#the least subtle award goes to

[wheeliescoot]

boxman the most relatable character cuz every shot he’s staring at venomous with these giant autistic eyes

[lovebugism]

if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?” 

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you. 

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.” 

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered. 

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

[captainfern]

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Five - Perfect •

141 x fem!reader

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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - rugby season is over, and the boys want to thank you for all your hard work lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 8.7k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, straight-up porn the slowburn has ignited baby, sharing <3 [4mx1f], unprotected piv, protected anal, oral [f!&m!receiving], m!masturbation, reader goes to paris lmao, voyeurism ig, praise, a lot of pet-names [baby, bonnie, love, sweetheart, etc], hella dirty talk, light overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spitting? cumplay? idk there's a lot of bodily fluids, price has a breeding kink and a sir kink, simon also has a breeding kink what a fucking surprise, gaz is a munch, johnny's just desperately horny, they work as a team but each get possessive in their own ways, um... that's it i think, oh strong language ofc

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part four

hi !! i am very sorry this took so long for me to write for you guys, but thank you so much for your patience and your support. i appreciate it !! and fyi, this has not been edited or anything like that. i’m posting this shit raw lmao. enjoy and thank you for reading <3

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It was two weeks after Price had asked if you were free this weekend. You were free, and you met up with the boys for dinner. It was nice, polite, and you really got to know them all a lot better. But, undeniably, the sexual tension was through the roof.

If it had been any other day, you would've gone home with them. But you didn't. You had work bright and early the next day, and you knew for a fact you wouldn't have been able to walk.

But two weeks later, it was the night of the Premiership Rugby Awards. Perfect.

The event itself was almost simply a blur. Kyle and Johnny were both commended for their work on and off the rugby field, and you beamed from your spot at the support staff table, watching them congratulate each other, dressed impeccably in ridiculously attractive suits.

Price was nominated for captain of the year, and was runner-up. Still, his team whooped and cheered for him, and you did the same. You and the other supporting staff clapped and hollered as he received a small award, standing awkwardly on stage. At least he didn't have to speak. Walking back to his table, he caught your eye and smiled, winking as the small glass trophy glinted in the light. He held it aloft for you to see, a subtle gesture that made your tummy flip. You held up a thumbs-up for him.

Then, the award of the night, Player of the Year. Simon was nominated and, hardly any surprises there, he won. You resisted the urge to spring to your feet and join the audience in the rapturous applause as he made his way on stage.

He looked out of his depth as he approached the microphone. But, hey, at least he looked really fucking good in that suit. You sipped casually at your champagne through the entire night and listened to the rich baritone of his voice as he delivered his quick, simple speech. And, towards the end–

"A huge thank you, too, to my team's support staff, and especially our physiotherapist, who should be getting award considering she keeps the lot of us intact and puts up with us on a daily basis."

The crowd laughed at that, and you smiled bashfully. Even from across the room, you could feel Simon's eyes on you. And John's. And Johnny's and Kyle's. You took another swig of your beverage, pressing your thighs together beneath the table.

Oh yeah.

Tonight was the night.

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Hours later, you and Gaz stumbled through the door of Johnny and Simon's flat together. He had his hands on your waist, his chest glued to your back and his face buried deep into the crook of your neck. You giggled as he wrapped his arms further around you, your hands resting on his forearms as he slowly began sucking a kiss onto the curve of your neck.

Although no one was drunk, you and Gaz were definitely the tipsiest. The small amount of alcohol in your system was enough to flood you full of liquid courage as you squirmed in Gaz's hold, rubbing your arse back onto his very prominent erection in his suit trousers. He groaned into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing against you, as the three others finally walked through the front door.

Johnny was the first to engage– his eyes lit up in excitement as he kicked his shoes off and hurried over to you and Gaz. You giggled again, smiling at his enthusiasm as he grasped your face in both of his hands and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss– messy with tongue and spit– and enjoyed the warmth of his hands against the side of your head. Gaz had backed himself against the wall, and he continued to suck a line of kisses over your neck as Johnny kissed you.

Simon and Price stood in the doorway, watching the way you were wedged between Johnny and Gaz. They exchanged a look, a knowing glint in their eyes, before they made their move.

Price lit up a cigar as Simon shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it into the living room and hoping it landed across the couch. He was left in his white, form-fitting dress shirt. He began rolling up the sleeves as Price exhaled a puff of smoke into the air.

Johnny was still kissing you like his life depended on it, but one of his hands had travelled south, slowly beginning to peel away the straps of your dress. They fell down your shoulders, and Gaz helped push it down your arm, all the way until your breasts spilled out the front. Johnny broke the kiss and moaned loudly, his hands immediately shooting upwards to cup you, twisting your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You whined, arching against Gaz, whose hands travelled down your stomach and pushed your dress down at the same time.

Your dress dropped, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your underwear. You heard all four boys react in different ways to the almost dramatic reveal of your body– a subtle hitch of the breath from Simon and Price, and two very desperate whimpers from Gaz and Johnny.

Wordlessly, Gaz's hands skimmed lower. They passed gently over the soft mound of your tummy, rubbing gently just above the hemline of your underwear. He was less than a second away from pushing his fingertips inside when Simon approached; a looming shadow over the three of you intwined against the wall.

Gaz looked up, his mouth still pressed hot against the bare curve of your neck and shoulder. His lips glistened with saliva, and so did your skin. Johnny looked at Simon too, his hands still cupping both of your tits.

"Not here," Simon said softly. "Come on lads, be gentleman. Let's take our girl to bed."

You whined when Johnny stepped away, the warmth on your tits vanishing with him, your nipples hardening against the cool air in the flat. Even the warmth of Gaz disappeared too– he peeled himself away from you with one last cheeky kiss to the spot just below your ear. For a brief moment, you were alone– until Simon's hands were suddenly gripping the back of your thighs and he was hoisting you into his arms.

You yelped, arms circling the broad expanse of his shoulders as he held you to his chest, your nipples catching against the buttons of his dress shirt as you squirmed against him. You squirmed for two reasons: one being because of the shock of him carrying you; and two, the fact he was happily groping the soft flesh of your thighs as he began to climb the stairs.

"S'alright, pretty girl, I've got you," Simon murmured in your ear before kissing your cheek. With impressive strength– the strength that won him Player Of The Year– he carried you effortlessly to the top of the stairs, and then carried you all the way to what was presumably his bedroom. When he entered, Gaz, Johnny and Price weren't far behind, and he settled you gently on the edge of his bed. With one hand, he gently cupped your face. "You okay, doc? S'this what you want? All of us?"

You were nodding before he even finished his sentence, looking between the men in front of you with glimmering eyes. Of course this is what you wanted. This is what you have wanted for the past several months.

"If at any point you want us to stop, jus' say rugby," Simon said, a sternness in his tone that had your cunt leaking in your underwear. "We'll stop, okay? Promise me, doc. Promise us."

"I promise," you squeaked out. "I promise."

"Good girl..." Price uttered, leaning down from next to Simon and kissing you on the forehead. He stepped away before you could pull him into a proper kiss.

Instead, you reached up and pinched your fingers around one of the buttons on Simon's shirt, beginning to unbutton it. He chuckled lowly, his hand leaving your face to grab hold of your wrist.

"Not yet, love," he said softly, his tone putting you at ease as butterflies began filling your stomach. "We've got this all planned out, okay? You'll have me soon, but Gaz n' Johnny are gonna make you feel good first. Is that okay?"

His words, searching for your consent, made you whimper. You nodded, of course, whining a yes please as Simon stepped away. Your eyes found Gaz, who was already walking towards you, and you couldn't help but giggle when he got close and slotted his mouth to yours.

Gaz kissed you deeply, his tongue breaching the seam of your lips and licking against yours as his hands came to rest on your hips. With a little force, he pushed you up the bed– still kissing you– and lay you down on your back. Your hands found his shoulders– now bare of his suit– and your fingers flexed down the smooth planes of muscle. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back and dragging his lips down the curve of your jaw, beginning to suck even more kisses to the sensitive expanse of your throat.

"Such a pretty girl, bonnie..." Johnny approached, the bed sinking to his weight as he crawled alongside you. Immediately, he slipped his hands between you and Gaz and began pawing at your tits, rolling your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Like Gaz, he had somehow stripped to his briefs between Simon putting you down onto the bed, and now. The hard imprint of his cock against his black underwear had you moaning, arching against Gaz– your clothed cunt rocking against his erection, making you moan even harder.

Johnny kissed you again as Gaz worked on peppering your entire body with kisses. He was now slapping Johnny's hands away from your tits so that he could take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around you. Johnny broke the kiss with a saliva-soaked "th'fuck?" and a light frown. Gaz looked up at him challengingly as he pressed his tongue hot to your nipple– pulling a little whimper from you– and Johnny accepted his challenging stare. The Scot slinked down your body, not wasting any time with extra kisses– instead, he attached his mouth directly to your other breast, his teeth nipping the soft flesh.

Across the room, Simon and Price watched. They were a bit older, a bit more experienced, and had a bit more patience then the two players pinning you to the mattress currently. Although, Simon could feel his patience wearing thin. Your moans and whimpers were heavenly, and you looked absolutely stunning. He felt his cock twitching in his trousers, and kept his palm pressing heavily against it.

Price eyed his teammate and then offered him a puff of his cigar while Gaz and Johnny sucked and kissed your chest, their hands beginning to explore your almost naked body.

Simon accepted the cigar and took a long drag. Price huffed, smiling coyly when Simon returned the cigar. "Patience, Simon." It was said in a whisper, and Simon's response was a grunt and a subtle roll of his eyes. Yeah, he can be patient. Sure.

"Gaz, Johnny, fuck–" You whimpered, one of your hands cupping both Gaz and Johnny's heads. Gaz blinked up at you and was the first to detach his mouth, lips still shining with his saliva.

He moved down your body as Johnny continued his sucking– he had moved back to your neck, nipping at your collarbone now. Gaz settled himself between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He searched your eyes for permission and when he found it, when you nodded and mouthed a desperate please, he carefully pulled your underwear down.

Instead of tossing them across the room like he usually would have done, he looked to his side and held them aloft, gesturing at the two men sitting on the couch in the corner of Simon's room.

Simon nodded, and snatched them up after Gaz threw them. His cock twitched in his trousers, painfully hard against the seams, as he felt the sheer dampness of your underwear and the expensive fabric against his hand. God, he wanted to wrap it around his cock and paint it white.

Gaz moaned loudly as he spread your legs, exposing your cunt to the shadowed lighting of Simon's room. Price and Simon's eyes were between your legs from across the room, and Price withheld a grunt in his throat, almost choking around an exhale of grey smoke. Like Simon, he left his cock twitching and straining in the confines of his trousers. There was a mutual competition that whoever gave in first and fucked their fist lost. There weren't any particular stakes. Not yet, anyway.

"Just as pretty as I remember," Gaz breathed, massaging your inner thighs. He watched slick dribble out of you and down the curve of your arse with a vulpine smile.

Above him, Johnny removed his mouth from your neck and you could feel how damp your skin was now. You wanted to turn your head to look at him, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Gaz.

The winger kneaded your thighs gently, massaging his fingers into the soft fat as he spread you out for him. His eyes, gleaming with excitement, were transfixed on the way your cunt fluttered, your swollen clit glistening between your folds. You watched him run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your pussy.

You gasped, chest heaving, eyes still on Gaz when he placed another kiss against you, as though he was kissing your cheek. His eyelashes fluttered and a deep moan rumbled from his chest. Quickly, he deepened the kiss until he was licking the point of his tongue through your folds and his nose was pressed flush to your clit.

"Oh, fuck–" you whimpered. Memories of the way Gaz ate you out last time flooded you, making your body heat up. He was so fucking good.

He looked up at you from between your legs, soft brown eyes staring into yours. They were still gleaming, crinkled at the edges as though he was smiling– smiling into your soaked cunt as he dragged his tongue through your folds and licked up as much of your arousal as he could. Cheeky little–

A hand grabbed your jaw and forced your head to the side. You parted your lips to gasp, but the sound was sucked from your mouth as Johnny smashed his mouth to yours.

He held your face firmly, whining loudly into the kiss as he licked his tongue against yours. His other hand was dipping into his briefs and pulling his achingly hard cock out. He fisted it, whining loudly again, and you couldn't help but smile.

Clearly, Simon found it amusing too.

"Gettin' desperate, are we, Johnny?" He mocked from across the room.

Johnny broke the kiss, panting against your mouth as he jerked his cock, his hand still holding your head in place. He whined softly when his fingertips ghosted the underside of his cockhead, and he breathed deeply in an attempt to bite back at Simon's remark.

"S'not fair..." He whined again, sounding more and more like a wounded puppy, or something else along those lines. "She's got such a pretty mouth an' s'not bein' used properly."

He kissed you deeply again, all spit and teeth and tongue. It was hard to keep up, the way Johnny was invading your space. Your brain was foggy, body on fire, only thinking about the men around you and, especially, the fact you were about to come.

You moaned into Johnny's mouth– both Price and Simon moaning in response as they palmed at their clothed hard-ons– as Gaz sucked your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the puffy bud, his top teeth just skimming it, before he was quickly dragging his mouth just that little bit lower so that he could stuff your leaking hole. He pushed his tongue in with a light moan, grinding his hips into the mattress as he did so. Your taste, your smell, your noises, everything was making him harder.

You managed to turn your head away from Johnny's mouth. He huffed, leaning his forehead against your temple, mouthing at your cheek and jaw with light puffs eliciting from his saliva-slick lips. He was still jerking himself off, his cock leaking pre-cum onto Simon's sheets.

"Kyle..." You moaned the winger's government name. "M'gonna– oh my god, oh my god–"

Gaz kept the thrusting of his tongue steady, humming against you as your legs shook within his grasp.

Johnny, the desperate man he was, pulled your mouth back to his, licking a stripe over your lips before muttering, "That's a good girl, bonnie. Come for us. Come n' then I'll– I'll stuff this pret– fuck, pretty mouth with my– ah– my cock." After uttering that against your lips, he was shoving his tongue back into your mouth.

Then, you came for the first time of the night.

The coil in your lower belly snapped and you moaned loudly against Johnny, back arching off of Simon's mattress as Gaz held your hips and thighs, pinning them as he licked you through your orgasm. His eyes were on you the entire time, watching as you unravelled while he licked up your release which dripped out of you and down his chin.

When Gaz pulled away, Johnny was manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You yelped, still fuzzy from your orgasm, as the Scot pulled you into position where your head was resting on one of his hairy thighs, your arse in the air.

"Need you," he muttered, pawing at the back of your neck while he stroked his cock and guided it towards your mouth. "Need you so fuckin' bad–"

"Slow down, Johnny." Simon growled from across the room.

Gaz laughed as he got up, not bothering to wipe the rivulets of your arousal that tracked down his chin and, now, down the column of his neck. He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension from laying on his front, before shucking down his briefs and shuffling back onto the bed.

"He's been waiting a long time for this, Simon," Gaz joked in the number eight's direction. "He knows our girl's been worth the wait."

Simon grunted, Price's cigar now between his lips. "Still doesn't mean he can throw her around like that."

"Simon–" Johnny gasped from the head of the bed. He was dragging the leaking, reddened tip of his cock against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over his saliva which already wet you. He looked over at his teammate. "Shut the fuck up."

Simon scowled. "Watch it–"

But Johnny wasn't listening anymore. Not when he eased his cock past your lips and into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. He moaned, really fucking loudly, as you hollowed your cheeks for him and took him further back in your throat. You withheld a gag, tears blotting the base of your vision as Johnny's cock nudged the back of your throat.

"JesusfuckingChrist," The Scot hissed, the hand on the back of your neck tightening so he could pull you closer towards him. Your nose rested in the coarse hair at the base of your cock, and you moaned quietly, eyes upwards and locked onto his. You could already feel him twitching in your mouth as you gently bobbed your head, a trickle of saliva being forced out from the corner of your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gaz was gripping his cock tightly at the base, his other hand squishing and squeezing at the fat of your arse and thighs. He was muttering something to himself, something you couldn't hear, but whatever it was made Soap chuckle above you.

"F'you like her arse so much, use it," Johnny joked, and you whined, your core fluttering.

Behind you, Gaz stopped muttering beneath his breath and released a breathy laugh, his hand holding one of your arsecheeks and pulling it gently to the side. "I'll need to stretch her out first..."

"We've got all night," Soap remarked, thrusting his hips and making you gag around him. A tear rolled down your cheek and you hummed out a whine at the way both of them were talking about you as if you weren't even there.

You couldn't see it, but Gaz smiled. He then vanished from behind you for a moment, before returning, popping the cap on the small bottle of lube and pouring a generous amount over two of his fingers. He then spread you again, pouring even more of the cool liquid directly onto your hole. And, for good measure, he let a glob of spit fall from his mouth and slide down your crack.

You moaned loudly around Johnny's cock as one of Kyle's fingers pressed against your hole, rubbing circles carefully while his other hand reached between your legs to rub a finger over your puffy clit. You moaned again, and the vibrations had Johnny whimpering quietly above you, hips bucking, the grip he had on the back of your neck tightening.

"Such a pretty mouth, such a pretty mouth," he chanted through his whining, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back as he continued to push and pull your head down his length.

Across the room, the sounds of your muffled moans and Johnny's whines, paired with the sight of Gaz spreading you open before him was enough– enough for him to hastily pull his cock out of his trousers and wrap it in your soaked underwear. He jerked his fist once, twice, three times before stopping, glancing over at Price who simply shook his head, chuckling.

"Soap," Price said after he had finished giving Simon an amused look. "Let our girl breath, yeah? Give her a break."

Your eyes rolled and you moaned loudly– not at Price's words, but at the feeling of Gaz pushing a thick finger into your arse, gently probing and stretching you open. You wondered if the light buzz of alcohol in your veins was making the sensations a whole lot more enjoyable.

Johnny whined. "But–"

"Pull your fuckin' cock out, Johnny," Simon hissed, resuming his hand movements, your underwear still wrapped around his dick.

Johnny whined once more, but pulled out like his captain and teammate said. He continued to hold the back of your neck, petting you gently as he slid his cock out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting your lips and his shaft. He moaned at the sight, tempted to shove it back into the warmth of your mouth– but the burning sensation of Simon's eyes on him made him pause.

"This better fuckin' mean I get to fill her cunt," he grumbled, much to your amusement. You smiled up at him, and he smiled back, moving his other hand to cradle the side of your head.

Price grunted, and you broke eye contact with the scrum-half to look over at him and Simon on the couch. He too was pulling his hard cock out of his trousers and fisting it in his hand. The sheer size of the both of them made your core heat up all over again, butterflies returning to your stomach.

After a short moment, Gaz had two fingers inside you, scissoring you open while Johnny pet your face, staring down at you as you mouthed gently at his cock. You ran the tip of your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside, causing his entire body to wrack with shudders.

"Ready?" Gaz asked Soap, and the Scot looked away from you in the first time in about five minutes.

He nodded eagerly, a grin splitting across his face as he slid his hands beneath your armpits and hoisted you up onto your knees. You yelped, the action unexpected, and the sudden loss of Gaz's fingers from inside you making you feel empty, almost hollow. But, as Gaz split open a condom and rolled it onto his length, Soap's hands were all over you, and not once did you feel empty again.

"You alright, bonnie?" He asked, hands gripping your knees and spreading your legs apart so he could slot himself between them, his cock rutting through the folds of your pussy.

You momentarily lost your train of thought, your mouth dropping open and a small "uh..." dripping from it.

Price exhaled a plume of smoke around his words as he spoke to you. "Use your words, darling. S'alright if you want to stop."

Forcing your muddled mind away from the feeling of Soap's warm cock, you looked over at Simon and Price and shook your head, uttering out a string of "no, no, no."

"M'fine," you added for good measure. "Please don't stop."

As long as they had the green light, the lads weren't going to stop. Gaz had a large hand across one of your arsecheeks, holding it to the side as he guided the head of his cock to your stretched hole. Johnny waited patiently, his cockhead rubbing cruel circles against your swollen clit, not quite enough to give you proper stimulation. But, it was a pleasant distraction– a distraction from the initial stretch of Gaz carefully pushing his cock into you. Slow, slow, slow.

You released a shuddered gasp, head dropping forward to rest on Johnny's shoulder. Breathing laboured, you panted against his dewy skin as Gaz stopped, pulled out a centimetre, then pushed back in– over and over until his hips were wedged up right against your backside and he was dipping his mouth into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume.

"Good girl, baby..." He whispered, pressing a kiss to the pulse below your ear. "This okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah... it's okay."

"Tell me when you want me to move."

"Now," you said almost immediately, mind fuzzing over with pleasure. The pleasure of feeling full and hot and sweaty and completely fucked out. "Please move, Kyle, fuck–"

He did. He pulled out and pushed back in, ebbing like the tide with gentle thrusts that knocked the air out of your lungs. You cried out his name, head no longer resting on Johnny's shoulder, but leaning back against Gaz's.

Johnny couldn't wait any longer. The tip of his cock soon aligned with your leaking cunt, and he was pushing in just as Gaz pushed in as well. Both me released a guttural groan, their cock's only separated by a thin wall inside you.

But the noise you made was nothing short of pornographic– a high-pitched, breathy whine that was punched from the depth of your stomach. Your entire body fizzled, tingling with pleasure as both men used you at the same time, thrusting in and out at the same time. The intensity of it all had tears running down your cheeks, your chest tightening between breaths.

Soap's voice broke around a whimper. "You're so damn tight."

Gaz was next to speak. "Can't believe... can't believe we went so long without having you, eh, doc?"

The way they were talking to you was driving you crazy. Hell, the way they were moving against you was driving you crazy. You couldn't believe you went so long without letting them have you, either.

"Doing such a good job for Johnny and Kyle, sweetheart," Simon said, which you only heard vaguely, like an echo in a dark room. "Looking so fuckin' pretty taking both of their cocks. Doesn't she, lads?"

"Fuck, yeah–" Johnny moaned, not really listening, his eyes attached to the way his cock pistoned in and out of you.

Gaz was the same. Distracted. Too busy sucking wet kisses along the side of your neck. Too busy trying not to come straight away, the tight walls of your hole milking his cock with each upwards thrust. He did leave his trance-like state for a short period of time, enough to praise you and say your name in a breathless moan.

"Our good girl, doc. Y'just our good girl," he breathed against you. "Fuck– knew you'd be good. We just knew you'd be perfect."

That sentence alone had your stomach tightening with your next orgasm, thighs trembling and sweat building between your bodies. For a split second, you wondered what your electrolyte levels would be after this (the thought was wiped from your head when the head of Johnny's cock slammed up against your g-spot, making you mewl).

You struggled to keep your eyes open as your climax neared. Your senses were going into hyperdrive– the smells, the sounds, the everything was making you drunker than the alcohol you had already consumed earlier that night.

The smells of Soap and Gaz, their sweat and cologne, was like an aphrodisiac as they pinned you between their bodies, moving in tandem. The sounds of Johnny's moans and whimpers, and Gaz's breathless whines and grunts were driving you insane– as were the quiet groans coming from the couch across the room.

"Gaz... Johnny..." You mewled, body hot, clit throbbing. "I..."

You couldn't finish your sentence. Luckily, you didn't have too.

"Gonna come?" It was Price who put the words out into the open. "You gonna come, pretty girl? Go on. Tell 'em."

You repeated the first two words Price had said, following them with desperate moans of both Johnny and Kyle's names. Johnny's hands tightened on yours, slamming up into you while Kyle's were smoothing up and down your abdomen, hips grinding into your backside. The sensations threw you over the edge.

You came hard– both men caught off guard by the way your body tightened around them. Your head dropped back against Gaz's shoulder, and he kissed your cheek.

"Holy fuck," Johnny cursed, breathless. His chest was heaving, forehead glistening in a thin layer of sweat, and a slight tinge of red to his cheeks. Your cunt fluttered around the girth of him, all wet and warm and tight, causing his thrusts to falter, stutter, before he was coming inside you with no warning. "Holy fuck."

You whimpered, energy being sapped from your body at the feeling of him coming inside you while you were still coming down from your high. You could feel his cock twitching as he emptied himself up against your cervix, but you were distracted from the simple movement when he leaned forward and slotted his mouth against yours.

Soap kissed you exactly how he'd kissed you at the beginning of the night. Still full of passion and longing as the warm mass of his tongue swept over yours, slicking over the tops of your teeth. One of his hands found the back of your neck once more, and he held you to him while you kissed– all the while Gaz continued to rut gently into you, his own orgasm nearing.

"Baby, m'gonna pull out..." Gaz whispered into your ear, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your arse. "M'gonna pull out, take this fuckin' condom off, and come where you want me to come, m'kay?"

You forced your way out of Soap's searing kiss, turning your head so you could nod your acknowledgment to the winger behind you (luckily for you, he began kissing down your chest instead). Gaz did as he said and pulled out. He did so slowly, his hands rubbing your arse and hips the entire time. When his cock left you, you released a little whine, cool air seeming to fill you and make you shiver.

"You're okay, you're okay..." Gaz reappeared behind you after pulling his condom off, tying it and tossing it somewhere in the room (Simon had shot him a dirty look for that). One of his hands was on your hip again, his body melting into yours, his chest to your back. You could feel him fisting his cock behind you, the leaking tip smearing pre across the small of your back.

"Where d'you want me?" He asked you softly, and for a moment, it just felt as though you and him were the only ones in the room. If it wasn't for Soap sucking on your tits like a fucking maniac, the private intimacy between you and Kyle would've been believable.

To answer, you wiggled your hips against him, mumbling something along the lines of on me while trying to grab a fistful of Soap's mohawk and pull him away so you could arch forward. The Scot was stubborn, though, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth with a sparkle in his eyes.

Simon helped you out.

"Johnny, don't fuckin' push it," he growled and that was the first time you had heard him speak in a while.

You looked over to him, finding that he was still languidly fisting his cock; the tip red and angry, leaking pearl after pearl of precum. He was edging himself. Your stomach flipped with arousal, pussy fluttering.

Johnny backed off like a kicked dog, pouting as he shuffled to the edge of the bed. Gaz smiled, winking at his Scottish teammate as he placed a hand to the small of your back and guided you onto your knees and elbows, creating a perfect arch in your back and a perfect view of your arse for him. Then, he quickened the pace of his wrist, stroking his cock for a few seconds before he was painting your arse white.

Like Soap, Gaz moaned loudly when he came. The sound dissolved into a low whine as he fucked his fist through it, not stopping until he ran dry and his cock only just softened beneath his grip.

A few moments passed before you flattened yourself across the bed, laying on your stomach with exhaustion rolling over your body in waves. Johnny was the first to up and leave, placing a kiss to the crown of your head before he was moving across the room. Gaz stayed with you, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"Doing so well for us," he told you. "D'you need anything? Water?"

You nodded and mere seconds later, Johnny was offering you a glass of cold water. You sat up to drink it, Gaz's cum smearing against Simon's sheets. You were hyperaware of Soap's cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets too. It made goosebumps bloom up your arms and legs, a shiver crawling through you.

Once you had drunken, the lads switched places like they had been practising.

Johnny and Gaz slipped away with one more kiss each to your lips, before two larger, broader figures were blocking your vision. Both Price and Simon had stripped now, all big chests and soft stomachs and hard cocks. It made you salivate.

"Just a bit longer, sweetheart, then you can have a nice break," Price cooed, walking up to the edge of the bed and placing his hand beneath your chin, gripping your jaw and angling your eyes up to him. While he did that, Simon slipped onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and slotted himself up against you. Price squeezed your jaw once. "You feeling okay?"

You nodded, but something inside you prompted you to respond with a sultry "Yes, sir" while you stared up at him. A coy smile split along his face and before long, he was leaning down to kiss you. He tasted of smoke and expensive liquor as he kissed you, his tongue immediately invading your mouth.

"You want her first?" Simon asked, and you jolted in fright, almost forgetting he was right behind you.

John broke the kiss and, still holding your jaw, looked over at Simon and shook his head.

"You can go first."

The arrangement was set.

Simon pulled you away from John, and you couldn't help but yelp at the way he manhandled you onto your stomach. Then, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back onto your knees, your breasts and arms resting against the bed. The captain had crawled onto the bed and, after tossing aside Simon's pillows, settled himself at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He spread his legs, patting one of his thick thighs invitingly.

Simon acted for you– pushing you up the bed and pushing another startled yelp from you. Your head came to rest against the warm, solid mass of Price's thigh, and his hand was put to work atop your head, petting you as though you were a cat.

Behind you, the number eight was nudging your legs apart with his knee, his large body doubling over yours as he slotted his hips against your arse, his achingly hard cock brushing over your soaked folds. You keened, moaning lightly as the tip of his cock nudged your clit, the thick weight of him smearing your and Johnny's cum up and down your slit. It made you shiver again.

"You don't have to do anything, okay, sweetheart?" Price uttered above you, still petting your head. His other hand gripped the base of his cock tightly. You watched a dribble of precum leak down the underside of it. "You're just going to lay there and be a good girl for me and Simon, okay? Be a good girl and take everything we give you."

At the completion of the captain's sentence, Simon notched the head of his cock at your hole. Your breath hitched.

Price cooed down at you. "S'alright... that's a good girl, just take it."

Simon eased into you, his cock splitting you open more than Soap's had. He was a bit thicker, and the stretch of it all had a moan catching in your throat. It stayed there until Simon bottomed out– the sound filtering from your mouth sounding like something out of a low-budget porno (it made Price's cock twitch, though).

"Fuck," you heard Simon hiss behind you. "S'a tight fuckin' pussy."

"Told you."

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny." Simon almost growled as he pulled out and then slammed back into you.

You cried out, sobbing a "S-Simon!" as his pace increased, his thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time. You could feel the ruddy tip of him hitting the plug of your cervix, his girth stretching you open in such a way that you wondered whether you'd be able to walk tomorrow.

Probably not.

You realised both Gaz and Soap were sitting on the couch, and without even turning your head, you knew they'd be watching with their cock in hand. The intensity of the entire situation was otherworldly, and most definitely contributing to the fast rate at which your orgasm was approaching.

The sound of Ghost's cock moving in and out of you was lewd and wet. Wet shlick, shlick, shlick's and the slapping sound of skin-on-skin echoed throughout Simon's room, as well as the occasional creak of the bedframe and the hushed sounds of pleasure coming from the couch.

Bent over you, Simon was huffing and grunting. Deep groans left his parted lips periodically as he fought off his orgasm. God, the second he shoved his cock into the tight clutch of your cunt he wanted to come. But not yet. Not fucking yet.

"S'that feelin' good, pretty girl?" He asked you, his voice swimming through your head.

"Yes–!" You cried, one hand holding Price's wrist (his hand was still on your head), the other fisting the bedsheets beside Price's other leg.

"Yeah? You like being fucked by all four of us, hm? Like being stuffed full, don't you?" He didn't let you answer. He continued, "O'course you do, baby. 'Course you do. Such a needy little pussy... She just loves gettin' filled up, I can feel it."

Words evaded you. So you nodded. You nodded against Price's thigh, tears smearing against his hairy skin. He petted you gently, shushing you as Simon continued to rut into you, his entire body shaking with restraint. He needed you to come first.

"Want you to come for me," Simon whispered to you. "Want you to come all over my cock."

Then, one of his hands found your clit, and you were a goner. He rubbed three rough shapes across the swollen bud, and you were coming with his name falling from your lips.

You squeezed him tight, gushing around him as pleasure overtook you. The entire time you spasmed, your cunt leaking out around his cock, John held you against the mass of his thigh, petting you and massaging down your neck. You heard the odd "good girl" being whispered from him.

Simon praised you in similar fashion. "Good girl. Good fucking girl. My good girl."

The last part was whispered so quietly that you were sure no one else heard it but you. He said it as he curled over you, his chin against your shoulder, his massive arms holding himself over you as he fucked you hard.

"My perfect girl," he whispered again. Only to you. Then, it was like something went off in his brain. He released a low growl, something like a groan but much deeper. "M'gonna come."

"S'about fuckin' time," John joked, but Simon didn't find it at all funny. He ignored his captain.

His attention was only on you.

"M'gonna come right up in here, love." Simon held himself up with one arm, his other arm winding beneath you to grab hold of your tummy. He gripped it, kneading it, before pushing against it until you let out a small moan, the pressure making you dizzy. "M'gonna fill this pretty tummy right up. Fuckin' breed you right in front of the boys."

You were definitely drooling against Price's thigh.

With one last grinding thrust– and just as overstimulation crept into your head– Simon came. He came with a grunt and a quiet moan of your name, his cock right up against your womb as he emptied himself, filling you hot.

The heat made you moan, as well as the image of his cum mixing with Soap's and filling your womb.

What the hell–

The number eight didn't pull out straight away. He stilled above you, hips flush to your arse and his half-hard cock still plugging his cum inside you. Against Price's thigh, you mewled tiredly, shuffling your backside against the solid form of Simon behind you, your hands now travelling along the captain's legs.

Finally, Simon extracted his body from yours, but remained inside you. He kneeled, his large hands travelling down your back before finding your arse. He chuckled to himself, dragging his fingers through Gaz's load that painted you. With his pointer finger, he drew a smeared SR against your left arsecheek.

"Simon, gross," You complained, listening to the way he chuckled darkly to himself. You couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew he was probably grinning too.

Just like in the small period of grace between Soap and Gaz, and Simon and Price, you were offered water, with each man waiting patiently until you had finished the glass. While you drank, the four pairs of eyes on you made your stomach tighten.

This was all so foreign. But, god, you fucking loved it.

When the glass of water was placed soundly on the bedside table, Price slid down from the top of the bed and kneeled towards the end. He held out a hand to you, and you accepted, enabling him to gently lay you down with your head in the pillows (Simon had ordered Soap to pick them off the floor from when Price tossed them).

"Comfortable?" Price asked you, running his warm hands up and down your sides before slowly, slowly parting your legs and exposing your cunt to him.

You nodded. "Yes, sir."

He huffed proudly at that, a small smile surfacing. His hands shifted, and he brushed his knuckles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Beside you, the bed dipped. Simon kneeled on the floor next to the bed, his upper body leaning against the mattress. It was the perfect angle to cradle your face in his hands and wipe the steadily drying streaks of tears and saliva from your skin with his fingers.

Fingers, you realised, had not been cleaned. Fingers that still trekked a milky stripe of Gaz over your face.

You grimaced, and by the way Ghost was biting his lip to hide a smile, he knew what the grimace was for.

"S'a matter, pretty girl? S'just a bit a'cum," he teased lowly, and you had half the mind to smack his hand away. But his next words had you forgiving the action– the cheeky bastard. "Look so pretty covered in us, don't you?"

Kneeling between your legs, Price grunted his agreement with his teammate. He was fisting his cock, watching Simon and Soap's loads dribble out of you.

Pushing his hips forward, he slowly ran the head of his cock up your slit, making a mess of you. You whined, hands holding one of Simon's, as Price repeated the action a couple of times, eyes transfixed.

When Price's eyes did finally find yours, they were glazed, his pupils blown.

"Beg for it, sweetheart," he uttered, voice hoarse. "Beg for my cock."

You did. You started with a few desperate please's and several different curse words when you struggled to find the right things to say. But eventually, with your heart hammering against your ribcage and your clit pulsing in tandem with it, you begged out a yearning, "Please, sir, please– need your cock so bad. Please, captain–"

The captain hummed, pleased, as he thrusted himself into you without another warning. You cried out, arching off the bed as your cunt stretched around him, the tip of him knocking up against the plug of your womb just like Simon's had. It all felt so good you wanted to cry.

"That's it..." Simon whispered to you, nuzzling the side of your head as Price set his pace.

He held your legs either side of him as he fucked you, shunting your body against the mattress again and again. You'd already fucked him before, in his car just a couple of week ago, but this was different. So much different.

It's like he had something to prove. Maybe it was because his teammates, his closest friends, were watching, but he fucked you like he owned you. His thrusts were deep and driving and hit the perfect spot inside you each time. His hands on your legs were firm but gentle, and the way his eyes raked hungrily up your body were claiming enough.

His fingers dipped down to your arse momentarily as he shifted your hips, changing the angle so he could fuck you deeper. He looked over at Simon for a split second and nodded towards one of the pillows. The number eight got the hint, reaching over your head to grab one of his pillows. While he did that, unbeknownst to both you and Simon, Price's fingers wiped the sticky SR from your skin.

Once he had the pillow, Price shoved the pillow beneath you to keep your hips at the perfect angle. This way, he could continue to fuck his cock deeper and deeper into you, and still continue to worship your body with your hands.

But, he was closer than he would've liked to admit. He could feel, with each thrust, and each tightening of your slick, warm walls, his orgasm looming closer and close. That familiar coiling heat in his lower belly.

"C'mon, sweet girl, need you to come," he said breathlessly, then proceeded to push your legs upwards, bending your knees towards your ears. "Need you to come 'round my cock."

"M'close..." You whined, and the change in angle was pulling you tighter, sweat sticking you to the sheets below. But your body was exhausted, shaking and trembling and filled with honey-like pleasure that had your joints feeling heavy. "John, I don't... fuck, I can't–"

"Yes you can, sweetheart, yes you can," Price whispered, leaning down to kiss you. It was a sweet kiss, his facial hair tickling the warm skin of your cheeks and chin. When he pulled away, he placed a few more kisses to your nose, your cheeks and your jaw. "Just one more time for me. C'mon. One more time for your captain."

Well, when he put it that way...

It was like he had trained you, Pavlov's dog style. Your body jerked and you arched up against him, the same time the band of pleasure in your lower abdomen snapped.

"John!" You almost screamed, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Warmth seeped into your body, flooding your veins as you came around his cock, spasming and fluttering. You were dizzy, euphoria blinding you as he fucked you through it, Simon's hands on your head keeping you grounded.

Your release gushed around John, and he groaned at the way you drenched his pubic hair. The sounds of him moving in and out of you too were too much for him to handle.

(And too much for Soap and Gaz to handle, who spilled over their fists with loud moans from where they were sitting on the couch).

Price desperately wanted to praise you as his girl, a possessive my girl spoken into the universe. But, as captain, he knew better. As much as it did pain him to say, he croaked out a, "That's our girl."

You whined and whimpered, your body thoroughly fucked-out. As much as you enjoyed this, you felt as though you wouldn't be walking for the next few days, and would probably sleep for the next thirty-six hours.

"John, sir..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know, m'coming," he muttered, thrusts beginning to falter. "M'gonna come deep in this tight little pussy. Yeah... fill her up real good."

First Simon, now John? Damn. The personification of your pussy was not what you expected to get out of this tonight. But you weren't complaining.

The captain came, moaning your name loudly into the room. With a gentle hand splayed across your belly, he emptied himself inside you alongside two of his teammates'. The feeling of it never ceased to make his mouth drop open in pleasure.

Simon kissed your temple. "Alright, pretty girl?"

You nodded. "Yeah... more than alright."

•º•º•

You should have known that all four men would be absolute kings at aftercare. It was pure bliss.

Johnny popped into Simon's bathroom to run you a bath while Simon cradled you in his arms, not letting you feel an ounce of loneliness. He had dragged you over to the couch, hugging you to his broad chest and watching as Gaz stripped the bed and made quick work of changing the sheets. Price entered the room with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of your favourite sweets (you didn't question why Johnny and Simon had them in their flat in the first place).

You sipped your water and snacked on the sugary food for a little while, Ghost's hands rubbing up and down your back. Before long, Johnny reappeared and helped his teammate in guiding you towards the bathroom.

There was a slight argument between who was going to get into the bath with you, but ultimately Gaz one, and Simon begrudgingly handed you over to him. The pair of you sunk into the warm water, and you immediately melted back into him.

"Did such a good job for us, doc..." Gaz whispered in your ear, massaging your thighs and hips from where you were nestled in front of him between his legs.

Simon, who was lurking over the bath like some sort of spectre, nodded. "Such a good girl."

The praise made your body heat up, the steam curling up from the water suddenly scolding.

In the doorway, Johnny watched on with his phone in his hand. He asked you, "D'you want me to order some food?"

You nodded. "Can we please get–?"

He was already walking away. "I know your order, bonnie!"

You made a face at Simon. He shrugged.

Price, like Simon, stood at the edge of the bathtub. He looked down at you with adoration in his eyes

"You're just perfect, aren't you, sweetheart?" He said, and Simon and Gaz were agreeing with him before the sentence even registered in your head. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Our perfect girl, hm?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[adtenthusiast]

Word count: 2033

The Car Alex x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get bored at The Grammys and decide to tease Alex, it goes a bit too far and he puts you in your place...

Warnings: Swearing, slight exhibitionism, pet names (doll, darling, baby, princess), Dom!Alex, Sub!reader, Hard to soft dom, degrading, a bit of bdsm, multiple orgasms, Hickeys/bruising, Oral F!receiving, a bit of aftercare not much tho. porn with a plot.

A/N: FIRST POST!!! who's clapping rn?? anyway this is literally so dirty and filthy and unholy. I really pushed my limits here. enjoy!

He was pissed. You had given him a hard-on right before he had to make a speech that will be on the internet forever. But it's not your fault The Grammys are a fucking bore, you had to entertain yourself somehow.

You started off with the classic dropping something and slowly bending over to pick it up. Alex eyed you, taking in how great your ass looked in a short, skin-tight red dress. This wasn't enough though. You needed to do more. So, when you went to sit, you pulled your dress down so far that your tits were spilling out over the top of it. Alex immediately kept his eyes locked on them. After a couple of minutes of him staring you asked "Are you okay baby?" acting all innocent, as if you didn't know exactly what was running through his mind. "Yeah, perfect" he elongated the 'er' and didn't even look up to your eyes. It was clear he wasn't talking about himself.

You decided to go back to watching the awards like normal, but every once in a while you did something very subtle like biting or licking your lips, or fluttering your lashes when talking to Alex. You knew this did something to him because he placed his hand on your thigh and started tracing circles on it. Then you decided to go all in. You leaned in close to Alex's ear, letting him feel your hot breath on his skin as you whispered "Can I sit on your lap?" You tried to sound as innocent as possible so he didn't think you were up to something. "Alright darling" He sat back in his chair as you placed yourself on him.

You sat there peacefully for a little while as you loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around you and the sweet-nothings he would whisper in your ear. You then started shifting in his lap and you felt his grip on you tighten and he spoke firmly "Stop." You turned your head to look at him and said with a smile "What? I'm just getting comfortable." You turned away, shifting a small bit more, feeling him harden him under you, until suddenly you felt his grip tighten so hard it could leave bruises and you heard his voice dangerously close to your ear "You know what you're doing baby. Stop it before i bend you over this table and fuck you in front of all these p-" He was cutoff by the announcement of the bands category. "Shit. If we win and I have to fuckin' go up there like this, I swear to god you're gonna be in so much trouble"

You gulped, not sure if you were wishing for them to win or not. "And the Best Alternative Music Album is..." Your heart was pounding as the announcer opened up the envelope, it felt like she was purposely taking forever. You subconsciously held your breath as she began to read out the name "The Car, Arctic Monkeys!" All the lads gasped and you gave Alex a kiss as you stood up off him. As he walked onto the stage he shot you a dark look.

Honestly you didn't listen to Alex's speech because you were too preoccupied thinking about what he was going to do to you when you got home, and soon you were gonna find out because the second he got back to your table he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out to the car. "Alex what the fuck? I'm pretty sure you're supposed to stay??" You were panicking a bit 'cause you knew people were going to talk about how you guys abruptly left. Alex didn't care though, at least you don't think he cared.

He didn't speak the throughout the entire car ride home despite you questioning why he did that and if he was really THAT mad. When you finally got home and you stepped inside, Alex immediately spun you around and leaned down to whisper in your ear "Go upstairs, get naked and kneel on the bed, I'll be up in a few minutes." You took a deep breath and began walking up the stairs. All you could think about is how quite literally fucked you're gonna be.

You got to your room, threw all your clothes on the floor and knelt on the bed. You heard Alex rummaging downstairs and then the sound of metal clanging against each other followed by his footsteps coming up the stairs. You got nervous when you saw his figure step into the doorway, leaning against it for a moment before taking off his blazer and neatly folding it on the dresser. Then you saw them. All ball gag and some handcuffs. Your eyes widened as Alex began approaching you. "What did you think you were doing?" There was venom in his voice that made you feel helpless. "Al, I'm sor-" "Don't fucking speak. You wanna act like a slut you're gonna get fucked like one" He grabbed your head, put on the gag and lifted up your chin between his pointer and thumb. "Now I'll be able to hear pretty noises, but won't have to listen to your stupid excuses" His words went straight to your core. As much as you hate to admit it, this turned you on so much.

He rolled up his sleeves and sat down on the bed next to you. You couldn't help but admire him, his veiny arms and how the veins plunges out when he grips onto things, his chest peaking out from under his dress-shirt and how he always has it shaved besides a single square and his hair, how it was somehow both messy and well groomed at the same time.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Alex spoke "Over my knee doll" You gush at the pet name and oblige. "If anything is too much just tap me twice." His voice was soft but you knew it wouldn't last long as you felt a smack against your ass, your entire body jerked and you let out a loud yelp. After another couple of slaps you feel tears welling in your eyes and you were drooling all over the sheets. "Look at you, you're fuckin' pathetic"

He gave your ass three more strikes before leaning down and speaking "Does it hurt darling?" You nod. "Aww, well thats what you get for being a little slut, you know you deserve this. Now stop crying, get up and lay, face down-ass up, hands behind your back." You whine but do as he says. You heart raced when you felt Alex's hands roughly grabbing yours and cuffing them. "What a fuckin' sight" he stepped back and folded his arms, taking in the view. You felt so exposed and at his mercy.

You heard the rattle of his belt and felt a dip in the bed. Your cunt was glistening from how wet you are "Jesus, You love getting punished, eh?" Alex swiped his finger through your wetness and placed the finger in his mouth and sucked, tasting your juices "Fuckin' heavenly."

You back up your ass and whined trying to get his attention. "Don't be greedy darling, remember you place" He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his cock and began pumping it to the sight of you. "It's such a pity i don't see this everyday, You look so fucking good like this, my beautiful little whore" he groaned.

You felt his tip stroking your soaked folds. He stopped at your dripping hole, just holding it there until you whined. "Aw baby you want more? hm?" You whined again "Okay, I'll give you more" and with that he slammed into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size he began thrusting into you hard. All you could do is moan and sob. "Too much too fast, princess? Well you asked for it" He growled "You know you like it. Listen to you, you sound like a little cumslut" He somehow sped up his thrusts and you screamed.

He slid his arm around up your chest and pulled you up so your back was against his chest. He watched your tits as they bounced with each thrust. He groaned and dipped his head down to your neck and began nipping and sucking on your neck. "Fuckin' mine. 'm gonna make sure everyone knows how much of a slut you are."

You were making the most hoarse noises and you were drooling all over yourself. "You close already, princess?" You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut. With that he pulled out. You whined at the loss of contact. Alex picked you up and laid you on your back. "Bad girls don't get to cum on cock. Now open your legs doll."

You spread your legs as far as you could and Alex dipped his head between them. He wrapped his mouth around your clit and sucked on it, sending electricity throughout your entire body. He held down your hips as he sucked and licked your sensitive nub. You were sure you were gonna have hand-shaped bruises on your hips for days. He removed his mouth from you and inserted two long, calloused fingers into you. He curled and scissored them making you let out a load moan. He continued to finger you fast.

You couldn't take it much longer. Your hips bucked and your hole tightened around his fingers. You looked at Alex for permission to cum. "Go on darling, cum all over my fingers" and with that you let out a loud, high-pitched moan as you released. Alex didn't stop though, he kept going. You screamed and cried from the stimulation and suddenly you felt that knot in your stomach tighten again. You cried trying to get away from his fingers. "Come on baby, cum for me again" and again your orgasm washed over you, ten times more intense than before. Alex slowed down his movements then removed his fingers from you.

He smiled as he brought his fingers up this his mouth and sucked off all your juices from his fingers. He then leant down and removed the gag from your mouth. "Can you do one more for me princess? You're doing so well." You sniffled and nodded "Okay.. Just one more." "Good girl, doing so well for me" He lined his cock up with your used hole and slowly thrusted into you. He gave you a second to adjust and the slowly pulled out and pushed back in again.

Unlike last time his thrusts were slow and soft but they were passionate and deep. He places his hands either side of your head, his hair was draped off his forehead and his face was inches away from yours. He caught your lips in a long, passionate kiss as his thrusts sped up slightly. " 'm close baby" He whispered. After a couple of more thrusts you felt that knot in your stomach again, you squeezed around him to let him know you were close too. His thrusts became faster and sloppier as he chased his orgasm, you squeezed around him as you came all over him, this sent him over the edge and you felt his release deep inside you.

He rode out your orgasms, then collapsed next to you, removing himself from you. You felt empty and tired. Alex got up and unlocked the handcuffs and kissed you "I'm gonna clean you up. Do you want anything baby?" You smiled "Water please" he walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel then got you a glass of water. He came back into the room, placed the glass of water on the bed-side table, then kneeled on the bed in front of you, he cleaned you and the sheets up then laid next to you and hugged you. "I love you baby, but please never embarrass me like that again" You giggled when you remembered what got you here "I love you too and I'm sorry for that"

And with that you laid in silence until you both fell asleep.

[sgiandubh]

The Year of the Red Herring

I kick the brakes for a couple of days - lo and behold, we instantly have some well planned ahead kerfuffle!

The Saturn Awards are not the BAFTAs. Yet, because the end of The Strikes is still fresh, there were many people (Real VIPs, Wannabes and the Has Been Crew) on that red carpet: Nicolas Cage, David Cameron, Patrick Stewart, that Data guy. And also (oh, sweet Mother of God), Shitner - albeit I have no clue if he brought along his Cryptominion, Paul C. All in all, I have to say that despite the Big Names listlessly loitering on that Red Carpet, at the Los Angeles Marriott Burbank Airport, it was a rather sad and contrived affair. Smart for S to not show up, less smart for C to not even thank those people for her *** strongly promoted bought (yes and I stand by this POV: they needed it for the sale, of course - wake the damn up!) award.

At this point in time, there seems to be an odd & rare consensus around this fandom: she DGAF anymore. Various reasons are being peddled, according to each and every one of the fortunetellers' agenda. Either she is on an imminent propelling path to fame at bullet speed (unlikely) or she is focusing on her current projects, life and recovered freedom after OL (my take). Her cinema/TV projects still sound unconvincing to me (same goes for S, before you start screeching: don't, it's unpleasant and uncalled for). But at the end of the day here's probably the truth of the matter: the only thing we know is that we don't know anything at all. And these reactions speak volumes about this fandom's dynamics only, adding little (to zero) valid and useful content.

But then lo and behold, we have some BOMB news. With not one, but two sets of fresh-faced, perfectly unknown Young Turks and a Plot Twist that Herself apparently gobbled like cod liver oil. My only cynical bet is revolving around the intensity with which *** is able & willing to sell an OTT artificial ship, in order to deflect attention from the 'Crazy', Inconvenient, but Obvious OTP.

First to jump in will be the Rabid Tumblrettes, who also make the bulk of the Gay Crowd (people who don't know the difference between a barista and a barrister, for example) - perhaps the least (ahem) subtle and most predictable subset of this fandom. And that surely will help pave the way for a decent audience score, at least for the first couple of episodes (will S narrate something? - it's always been about S, at any rate). The carefully curated blogs already see to it, with a subtle shift to BOMB in their reckless scouring of social media - true colors showing, perhaps and an order is seldom questioned, let alone discussed.

Will I watch? Of course I will, but with zero expectations, zero emotional investment, a pang in my heart and a cynical eye. For if perhaps a hefty chunk of humanity is preparing for the start of the Year of the Wood Dragon, I am afraid we already started the Year of the Red Herring, in here.

[cuubism]

actor hob, and pretentious asshole film director dream

[ this got so long and so weird and specific i'm so sorry ]

so hob is an everyman actor. a good actor, charismatic, funny, fan favorite, but not the type that gets cast in highbrow art films. mostly he does like romcoms, mid-budget action movies, feel-good family films, etc etc. and he's totally cool with that, he's good at what he does, and people enjoy those films, anyway. he might be getting a bit bored though, a bit stagnant. might be thinking it's time for some reinvention. and there might be a certain director whose ridiculous and nonsensical but dreamy films he's particularly enamored with...

dream makes REALLY pretentious art films. the types that get studied in graduate level film classes and have fifty different academic papers with fifty different theses trying to puzzle them out. dream is a master of themes and images and subtle construction. he is also a COMPLETE asshole and impossible to work with, an auteur in the most stereotypical way possible, he writes and directs, he micromanages all his projects, he asserts his vision and god help anyone who goes against it. nobody can handle him, nobody can STAND him, and the only reason he still gets funding for these projects is because they win awards, so many awards, and the studios want to ride on the coattails of those awards. but it's getting to the point where even his most ride-or-die producers are ready to give up.

right off the back of dream's most recent bafta, a rather naive Big Exec approaches him to direct the next installment of his Big Superhero Franchise. dream is immediately like fuck off with that bullshit but the exec pleads with him that the franchise is flagging and they really need something new to spice it up. plus the pay will be enough for dream to finance like 10 of his own ridiculous art films without having to rely on producers for money. and dream really is about to get cut off for being a complete insufferable asshole so he takes the gig. it kind of feels like prison though.

anyway, he gets to work trying to make this shitty boring film at least marginally less shitty and boring. he doesn't have a lot of leeway -- a lot of the story is locked in, half the cast is set from prior installments etc. dream immediately regrets taking this job, he'd rather die in actual prison than work on this mindnumbing piece of trash. it feels like it's taking an eternity and who could possibly stand an eternity of this???

well. enter hob, whose agent managed to snag him a 2nd-lead sort of role in this thing. it's not QUITE the reinvention he was going for but the pay and exposure are really good -- and even if they weren't, the moment hob saw that dream was attached he was immediately on board.

cue dream tearing his fucking hair out and basically being a complete menace and diva on set -- no that wasn't good, yes we have to do a 57th take, oh my god this dialogue is horrible give me that shitty script i'm writing my own thing, what do you mean the plot is linear???, wait there are how many cgi aliens????? i'm going to kill myself -- and Hob, pretty much Just Happy To Be There as always, takes one look at this beautiful dramatic emo asshole and is like oh. yes. i don't know what i'm saying yes to, but i'm saying yes. just immediately enamored with this bitch against all logic, he's like i've seen all your films i know how your mind works you brilliant nihilistic mess of a person. i'm on board. let's go.

first scene that hob's in dream is once again ranting about the atrocious script, which he did not write and is hardly allowed to change -- or, every change he makes is too weird and the studio keeps nixing it. everyone keeps sighing and being like oh my god can we please just shoot i wanna go home, meanwhile hob's like alright then. let's workshop it. and dream's just like. what. you aren't just gonna tell me to shut up? and hob's like no, youre right, this script is trash, but i know you're just going to write something really weird and psychedelic that they won't let you shoot. and dream's like you dare to speak to me that way??? and hob just puts his hands on his hips and is like listen, i actually know more about this sort of general audience family film thing than you do, mister arthouse, so are you going to work with me or not? and dream's just like what... is happening... because usually people who try to 'handle' him either just cave to his every demand like wimps, or just fight him on everything to 'prove' that they're in control, and hob is just kind of... not doing either of those? anyway dream doesn't know what to do with him.

so they workshop it. turns out hob actually DOES know how these sort of general audience all-follow-the-same-three-act-structure films work and how to improve things within those confines, and also he understands what like, normal people like, you know, casual feel good movies, not everything has to be a mindbender, jesus. so they bounce ideas off each other for like 3 hours until they finally get something that's okay enough that dream no longer wants to fling himself into the sun. meanwhile everyone on set is staring at them like 👀. then dream is like come back to my trailer we are rewriting the other 116 pages of this script right NOW. what else is hob supposed to do but follow.

then hob becomes the designated Dream Handler on set. dream starts using him as his barometer for what 'normal people' would like because he does not understand that at all. ("hob, will 'people' accept this?" "well considering youre spinning the camera around on a string i'm gonna go out on a limb and say no"). dream becomes kind of obsessed with him because his life is so like, normal, and he's okay with it?? he doesn't find existence to be an insufferable prison from which there is no escape?? and hob is like aw i know you're such a tortured artistic soul *pats him on the head*. plus, hob is actually a good actor, and he's able to put a lot of heart into even this mediocre big budget film, and kind of forces dream to confront the idea that there's more than one good type of story. that different stories serve different purposes and a straightforward happy story is okay, actually.

(and that the problem is the corporatization of the storytelling, not the story itself)

anyway the movie ends up being pretty good, dream still kind of hates it because he wasn't given full artistic license but he has to grudgingly admit that it has at least some merit. after the premiere hob is like (cheekily) so you gonna direct the sequel? and dream is like i did not write that to have a sequel. and hob's like it has a cliffhanger? and dream's like so???? and hob's like well theyre definitely gonna make a sequel. and dream's like i hate this planet. also no i'm not going to make the sequel. i'm going to fuck off to the woods and make a movie about teeth. do you want to star in it? and hob's like you're so fucking weird i'm obsessed with you i'm going to kiss you now.

so yeah, that.

[badhockeymom]

Cup Besties talking

It's about this ⤵

And this ⤴

Can't recommend this enough if you know any Finnish. They were veteran dad and rookie son, winning the most coveted prize in the hockey world, one to start off his NHL career, one to finally get the crown on his before retiring.

This is just the beginning of the roughly 1,5 hour conversation of Teuvo as a guest on Kimmo Timonen's and Antti Mäkinen's podcast. Teuvo's deadpan sarcasm and his subtle chuckles that soften his wry chirps and self-mockery work like a charm, sending his forty-something hosts into fits of laughter.

May be continued but let me put this out there first.

Kimmo: Our next guest hails from Helsinki. He's full 29 years old, but still has the face of a child. He goes by the nickname Turbo, which I don't understand, because he isn't that fast. A produce of the Jokerit, he has got, among other accolades, the Finnish rookie of the year award. From Jokerit, he went to Chicago, where we won the Stanley Cup together in 2015. Nowadays he plays for the Carolina Hurricanes alongside Sebastian Aho. Welcome, my good friend, Teuvo Teukka Teräväinen, to the Kimanttia podcast!

Teuvo: Thanks a lot, (chuckle) nice to be here even though you forced me to come.

Kimmo: (laugs) For your information, listeners, I've tried to goad Teukka for a guest appearance for two or three years, but he has always, always declined before now. It's good, it's great to hear your voice, man.

Antti (co-host Antti Mäkinen): I was so sure that Teuvo has been on the show but it's great that you're there now.

Teuvo: Yes, I always say to Kime that someday I'll come, and now I felt it's time.

Kimmo: Are you in Finland, Teukka?

Teuvo: Yes, a few days ago. I came straight to the cottage, it's nice to wind down for a few days here. Nothing special.

(They go on asking if Teuvo has watched the Worlds, he reminds the hosts that Canes were still playing when the games started.)

Kimmo: I wanted to ask, before we start going through your career, how long are you staying in Finland, and will you spend time at the cottage or do you have plans?

Teuvo: I usually head back to the States in the beginning of September, to settle down a little before the camp starts. In Finland, this summer will be quite busy, all my weekends are pretty much locked down, I have so many weddings and bachelor parties this summer.

Kimmo: Oh, you're getting married? I haven't got an invitation.

Teuvo: Yeah, multiple times. (Antti and Kimmo laugh) No, fortunately it isn't my wedding. They're nice events, but they do take up your time.

Kimmo: Yes they do, weekends come and go.

(Antti tells a story about a golf live stream during the covid lockdown, where Teuvo played against Patrik Laine. Both played well but in the end, Teuvo lost. He left the course with very few words, and after an half an hour, posted a pic of his golf bag on his Instagram story, captioned "Clubs for sale")

Teuvo: I remember that. It's what it is, it's never nice to lose.

Kimmo: (laughs) That sounds familiar because I've also sometimes played golf with Teukka, and the round has gone fine, and he says, I'm quitting this game.

Teuvo: Yeah... We've played tennis, too.

Antti: How do you do against him in tennis, can you hold your own?

Teuvo: Well, I don't think i've yet won Kime, at least on his home court.

Kimmo: Well now, there we heard the truth.

Teuvo: But now i have my own homecourt here at the cottage, you're welcome to challenge me here.

Kimmo: (softly) I must come over.

Teuvo: On my own court I haven't lost to anyone else but Henkka Kontinen who's a pretty good player. (Pro tennis player, doubles specialist, career high rank 1 in doubles)

Kimmo: Oh. I'll have to come and challenge you this summer.

Teuvo: You'll have to.

Antti: Hey, that guy is a professional at that tennis hobby of his, he does have an advance.

Teuvo: Or used to be, he hadn't been playing for a full year when he defeated me.

~~~

So, that's just the first five minutes.

A little extra treat from the next segment:

Kimmo: I did some research about your junior years, and it said you started on Helsingin Kojootit (Helsinki Coyotes). Where's Helsingin Kojootit?

Teuvo: It's -- in Helsinki. (chuckles.) Like it says, Helsingin Kojootit, how didn't you pick it up from the name?

(Laughter, Antti is dying)

[gender-trash]

hi!

not to be abrupt or vaguely out of the blue, but do you have any fun recent book/music recs? you seem like you like cool stuff and my to read/ to listen list is looking sad. or film/tv recs anything goes.

yeah absolutely, i am basically always delighted to rec books/music!!

books (fiction):

the goblin emperor: i read this for the first time recently and was just completely charmed by it. recommended if you like plotty court intrigue fantasy with a good-sized pinch of conlang. me @ maia (the protagonist/pov character):

the scholomance trilogy: not exactly a deep cut, at least among tumblr users who read fantasy, but on the off chance you haven't read it: it's good.

a tale for the time being: okay so i don't normally into litfic but once in a blue moon i'll pick some up and it'll obliterate me. alternates between the pov of a japanese teenage girl's diary and the middle-aged author-insert character in british columbia who finds the diary after the girl tosses it into the pacific ocean; plays with time in a fun way. subtle magical realism my beloved.

(and there's no such thing as an easy job has a similar subtle magical realism vibe, but is overall much less of a tearjerker. highly recommend.)

several people are typing: a guy gets isekai'd into his work slack; the story is told entirely via slack messages. this is a super quick read, and very funny. especially if you have a job that involves using slack.

the machineries of empire series: aauauahahahahgggh i need one of those mspaint drawings of a stick figure covered in blood to describe my feelings on this one. fucked-up science fiction (you... COULD call it lesbian space atrocities, i suppose!) that drops you in on the deep end trying to figure out what all these words mean and then you slowly figure out that it's technical terminology describing the torment nexus that powers society. killer shit.

song for the basilisk: admittedly i did not read this particularly recently but i will take any opportunity to rec it. patricia a. mckillip writes really good high fantasy (check out how many times she shows up in the mythopoeic awards list!) and, of all the books of hers that i've read, this is my favorite.

danmei (chinese boys-love novels) in english translation is like half of what i've been reading lately -- my all time favorite is the scum villain's self-saving system, which has eaten my entire brain (it's good in itself; it's great for chewing on in the form of meta and fan activity), but i also recommend guardian (the third and final volume of the official english translation is the book i most recently finished reading) and devil venerable also wants to know (no official translation but this fan TL is quite decent; i bound myself a physical edition, so i also have a typeset PDF i'd be happy to DM you if you're interested.)

books (nonfiction):

(going to be briefer here, since you specifically asked for "fun" books and my nonfiction taste is a little unhinged.)

one of my current reads is michael szonyi's the art of being governed -- this is an academic monograph about how military families in the ming dynasty handled their obligations to the state. during the ming dynasty, it was possible for families to designate themselves "military families", which was a tax-advantaged status but obligated them to provide one (1) man to serve in the army at all times (so if he dies or deserts, eventually the family back home would have to cough up another one). (and, by "serve in the army", often what is meant is "you are employed by the military to farm, which is more or less what you would have done back home anyway.")

if you're the kind of guy who reads patio11's bits about money or enjoys ssc book reviews, you will likely also enjoy dan davies' the unaccountability machine, which is a brief exploration for a popular audience of the (dysfunctional) system dynamics of large institutions like corporations and governments. very accessible and nontechnical, but with pointers to the Deep Lore if you subsequently want to seek it out.

the world of the shining prince: this is a book about what it was like, culturally, to be an aristocrat in the heian period. since i have never in my life come within either 1,000 miles or 1,000 years of being a heian period aristocrat i find this deeply fascinating. however, my friends and family have started laughing at me whenever i bring up information about the heian period. read at your own risk.

sei shōnagon's pillow book: sei shōnagon was a heian period aristocrat! she seems to have enjoyed it, but it is something of a shame that she died approximately a thousand years too early to make a tumblr account, because otherwise i feel she would have LOVED blogging. i'm reading the penguin edition (trans. meredith mckinney) and it is, fortunately, quite thoroughly footnoted, but i haven't read any other translations so i don't know if there is a better one out there.

music:

today what i was listening to on loop was the chainsaw man ost, which is a mixture of, like, the usual sort of j-rock you find in a shōnen soundtrack and slow-paced atmospheric stuff, and somehow it works really well together. recently i've also been listening to this playlist a lot because it's the playlist i made for a fic i'm currently writing.

other songs i've been listening to this summer, in no particular order:

sungazer is music theory youtuber adam neely's jazz band; lately they've been experimenting with hypertuplets and i'm super into it.

sometimes i find electric six's vocalist really irritating and sometimes it's exactly the juice my brain needed, and i have no idea what controls this. possibly the phase of the moon.

spotify recommended me this song and i listened to it on loop for like an entire work day and then clicked on the artist name to learn more, which i didn't. googled the song just now while making this post and apparently it was in a video game? the more you know.

i've been listening to irontom a lot this summer (and, um, a lot of similar music that i eventually stuffed in a playlist entitled "music with blown-out audio channels"). it's just, you know, the vibe.

(if that's not enough, here's my "summer 2024" spotify playlist. go ham!)

film/tv:

somehow, "watching things" is a skill it is possible to be bad at, and baby i'm winning last place.

the one tv show i've managed to watch in i think the past four months is chainsaw man, mentioned above. personally i really like well-animated shōnen with a cool soundtrack and i don't care that much about its other qualities; however, the protagonist is a dipshit teenage boy whose greatest life ambition is to touch a boob, so if this frustrates you you probably won't enjoy it very much.

i really really wish more people would watch legend of hei, a chinese animated film in the same corner of concept-space as studio ghibli. it's cuteeeeeee <3333

maybe someday i'll finally finish watching oh my general, a cdrama (free on youtube!) about a female general (ye zhao) who for reasons gets in an arranged marriage with the emperor's dipshit nephew (zhao yujin). this is peak fucking content because ye zhao is constantly saying gay shit by accident and swanning about being cute/badass in probably-historically-dubious armor. also as with all cdramas the costuming is completely off the shits.

[mazeinthemiroh]

Hello!

my first request here, i love your straykids reacts <\3 i would like to ask a react from the straykids boys with their yn crush and idol also being on the same program as them 🤕

stray kids reaction to their s/o being an idol

genre: fluff

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

pls like and reblog if you enjoy! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

chan finds it easier to relate to you because you are an idol. he's been in this industry for most of his life, and he's had to fight through a lot to get to where he is today. so he likes having a partner who understands the struggles he has been through. chan is so supportive of your idol journey just as you are of his.

when you perform on stage, he looks at you like he looks at the other members; he's so proud of you. he also loves to have you as a special guest in channie's room because you guys vibe so well together and the fans love seeing chan interacting with other idols, whether they know you're dating or not.

lee know

any excuse he gets, he just wants to dance or perform with you. he's always learning your/your group's choreography. like he just has to learn it. when you are on the stage performing he is dancing to the choreography from his seated area while the other members join in the fun too.

he loves having the opportunity to be a co-MC with you. presenting award shows usually means a lot of interactions between you both, and lee know likes finding little jokes and bits to do with you. because you mesh so well together, it's so easy to see your chemistry regardless of what you're doing.

changbin

of course, you are in his close circle of friends before he started dating you, and now the rest is history. you're friends with his idol friends and you all get along really well. they always thought you had a special connection with changbin, and they were right!

he also sees it as an opportunity to collaborate with you in some way, whatever role you may have in the group. he likes to get to know your creative process and wants to get to know your talents on a more up-close level. and when the collaboration is finally released he's super happy and has a new-found appreciation of you.

hyunjin

you are his inspiration. the love songs he writes? about you. the artworks he draws? they're all of you. he can't help but be moved by your music, and be in absolute awe by your beauty. he would have never thought you'd become such a big part of his life. and now you're dating him!

hyunjin can be quite shy when it comes to verbal affection but he always makes a special effort to compliment you and how well you have done in your recent comeback. he recognises your constant hard work and persistence to improve yourself.

han

the members groan every time they hear han belt out one of your songs every two seconds. he's like a major fanboy of yours, it's not even funny. he takes the 'supportive boyfriend' role to a whole other level. he buys your merch, streams your music, and goes to your concerts. you laugh at how over-the-top he is.

so we can gather he's not exactly subtle when supporting you. he stands up, dances and sings along when you're performing on stage at an award show. the fans even hear him shouting your fan chants and of course, the camera almost always pans to him when this happens.

felix

will binge-watch all your content/variety shows. with the little free time he has he figures what better way to use this time to catch up on your content! obsesses over your fancams and he will always tell stay to stream your new song every chance he can get.

and you best believe that his whole fyp is literally of you, which you find adorable. fans realise you both are dating or that he at least has a massive crush on you when he reveals his home-screen of you on a live, completely forgetting that it was a picture of you 🤦

seungmin

on the inside, he's like... on his KNEES begging you to do a duet with him because he's obsessed with your voice. of course, this is seungmin though. he might not dramatically gush over you like hannie would, but you can tell by the way he keeps dropping hints that he really wants to perform with you.

"ah your voice is really good in this track" or "our vibes would totally complement each other if we were to perform together." all these hints just encourage you to come up with the idea of performing with him because he's too damn shy to ask you himself, bless him <//3

jeongin

thinks you're super cool. he's more of a quiet supporter compared to some of the other members. he likes the fact that your schedule is quite similar to his; that way, he can meet up with you during his lunch breaks or even pop over to practice some choreography with you.

otherwise, i don't think being an idol with have much impact on the way he treats you. i think the real truth comes out about his feelings when you perform for the first time at an award show. just the way his eyes are fixated on you and he looks so utterly and hopelessly in love with you... yeah.

[give-grian-rights]

I joined an frc team

-GRABS YOU-

hello and welcome to the first day of the rest of your life . first robotics competition CHANGES YOUR BRAIN CHEMICALS

you want to survive? LETS DO THIS

1: NO MATTER WHAT try and stick it out. Get the grades, get the hours, get the permission to travel to at least ONE competition- especially one that stays in a hotel, since I know some teams will skip out on hotels for events close to them. I don't think ANYONE, in any scenario, should say "this isn't for me" until they go and experience one full event.

2: if you don't use deodorant YOU WILL BE EXECUTED . no matter what your job is, there is going to be at least ONE point throughout the day where you are shoulder-to-shoulder with someone . if theres a time to be self conscious its then . use Convention rules as reference

3:you will be tempted to fucking come out of the closet at least at one point . you do NOT KNOW how much it hurt to skip out on a cool write-your-own-pronouns pin because i refused to use she/her and wasn't comfortable writing any. proceed with caution as you see fit.

4: are you surprised by number four? YOU SHOULDNT BE the women. ohh the women are so pretty. my entire high school (aka: less than a year ago) was me being OUTRAGOUSLY STUPID whenever i saw a fem presenting person . oh my god. oh my god they are all so hot. and then those hot students become hot volunteers and alumni and the gay never leaves. there was a trans woman mentor at one competition she rocked we talked with her for like an hour

5: if your team. goes to far competitions. TAKE A BLANKET AND PILLOW. new kids sometimes do NOT get this memo. do it. get silly with it, to what your team permits. our team, being older than me myself, gave up . . most rules. involving the bus. for better or worse.

6: bring a hoodie. i dont care where you go. bring not just a blanket, but a hoodie. so worse comes to worse you can put it on the floor and sleep. that was a fun 8 hour bus ride.

7: if you have a remotely decent team. you will be killed on site if you cuss at a competition. one kid's "bad" or immature behavior can lead to your entire team being disqualified to any award not related to robot performance.

8: LEARN HOW TO EAT AT LEAST ONE BASIC FOOD. this one might be silly but it could've killed me (dramatic). eat pizza. even if you have to take off the cheese just. figure out a way its worth it. FIND SOMETHING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST. at least one breakfast food, for if you're at a hotel that serves you. experiment a little. find something that works for you.

9: exercise what free stuff you take with caution . i have probably ten-fifteen pounds of buttons and pins, and i do not. genuinely do not. think thats an exaggeration.

10: headphones . soft, subtle earbuds. battery packs. and a BACKPACK. my senior year, i composed myself of:

fanny pack, attached to it my wallet which had a buckle, so i could easily access my money. a change purse also attachable, so i have somewhere for coins obviously.

reusable, collapsing drinking cup

a folded up draw-string bag, for hoodies, or eccentric amount of free stuff

one to two battery packs with a charger. if you have friends (or want to make some), consider having other types of chargers too!

wall outlet plug, incase i need to charge at a venue

miniature hairbrush

hand sanitizer

gum. a great way to make friends

a folded up sandwich bag with various medicines, and a piece of paper that describe which each medicine is (ibuprofen, anxiety meds, etc).

i genuinely considered wearing two fannypacks at the same time. also, tying your hoodie around your waist for extra storage works too.

AND MY PERSONAL FAVORITE HACK:

tampon box . your venue bans outside food or drink? tampon box with pads and tampons on top. contraband inside. almost NEVER looks. better to put it with team stuff like scouting equipment and spirit gear but a worthy inclusion. Same goes for if you have a backpack with pockets!

put food/drinks at the bottom, menstrual products on top. doesn't matter what you present as. lie. say your girlfriend needed it since she doesn't carry a bag with her to competitions. putting SOFT STUFF that mumbles wrappers crinkling also helps, like an extra hoodie. though I personally wouldn't matter to much about that, since competitions are LOUD especially when you're entering the venue when the doors first open.

a lot of the time though, security aren't too bothered. especially if you dont make it obvious.

this is my first robotics season as a college student. i don't like my team enough to go back, but god. god do i fucking love this program.

[acebytaemin]

10 favourite gay songs?? 🎤

LMAO i love this so much let me just preface it by saying it’s 11 pm (=sleepytime) and im like 70% joking and also pulling these out of my brain in no particular order and ABSOLUTELY missing some of my favorites also don’t think these songs are necessarily canonically gay but i however am:

secret by taeyeon (the LYRICS. you’ll get it. cried to this a couple times)

cocktail by jonghyun (award for being the least subtle person on this earth goes to ours truly)

colorful by shinee (need i say anything?) aka my favorite shinee song

love city by 9muses (hotgirl lesbian vibe you can’t tell me otherwise. also this is my anthem)

sorry i love you by stray kids (LISTEEEN.. long suffering in love with my best friend feeling that leaves you gasping for air.. WHEW)

send my love to john by rina sawayama (definitely don’t look up the story behind this because you will shed a little tear)

fast car by syd (i don’t wanna talk about it.. im Not a romantic person i promise)

born to shine by key (watch the performance)

take me to church by hozier (you’ll be rolling your eyes but it’s a classic for a reason.)

peach by IU (imagine being so enamoured by your friend you write a song about falling in love with her.. from a man’s perspective of course.. no homo or anything)

[tenaciouspostfun]



2



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"Just Another Day"

A Comfortable Play



By Robert M Massimi. ( Broadway Bob).Published less than a minute ago • 3 min read

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"Just Another Day" at Theater 555 was written by Dan Lauria and directed by off Broadway guru, Eric Krebs. The play begins with projections of old stars of yesteryear to the song "No Strings Attached". When the two actors take the stage, Dan Lauria and Patty McCormack seem confused... at-least Dan (Man) does. McCormack (Woman) seems refined in her salmon colored sun dress. Often appalled at Lauria's language, she seems distant to his behavior.

In this one hour and forty-five minute play, the two have several things in common... they both share a love for old movies, the New York Times Sunday cross word puzzle. Later we would find out that their love of art is due to McCormack being a writer and Lauria being a painter (he is not sure if he was a house painter or a canvass painter).

In Eric Krebs direction, the audience gets good banter, in Lauria's writing we get jokes that for the most part land pretty well. Although his body of work is fair, the way the play is laid out is fun, comfortable and easy to watch as these two really good actors talk about things that are relevant as well as insane. The insanity part comes to the forefront as in time we realize that they are both in a sanatorium. As time goes on the audience accepts their dementia and Lauria is deft in how the characters put forth the dialogue all throughout the play; insanity brought to sanity.

The costumes are regal on McCormack (Bettina Bierly); her salmon outfit is beautiful, even though it is subdued, In the second act he off white knit suit is classy, like her. In Lauria, he is dressed like a mans-man; a guy who was from Brooklyn, N.Y., a former Marine. In Andy Evan Cohen's sound, the bell that regulates the behavior of the two is front and center. The subtle echo effects too add to this play in that he gives it a bit of mystery in these two actors. It is the lighting that falters a bit here; Joan Racho-Jansen does not hit the characters the way it should have. The audience often cannot pick up the entire body of the characters , especially at the head level. This has the audience having difficulty seeing the actors up close and therefore we never get the personal feeling of the two when they are at their most deep in their feelings about life. The characters are older and they have a lot to say; even if it is silly what they talk about, the two are still interesting to listen to. Not being able to see them weakened the dialogue.

In this unique play, "Just Another Day" stay's focused on the characters life. It gently gives us the inner thoughts of the two, it also shows us how corky they have become in a very playful way. Are past movies escapism? Where the movies that big a part of their lives. Is their "hit list" something that they thought about when they were sane? The play skillfully omits a lot of questions that the audience may have. This is the type of play that can keep you thinking about it for a long time. We also have to ask... what were these people really like in their younger years?

In the one set, a comfortable park- type setting, the show glides through the dialogue by two actors who wow the audience with their style and verve.

Dan Lauria, Eric Krebs, Patty McCormack, Tony Awards, Broadway, off Broadway, www.broadwayworld.com, www.nimbusmagazine.org, Broadway Bob, "The Lion King", Alladin", Harry Potter", "Wicked".

ART

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About the Creator



Robert M Massimi. ( Broadway Bob).

I have been writing on theater since 1982. A graduate from Manhattan College B.S. A member of Alpha Sigma Lambda, which recognizes excellence in both English and Science. I have produced 14 shows on and off Broadway. I've seen over700 shows

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[denimbex1986]

'*****

Over the last decade in particular, the evolution of queer dramas has been monumental to behold. With an over abundance of important stories finally being told, it becomes increasingly commonplace for the truly great ones to somehow slip through the cracks. This year alone, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe and Of An Age both debuted to minimal fanfare when they deserved so much more. Perhaps a film this bold in its messaging can break through to the mainstream—or at least the awards circuit—in a major way. Writer/director Andrew Haigh delicately hand-crafts the year’s most devastating, moving film in haunting ghost story, All of Us Strangers. Its deeply personal exploration of connection, guilt, parenthood, misspent youth, queer identity, and relationship dynamics are executed with the delicate touch of a master storyteller. Keeping a tale that overflows with magical realism this grounded, emphasizing the gentle embrace of a simple touch, could not have been easy. For those who have lost a parent, All of Us Strangers threatens to reopen old wounds while presenting a unique viewpoint about overcoming loss.

It all begins with the simple focus on a near-empty apartment building. A sense of seclusion leaps out as the camera explores a mostly-empty refrigerator containing leftover Chinese food, and an emphasis on the seclusion of this sleek abode. Adam (Andrew Scott, Fleabag, 1917) lazes about, attempting to write, when an alarm goes off. He goes outside, and that is when he discovers only one other soul resides inside. The man waves out to Adam from up on the sixth floor. Later that night, he knocks on Adam’s door in a friendly, horny gesture of goodwill. Introducing himself as Harry (Paul Mescal, Aftersun, Normal People), the piercing blue eyes stare back at Adam with a seductive allure. Harry, wielding a bottle of alcohol, offers it up, along with “whatever else you might want.” Despite the intimacy of their handshake and obvious looks of desire shared between them, Adam does not let Harry inside.

Even in this early scene, the chemistry between Mescal and Scott teases the possibilities in their connection. Their shared situational isolation manifests in different ways, with the inevitability of their connection always looming. Both Harry and Adam are flawed characters, which only serves to make them feel more real. To be completely honest, as much as I adore Paul Mescal’s acting prowess, I found it difficult to connect with his critically-acclaimed films Aftersun and Carmen. It was not until Mescal’s vulnerable performance here that his ballooning talent finally sparked a perfect match. In a movie overflowing with phenomenal performances, Mescal’s is one of the very best. All of Us Strangers bottles the isolation and loneliness of its central character, weaving in subtle foreshadowing and mesmerizing imagery. Adam Scott’s performance of a lifetime deserves every bit of awards attention and acclaim.

As a potential love story blossoms in their gloomy London apartments, Adam, a burgeoning film and television screenwriter revisits his past, both literally and figuratively. He pulls a few mementos out of a box to reminisce, then takes a train to visit his childhood home. Adam lost both his parents when he only twelve in a deadly car crash, a vital fact that he later discloses to Harry. Adam soaks up the quietness of a nearby field; as if summoned there, his father (Jamie Bell, Billy Elliot, Rocketman) materializes, and Adam follows the man back home. Visiting with his parents when he is now actually physically older than them does not seem logical, and yet, appears every bit as natural as meeting old friends. Adam begins going back time and time again, eventually comfortable enough to expose revelations about his own identity to parents whose worldviews still exist firmly rooted in 80s norms. Haigh’s film wastes no time spoon-feeding the audience, nor stopping in its tracks to explain the magical elements of Adam’s trips down memory lane.

In delving deep into the visitations with his parents, All of Us Strangers opens up a whole new layer of existential drama. Losing the ones you love is absolutely never easy, and when it is a parent, the pain becomes nearly too much to bear. Adam lost both parents in one fell swoop, and has obviously held on to so many things he was never able to discuss with them for decades. The juxtaposition between aged photographs of young Adam with the new memories he makes as an adult in their home adds a strange level of symmetry. Adam, forced to contemplate the past behaviors of his parents, learns how to embrace their imperfections, too. In one of the film’s most heart-wrenching sequences, Adam pours out his soul to Mum (Claire Foy, The Crown, First Man) as he seeks comfort in between Mum and Dad on their bed. Both parents are presented as loving in their own ways, perfectly imperfect. Even as Haigh makes strides towards implying this cannot last forever, the therapeutic beauty in Adam’s parental exchanges feel wonderfully specific.

Apart from a powerful ending that completely recontextualizes the entire film, the grounded intimacy of All of Us Strangers practically catapults off the screen. Sex scenes and dramatic moments are filmed in drastic closeup, emphasizing each actor’s features, along with the power of suggestion. The squeezing of thighs, the passionate embraces, and the tightness of wrapping hands on hands reminds us of the tenderness of the human connection. This is one gorgeous gay drama presented in a way we have not seen before, loosely based on the book by Taichi Yamada. Closing one’s film with Frankie Goes to Hollywood classic “The Power of Love” is a bold move, but in a movie this aching with sentiment, it adds a whole new layer of decadent, rich subtext. The lushness of the cinematography manages to depict the nightmarish and the beautiful in equal measure. Whether one is here for the textured romance or the enrapturing complications of parental relationships, All of Us Strangers will leave them satiated through its tragic, unforgettable ghostly tale. Call your parents more—knowing when will be the last time is a rarely granted luxury.'

[lynburnlegagy123]

I feel like, for me at least, the hardest part of writing is getting the balance of tones right. Like, dialogue is hard, and writing action is hard because it often gets into a pattern of "this then this then this then this and bam! This then this then this" but tone is the kicker.

While I do write original fiction as well as fanfiction, I am going to use an example from my fanfiction here because original fiction I write goes under my actual name and under no circumstances do I want people to be able to connect this blog and off-Tumblr-me. I've reblogged piracy instructions, as well as saying some personal stuff that I was only ok with saying to strangers because no names were involved or could be applied. Also using fanfiction because this is the fandom website, and because it means you already know the characterisation the POV character is supposed to have.

Anyway, the most current opening to my Star Wars fanfic "Until the Emperor Comes" goes like this:

"Unless some very specific things were done to prevent it, blood stains stuck. They faded over time, bleached out of cloth or walls with enough wear under the suns, but they stuck around first. Stayed in place for long enough that their spots could be seen long after they were gone. The explosion of the Death Star hung in space in front of Luke, a glowing green blood splatter staining a pane of glass between him and the galaxy. It had faded a bit, along with the adrenaline, and he could see through them both, but the awards ceremony was bathed in green.

Han’s clothes didn’t fit right on his body, in a way that felt different to how normal hand-me-downs didn’t fit right, or how the Stormtrooper clothes hadn’t fit right. Second hand clothes were a bit too big because they were being stretched over as many people as they could fit. The clothes were wearable, and he needed to wear something, so if it wasn’t perfect he could turn up the hems. The Stormtrooper uniform was stolen, and he’d done it on purpose. It wasn’t his, and it didn’t have to fit, it just had to fool a glance and stop him being shot. But Han had lent Luke his clothes so he could go get a medal for firing a shot, and the ways it didn’t fit made ‘kid’ feel like a much more accurate descriptor. Like he was acting the part of a hero to the revolution, and he couldn’t explain how he wasn’t in a way even he could understand.

Luke’s father’s lightsaber was a novel weight at his hip, and he’d probably never really know how to use it now.

There were more people in the ceremony hall than Luke thought he’d ever seen all standing still in his entire life. Like cut-outs of people, not quite real or distinct. A shallow canyon made of neat, staring flesh.

They were there because there had been such a thing as the Death Star, and it had been used to destroy a world, and it could have been used to kill them, and now it was shards of debris and would never hurt anyone again. And some holidays had pantomimes, where the local kids would dress up in costumes and act out some larger-than-life role, so that the role was filled and everyone got to get whatever they were going to get out of the story. This was like that. Luke was playing The Hero, he was wearing a costume, and he was going to play his part until it was done, so that the story of the Death Star could be without loose ends.

He set his shoulders, blinked the green from his eyes, and shot Han a grin."

And I quite like most of that. I like the way the writing flows, I like my metaphors and similes, I like the way I wove Tatooine stuff into Luke's viewpoint in both obvious and subtle ways. Certainly, there are flaws there, but there always are and a bit of polishing would minimise a lot of them. But the tone's wrong.

It's an AU that gradually diverges from canon, and in that scene the point of divergence has already happened, but the consequences of it haven't hit yet. So this version of the medal ceremony has to be consistent with the one at the end of A New Hope. And it isn't, really. But more than that, I want to kinda slowly lead into Luke having some Emotions about everything that had happened over the preceding few days, where you can see he will from the start, but there's enough of a gradual slide into that that it doesn't just feel like "ah, this fic is an angsty fic, at all times and unceasingly", because it really isn't supposed to be.

And this just feels like he's already having said Emotions, just barely pushing them aside for the sake of the ceremony, which doesn't match the canon scene's grins or the tone I'm going for at this point of the story. Meanwhile in some previous drafts Luke seems totally fine even when the audience is looking straight into his head right up until I give him a full-on panic attack, which doesn't feel true-to-life, is quite whiplashy, and made the transition into the next scene so difficult to work out that I abandoned the story for weeks and only came back to write the start all over again.

I want to start out with a happy, hopeful scene that has some shadows in it that start to grow over the scenes after it, until eventually I can explore some stuff and it feels natural. But getting the tones of "this is a positive scene" and "a whole lot of bad stuff happened recently, and Luke's going to have to deal with that in a bit" to balance properly is really, really hard. And it's like that in everything I write, this is just the thing I've been working on most recently and where my frustration about it spurred me to write this post.

[123freemoviesfun]

FBI (2018)

I'm not saying it's bad and clichéd. No. It's pretty good. But it's like something I've seen on Law & Order. Anyone who's seen it will know what I mean. I can't shake that feeling for a second. "FBI" is not bad, but it's not exciting either. Just a series for evening viewing, nothing more. In my opinion, it holds up only at the expense of Missy Peregrim, not an exciting plot. The rest of the cast is okay too, but she's the best. The creators did well with this part of the job. Each performer is in his place and looks normal in the role of their characters. The game does not pull on the awards, but it can not be called outright hackwork either. Here you will not see exaggeratedly bloody scenes, will not be nervous and waiting for the denouement. Everything is smooth, stable, without the heat of passion. It's just that people have a dangerous job and they do it. You watch them do it and you don't worry. A crime happens, FBI officers come, interview, investigate... And that's it. That's how it goes from episode to episode. I kept thinking that now the intrigue will start, now there will be a twist in the plot... I didn't wait. One more observation - some moments are available for perception only for American audience. I'm afraid that our viewers may again oppose the exaggerated tolerance and praise for the glory of feminism. And even before the end of the season, I tried to grasp at least some common storyline that would tie all the episodes together. In vain. It's just a random set of episodes, with random crimes. There's no brilliant but elusive villain, no engaging romantic story, no subtle humor. In general, everything that would make you regret the end of this season and rush to watch the next one. Read the full article

[monstersqueen]

no but in the first few scenes with nan feng and fu yao, the narration is full of comments like ‘obviously junior officers of a god do take the gods’ mannerisms’ and ‘the rivalry between the two gods is emulated by their junior officials’ and you know what. second time through it feels like xie lian is desperately trying to patch in the disguises to give them plausible deniability. Of course they act like their generals ! that’s what junior officals do! of course they get angry and poke each other’s weak point the same way! of course those weak points are the same! Junior officials just emulate their gods, take their mannerisms, get offended by what would offend them, and generally act exactly how their gods would act in any given situation. absolutely. nothing suspicious going on here.

nevermind that those junior officials never explained why they came to help without their generals’ approval. which was already suspicious as fuck.