What is that lil' brain of yours thinking over there, Littl'un?" Elvis' eyebrow lifted slightly in curiosity and amusement.

"Nothin' just how amazing today was, hun" Y/n tried to smile as nonchalatly as she could.

"Now, don't lie to me, baby- You were staring out that window like some damn lost puppy" Elvis got suddenly too serious for Y/n's liking, his protective side taking over. She couldn't deny the fact that his overprotectiveness was attractive, which made her mind lose focus from the current situation.

"It's fine, I tell ya, Elvis-"

"Aw hell!" He exclaimed as if he realized something important "The Colonel wasn't mean to ya or somethin', was he? He didn't bother you?"

"I- um-" Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Was this the right time to mention the movies the Colonel had told her all about? "No, hun, we just talked is all"

"Just talked? You sure about that?" Elvis narrowed his pretty blue eyes as if he was waiting for Y/n to crack and spill all of her darkest secrets.

"Yes, Elvis, just talked" Y/n laughed slightly to try to lighten the mood, which seemed to work since his gaze softened "Don't be so tore up about it- I'm a big girl I can fend for myself, hmm?"

"Yeah, you're right, I- I- I- I'm sorry Littl'un- I'll tell ya what, how about we don't go out tonight, we stay in, just you and me, eh?" He rubbed circles on her knee, finally making her headspace quieten down

"Sounds lovely, E" Y/n couldn't be more grateful that he didn't question her any further. This was a problem for another day, she wouldn't worry about it anymore.

Right?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[dantegreaves00]

Addicted (Dead Island 2 Ryan x Gen Reader)

You and Ryan stumble across his old place of work, and he treats you to a private show.

Warning sexy times alluded to but not shown and a piss poor description of a strip show and lap dance

Big shout out to @brunos-wife360 for giving me the opening paragraphs and for allowing me to use them

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

●●Y/N's POV●●

Walking along the desolated streets of Hell-A me and my boyfriend Ryan were looking at the different buildings that were once places of entertainment.

As we continued our path along the asphalt, me and Ryan stopped in our tracks.

I looked up and saw a sign that read ‘the big hose’ which I knew from Ryan was where he worked as an exotic dancer before the outbreak.

Ryan’s cheeks flushed a red hue upon looking at the sign, when we both looked at Each other, not speaking a single word.

“The horde might catch up to us soon and as much as I hate to say it, we should seek shelter in here” Ryan said as he started to approach the main door.

Following him inside I was greeted by a wall with all of the dancers on it, and right in the centre in a gold frame was a picture of Ryan with the words "Best Dancer in house" under it.

"Y/N, can you please stop staring at my stripper photo and help me secure the doors and windows" Ryan said breaking me out of my trance.

After making sure that our makeshift shelter was secure for the night we made our way towards the bar area hoping to find some food and drinks to take back to Emma's in the morning.

●●Timeskip●●

A couple of hours after arriving me and Ryan had been drinking from one of the bottles that we found. Being slightly tipsy I started to approach one of the poles that was in the middle of the main stage.

"I always joked when I was a teen that if I didn't have a job by the time I was 25 I'd become a stripper" I said as I wrapped my hand around the pole. I felt myself slip after an attempt at spinning went wrong, Ryan got up on the stage and caught me by my waist before I could fall,

"Why don't you leave the dancing to the professional baby" Ryan said as he guided me back into the chair that he was previously sat in before he made his way back onto the stage.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he got the dj's station running.

"I am going to give you a private show darling" he replied as the music started.

Seeing Ryan dance was incredible, the way he twisted his body around the pole to the beat of the song playing was hypnotic. I was sat on the edge of the chair trying to get a better look when suddenly he started crawling towards me on his hands and knees.

"Now there are a few rules that you can't break, if you do I stop ok?" He asked and all I could do was nod my head yes.

"Good, now first rule is no touching, second rule is no biting, you may feel tempted to but don't and finally enjoy yourself baby" he said as the song that was playing stopped and changed to a slower song.

Having Ryan so close to me but not being able to touch him was hard, he swayed and gyrated his hips in front of me and all I could think about was grabbing him and forcing his hips to mine as he slowly started to remove his clothing.

Once the song was over and a new one started I gave up on following the rules and wrapped my arms around his neck as he dipped down in front of me.

"What did I say baby, no touching" Ryan said as he tried to remove my arms.

"As much as I am enjoying this, I'd rather do something else" I said as I bit his earlobe.

He paused before turning around to face me, "that can be arranged."

●●Timeskip●●

The club smelt of sweat and sex as me and Ryan laid on one of the couches, our bodies stuck together.

"Is that how a dance normally ends for you?" I asked while trying to find my clothes.

"Na, I don't normally sleep with clients but I make an acception for you baby" Ryan said after getting dressed.

Once we were both dressed, I went to the window to check to see if the music had drawn in any zombies. Just as I was about to tell Ryan that the coast was clear, a hand banged on the glass.

"Oi love birds quit shagging and come out" we heard Jacob yell from outside. Me and Ryan looked at each other before bursting out laughing.

Opening the door to the club we were greeted by Jacob, Dani and Bruno, that latter was flipping his knife with a grin on his face.

"Enjoy your private dance Y/N?" Bruno asked me as we walked down the street towards the checkpoint that would take us back to Bel-Air.

"Let's just say I'm now addicted to the way he moves"

[daydreamgoddess14]

Landslide pt. 2

MASTERLIST here

Chapter 1 here

Summary: Jason approaches a singer/songwriter about a request for Ted Lasso Season 3.

Jason Sudeikis/Reader Insert (OFC, no use of y,n/l,n)

Rating: General for now... we'll see how it goes 🤭

Disclaimer: I absolutely own none of these songs, I also don’t want to diminish Sam Ryder’s contribution in creating Fought and Lost. This is all completely fictional. I also know nothing about the music industry so this is drowning in artistic license! 

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1crFZfdqL1fspNXb80u5sK?si=e90f5f8f357b4647

It leans very Swift heavy but also has songs that I feel fit the main character and her style. I've never created a playlist for a fic before but it seemed appropriate given the main character's profession.

Songs used in Chapter 2:

Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons (https://open.spotify.com/track/2rjOBgZ6vmRhzf4AbQbbvZ?si=3cdfe7ca63294533)

I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons (cover by Matt Johnson & Amber Leigh Irish: https://open.spotify.com/track/6pZ37H5lrW2v26D9Sbx6Yo?si=0fb2b5b84b0a4c92)

Chapter 2

The blue carpet was packed full of people, you weren't entirely sure where you needed to go but followed the other guests towards the doors of the auditorium, it was one of those situations where your fame came in useful, crowds parted and support staff were always happy to make sure you were going in the right direction. 

"Why do you always look like a deer in the headlights at these things? You need a better poker face." A voice chastised behind you. You whipped round to see Marcus and Carey. Insanely grateful for familiar faces you hugged them both happily, over the moon to see them. 

"I fucking hate these things. I always feel like an imposter."

"You sold out an arena tour in a day, what the hell are you on about?!" Carey laughed. You shrugged, 

"It could all come crashing down, you never know!"

"Alright doom and gloom, here the kids wanted you to see this." Marcus handed you his phone so you could see the picture of their kids dressed up as Spiderman and Thor, wielding a ukulele and a keytar. 

"Ohhhh!" You shriek, bubbling with laughter. "They are the cutest! Clearly they take after Carey." Between the two of you, Marcus paused to wave further up the carpet, your laughter had caught the attention of some photographers. You looked over to see who he was greeting and locked eyes with the man of the hour, Jason. You managed to raise a shy smile which he returned. It felt like an eternity but was probably only about 5 seconds before you were back talking to Carey as if nothing had happened. Something had definitely happened though, your skin felt tingly, you could feel the blood in your veins heating up, and your legs felt like jelly. It was like meeting at the studio again except instead of poor Tom being the gooseberry, half of Los Angeles were. 

"We're doing a little set tonight." Marcus explained. 

"Oh nice, I haven't heard you guys for ages." You brought yourself back down to earth. 

"You could," he cooked his head with a wink, "y'know… join us?"

"No way, I'm not remotely prepared, I haven't sang live for weeks. I don't even remember half the words to your stuff!"

"Thanks mate."

"You know what I mean, It's too much pressure."

"As opposed to every other time you perform. Go onnn! It'll be fun!"

"For who?!" You try to counter, but he's winning you over. It really had been quite a few weeks since you'd last performed to an audience and you were feeling the pull. There was also that intoxicating way Jason had looked at you - the urge to do something unexpected and surprise him was pretty strong. "OK, say I said yes, who would we be pissing off - apart from my entire management team?"

"Nah, no one. No one even needs to know, we'll just tell the floor manager to get an extra mic set up and everyone else will be none the wiser. It'll be a good surprise for Tom and Jason to hear you properly live with a band." Yeah… you couldn't argue with that. 

"OK, OK, let's do it." He whooped and the three of you started moving a little quicker to the doors. You passed by a handful of the cast still having photos taken, a couple of them recognised you and a buzz went up from the photography area. You hesitated before stopping for some pictures, it was a premiere after all and you had dressed up for it in a dress which was the visual representation of exuding confidence. Confidence which you were absolutely winging at the moment in an ultimate ‘fake it til you make it’ strategy.

"How come you're here tonight?" One of the photographers shouted, “What do you think of your ex’s new girl?”

"Just a fan of the show." You smiled and posed, ignoring the second question. Once inside, Carey waved you off with a grin while you went backstage with Marcus.

~~~~~~~

"So we're doing the theme song - you don't have to do that - then in between the two episodes we're doing 2 or 3 songs while everyone has a break, then I think we'll do one after the screening as well. Happy with that?" You nod, "I'll come back to watch the first episode so you come back with me just before that ends. I'll go out as planned, introduce you and you can join us. Bit of backing, bit of melody. It doesn't matter if you really have forgotten all the words." You thank him gratefully. Back with Carey, you cheer for Marcus as he performs the theme song. At the other end of the same row, you can't help but steal a glance at Jason. He looked across to you just as your attention was drawn back to the stage. You managed to sneak out just before the end of the episode to wait for Marcus to introduce you. As expected, with only a few people knowing that you were there and no one at all expecting you to join the band on stage, the screening audience went crazy when you were introduced. 

"Hey everyone, thanks for letting me crash the party. Hope you're playing something I remember, Marmar." You tease lightly. He puts a hand to his heart, 

"Some of you may have seen us in the early 2010s on tour with my good friend here. You might remember that she used to join us for a banging version of Lover of the Light?" He looked to you for confirmation that you remembered enough to get by, and then you brought the fucking house down. With the first couple of songs under your belt, you were much more relaxed watching the second episode. It had been such a rush performing live on a total whim, it had been years since you'd done something so reckless and unpredictable regarding your music. Your phone was already blowing up in your bag with Twitter notifications - your management team would have a field day again, you still weren't exactly in the good books. Marcus had saved your favourite of his songs for last - I Will Wait. Similarly to Lover of the Light, the pair of you used to do a storming version together many, many years ago and you loved it so much that you'd recorded an acoustic version for one of your albums and you had been known to wheel it out during live shows as well. It wasn't until you were back up on the stage though that Marcus pretty much reduced his own role to backing singer and had gently nudged you to front the band. It was a damn good job you'd known them all for the better part of 15 years. Your unrehearsed, pared down version was a winner. You kept your eyes in the general direction of Carey and didn't let them stray to the opposite end of the row until the very end when you couldn't resist stealing a look at Jason any longer. He looked happy - fortunately - really happy, and you could feel your stomach tighten at the vaguely familiar notion of genuine attraction to someone. With the impromptu mini gig over, you had a quick 5 minutes with the band before heading off with the intention of finding a bar and a very alcoholic drink prior to catching up with Jason and Tom. Dutch courage was very much on the agenda. You ordered a whiskey and watched from the bar as the cast and creative team started making their way in, stopping every few seconds to be welcomed and congratulated by guests, media and family. You'd gotten talking to a couple of the writers who'd recognised you. 

"I was at your last gig in New York, it was so much fun!"

"I love shows in New York," You grinned, "I get to sleep in my own bed for a change!" 

"Ugh hotel beds are a menace. I either sleep like the dead or not at all."

"Tell me about it, buses are the worst though - be so glad you don't have to sleep on a bus! I did a week of shows in the UK last year and we were so tight on time that I'd finish a gig, go to sleep on the bus and wake up in a new city. I don't even think we bothered with hotel rooms, just drove through the night." You grimaced. Your back still hadn't forgiven you for that, and your tour manager was under strict instructions to avoid that debacle for future shows.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, congrats guys!" Jason reached in to say hello to his writing team first.

"You too boss! Have you guys met?" They gestured to you, "I had no idea Marcus was going to bring her, did you?" 

"I did know. Thanks for coming." Jason finally turned to you with a smile that made you forget your own name. 

"Thanks for the invite. And sorry for the surprise set. It was Marcus's idea." You looked up while the writers filtered away to see other people, leaving the two of you alone. You took a long drink, buying you time to compose yourself because holy shit he looked so good. You wondered if it would be better to hold the meeting at separate ends of the room and communicate via smoke signals to save your blushes.

"Oh no, I loved it! Instant validation for the request I sent to Tom and Marcus, as if hearing you in the studio wasn't enough. You sounded amazing." You wave the compliment away,

"I'm way under rehearsed, I'm still under strict instructions to lay low for a while so I haven't been in front of a big audience for ages."

"It didn't show, really, you were great. Better than Marcus."

"Stop, he'll never forgive me!" You nudged him, laughing. 

"Can we sit?" You nod and his hand brushes the small of your back, guiding you to a booth. It’s warm through the thin fabric of your dress and you could curse when your treacherous body shivers in response. 

"Congrats on tonight, it looks like it's been a huge success."

"Ahh we'll see, it's a long way to go till the end of May. How's your week been?"

"Pretty good thanks, a few meetings. Plenty of writing."

"Anything you'd like to share?" He asked curiously. 

"Not just yet,” you tease lightly, “give it another day or so and maybe. Also it might be wildly different to what Tom's expecting so I don't want to get in trouble."

“You don’t strike me as a troublemaker.”

“I’m on my best behaviour. Unfortunately. One more bad headline and-” you draw your finger across your throat.

“No way? Those headlines are not your fault - you defended yourself.”

“Hmm but there are a lot of people out there who don’t believe that I’m defending myself. They believe that I’m the problem.” He looks at your hand resting on the table near his and you think he’s about to take it, but he moves his own away at the last second. “So… troublemaker, that’s me.” You smile ruefully. 

“Well I think I’ll reserve judgment.” He does move his hand then, but not to take yours, instead it goes around you to rest on your hip furthest from him, the action sliding you across the seat a few inches closer to him. He holds your gaze, an unspoken request for permission/forgiveness. You can’t help but feel a little unsure, automatically defensive. You’d spent three years being belittled, gaslit, shamed and manipulated in every aspect of your personal life, and now you were trying to recover from that whilst simultaneously trying to prove that those things were really happening to you and that you’re not a cold, calculating and manipulative bitch. You had no idea who you could really trust, who was supporting you or who was in the pocket of your ex. It was draining trying to mentally vet every reaction, conversation and person before letting your guard down. Something in his warm eyes lets you think you can trust him though, so you lean into that and into his hand just a little. Your eyes flash down to his mouth and back again and you hope you were quick enough that he didn't notice because you hadn't meant to do it. Well, not exactly. Your time alone is cut short though when Tom comes over with more drinks. 

"So that was unexpected." He said, handing you a glass. "Brilliant, but unexpected." Jason moves his hand from behind you to take his drink from Tom. 

"Told you." 

"Hush, you. Thank you, Tom. I caved to peer pressure. Marcus bullied me into it."

"I should get him a drink then." You unlock your phone and slide it across the table, the notes app open. As it passes him, Jason tries to sneak a look but Tom grabs up the phone and reads. "Keep going, you're nearly there." He advises firmly. "Though I want to hear it, I'm in meetings all day tomorrow but record a quick voice note, give me an idea of pace and melody and I’ll think on it." 

"Can you send it to me too?" Jason asked. 

"Nope." You reply with a smirk, for a moment he looks confused. "I don't have your number. But also, I’m not about to send you a half arsed voice note just yet." You shrug. He's about to reply when a few people start milling around looking like they need him. He excuses himself and you and Tom compare some notes on the start you’ve made to the song. He next finds you back at the same table catching up with Carey.

“-I’m just saying I would pay good money to see you recreate that Tom Holland Lip Sync Battle rain dance!” Carey giggled.

“Oh god, I’d fall over and break something! Besides, I’m not built for dancing - especially not dirty rain dancing!” You reply gleefully, the giggles getting the better of you both.

“Who’s doing dirty rain dancing?” Jason grins, handing both of you a drink, “Saw you both from the bar.”

“Ahh I’ll never convince her. Maybe Marcus will do it instead.” She takes a sip of her drink, “I’m going to be so hungover on the school run tomorrow.”

“Same.” he agrees.

“I’ll come with you, I want to see the kiddos and I’ll bring the biggest coffees I can find.”

“Thanks, love. If I’m already going to be hungover I might as well finish this drink as well! Thanks Jason, and congratulations!” As the party slows and people drift off, including Tom, you talk Carey into staying for another drink, not quite willing to leave Jason’s company just yet. He’s been sitting next to you again, not so close that it would make Carey uncomfortable or would seem rude. Close enough that when he talks with his hands they brush against your arm or hand. When they’re finally still and he puts them on the seat between you both, his fingertips can catch against yours or (very bravely) ghost over the hem of your dress. Meanwhile, you’re trying to look casual, trying to act unruffled but there’s a marching band inside your body banging your heart like a bloody big drum and it might as well be bursting out of your chest like a cartoon. When Carey gets up to track down Marcus so you can share an Uber with them, he turns on the seat to face you. 

“Can I give you my number?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “For the voice note you're going to send me,” he teases.

“I’m not sending you the bloody song over WhatsApp. Tom can show you whatever he chooses, but you’ll get nothing from me until I say so.”

“Nothing at all huh?” He moves closer on the seat. You smile shyly,

“I’d strongly advise against whatever it is you think you’d like to do right now.”

“There’s a lot that I’d like to do, you might need to be more specific?” You shake your head in exasperation.

“My life is a fucking mess.”

“So is mine.”

“So you wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

“I really think I might actually want to. Might make it better.”

“The paps are-”

“Intense, rude, intrusive?”

“My ex-”

“Is a dick.” 

“Can we be serious for one minute? One minute. I don’t want you to drag you into this shitshow, my name is mud everywhere at the moment - I might as well be public enemy number one. No matter how… brief this might end up being, it’s still not fair on you, or your family, that you get associated with it all.”

“I don’t need to be, we don’t have to broadcast it.”

“I’m pretty sure they know my diary better than I do.” You counter, then pause, taking in the hat, the custom made tracksuit, the dimples. “But… I can avoid them most of the time. I try to… protect myself.”

“We could try that? Because I’d really like to kiss you before Carey gets back and you have to leave.” You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at that. The hint of a smile is enough for him to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips making you hum happily. “Wanna come to a basketball game?”

“And sit about 10 seats away from you pretending I’m not checking you out?”

“Amazing coincidence, that’s exactly what I’d be doing too.”

“I’d love to. Especially the checking you out part.” You grin. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Marcus and Carey coming back for you. “Looks like my time is up.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and opens the screen before handing it to you to add your number.

~~~~~~~~

Over the next couple of days, the tabloids seemed to wake up to your arrival in L.A, though they did at least leave you alone and keep their distance. A handful of pictures cropped up on Twitter and Instagram - you holding hands with one of Marcus and Carey’s kids, giving them a piggyback after school, some of you from the Ted Lasso premiere and one of you collecting takeout the evening after the premiere. You knew there would be photographers at the basketball game you were attending so you’d planned to go with an old friend. Despite Jason being the one to ask you to go, you knew that you’d be unlikely to even be able to say more than hello to him with so many eyes around. You sat one row back from the courtside and about 10-15 seats further along the row than Jason sat with his castmates and son. He’d sent you a message before you’d even pulled up at your apartment after the premiere, you’d replied of course and the message pingpong had been pretty regular in the run up to the game. He’d seen you arrive, he’d been loitering at the edge of the court talking while the seats began to fill up. You’d smiled and held your beer up in greeting.

You look great, I’m glad you came

Thanks, you too. This doesn’t count as a first date though.

That’s fair, I’ve got to get O home after this, but we could hang out later in the week?

Sounds good, enjoy the game

After the game, someone had pushed a ball into his hands while people were milling around the court. He’d been laughing and joking with Toheeb and Kola and you’d been perfectly happy just watching him have a good time. He took his cap off and turned it around on his head so he could better line up his shot. You had been halfway through a conversation but god fucking damn your jaw near hit the floor when he bounced a little and the ball had travelled near half the length of the court and straight into the basket. Someone had been filming it and Kola had excitedly told him to tell the camera that it had been one take. By this point, you’d long given up on talking with your friend and she watched in amusement while your words had trailed off. She followed your gaze to the scenes on the court.

“That’s emmm… that’s pretty hot.”

“I’m not usually a men doing sports type of person. In that it normally doesn’t affect me in any kind of way.”

“How you feeling now?”

“Pretty fucking affected. Jesus.” You reached for your phone while the image and the thoughts were still fresh in your mind - though there was no doubt that the visual would be there for a very long time to come. 

That was insane. I truly hope you know how hot that was because I… I’m speechless.

With the rest of the court clearing out, you took your empty beer glasses and took one last look at Jason. He spotted you so you gave a quick glance around for potential photographers before very obviously fanning yourself with your hand. He laughed and winked.

~~~~~~~~~

[writingattemptsxx]

you should write some fluff of one of your favs x reader

Satan x MC

Just Needing Comfort.

Satan and MC in the human realm come across a Karen who says he and Lucifer are the same.

—

I just had a cute idea with Satan and wanted to write because Satan is amazing.

I probably should have posted this near Halloween, but I thought it was cute, also not really “x reader”, more “x MC”.

Also also, they/them is used for MC.

—

He was trying. Oh, he was trying so hard to keep his anger under control, but this human seemed to be intentionally trying to piss him off. Satan just wanted a nice trip to the human realm with MC, and it was nice for a while.

He and MC were just shopping around in late October. The fall weather was wonderful and humans were getting ready for a holiday, Halloween. The decor was nice. It ranged from cutesy to actually scary, but usually somewhere in between. There were even a lot of songs playing to keep the mood.

When they turned a corner they noticed a lady on the other side of the street. She was yelling at someone while gesturing at a bunch of decorations. With how loud the music was, they only heard here once they got closer, and oh does Satan wish he didn't.

She was yelling about how all of the decorations were “satanic” and “supporting Satan”. Satan couldn't help but chuckle to himself. A holiday all about him would be nice. It wasn't until later in her rant she started mixing his name and Lucifer. How dare she! Lucifer and him are completely different! How could she not know?!

He stopped in his tracks. If he tried to move a muscle, he would stomp over and smack that lady. MC was trying to push him further and away from that lady, but no human of any strength could move a demon locked in place. He was the Avatar of Wrath, and this lady was ranting on about an exact trigger for his anger.

In her rant, she pulled out a cross and shoved it into the face of the poor person she was shouting at. She then shouted something else. Putting the last nail in the coffin of Satan’s rage. “God! Please help this man! He has been taken by evil! The evil of many names, The Devil, Satan, Lucifer, and many others! I pray you save this man and exorcise the evil!” This lady absolutely does think he and Lucifer are one and the same! Satan might as well strike this woman, after all, Lucifer is super-powerful, so if he is Lucifer, why not this lady see that power? Did it make much sense, no, but Satan wasn't in his right mind.

He was about to stomp over to her when he felt something cling to his waist. Two arms wrapped around him.

“Satan, let's go back to our hotel room for now. We can go from there.” Usually, MC had a different name for him while in the human world. No human would want to hear or see another respond to ‘Satan’. For them to use his actual name is like pleading to him. A plea to go to the hotel and just be with them.

It took him what felt like hours of fighting with himself, but MC gave him a small squeeze to bring him back to reality. Another plea. He snatched their hand and stomped all the way back to their hotel. He fell onto the bed pulling MC with him and into a cuddle. He was still seething but as they started rubbing his back and cuddling closer, it started to chip away.

“Which demon is the one who has a room covered floor-to-ceiling with books? Not anyone but you. Which demon has stunning blonde hair and beautiful green eyes? Not anyone but you. Which demon can't resist a puzzle or any new information to learn? Not anyone but you.”

Satan couldn't respond. His anger was still clawing at him, but their words made him feel as if he was going to cry. All he could do was cuddle closer.

“You aren't Lucifer. Everyone will have similarities to someone else. Mammon and Asmo can't resist parties. Levi and Belphie will always prefer quiet places to be alone. I can't say you two have nothing similar, I can't lie to you, but just as Mammon and Asmo are different, and just as Levi and Belphie are different, you and Luci are different.”

These words were it. His tears fell and fell. He clung to MC, and they cuddled him back. Giving him kisses and the love he so desperately needed right now.

“You don't need to distance yourself from Lucifer to be your own demon. I will love you for you.”

[thap1nkblog]

     ❝ CAUSE LORD, I WANNA

           𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘! ❞

  a negative⋆azure exclusive

❝ in which a well established a list musician finds himself facing the music after a reckless night out that lands him in the wrong place at the wrong time - resulting in him being at the center of a murder investigation. ❞ 

✰ 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂:

“oh is that murda? turn this shit up!”

[18+] this story contains mature language, and sexual situations and suggestive themes. as well as mentions and depictions of violence, abuse, and substance use.

✰ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆:

with his name in lights, sold out concerts, and billboard 100 charting rap songs, a list rapper and full time “bad boy” jamari gardner - known widely by his stage name, murda, has lived a life that is filled with money, drugs, and everything his heart could’ve ever wanted. or so he thought. 

after his latest string of crash out, piss poor behavior that has his name circulating more often than not for his publicity stunts for attention rather than his music - jamari’s image to the public is a stark contrast of what the people closest to him know him to be. 

with his face plastered all over tmz, lipstickalley, and other gossip blogs at the center of a wrong place, wrong time situation that has his name involved in a murder case, his record label had no choice but to issue him an ultimatum - 

either straighten up his act, or pay back the advance given on his contract. 

shipped back to the his hometown of woodbury, georgia by his team with the idea in mind of doing a complete detox while they handle the pr massacre left behind in atlanta, being back in his old stomping grounds has jamari facing the lights of what his fame and fortune really mean to him, and if it’s even worth it at all in the end. 

and as he rebuilds connections he thought he lost - like with one woman in particular - karma everett, a little detox from the noise and energy associated with his career could be just what he needed. 

               ❝ 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 ❞

j alphonse nicholson as 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈 ❝𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀❞ 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐑

shannon thornton as 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓

✰ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

❝ what? his album is coming out so soon?! ❞

         𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 ✰ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱 

        𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛 ✰ 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒: like you’ll never see me again, alicia keys

✰ 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂:

“i know you heard me - i said turn that shit the fuck up!”

the interlude, ❝𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫❞ 

the key signature, ❝𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬❞ 

track i, ❝𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝❞

track ii, ❝𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲❞ 

                         ❝ and that’s 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀 to you, pussy! ❞

  ❝ 𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘 ❞ is a negative-azure original, inspired loosely by the world/events of p-valley. i don’t own any of “murda’s” songs, and i give full credit to p-valley for their beautiful show and characters. (patiently impatiently waiting for season three)

i hope you all enjoy. 

[glassshard]

Blue Eye Samurai ending spoilers>>

I stayed up way too late finishing off the show and I'm glad I did! I've never seen a better written animated series. It's kind of a unicorn. Creator-driven series written for adults that isn't some poor hireling desperately trying to express something meaningful through a corporate IP. No shade on all the earnest animated video game and capeshit out there, but- well yeah. Maybe a little shade. Fanfiction is always easier.

BES also wasn't just an occasionally edgy YA show like ATLA or Korra (or the Spiderverse stuff, sorry) or style over substance like the old MTV series. The creators had an idea, and they sweat blood to make it happen. Kudos to Netflix for letting them do their thing.

That ending though, man. I get wanting to subvert what everyone was expecting. And I trust these writers to know what they're doing. When someone gives you eight hours of badassery, you give them the benefit of the doubt. But it's bad feels not getting the catharsis of the Big Bad's demise at the end. The show does a fantastic job of making you despise Fowler. He's not a grey villain, he's friggin' Satan. And you don't get to see him drown in his own blood after all that struggle! It's rough!

What's even a little more alarming though is the reality of Mizu leaving all the cool characters and hanging relationships she's spent the whole series building up. And why? To go to London?? That's weird! London is gross! I don't like the idea of leaving the rest of the cast behind! I hope the writers have some kind of awesome idea for English shenanigans to make up for losing them. Will the story bounce back to Japan to see what Akemi's doing and how Taigen deals with the rejection? I care at least as much about them as about Mizu. Ringo's probably safe making kitchen knives tho.

Leaving so much unresolved is tough stuff. It'll be years before a second season comes out - and maybe it never will. If that happens, I'm going to be pissed that they structured their story this way. But if it does happen and it's worth the wait, then I admire the bravery.

I just got three criticisms that caught my eye: The Fowler fight was way too similar to the giant fight. What I would have loved to see was Fowler with an arsenal of hidden guns and him and Mizu fighting each other through the burning building as she slowly whittled down his fire power before ultimately savaging him. Any time you pit Mizu hand to hand against anyone with such obviously massive physical strength, you're shattering the illusion. Even if she was a dude, she's a dex build. I'm still not clear on what she bit off Fowler's face to escape that hold. It wasn't his nose or tongue? Clarity there would have been nice and felt good.

Seki's death was flagged so hard it almost ruined the impact for me because then I was just looking for it to happen. RIP Seki, he was such a cool character.

The licensed tracks were always distracting. No anachronistic music in a period piece!

[lfc21]

Calling your boyfriend the wrong name.

TW: fluff, swearing

Prompt list: Tik Tok

Summary: Jordan could only bare to hear you speak the sound of his own name so the sound of his teammates name sent a cold feeling through his body. You couldn't help but play with the fire of your protective husband.

You could have admired your husband like this until the earth stopped turning and the sun stopped shining. His eyes twinkled in rhythm to the dancing candle lights dotted across the table. His red tie delicately sat on his large chest creating a river of red for your eyes to follow. Your hands were locked with his, and the feeling of his fingers running over your knuckles gave you such a soft and gentle atmosphere around you.

"You look beautiful tonight" Jordan explained over the loud music and constant chitter chatter of first dates and wild birthday parties. It was rare that you and Jordan could enjoy date night with one another, just you and him, with no screaming kids or chatty teammates to interrupt you both.

"Thank you, darling" You softly replied with as you didn't let your gaze fall from him. As Jordan went on about a whole completely different subject your mind went wondering, You felt in the mood to play with fire, you loved the perfect and romantic side of Jordan but you also loved the fun and amusing side of Jordan and the one thing you could think off was calling him by the wrong name. Jordan was protective, jealous and more or less your number one person and any budging of those positions made him break out into a sweat and fight for breath.

"Babe, are you listening to me?" Jordan asked in wonder not understanding what your lost and confused expression was for. You quickly snapped your eyes towards him and came back into the present moment, hoping for your plan to work.

"hm yeah sorry Andy go on" You quickly said as if every word simply rolled off your tongue. You casually looked at him as if everything was fine. His eyes went wide at your words.

"Sorry say again" He quickly snapped wanting every word to go back through his ears again. He quickly let go of your hand not understanding what exactly was going on.

"I erm I don't know why I said that," You said trying to bargain your words to the poor midfielder sitting hoping for an answer.

"Well easy mistake because you're always on a date with Andy Robertson" He sarcastically barked back with a roll of his eyes as he sat back further into his chair. You looked at him as if you were trying to think of the words which could save yourself.

"Honestly I don't know where that came from" You softly spoke trying to pick his hand back up but was greeted by his sudden movements as he tugged his hands into his body.

"Your mouth" He mumbled with a tone of attitude laced with every word. You rolled your eyes trying to act at least pissed off towards him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and you realised just how much you had angered your husband. He was like a moody teenager.

"Jordan there's no need to be like that" you explained with a soft tone as you looked into his eyes. He looked right through you as if there were words coming from your mouth but had little meaning. He went to let words out before being stopped by a waiter flying past your table.

"Scuse me can I have the bill please," Jordan asked as the waiter stood in his tracks and complied with his ask. Your eyes went wide. This was not the reaction you were looking for.

"Wait no! He doesn't want the bill" you quickly explained waving him off to speak to your husband and tell him the truth.

"I do!" He snapped back causing the man to look back at him with wondering eyes as he reached for the card machine.

"You don't!" You barked back with stern eyes. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, he couldn't work out what you were doing.

"Look I'm going to give you both five minutes and come back" the waiter explained with a soft yet nervous smile before wandering off to the back of the restaurant.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He asked pulling the napkin off his lap and pushing it onto the table with quite some force.

"I didn't say Andy by accident. I did it on purpose" you admitted trapping his large hand under his whilst trying to reason with him.

"How does that make it better?" He asked with genuine wonder as his eyebrows furrowed and his voice became soft.

"I did it as a prank, I saw it on tik tok" you explained with a small smile as you saw the weight lift from his shoulders.

"So you don't have something going on with Andy?" He asked wanting certainty in his mind.

"Ew no of course not!" You practically screamed with a disgusted face at the idea of being with anyone but your perfect husband. He gave you his signature smile and shook his head knowing he should have expected a prank like this coming his way.

"I hate you" he mumbled kissing your hand and looking up at your face through his lashes. At that moment you could have fallen off your chair and begged for his touch there and then.

"I love you" you spoke back with every word filled with love. You knew he would forgive you, he couldn't stay mad at his soul mate for too long.

Hey guys 👋🏻 I am not 100% sure on this imagine 😬 please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated 🥰 thank you for the support ❤️ masterlist 2022 💌 masterlist 2023 💌 tik tok prompt list ❤️

@prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Vir2ual Drum <N> Bass 2000 Drum n Bass / Jungle

Was really getting all set to write this double-disc off as maybe the single-worst drum n bass and jungle compilation that I've ever heard in my entire life, but things thankfully shifted with the second CD of this 2000 release from the UK's Rumour Records, which gathered together a bunch of tunes from the 90s from a variety of different labels, and then slapped some pretty sweet album art on it too.

Why Rumour even chose to make this a two-disc set in the first place is a mystery unto itself, because the first CD is so excruciatingly piss-poor and mailed-in in comparison, with tracks that are so linearly boring, thin, and stagnant; but disc 2 has some heaters, so let's get into a couple of those...

First up, UK dnb/jungle legend Aphrodite's remix of duo Area 39's "Sparkling." As far as atmospheric dnb stuff goes, this is by far the album's dopest offering. While the literal drum and bass parts on it are good, it's all the majestic synth work that surrounds it that really makes the tune whole. Lovely icy strings are eventually complemented by more prominent, cheerily stabbing melodies that make you feel like you're aimlessly wandering around in an RPG that's set in space or something 😊.

My number one favorite song on here, though, is the one that comes from the usually much more overlooked predecessor genre to both dnb and jungle, which is breakbeat hardcore. I haven't plumbed the depths of this genre nearly as much as I should, but here we have a remix of a tune by Citadel of Kaos called "Earthquake." Funnily enough, I was trying to track down where this song originated from, and it looks like while the original version of "Earthquake" appeared on a Citadel of Kaos 12-inch called Pt. V in 1993, the remix of it went unreleased until 1997, when it very quietly appeared on a comp that actually contains many of the same tracks that this Vir2ual Drum <N> Bass comp does too, called Mad On Drum & Bass Volume One, which was released by a very small and briefly extant label called Life On Mars. And that comp doesn't list "Earthquake" as a remix, but given both how similar these two releases are, and that the track lengths for "Earthquake" and "Earthquake (Remix)" are the same, which is a minute longer than the original version that's listed on Citadel of Kaos' own Pt. V, I'm inclined to believe that that unreleased remix finally saw the light of day in '97 on Mad On Drum & Bass Volume One, rather than on this comp in 2000, even though it's not actually listed as a remix on the former.

But anyway, let's get back on track here, because this "Earthquake (Remix)" represents so much of what I love about the breakbeat hardcore genre that didn't get entirely left behind, but still didn't feature nearly as much in the successor genres of both jungle and drum n bass. While the barer-bones first half of this tune is appetizingly heady and dope, as it deconstructs to purely hypnotic rhythm and percussion before the breakdown, it's the sublimity that follows that breakdown that really hits, when CoK bring in some emotively breathy pads and re-lay unfolding combos of drum breaks over them, as a pitched up-and-sampled female vocal loops up to provide some more structure too.

You can derive blissful feelings from jungle when breaks combine and yield atom-splitting chaos, and you can derive bliss from dnb in other, more expansive ways as well; but when it comes to the more punctuated and raw, analogue flavor of breakbeat hardcore, there is a different, sometimes higher level of euphoria that can be attained with this music in particular, and while each of its parts, like the drum breaks and the pitched-up vocal samples, play their own integral roles, you usually can't beat the pads that get purposely deployed on these tunes in order to induce a natural feeling of warmth and comfort. Breakbeat hardcore would end up branching off in different directions, including both jungle and drum n bass, but the much more typically ravey genre of happy hardcore would take its synth stylings and those pitched-up vocals and then combine them with cartoonishly bouncy and pummeling, high-BPM four-on-the-floor drums that I usually can't find a way to stomach myself 😵.

So what I'm basically saying here is that we need to get back to the basics and immediately enter our breakbeat hardcore revival era right at this very moment. It's great to see people appreciating jungle again, with breakcore becoming a big, new thing in recent years, but we actually need to go back just a little bit further than that and bring those raw and flooding synth pads back into the mix too, because I swear to you that breakbeat-based dance music excels like no other when those pads get utilized 😌. It's a formula that was cracked very early on, and people really need to be cracking it once again—without going down another utterly insane happy hardcore route—because folks really don't know what they've missed and what they're currently missing too.

Highlights:

CD2:

A Sides - "Into Existance" Area 39 - "Twisted Brain (Area 78 Mix)" Area 39 - "Sparkling (Aphrodite Remix)" Bust Ad - "Attack" Citadel of Kaos - "Earthquake (Remix)" Citadel of Kaos - "Jacobs Ladder (The 1st Chapter)"

[saturnite0614]

Had a fun idea for a quick one shot where unbeknownst to both Soap and Ghost, they meet each other for the first time on a bus. It is really short but it will still be up on ao3 for easier viewing. Notes on the imagined timeline will be at the bottom.

John MacTavish stumbles out of his third pub of the night with his two mates and girlfriend. They're celebrating. John, successfully enlisted and just finished school. Of course they had to celebrate. After John finished up at Credenhill, he could die in an instant. Margaret, his girlfriend, had sobbed at the thought. Now, she cheers along with John, David, and Archie, too pissed to think about anything other than the glory and fun that John would have. They all know his plan, gunning for the SAS. It was actually in their second pub that John drunkenly admitted his plan to lie to get in as early as possible which then led to a fight as to who the youngest SAS member was at enlistment. No one thought he was foolish or prideful. At least, not with a couple beers with whiskey chasers in them. 

David leans over on his hands and knees, "I'm gonnae hurl." 

Archie slaps a hand on his back, "Really? You're gonna gives the fucking Manc that win? That shit in there was piss compared to the shit they give bairns in Scotland!" He straightens and throws both arms in the air in an elated cheer, "SCOTLAND!" Then he howls like a monkey. 

Glasgow is huge. They could have done this there. But that also means John would have had to stumble home to somebody's house and word of his…poor…behaviour would reach his parents. So they'd driven a few hours under the guise of a study trip to good ol' Manchester. Archie wouldn't let them forget where they were from though. 

A few late-night stragglers give them confused and even irritated looks, but no one actually says anything.

Margaret kisses John's cheek as she hangs off him. "I'm starving. Hankering." Her eyes light up, "Let's get some chippers! Then we can head to the hotel."

“Right, who’s paying for that then?” David takes a second to interject before doubling over again with a concerning burp.

“I’m more worried about getting a ride.” John gives his most sober thought of the night.

“We walked before.” Margaret still hangs off him.

“Bus is right there and it’s dark. Davy over there also won’t vomit if we’re riding.” The lad had the magical ability they had all dubbed, anti-car sick. He’d hurl once they got wherever they were going but he wouldn’t be wearing it. Hopefully.

He tugs on the sleeve of Maggie’s dress and guides the group towards the nearest bus in a drunken stumble. David burps again which gets them to all start laughing, definitely disturbing everyone currently on the bus. Thankfully, there weren't a lot of people currently present. They drift past them as uni students advert their gazes and older individuals carefully track the stops until they get home. There are also a few straggles like them who stand in solitude, reeking of booze. 

David drops down on one of the seats towards the back, far from everyone else. The rest join, quickly filling the small space. It puts John leg to leg with a fucking beast of a guy trying his best to slump in his seat, his head dropping low and arms on his knees as he clutches a beat-up cassette player. He doesn’t nod along to the music playing. At John’s contact, he squeezes his impressively muscled legs together and pulls the sleeve of his dark jacket over pale hands. John is ready to write him off as another uni student until another cursory glance reveals to him the standard issue military duffle bag sitting at his feet. John just sees the edge of a patch but wouldn’t be able to see the name without leaning over, quite obviously. The guy is military. John would chalk it up to just personal interest in the aesthetic but with his straight back, bulk, and seemingly religiously cropped hair, he had to be. His size and the scar on his lip says he has seen combat but he just looks…so young. Older than John, definitely, but not an old grizzled general.

He catches John staring, tilting his head towards John. And maybe it’s the drunken stupor or the passing lamplight, but his eyes are the prettiest ones he has ever seen. Perfect brown circles like the rich coat of a hunting dog. Their gaze is just as sharp but they’re set in such soft lidded eyes. The stranger flattens his lips and gives John a nod.

It’s a sign as any but something pulls John towards him, keeping his back tilted away from Margaret. He’d feel bad if she was paying him any attention instead of guiding herself through breathing exercises to not hurl.

“Hey.” He says, loud enough to be heard over his flimsy headphones. The small twitch of his eyes tells him he’s heard him, even if he doesn’t answer. The military is large. Chances are, he would never run into this guy again. Hell, he’d likely never see his cousin during work and he’d gotten him interested in the first place. It’s probably why he’s not embarrassed to hold his hand out to him. “ ‘M John.”

He can’t ignore him now that he’s loudly extended the invitation of conversation. He pockets the cassette player and shrugs the headphones off, “Simon.” His grip is cold but strong. Some reason, it warms him.

“You military?”

Simon’s jaw drops a little, like he’s stammering, then he clamps it shut. He tries again, “Yeah.”

“I just got accepted.” 

Simon drops his gaze to his feet. He doesn’t offer him congratulations or anything of the sort.

“You heading out or just coming in?” He’s not in uniform. At least, not that John can see. His pants are basic black cargos and he can’t see his shirt under a normal worn-down jacket.

“Coming in.”

“Which part is harder?” The closer he gets to finally leaving, the more his excitement turns into something more bitter. He hopes it will go away.

“It depends on what you’re coming home to.” He rubs his lips, scrubbing hard until they’re raw. He leans back and finally turns his head towards John, “You want a tip?”

John nods.

“Get your shit together before you leave.”

The bus begins to slow and before it can even stop, Simon swipes of his bag off the ground and stands.

“Is that what you’re doing? Getting your shit together?” 

Simon hangs off a ceiling strap and now at his full height, John can fully see the strength in him. It isn’t even because of his muscles. He could be the smallest person imaginable and he’d still see him in the same light. He trusts him even though he will never see him again. Lucky guys to be under him.

“Honestly? I don’t think I can. Enjoy the rest of your night, Johnny.” John unashamedly watches him step towards the front of the bus, swaying as it stops.

John stands, “Hope I see you then, sir.” He salutes him, back as straight as he can make it. He knows he looks like a mess, nothing worthy of being a soldier, with swept dark hair brushing his hair and neck, glued to his face in drunk sweat. His eyes are most definitely glassy and his hands shake. But still he tries. 

Simon smiles and salutes him back.

Then he’s gone, stepping off the bus onto a dark street with broken lamplights.

To me this would take place when Simon takes a leave of absence to help his family and throw out his dad. I'm not putting any concrete ages because figuring that out might age me considerably. It doesn't matter if any of it makes any sense. I don't care.

[jentlemahae]

there’s something to be said about giving music releases the space to breathe. i literally just had to google how many nct releases we got this year bcs just as you pointed out they kind of got lost bcs they were all back to back. for nct this year we got 4 full albums, 2 minis (taeyong and djj), baggy jeans, multiple osts, nct labs, jpn release(s?) and the new team. that doesn’t include all the other work they’ve done in between, eg tours, award shows, variety content, photoshoots, events etc etc etc. we got plenty of nct stuff this year. nobody has the right to complain about the “lack of” schedules

that being said, if you do give the music space to breathe the project needs to at least have enough tracks and be promoted well. born pink should have been 10-12 songs and there needed to be a couple months between album release and the start of tour so they could actually promote it well AND be able to prepare for tour sufficiently. imo the gaps between hylt, ice cream and lsg AND the show worked pretty perfectly, and they should have done something similar for pv, sd and the born pink tour

i feel like in both of these cases (which are two opposite extremes tbh) both come down to poor time management and organization

yep!!!! nct and bp are literally two sides of the same coin because they both have piss poor management and organization from their company but one makes them do too much and the other makes them do too little. and both sides hurt the artists themselves and keep them from achieving the success they could truly have if things were done well behind the scenes :] bp would flourish if they had more music and better promo, and nct would thrive too if fans had actually time to sit with and appreciate the music they release to the fullest and if members had the time to leave their own mark (and also if members actually had time to properly heal from injuries instead of being forced to go back to work). sm and yg are polar opposites in the same mismanagement spectrum

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #23:

Carole King's Writer

Thrift store dollar bins were packed with copies of Tapestry 30 years ago. Battered copies were straight up ubiquitous, and I blamed the crazy cat lady on cover for taking up space in the bin that I felt should have been given over to all the Lou Reed records I did not yet own. I didn't want Tapestry, or Herb Albert's whipped cream covered lady or that terrifying record with my bearded cousin naked in the arms of Barbara Streisand. I wanted a goddamn copy of The Bells.

I wasn't the only person pissed at poor Carole King. Soon after helping Joni, Aretha and Linda tear down patriarchy's first wall King became terribly unpopular. It took Lauren Graham plopping into bed beside her TV daughter for the public to welcome King back into their ears.

Good luck getting King's rewritten-for-the-show ode to parental dedication out of your head in the next 24 hours.

But why did King spend the 20+ years before Lorelai as a Dollar Bin villain? Why did Emmylou and Joni get 90's reboots while King got squat? Sure, as the 70's unfurled, King's records faded from transcendent to dull, but let's not kid ourselves: simply put, King was a gangly songwriting genius with a slightly nasal singing voice, and that still only works for people with dicks.

King was so unpopular in the 80's that her biggest credit that decade is the theme song to the Care Bears Movie. Brace yourselves.

Happily, King eventually escaped from these terrifyingly plush beasts, got a well deserved medal from Obama and grudgingly allowed Lane to play the drums, so don't expect to find a copy of Tapestry in any Dollar Bin these days.

But every other one of King's records is easily and cheaply available, and there's a whole lot to appreciate about King other than Tapestry. The very best place to start is with her first solo record, Writer.

Common misconceptions about King are a) that she and her lyricists stuck to dull, G-Rated topics (like caring-a-lot) and b) that she could not rock. Tapestry lives up to its hallowed status, but it also reinforces these tropes: the only vaguely PG lyrics on Tapestry involve Slapwater Jack's shotgun, and the album contains zero feedback.

But drop the needle on Side 1 of Writer: the first track, Spaceship Races, is wild and weird; had King's cat sat in on this recording session it would have, to quote Steinbeck, crapped a litter of lizards.

There is so much going on in this song.  Okay, the guitar riff isn't exactly J Mascis material, but the drums spur us forward, the bridge slows us down, the closing guitar/piano fade is worthy of a whole additional song and King's jubilant chorus is just what I'd want my R2 unit to spill into the X-Wing's cockpit while I kamikazed joyfully into the Death Star.

Writer also includes King's own take on one of her most covered tracks, Goin' Back. The song was made famous by the Dusty Springfield in 66 and the Byrds in 67 but everyone sings it, from Nils Lofgrin to Phil Collins. I've never heard a version I didn't like (probably because I have not listened to the version by Collins), but King's own recording, with tasteful backing vocals from her friend James Taylor, rocks, swings and sways: Carole understands her own song better than anyone else.

Goin' Back isn't the only already classic track of her own that King finally claims on this album. I wish there was a copy of the Byrd's Easy Rider theme Wasn't Born to Follow on Writer, but King's even more famous musical manual for self-reflection, Up On The Roof, stands in for it here, a lovely fade at the end of this Dollar Bin classic.

As you surely know, King had spent all of the 60's writing such songs with her husband/lyricist Gerry Goffin for other performers. Together King and Goffin let Aretha Franklin be a natural woman and invented the Locomotion.

But Writer sees King begin her pivot away from both her marriage (they divorced in 68) and the patriarchal gesture. Her friend Toni Stern (she/her) helps King write for the first time without a man in the room on this record; a partnership that would culminate a year later in one the best individual songs of King's, make that anyone's, entire career, It's Too Late, from Tapestry.

Here's to the upcoming wave of Gen Z and Gen Alpha non-male singer-songwriters. Let's hope they are a powerful group who are admired not for their cookie cutter looks, heterosexuality or voice, but instead for their genius and their shared loathing of Stephen Stills.

And let's hope they all love and respect Carole King. In other words, let's hope there are a whole more Lucy Dacus's in the pipeline. We need them!