#( can a drummer get some )

[spaceratprodigy]

[ 😇 ] — doodle dump from priv

just some smaller things while I have fun w friends and find my groove again :]

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[rocicrew]

discuss

[biillys]

band au where billy, eddie, and tommy are in a punk/metal/heavy rock band and are successful etc whatever anyway. Anyway.

the idea of them being interviewed and the interviewer asking tommy about his sexuality becos both billy and eddie are publicly bi

billy and eddie being like. hold the fuck up. u can't just ask someone that. but tommy, king of openness and honesty and also just a naive bitch, being like. i've been with my girl since seventh grade and i know she's it for me but like. guys are cool. can't confirm personally but guys are definitely cool. and being an awkward mess about it

the guys groaning and dropping their heads to their hands and jesus christ. shut the fuck up, man and the interviewer being like. so, bi?

tommy blushing like. aha ha ! when you put it like that !

them returning to the tour bus after and eddie being like. first of all that interviewer was a cunt for asking u that. second of all. [twirls hair] u can't confirm?

and billy cutting in like. we can help you confirm. we can 100% help you confirm. i already messaged carol and she's cool with it. said as long as we promised to return u in one piece, we can do whatever you want.

ANYWAY the idea of the guys having a threesome simply becos tommy's like. Well It'd Be Nice To Know For Sure. and billy and eddie giving him a night he'll never forget that bleeds into a morning he'll always remember

then the idea of someone bringing up that interview or asking tommy if he's Figured It Out Yet? and billy being like that's none of your fuckin' business only for tommy to jump in and be like oh i figured it out alright. i'm bi as FUCK.

and then all the fans and stans etc losing their minds on social media like what is THAT supposed to mean and why did billy and eddie fuck him so good that he said it like That

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

No offense but I love how Sleater-Kinney went 'Oh, artists/bands are supposed to sound worse/less creative later in their careers? Interesting', and then put out Little Rope.

It may not be Dig Me Out or The Woods, but I'll be damned if it wouldn't fit quite snugly between those two for pure punk and rock AWESOMENESS (with a little bit of a pop sound thrown in, because why not. They're Sleater-Kinney; they can do whatever the fuck they want).

[melien]

*to the tune of What Is This Feeling from Wicked*

There's been once again a change of drummer in GC But of course I'll keep Alyssa She will be the band's director And new drummer really feels like coming home

[littledykeblue]

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏/𝟒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑)

──𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 (𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖);

(drummer!sevika x reader): your friend invites you to see a band you have no interest in. that is, until you see the sexy drummer.

wc: 8.9k | cw: drummer!sevika, new fan!reader, dom top!sevika, bottom!reader, oral sex (r! & s!receiving), biting, scratching, hair-pulling, mating press, doggy style, a little spanking, strap-on usage, pet names: doll & baby, blink & you'll miss it dry humping, MINORS DNI.

note: this is part one of four in a mini-series i'm going to put out! the others will be vi, caitlyn & jinx aka the rest of the band. hope you enjoy this first installment!

It's pure chance that you end up standing outside in line to see a band you know next to nothing about. Your friend, Raven, just so happens to work at a pretty popular music venue, and she takes turns offering your whole friend group free tickets. Usually, you only cash in for bands you already like. No need to spend a whole night primping and standing in a sea of sweaty strangers just to be underwhelmed.

But this time, Raven insists. Says you'll want to go. If not for the music, then for the spectacular eye candy.

You ask her for the band’s info, figuring a quick scroll through their Instagram will be enough to decide whether it’s worth the effort.

Hotwired.

Cool name, at least. You pull up their page and immediately wonder how you’ve made it this far in life without even hearing about them. Every single member? A complete knockout. It's almost suspicious.

You don’t even mean to, but soon you’re moving over to Google. Once you manage to collect yourself and pick your jaw up off the floor, that is. It’s immediately clear they’ve got a loyal (and horny as hell) fanbase, made up mostly of women who are deep in the trenches.

Jinx does lead vocals. She looks like an edgy punk fantasy brought to life, all smeared eyeliner and that permanent shit-eating grin. Her scandal list reads like a greatest hits album: breaking paparazzi cameras, getting banned from festivals, allegedly attending an orgy or two. That last one may or may not have been debunked, but nobody really cares.

Then there's Vi, the guitarist, and easily the one with the sluttiest internet presence. Just from surface-level scrolling, you can tell the girl’s allergic to shirts and addicted to sticking her tongue out in literally every picture. You kind of get it. If you had a tongue piercing, you’d show it off too.

C.K.’s their bassist and easily the most mysterious. She’s always wearing a mask in every photo, and there are entire threads dedicated to speculating who she really is or why she never shows her face. She's got basically zero solo content. No interviews, no side accounts. The only time you ever see her is through blurry crowd pics or carefully curated shots on the band’s main page.

But the one who really stops you in your tracks is the drummer. Sevika. She’s clearly the oldest in the group and by enough that it’s become part of her brand. If you had a dollar for every time someone called her “mommy,” you could quit your job and live off the passive income.

It doesn't take long before you’re deep in her personal pages, scrolling through photo after photo, each one somehow hotter than the last. If you had to pick favorites, you’d be stuck between a pic of her holding some grinning girl in a headlock (because you wish that was you) or a candid shot of her half-sprawled on the tour bus couch, shirt rucked up just enough to show a hint of stomach and whatever tattoo’s inked there. It causes a delusional fantasy of seeing the tattoo in full, up close and personal.

If you weren’t sold before, you definitely are now. It’s only after you’ve been scrolling for the better part of an hour that it occurs to you: maybe you should actually listen to some of their music. Just to be sure. After all, no amount of raw sexual magnetism is worth two hours of garbage sound at floor-shaking volume.

Hotwired sounds exactly how you expected them to sound: fast, loud, and chock-full of debauchery. Beautiful.

Just like that, you’re hooked. Fully on board. You start counting down the days like it’s Christmas, and somehow, each one drags slower than the last, like time itself is conspiring against you. You keep yourself sane by cycling through outfit options and FaceTiming Raven late at night to workshop looks and lock in the plan. She promises she’ll make sure you get the real experience, not just general admission hell.

Eventually, Saturday rolls around.

You show up to the venue with your makeup sharp and your outfit toeing the line of try-hard, feet already bouncing from nerves and excitement. The line out front snakes down the block, full of people in ripped fishnets and smeared eyeliner, all buzzing with the kind of feral energy that comes from knowing you might lock eyes with your parasocial crush for two seconds if you stand in the right spot.

Right on cue, the Hotwired tour bus rolls past, slow enough to make you wonder if the band's inside looking back at all of you, too. It's blacked out with a massive decal stretching across one side: a grimy chrome version of their logo with electric blue slashes through it, like claw marks.

The second it passes, the crowd screams like it’s the second coming of Christ. You can't lie—you want to scream a little, too.

Then the front doors crack open and Raven steps out, scanning the crowd. She spots you almost instantly, waving you over. You push through the line, ignoring the side-eyes and muttered complaints, until you’re at the front. The bouncer squints down at you, arms folded like he’s about to be a problem, but Raven just gives him a pointed look and a playful nudge.

“Come on, Jakey,” she says, all syrupy. “You know she’s with me.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “One of these days, Rae…”

“And it still won’t be today,” she cuts in, already grabbing your wrist and pulling you past him. He lets you both through without another word.

Inside, the venue is way cooler than you expected. It’s grungy in that on purpose way, walls covered in layered gig posters, old stickers, and marker-scrawled graffiti.

The stage is low and intimate, set against a wall of distorted LED panels, and the ceiling is just high enough to make you feel like the place might implode if the mosh gets too wild. The lighting is red-tinted and low, and the air already smells like cheap beer and heat.

You both make a beeline for the bar, down a quick drink that tastes like battery acid and sugar, and then squeeze your way up through the crowd until you’re right at the barricade. Prime real estate. Raven beams at you, smug as hell.

“God, I cannot wait,” you say, adjusting your top and already scanning the stage for signs of movement. “I'm probably going to come as soon as the first shirt comes off.”

"I wouldn't be too worried," Raven answers, grinning. "The same thing will probably happen to fifty other girls. Me included."

"I seriously can't believe you've been gatekeeping them from me. Bad friend." You shake your head in mock disappointment.

Raven nudges your shoulder with her own. "Don't be like that," she says, "you're the one who refuses to listen to anything new. It's like pulling teeth with you."

"Fair."

"But, let's not ignore the fact that I've got us in the splash zone," she says, jerking her head up towards the stage. "There's no better spot to get the band's sweat flung on you. Plus, you're much more likely to get shit thrown to you."

You throw your arm around her shoulder and grin. "You are the best."

Soon enough, the lights dip a little lower and a trio of guys jog out onstage. The crowd cheers, not as loud, but still excited. The opener's called Time Killers—some high-energy, slightly chaotic boy band with a surprisingly tight sound.

They don’t waste too much time introducing themselves, just launch into a fast-paced set full of pounding drums and catchy guitar riffs. They’re not the main event, but they do a damn good job of loosening up the crowd, bouncing around the stage, shouting into the mic between songs, cracking jokes about Hotwired being backstage drinking half the rider.

By the time their set wraps up, everyone’s a little sweaty, hyped, and more than ready for the main act.

The moment the lights dim again, the energy in the room spikes. There’s a shift in the crowd, a low wave of buzzing conversation, giggling, camera flashes, the rustle of people scrambling to get their phones out. You can hear the name Hotwired murmured like a prayer, over and over.

They don’t make a big entrance. No theatrical intro or pyrotechnics. The girls just start filtering onto the stage like they own it, which, based on the screams that immediately follow, they absolutely do.

You spot Jinx first, bouncing out like she’s been shot out of a cannon, grinning wide and immediately flipping off the crowd. Then Vi, strutting in all pink hair and tank top and shoulder muscles, throwing up a peace sign and mouthing something probably filthy to someone in the second row. Caitlyn walks on like a ghost, calm and unreadable behind that signature mask, bass slung across her back.

And then there’s Sevika.

She stalks. Head down, focused, with a thick cable slung over one shoulder and a case of hardware in her grip like it weighs nothing. She moves through the dim lighting like she’s been doing this forever, every motion efficient, practiced, precise. There’s something about the way she pauses to check the rigging on her kit, nodding once to herself before moving on to the next thing, that makes your stomach swoop. You can tell she’s the kind of person who doesn’t leave anything half done.

And then there’s the outfit.

She’s wearing a cropped black vest that clings to her chest and cuts off just under her ribs, exposing toned abs and a stretch of skin that shows more of that dark ink winding up her side. Tight black jeans hug her hips and thighs in a way that should be illegal, chains swaying at her sides with every step.

Her arms are bare, heavy with muscle and shining a little under the stage lights from sweat or moisture. Silver rings gleam on her fingers, and there’s a low-hanging necklace tucked just under her collarbone. Her drumsticks are shoved into her back pocket, and when she turns—Jesus fucking Christ—you catch a full view of her ass and have to actively fight the urge to grab the barricade for support.

"Pretty sure I just came,” you murmur, staring like you’ve forgotten how to blink.

Raven snorts beside you. “Close your mouth. You're drooling.”

You try to. You really do. But it’s hard when Sevika finally finishes setting up, drops into her stool with her legs spread, and starts rolling one stick across her knuckles while the other taps absently against her thigh. She glances out at the crowd, expression unreadable, but something about the way she scans the front row makes you feel like she sees you.

A ridiculous thought that is very fun to entertain.

The moment the final mic is tested and the lights slam to full brightness, Jinx charges to the front of the stage and throws her arms out wide like she’s about to dive into the crowd. The audience erupts—screaming, whistling, people on shoulders, someone in the back launching a glitter cannon that immediately gets sucked into the venue’s weak-ass ventilation system.

“HELL-O, MOTHERFUCKERS!” Jinx shrieks into the mic, voice cracking in a way that somehow makes her even hotter. “Hope you’re ready to get wrecked, because we came here to ruin your night in the best possible way!”

The crowd loses it again, people chanting her name, some already trying to crowd surf. Security looks exhausted and the first song hasn’t even started.

Jinx paces the front edge of the stage like a manic preacher, motioning behind her as she speaks. “You know us already, but we're gonna do introductions anyway because holy shit do we deserve to be screamed at tonight. On lead guitar, is my lovely sister, Vi!”

Vi throws up the horns and leans into her amp, strumming a heavy chord just to flex. The crowd answers with a shriek that nearly drowns out the feedback.

“We've got the ice queen herself on bass...the one and only C.K.!”

Caitlyn lifts her bass one-handed like it weighs nothing, offering the crowd a slow, deliberate bow. Someone near you yells, “Show us your face!” and immediately gets booed into silence.

“And in the back, banging the drums, which I know some of you wish you could be, it’s Sevikaaaaaa!”

You don’t know how Sevika can roll her eyes while still looking like she’s enjoying herself, but she manages. She twirls a stick between her fingers, then throws her arms up once and brings them down hard for a crack of the snare that shudders through your chest.

"And, of course, around here we save the best for last," she says, hopping off the stage and approaching...you. She holds out her hand as if for a handshake and you oblige as quickly as your brain allows you to catch up.

"I'm Jinx! Nice to fucking meet ya!"

Jinx grins and jumps back on the stage, spinning back toward the mic, breathless and grinning. “We’re Hotwired, you’re ours now, and this one’s called ‘Burn the Breaklights.’ Let’s see what you’re made of!”

The guitar tears in first, loud and dirty, then Caitlyn’s bass hits low and deep, and finally Sevika drops into the rhythm like she was built for it. The whole room moves. It's one of the songs you listened to on repeat earlier in the week, so you already know a good bit of the lyrics, already know the moment the beat’s gonna break, already feel your body falling into sync with it.

You and Raven lose yourselves in the moment, dancing like you’ve got something to prove, like the music's a possession. Her hair’s sticking to her face already and you're probably flashing everyone behind you every time you jump, but none of it matters.

Not when Sevika is on stage, muscles flexing with every strike, jaw tight, eyes laser-focused on the set. She looks absolutely lethal. Every time you try to look away, your gaze snaps right back to her. It’s like she’s holding the tempo of your heart along with the song. Every beat, every drop, every filthy crash of the cymbals—it’s her.

And yeah, you're watching the whole band. But you're watching her the most.

The rest of the show barrels forward like a freight train, no breaks, no mercy. Hotwired barely pauses between songs, each one bleeding into the next with sharp edges and screaming vocals, the crowd more than happy to go feral with them. You lose track of the setlist and, honestly, your sense of time somewhere between song four and five, when Raven boosts you up and the crowd takes you.

You float above the chaos for what feels like forever, arms raised, cheeks aching from how hard you're grinning. Hands guide you forward, and for once you don’t care about the potential for bruises or that someone definitely copped a feel on the way down. You land near the barricade again, wild-eyed and breathless, just as Jinx reappears center stage holding a massive water bottle.

She grins like a devil. “Y’all look thirsty,” she purrs, then proceeds to douse the first three rows, including you and Raven. It’s a full-body splash, soaking your shirt and leaving your hair damp.

Raven bursts into laughter, slapping your shoulder and yelling, “Told you the splash zone was real!” while you push wet strands out of your face and try not to melt on the spot.

Things only get weirder from there. Midway through the set, a man in a giant inflatable t-rex costume lumbers out from side stage like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Jinx doesn’t miss a beat—she grabs a mic stand like a weapon and launches into a full-on choreographed battle with him. The t-rex flails, Jinx spins around dramatically, and the crowd eats it up. It ends with her knocking him down (gently), then dropping to one knee and serenading him with what turns out to be a surprisingly heartfelt punk ballad about falling in love during a Godzilla rampage. You laugh so hard your stomach cramps.

Later, they open up the floor for an all-girl pit. Jinx leans into the mic, hair stuck to her face, absolutely unhinged as she screams, “If you see a man in this pit, fuck his shit up!” and the crowd loses it.

You hesitate for half a second before Raven shoves you in with a wicked grin. It’s wild and a little terrifying but weirdly exhilarating. Everyone’s laughing and pushing and grabbing each other’s arms to stay upright, and when someone does spot a guy creeping in from the side, three girls immediately bodycheck him out like it’s a sport.

By the end of the set, your voice is half gone, your limbs feel like rubber, and you know you’ll be sore as hell tomorrow—but you’re still not ready for it to be over.

The lights flare brighter, the stage bathed in reds and purples, and Jinx struts to the edge of the platform with a wicked grin like she’s about to start a riot. Her hair’s stuck to her face, eyeliner smeared to hell, shirt clinging to her body like a second skin. She’s practically glowing with sweat and adrenaline and the kind of manic joy that only comes from setting a crowd on fire for an hour straight.

“This our last one of the night,” she says, breathless and grinning. “But I’m gonna need a few pretty girls up here to help us close it out.”

That’s all it takes. The front row surges forward like a wave, everyone screaming and reaching, girls practically climbing over the barricade in the hopes of being noticed. Jinx motions to the band behind her. “Vi, Sevika. Make sure they're cuties!”

Vi gives a mock salute and hops off the stage, already laughing. Sevika follows, more reserved but clearly amused as her eyes start sweeping through the front row.

They make a whole damn show of it, taking their time, dragging it out, pointing at random girls then shaking their heads like they’re not quite right, just to drive the crowd insane.

You’re crammed up against the barricade, half-smashed by girls on either side trying to crawl over you. One of them elbows you in the ribs and you wince, gripping the rail to stay upright.

Then Sevika’s in front of you.

She’s massive up close, towering and flushed from the heat, vest clinging to her body and dark ink gleaming under the lights. She looks right at you, eyes dragging down once—deliberate, slow—then reaches out and grabs you by the waist like it’s nothing. You barely get a word out before she hauls you up, slinging you over one shoulder like you weigh nothing at all.

The crowd screams.

You catch a brief flash of another girl being thrown over Sevika’s other shoulder, but you can’t see who it is—just that you’re both being carried through a sea of flashing lights and flailing hands. You’re deposited back on stage with all the grace of a sack of laundry, but when you right yourself, blinking against the brightness, you realize the other girl Sevika grabbed is Raven. She’s laughing, eyes wide, clearly having the time of her life.

Vi drops two more girls off, and Jinx bounces over, practically vibrating with excitement. “Alright, you guys,” she says into the mic, pointing with a flourish. “I want you to dance for your fucking lives. This one goes out to every pretty, punk girl in this crowd tonight!”

The band slams into the final song like they’re possessed. It’s dirty and fast and fun as hell, the kind of track you can’t help but move to, and that’s exactly what you do. You let it take you, let your body roll with the beat and the bass and the screams of the crowd. Jinx loops an arm around your waist at one point, dragging you into a messy, chaotic spin before grinding against you in rhythm with the chorus.

Vi makes a little show of guiding one of the girls down on her knees; she stands with her legs spread on either side of the girl's lap and starts in on her solo. She makes those string sing and the girl under her seems to be having the time of her life. The crowd fucking explodes.

You don’t even care how sweaty you are or what you look like. You just dance, laugh-singing the lyrics you half-remember, head tipping back as the lights pulse and the drums pound. When the final chord hits, the sound crashes down like a wave, and the entire venue moves as one—cheering, screaming, lights flickering wild and strobing.

Sevika stands as the last echoes of the drums fade. She pulls one of her sticks from the kit, the end cracked and splintered and walks it over to you. She presses the worn, warm stick into your palm and winks.

You don’t even try to act cool about it. You just stare down at it, dazed, while security helps you and the others off the stage and back over the barricade.

"Goodnight, you heathens! You've be a wonderful crowd!"

You and Raven slip out through the side exit marked Employees Only, the one she mentioned earlier, where the bands usually dip out to avoid the chaos at the front. The alley behind the venue is dimly lit and smells like smoke and spilled beer, but it’s quiet, tucked away from the thrum of the still-buzzing crowd. You’re both flushed and half-drenched in sweat, breathless in that post-show haze, riding the high and crash all at once.

Raven fishes a crushed cigarette pack from her purse and slides one between her lips. “Got a light?”

You open your mouth to answer, to say no, but let me check, but a voice cuts through the quiet, low and unmistakably rough.

“Here.”

You both turn.

Sevika’s standing a few feet away, cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth, shoulders slouched like she’s been here the whole time.

Her leather jacket’s heavy with patches and pins, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and the silver zippo she’s holding out gleams in the streetlight, engraved with something you can’t quite make out. Her gaze flicks between the two of you, but then it lands on you and sticks.

Your breath catches. There’s no stage lights now, no distance, no wall of noise. It’s just her. Big as hell, close enough to smell the smoke, and somehow even hotter like this—casual, confident, not sweating a damn thing.

“You looked real good on stage,” she says, eyes narrowing just slightly, like she’s still sizing you up.

It's entirely possible that you might just float away. “Oh. Uh, thanks. You—you too. Sounded. You sounded good. The whole time.”

Raven coughs into her fist, poorly masking a laugh.

Sevika smirks, nods once like that’s all she needed to hear. Then she jerks her chin toward the drumstick you’re still clutching for dear life. “Want me to sign that?”

You don’t even hesitate. “Yes. Yes, please.”

She pulls a sharpie from her back pocket and scrawls something across the wood—longer than just a name. She caps the marker with a flick, hands the stick back, and says, “Keep it to yourself.”

You nod. Maybe too fast. Words are hard when she’s looking at you like that, relaxed and a little amused, cigarette smoke curling between you.

“Y’all have a good night,” Sevika says, slipping the lighter back into her jacket. She gives Raven a quick nod and you one last glance before turning and heading off down the alley, boots heavy on the pavement.

It takes you a second to remember how to breathe. Then you look down at the stick.

Sevika’s number is written right there in blocky print.

“Oh my god,” Raven hisses, grabbing your arm. “She gave you her number. You're so fucking in there, dude!”

“I—what do I do? Should I text her? What if she invites me to her hotel room? What if she actually wants to hook up?”

Raven looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “First of all, we’ve got our protocols. You text me your location, share your location, take the selfie timestamp, we do the whole checklist. Second—babe, you only get one life. And that woman just handed you a golden opportunity.”

You nod slowly, dazed. “I need a shower first.”

“Yeah, no shit. We’re going to my place. It’s closer.”

You pocket the drumstick like it’s breakable and follow her out of the alley, heart pounding harder than it did in the pit.

-

You’re sitting cross-legged on Raven’s bed, freshly showered, skin still warm from the water and nerves buzzing under the surface. Your hair’s damp, your hands are clammy, and your thumb is hovering over the glowing green call button on your screen. Sevika’s number is typed in. Still feels unreal. Raven’s already changed into her sleep shorts and an oversized tee, lounging beside you like this is all very normal and not a life-altering decision in the making.

“Just do it,” she says, biting into a granola bar like this is nothing. “She gave you her number. She signed it on a fucking drumstick. She wants you to call.”

You take a steadying breath, nod once, then hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Four.

“Yeah?” Sevika answers, her voice low, a little gravelly, definitely tired but not annoyed. It curls in your ear like smoke. “Who is this?”

You clear your throat. “Uh. It’s me. From the alley. With the drumstick.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then:

“Oh.” Her tone shifts, interest sharpening like the flick of a lighter. “I was wondering when you’d call. Wasn’t sure if you would.”

You smile, cheeks heating even though she can’t see you. “Why’d you give me your number?”

“Thought you were cute.” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Felt like it was mutual.”

Your heart skips. “It was. Definitely was.”

Another pause, this one slower, more thoughtful. “You cool if I come pick you up?”

Your breath catches. You glance over at Raven, who’s staring at you with huge eyes and mouthing holy shit. “Are we...are we gonna hook up?”

Sevika laughs—a real one, low and genuine. “Only if you want to, doll.”

Your stomach flips and your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to. “Yeah. I do.”

Raven silently screams, her hands waving in the air before she plants both fists into the comforter like she’s watching a playoff game.

“Send me the address,” Sevika says. “I’ll swing by soon as I can.”

You nod, then catch yourself. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll send it.”

“See you in a bit,” she says, then hangs up.

You lower the phone slowly. Raven grabs both your shoulders like you just won a gold medal. “SEVIKA is on her way to pick you up. What the fuck. You’re gonna have to tell your future kids about this one.”

“I’m not gonna have kids,” you mutter, dazed.

“You might after tonight!”

You groan and flop back onto the bed, phone clutched to your chest like some cheesy teen rom-com. Raven throws you a pair of lip glosses and demands outfit approval.

"What happens in that hotel room will be concerning to the general public," you say, grinning.

Raven squeals. "And I can't wait for you to get back here so you can give me every juicy, disgusting detail!"

The distant rumble of a motorcycle reaches you before the headlight cuts through the quiet of Raven’s street. You step outside just in time to see Sevika roll up—heavy boots planted as she kills the engine, the machine still humming under her. She’s wearing the same leather jacket from earlier, helmet tucked under one arm, and she looks unfairly good with her hair pulled back, a fresh cigarette behind one ear.

“Hey,” she says, voice low and unreadable.

You manage a breathless, “Hi.”

She holds out a matte black helmet. "Want help?"

You nod, and she steps in close, fitting it over your head and buckling it gently beneath your chin. Her fingers brush your jaw—intentional or not, it still makes your heart skip. She checks the strap, gives it a little tug, then nods in approval.

“Put your arms around me,” she says, already mounting the bike again. “Hold on tight.”

You slide onto the seat behind her, hands fumbling slightly before you wrap your arms snugly around her waist. Her torso is solid under the leather, the bike humming beneath you, and you can smell her cologne.

Then you’re off.

The city streaks past in a blur of streetlights and neon signs, wind rushing past your body, your heart pounding louder than the engine. You don’t know how long the ride lasts—fifteen, maybe twenty minutes—but when Sevika slows and pulls into a quiet hotel parking lot, you’re not ready for it to end.

She kills the engine and dismounts first, then helps you off like she’s done it a thousand times before. She pulls a cap from her jacket pocket and a pair of sunglasses from the other, handing them to you with a small smirk.

“Just in case there’s anyone waiting around,” she says. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of creeps who’ll sell a blurry photo for a couple hundred bucks.”

You nod and slip both on, grateful for the moment to compose yourself. Sevika reaches for your hand—no hesitation—and laces your fingers with hers like it’s no big deal. She leads you inside, her grip firm but steady, only releasing your hand once you reach the elevator.

She steps in first and turns you around so that your back is facing the small overhead camera in the corner. The doors slide closed with a soft ding, and you can feel her eyes on you as you pull the cap off, then the glasses.

“C’mere,” she murmurs.

You face her, and she lifts her hands to your hair, smoothing the parts that got windswept on the ride. There's a stubborn bit that refuses to lay right and she tucks it behind your ear, her knuckles dragging slow along your cheek.

The moment lingers.

Then Sevika leans in and kisses you—soft at first, her lips warm and unhurried, but the second you respond, it tilts hotter. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist, and you melt into it, helpless against the way she feels. You lose track of time in the haze of it until—

Ding.

The doors slide open and Sevika breaks the kiss with a breath, but not a word. She takes your hand again, tighter this time, and leads you down the hall with singular focus. You pass a door that swings open just as you’re walking by.

Jinx steps out, half-dressed in a tank and cutoffs, hair a chaotic mess. “Yo, Sev, do we have any more—?”

“Fuck off,” Sevika says without slowing, without looking back.

Jinx laughs. “Rude.”

Sevika stops just long enough to unlock her door and yank it open, ushering you inside before pulling it closed behind you with a satisfying click. The lock turns, the sound final.

Sevika’s on you with a purpose, crowding you back against the door with the full heat of her body, her mouth claiming yours in a kiss that’s immediately filthy.

Hot and open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth, the kind of kiss that leaves your head spinning and your knees already getting soft.

You gasp into her, but she doesn't give you a chance to speak, her hands already gripping your hips like she owns them. You feel her smile, dark and dangerous, against your lips as you let your fingers explore—first the firm planes of her stomach, defined and solid under the hem of her shirt, then lower, to her ass, where your hands squeeze without hesitation.

That earns you a reaction.

Sevika groans into the kiss, deep in her chest, and grinds her hips against you, slow and deliberate. You feel everything: how solid she is against you, how good she knows it feels to make you feel this. Her mouth moves to your jaw, to your neck, biting and kissing like she wants to leave evidence.

“I see you're done with the shy shit,” she mutters, before grabbing you by the back of your thighs and lifting you clean off the floor.

Your breath catches with a startled sound that turns into a moan as your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. She holds you up with just one arm, effortless like it’s nothing. Her other hand slips up the front of your shirt, rough fingers dragging over your stomach and up to your chest.

She doesn’t even bother with the bra—her hand finds your tit and gropes, slow and possessive, her thumb circling your nipple until you’re arching into the touch.

She pulls back just enough to look at you. Really look. You’re panting, lips kiss-swollen and eyes already half-lidded, your makeup smudged from the ride and the kiss and her mouth all over your throat.

“Goddamn,” Sevika says, quiet, almost reverent. “You really are a pretty little thing.”

You smile, dazed, about to say something—

“Shame, really.”

You blink. “What is?”

She grins, teeth flashing as her eyes drag across your face. “That I’m gonna have to ruin all that pretty makeup.”

"Oh my god, please." It comes out a little more desperate than you intend for it to, but Sevika seems deeply pleased by the turn of events.

She slips her hand from under your shirt and steadies you against her hips before walking the both of you toward the bed. The way she moves is careful, but the heat in her eyes never dims. When she lays you down, it’s with a gentleness that throws you off after the rough edges of the last few minutes. Her hand lingers on your thigh as she still stands above you.

“You still want this?” she asks, voice quieter now, more grounded. It’s the most serious she’s sounded all night. “No hard feelings if you don’t.”

You shake your head so fast it’s almost pathetic. “I do. I—like, really do.”

Sevika’s expression softens, just slightly. “Then get undressed.”

You scramble to obey, stripping off your shirt first, then your shorts, both discarded over the edge of the bed without much ceremony. Her eyes never leave you. She watches the way you move, takes in every inch of exposed skin like she’s memorizing it, and the intensity makes heat rise in your chest. You fight the stupid reflex to cover yourself.

“I like the matching set,” she murmurs, stepping closer, the fronts of her thighs pressing into the mattress as she leans forward. She hooks a finger under your waistband and snaps it lightly against your skin. “Put this on for me?”

You nod, breath caught in your throat. “Yeah.”

“I appreciate the effort, doll,” she says, and leans down to kiss you again, mouth hot and teasing. She nips your bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt but enough to pull a gasp from you. “Think you’ve earned a little treat, hmm?”

“Please,” you say, dazed and already too far gone to pretend otherwise. She could ask for anything right now and you'd probably give it to her.

True to her word, she climbs onto the bed, settling between your legs with all the casual confidence in the world. The sight of her down there—strong shoulders framed by all that jewelry, hair messy from your fingers, her mouth so fucking close—is enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Your hands slide into her hair without you realizing it, fingers curling, needing something to hold on to. She grins up at you, a slow, wicked thing that curls at the edges of her lips.

“You can pull,” she tells you, voice low and sure. “Bite me, scratch me, scream my name. I like it all.”

The mental image—her skin marked up by you, bruises blooming across her chest, fingernail lines trailing her back—makes your head spin. But then Sevika drags you out of that thought with the swipe of her tongue, slow and deliberate, straight through your soaked folds.

Your mouth falls open.

She doesn’t ease into it. Her whole mouth is on you, her tongue pressing in deep before she pulls back to suck your clit into her mouth, hard and focused. Loud, wet sounds fill the room, and every moan that spills from her makes your body twitch. She likes it, you can tell. Likes how wet you are, likes the way your hips buck despite yourself.

Then she’s burying her tongue inside you, her nose pressed tight against your clit, and it’s too much, not enough, perfect. You can’t help the way you grind down against her, chasing every ounce of pressure. Your grip in her hair tightens, probably bordering on painful.

But Sevika just groans, the sound rumbling straight into your core, and slides a hand up to your stomach to pin you in place.

“Just stay still,” she mutters, mouth brushing wet heat against you, “and take it for me.”

You try to stay still like she asked. You really do. But it’s impossible with the way her mouth is working you over, like she’s got something to prove.

She’s relentless—no breaks, no mercy—tongue curling and flicking in a rhythm that feels obscene in the best way. The hand pressed to your stomach keeps you from squirming too much, but your legs are shaking and your fingers are locked in her hair now, tugging with each desperate half-aborted roll of your hips.

Your vision blurs at the edges. Your head falls back against the bed with a ragged sound that might be her name. And when the heat finally crests and crests and then snaps, it hits like a punch in the gut. Your whole body tenses, thighs locking around her head as you cry out, louder than you mean to, legs trembling with the force of it.

Sevika moans into it, like she's savoring every second, riding it out with slow, indulgent licks that make your stomach twitch.

You try to catch your breath, chest rising and falling fast, but Sevika doesn’t move away. She kisses your inner thigh once. Then again. Her hands stroke over your legs, gentle now, grounding. She lets you breathe. Just for a moment.

Then she’s back, mouth brushing against your still-sensitive clit with a teasing hum.

“Think you’ve got another in you, doll?” she murmurs, already kissing her way up your inner thigh again. Her voice is warm now, low and coaxing, like she already knows the answer.

You whimper, your hips giving a weak twitch toward her mouth even as your legs tremble with aftershocks. "Y-yeah."

“That’s what I thought,” she says, smug and soft all at once.

She takes her time now. Her mouth moves slow and deliberate, licking through your folds with featherlight passes and pressing gentle, wet kisses to your clit. The overstimulation hits sharp at first, your thighs jolting under her hands, but she soothes you through it.

“So fuckin' pretty,” she murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “Even when you’re falling apart.”

Her hands stroke up and down your thighs, lazy and tender. She palms the meat of them, lets her thumbs trace soft circles until you’re relaxing under her again, the sharp edge of sensation melting into something sweeter.

“You’re doing so good for me,” she adds, voice low and full of heat. “Just let go. I got you.”

You bite your lip, overwhelmed and wrecked and somehow still burning for more. Your hips start moving on their own, rocking up into her mouth, and Sevika hums her approval. Her tongue moves with slow purpose, dragging you up and up again until your fingers are tangled tight in the sheets and you’re begging without even realizing it.

The second orgasm is softer. Like your body is unraveling instead of bursting. You moan her name as your thighs clench, your back arches, and your entire body goes loose under her hands.

Sevika kisses your pussy one last time—slow and warm—before finally pulling away, her face slick, her grin downright criminal.

“Fuck,” she mutters, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

You can’t speak. You don’t even try. All you can do is lay there, dazed and ruined, as Sevika presses one last kiss to your thigh before finally crawling off the bed. You hear her crack her back and exhale like a boxer between rounds.

“You still got more for me, or do you think you’re about done?” she asks over her shoulder, heading for the mini fridge tucked into the corner of the room.

You’re half melted into the mattress, still catching your breath, but you sit up enough to catch the water bottle she tosses your way. It’s one of those tiny ones that might as well be a sip, and you kill it in seconds. Sevika watches with a smirk, arms crossed over her bare chest.

After a beat, you mutter, “Give me, like, twenty minutes.”

She laughs, low and warm and amused by your commitment. “You sure? Not every day you get to wear out a groupie.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin gives you away. “It’s not every day you get to fuck a rockstar, either. I’m making it count.”

“Yeah, you are,” she says, grabbing the remote and flopping down on the bed beside you. She sheds her jeans and shirt in one smooth motion, leaving her in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers that sit a little crooked on her hips. She doesn’t seem to care.

The TV comes on to some late-night rerun, but you’re not really watching it. You’re more focused on how Sevika leans back against the headboard and opens her arms like she’s inviting you in.

You take the invitation.

Your head ends up in her lap, and her hand finds your hair almost instantly. She scratches gently at your scalp, twirling strands around her finger, trailing soft touches down the side of your face. It’s lazy and warm and kind of unfair how good it feels. You could fall asleep like this, safe between her thighs with the dull buzz of the TV in the background.

But after maybe ten, fifteen minutes, your fingers start to drift.

You let your nails rake lightly along her thigh, aimless at first, but then you start tracing slow lines higher and higher. Sevika hums, a lazy warning you don’t heed.

“What are you up to?” she asks, voice low, indulgent.

You glance up at her from her lap and smile. “Can I eat you out?”

Sevika raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by the request. “Fuck, yeah,” she says, already shifting her hips. She lifts up so you can tug her boxers down her legs and toss them somewhere across the room.

You get a little rush from the sight of her: already wet, glistening, the proof of her arousal slick on her thighs. Just knowing that she got like this from going down on you is enough to make your head spin all over again.

So you start slow, just for a second, before you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and bite. Hard.

Sevika lets out a sharp breath and flexes beneath you. Her hand tightens in the sheets beside her, but she doesn't stop you. Doesn’t want to. You sink another bite a little higher, then lick over the mark you just made, feeling her muscles jump beneath your tongue.

Your hands grip her thighs tight, nails digging in, not gentle at all now. You want her to feel you.

“Fuck, that mouth,” she groans, hips twitching toward you.

You get to work for real, licking a stripe up the center of her, then circling her clit with your tongue just enough to tease.

“Don’t hold back, doll,” she tells you, voice ragged but sure. “C’mon. Show me how bad you wanna impress me.”

You do. You really do.

She groans your name, threading her fingers tighter in your hair as your mouth drags wet and firm over her clit. Her thighs bracket your face and you feel her start to grind into it, chasing the pressure, not shy about what she needs.

“You’re so good at this,” she murmurs, voice dipping into that same low register that makes your spine light up. “So fuckin’ eager. Knew you’d be like this.”

Your hips press into the bed without thinking. She keeps going.

“Keep that tongue right there. Just like that, yeah. That’s it, baby. You’re making me proud.”

You moan against her, desperate now, and she laughs, wrecked and fond.

“God, you like hearing me talk, don’t you?”

You nod, mouth still busy, and Sevika rewards you with a groan so filthy it vibrates straight through you.

“Then earn more of it,” she growls. “Don’t stop now.”

Sevika’s breathing gets heavier. The muscles in her thighs are twitching under your grip, her hand tight in your hair now as she guides you exactly where she wants you.

“Fuck, baby! just like that,” she growls, low and rough. “Don’t stop. Don’t even think about it.”

You keep going, your mouth locked on her clit, tongue moving in tight circles, your grip firm as you hold her in place. Her hips are starting to roll, slow and unrestrained, chasing the rhythm. Her growls turn to moans, strained and filthy, falling from her lips like she’s already on the edge.

“Gonna come all over that sweet mouth,” she grits out. “You gonna take it for me? Be good and take it?”

You answer with a desperate noise, nodding against her just enough to make her groan again. She plants both hands on your head and presses you harder between her thighs, grinding against your mouth.

“Ohh, fuck—fuck, fuck—”

Her voice cracks as she comes, body tensing hard around you. Her thighs clamp tight on either side of your face, and you can hear the breath rip from her lungs in a guttural sound that’s half curse, half praise. She holds you there, trembling through the high, hips stuttering against your mouth until the worst of it passes.

When she finally lets up, her hand slides gently to your cheek, her thumb rubbing over the damp skin. She strokes along the curve of your jaw, then drags that thumb over your bottom lip.

“Open,” she murmurs, watching you with heat still burning behind her eyes. You do. She presses her thumb inside, slow and deliberate, and grins when you suck it instinctively.

“Good girl,” she says, and you’re already shivering again.

Sevika pulls you up her body in one smooth tug, hands warm and sure as they slide up your sides. When your lips meet, it’s messy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and hunger. Her hands trail down to your ass, gripping it in both palms, like she’s trying to ground herself with the feel of you.

She feels you humping against her thigh, subtle but obvious, your body already begging for more. She breaks the kiss with a crooked smirk. “Oh? You ready for me to fuck you now?”

You nod, breathless, flushed, still clinging to her.

“I figured,” she murmurs, voice dipping into something darker. “Get on all fours for me, doll. Be good.”

You do exactly as you’re told.

Hands pressed into the sheets, knees spread, chest lowered like submission comes naturally. The room is quiet for a beat, save for the rustle of fabric, the dull zip of a bag opening behind you. You hear the soft thud of something heavy being set down, followed by the low click of buckles, the faint stretch of elastic, and the subtle shift of weight as Sevika moves behind you.

You don’t have to look to know what’s coming.

Then you feel it. The press of something thick against the swell of your ass. It drags slow and deliberate along your soaked folds, the pressure of it undeniable.

“Feel that?” Sevika murmurs, one hand sliding across your hip. “You’re about to take every inch of it.”

Your breath catches as the tip nudges your entrance, slick already clinging to your thighs. She doesn’t give you time to overthink it—just starts pushing in, slow but steady, giving you the stretch inch by inch. You gasp, biting into the pillow, your body gripping around her as she fills you completely.

And then she starts to move.

Sevika fucks like a force of nature, brutal and relentless. Her grip on your hips is bruising, nails digging into your flesh with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room, matched only by the ragged moans pouring from your mouth.

“Look at you,” she growls, voice close to your ear now. “Taking it like you were made for it.”

A hard spank lands across your ass, sharp and stinging, and you cry out, the pain shooting straight through your core.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” she spits. “Dripping down your thighs. Bet I could slide another toy in and you’d still beg for more.”

“Sevika,” you moan, wrecked and breathless, clinging to the sheets. “Please—more, fuck, don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin’,” she promises, slamming into you harder, the snap of her hips making your arms buckle. “Not until we've ruined these fucking sheets. Not until you scream for me.”

Your moans pitch higher, blurring into sobs of pleasure as the coil in your belly pulls tight. You feel your climax crash through you—sudden, all-consuming—and Sevika doesn’t let up. Not for a second.

She presses one hand flat to your lower back, holding you down, keeping your chest against the mattress while she fucks you through it. Every thrust punches the air from your lungs, your legs shaking beneath her, your orgasm stretching into something messy and endless.

Sevika doesn’t waste time after that.

She flips you with ease, palms steady on your hips, and settles between your legs again, the strap dragging hot and slick along your sensitive folds. Your body jolts with the contact, overstimulated and twitching, but she doesn’t push in just yet. She leans down, eyes locked to yours, breath brushing your lips.

“You still with me?” she asks, voice husky.

You nod, a little shaky. “I—yeah. I just don’t know if I can come again.”

Sevika smiles, slow and devastating, and kisses your cheek. “Don’t need you to come, baby. Just need you to feel good. Can you do that for me?”

"Yes. Fuck, yes, Sev," you answer as she drags the toy through the slick mess you've made between your legs.

Then she lifts your legs, hooking them high over her shoulders. “Hold these up for me,” she says, guiding your hands to the back of your thighs.

You do, for a little while.

She presses into you again, deep and steady, sinking all the way in until her hips meet yours. You both groan in tandem, your bodies clenching around each other. The position drives the strap deep, dragging against that spot inside you just right. It’s too much, but somehow not enough.

Sevika’s pace starts slow, calculated. She's watching you the entire time, studying your face, your mouth, the way your chest rises and falls.

Her own pleasure is mounting fast: her breath growing heavier, her face flushed, brow furrowed in focus as she grinds into you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

You're whining now, panting, squirming under the weight of sensation. “Fuck, I can’t—can’t hold them anymore—”

Sevika shushes you, not slowing down. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

She takes your legs in her arms, folding you tighter, pressing you into a deep, delicious arch as her hips grind harder into yours. You're pliant under her, fingers gripping at her back now, clawing down her sides, holding on like your life depends on it. She fucks you slow and deep, chasing something now—her own release evident in the way her rhythm starts to falter.

You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, eyes fluttering open just enough to watch Sevika. God, she’s a sight—head thrown back, jaw clenched, her abs flexing with each motion, a quiet string of curses falling from her mouth as she works her hips into yours like she’s trying to fuck you into the mattress.

And when she starts to fall apart, it’s all the more beautiful for how she keeps holding you through it. Still kissing you. Still murmuring filth in your ear. Still grinding into you with the kind of focus that says she’s not done giving you everything she has.

-

The sun's just starting to creep over the skyline when Sevika pulls up to Raven’s place, the low rumble of her motorcycle cutting through the early quiet of the neighborhood. The sky is still a little pink around the edges, and the world hasn’t quite shaken off the night yet. You’re tucked behind her on the bike, arms snug around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder as the engine dies.

Sevika pulls off her helmet and looks at you, a slow grin tugging at her lips. She reaches over and helps you undo yours, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary beneath your chin.

“You good?” she asks, her voice still that gravelly, just-woke-up tone that makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “Kinda feels like I dreamed all of that, though.”

She chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s surprisingly soft for someone who handled you like that only hours ago. “Nah,” she says. “I’m real. And so was all of that.”

Your fingers fidget in your lap. “So…is this like, a one-time thing? Or...? I gotta be honest with you, Sevika, I've never hooked up with anybody like you before.”

“Doll,” she says, cutting you off with a look that’s half fond, half amused. “You think I give my number out to just anyone?”

You try not to smile too hard. Fail.

Sevika taps the side of your thigh with two fingers, a wordless cue that it’s time to hop off. You do, handing her the helmet back and smoothing your hair down as best you can.

“I’ll call you,” she says, sliding her helmet back on. “Promise. This isn’t the last time you’ll see me.”

And with that, the engine revs back to life, and she peels off down the street, her silhouette disappearing into the city just as the sun fully crests the buildings.

You’re left standing barefoot on the curb, last night’s clothes still smelling like her skin and cigarette smoke, Sevika’s phone number burned into your contacts and her touch in your memory.

Raven opens the door for you, coffee in hand. “So,” she says. “You gonna tell me everything, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

You just smile and walk inside, cheeks still warm, heart still hammering

[snowluvvie]

FUCK AWFFF COLLEGE RODRICK

everybody gave you two the kind of “really, him?” “how’d he get her?” sidelong glances when you’d started dating in high school. you’d basically swooned over him the first time you’d met at school—but for most of your classmates, the way he’d chase people down to convince them to attend his band’s shows rubbed them the wrong way. most people would describe Rodrick as ‘desperate’—but they weren’t fucking him, so they didn’t know how truly desperate he was, did they? either way, it didn’t matter. you wanted him, you had him hook, line and sinker. you weren’t exactly upset that people weren’t trying to snatch your boyfriend from you—you got his shaggy hair that was always too long, his hands calloused from the drum sticks, his nervous smile that he tried to play off as a smirk. you got him. you liked it that way.

you went off to college together, and Rodrick looked different by the end of freshman year. he was different. he laughed at the frat boys and grimaced at the music they played at parties. sure, he’d always been into different stuff—but now he was confident about it. he liked his music. he liked his friends. he liked his band. and, of course, he liked you (doesn’t count though. that’s not controversial. everyone knows you’re hot.)

you noticed this change in confidence before anyone else did. before it showed in his eyes and his clothes, it showed in the way he grabbed your face to kiss you, tangled his hands in your hair, grinned into your mouth. it showed in the way his fingers dug into his hips when he was fucking you, the way he ran his mouth. it had always been “this is so hot” “i can’t believe i’m fucking you” “you’re so hot” with him. now, he was boldly moaning “you like that, huh? i can feel it” he chuckled at the way you gushed around him when he was buried inside of you, he loved it, and now he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.

people did notice him now, though. his new favorite bomber jacket did wonders for him, and his arms had gotten a little bigger underneath it. he wasn’t ‘hunky’ now, by any means, but in college people were a lot more forgiving of the eyeliner-and-unsuccessful-band thing. it wasn’t lame and desperate here, it was cool and niche. you two weren’t hot girl and “he makes me laugh” loser like they called you in high school—now you were hot girl and cool drummer boyfriend.

but even now that people actually come to his band’s dimly-lit club and coffee shop gigs, and buy some tees from the merch table, and giggle a little, waving their fingers and going “heyyy Rodrick, you were great this weekend!” when they walk past him on campus, it doesn’t really matter. you’re the one he searches for when he’s playing, grinning proudly at you in the crowd. you’re the one who sits shotgun in the band van, leaning on the center console while he tells you how pretty you’ve looked all night. you’re the one who passes out on Rodrick’s shitty dorm mattress with him, tangled together and attempting to kiss but failing because you’re both so exhausted, and the one who wakes up the next morning and watches him yawn and ruffle his hand through his dark hair, moving sluggishly through the dorm without a shirt and with eyeliner from last night still smeared on his face.

you’re the one he’s fucking—his people-pleaser desperate-for-validation tendencies are still very intact when it comes to you. his eyes still practically pop out of his head every time he sees your tits, he still has to squeeze his eyes shut when you dirty talk because the sound of your voice drives him insane, and he still rolls his eyes hard when you tell him that no, he can’t eat you out right now, you have to go to class. the audacity. at the end of the day, he’s your Rodrick, no matter how many other people are suddenly paying attention to him

[regularshcw]

benson tag dump !

📋benson // ic / hi ; i'm benson ; your boss; former drummer; stick hockey enthusiast 📋 benson // musings / get back to work or you're fired 📋 benson // about / no ; i can only write the truth and the truth is i don't appreciate you 📋 benson // likes / aesthetics / yeah; the old kind of station wagon 📋 benson // music / my name is benson and i can play this solo 📋 benson // starter call / and I can't do anything unless you give me my old job back 📋 benson // visage / man ; i bet a guy could get some real respect in a suit like this

[lustagel]

LOSER! RODRICK HEFFLEY * readers race is not mentioned, mwah! . ⟡

loser! rodrick barely has any friends but his band members. only wears his bands t-shirts and listens to music that hurts your ears. always in the garage practicing with his band, if not with his girlfriend. puppy dog eyes and longing stares. not-no-secret softie. wannabe rockstar. has a shoebox hidden under his bed full of ticket stubs from concerts, crumpled notes and photos of/from his girlfriend.

loser! rodrick can't wrap his head around how he even got her in the first place and neither can his parents. ego boost after getting a girlfriend and no one knows how she even puts up with him. tries to impress her in anyway he can. mostly rolls her eyes at his stupidity but clearly finds him amusing and has a soft spot for his cluelessness.

loser! rodrick yearns for her kisses and chases her lips every time he gets a chance. smells of her almost always because he’s always around her and on her. gives the most softest kisses to the top of her ears. follows her anywhere with dreamy eyes. writes terrible songs for her but has never shared them with anyone. asks her to kiss his drummer sticks for good luck and of course she does after telling him how stupid it is.

loser! rodrick knows everything about his girlfriend. her favorite sweet treat, what makes her heart arch, the color she adores the most, what makes her laugh he most, what perfume she buys the most, her favorite show and genre, how she tastes (believes he’s been blessed by the gods themselves to even be able to get a hand on you).

୨ he's such a loser he moaned into your mouth the first time you kissed

୨ loser! rodrick following cool! reader around when she’s wearing a swimsuit

୨ cool! reader being everybody's favorite person in some way shape or form

୨ possessive! reader making out with loser! rodrick to show people he’s hers and him getting a hard-on

୨ loser! rodrick who smells like musk and two day old clothes, while his new girlfriend smells of the sweetest scents known to man

© 2024 lustagel, do not use my work for your own benefit.

asks are open!

[strangersatellites]

posting this feels like I'm crawling out of my grave and gasping for air

anyway- inspired by this post by @inthedarknessofnight

here's 1.3k of concert photographer!Steve and rockstar!Eddie because I couldn't get this out of my head

gimme, gimme more

1.3k words | this is the most g-rated thing I've ever written, it won't happen again

Steve’s feet hurt.

They always do after a show, but this one was particularly hard on him.

He’s been at this venue for two years now and shot countless shows in that time. But never in his career has he been challenged so– athletically. 

The photo pit at this place is light years better than his last venue. There’s more than enough room for all of the photographers and their gear without stepping on each other. Usually Steve is grateful for this because surely there is only so many more beatings his 35mm can take before it kicks the bucket. Today though, he’s grateful for the space because of the full-tilt sprint this band had him in. 

He’s never seen anything like it.

Well, less so did the band have him in a sprint and more so the frontman but, semantics. 

The guy is everywhere. Steve could barely keep up with the way he ran around stage, jumping, climbing on equipment, leaning off-stage toward the barricade.

It was fun but Jesus, what is his deal?

Steve hadn’t even known who Corroded Coffin was 24 hours ago. Now he’s burned through two SD cards in an hour and a half. 

The guy’s hot and a good photo subject, sue him.

Well, he thinks he’s a good photo subject at least. He won’t know until he’s culled through every single shot. Steve’s a good photographer, took to it naturally the first time he picked up a camera. His downfall though, according to his college professors at least, was that he pays absolutely no attention to what he’s shooting while he’s shooting it. Hence the overshooting. 

On more than one occasion he’s gotten started on editing and someone is wearing an outfit he’s never seen before, someone’s got sunglasses on in every photo, a tag hanging off their jacket. All he’s concerned with is the framing, the lighting, and the focus. The content can be a problem for Future Steve. Everything can be fixed in post.

Almost.

Anyway, his feet hurt and he hates culling, so he pours himself a full glass of wine and plops down on the couch in front of an episode of trash tv with his laptop and props his feet up. Settles in for a long night.

2,461 images.

He throws his head back with a groan. Ugh. 

The first hundred or so are garbage.

They always are.

A few shots spent fucking with the exposure, a few the focus, some the flash.

He denotes the purple flag as his ‘good’ tag and orange as his ‘trash’ tag. The orange is stacking up fast. Around 163 he starts finding some good images. Ones that aren’t tainted by motion blur from his running around after this frontman. 

His photos of the drummer are pretty sick; he can't lie. The lights and the smoke and the near-manic smile on his face make for great photos. He’s not even this band’s personal photographer but he can imagine at least one of these will get posted to the band's socials. He’s good, what can he say?

He has a good bit of the bassist, his energy infectious enough you can almost feel it through the screen. Purple is making a comeback.

He finally gets through some crowd pics, some more drummer, some guitarist, some detail shots before he finally makes it to the frontman. 731 photos later. 

What did Wikipedia say his name was? Eddie, he thinks.

Weird, the very first shot Steve has of him he’s making fierce eye contact with the camera.

Ew.

No matter how long Steve does this, photos of people looking directly at the camera never get less jarring. 

Orange tag. Trash.

The next one is exactly the same.

Shit. 

He’s really bad to fall victim to the high speed shutter on this camera and often finds himself with a dozen copies of the same picture. Looks like he’s done it again.

Orange.

More piercing eye contact.

What? He squints and flips back and forth between the last two photos.

They’re not even remotely similar. As a matter of fact, Steve was in a completely different location in the pit for the second one. 

Green tag. Come back to this.

Taking a long swig from his glass he shifts so his laptop is closer to his face. Thinks that surely he’s not seeing this right. 

He takes to forgoing his tagging system and just flipping through every photo as fast as his fingers can press the arrow keys.

He’s clicked through about 200 when he starts getting worried, his heart rate speeding up. Surely he got something usable.

“What the fuck?”

He’s clicked through 50 or 60 more when he decides that, no he did not fall victim to the shutter speed at all. This guy is just making direct eye contact with his camera in every single photo.

Steve’s not mad, the opposite really. He didn’t spend much time looking at the guy during the show and now he gets to have an eyeful while he works. What’s there to be mad about? 

He is, however, mildly concerned that he won’t have a single decent photo to use for the venue socials when he posts about this show.

Whatever. Maybe fans of their music are also fans of uncomfortable eye contact. Who knows?

He finishes sifting through the rest of the photos, Eddie staring directly down the lens in every one, one’s where he’s not the subject included. Throws them all in an editing software and mass edits them all at once. He’ll detail edit later.

While the eye contact was a little unsettling, he did get one photo he’s particularly happy with. One that makes it look like the staring was on purpose.

It’s during the second to last song, a ballad– or as close as you can get with a metal band. Eddie’s standing center-stage and Steve had snagged the spot directly in front of him. He’s looking straight down, backlit with red spotlights, surrounded by smoke pumping from side-stage, and just close enough that Steve can see the sweat dripping down his neck. He looks a little bit scary, but that’s how Steve likes ‘em. 

That’ll be the cover photo for sure.

He shoots an album link to his boss to review before he distributes them anywhere, then spends  the next twenty minutes laughing to himself while he collects the goofiest photos of Eddie staring straight at his lens.

He puts them in a new album and copies the link.

When he opens up Instagram and searches Corroded Coffin he lets out a low whistle at the six million followers. Maybe he really should know who these guys are. With that many followers he doubts they’ll even see a message from his personal account, but whatever. He clicks on the message button on their profile and hits paste.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Great show tonight! Somebody tell this guy that he is allowed to look away from the camera though…

He only waits a few minutes for the reply.

@ corrodedcoffin HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ corrodedcoffin Wait hang on

His phone pings with a message from a new account.

@ whoiseddiemunson HOLY SHIT THAT WAS YOU

@ whoiseddiemunson Sweetheart I wasn’t looking at the camera

Steve furrows his brows, confused. Starts typing a response but gets interrupted by another message.

@ whoiseddiemunson I was looking at the smoking hot guy behind it. Kinda hard to get a good look when he’s hiding behind the camera though.

Steve feels his cheeks flush and huffs a laugh to himself.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Well the guy behind the camera did manage to get a few good ones even though he was under surveillance the whole show. Wanna see those?

@ whoiseddiemunson Hell yeah I do. I just scrolled through your profile, your work is amazing. Do you want to show me the rest? Maybe over coffee tomorrow?

Steve smiles. His earlier heart palpitations replaced with butterflies.

@ steveharrington.jpeg Is this a date?

@ whoiseddiemunson It better be

[incorrectbatfam]

One thing I rarely see in injury and chronic pain fics is the grief that comes with missing out on stuff you love because you can no longer do them without hurting yourself. Writers who have been disabled their whole lives (or at least a long time) tend to forget that not all disabled people are used to being disabled. For able-bodied characters, especially athletic ones like vigilantes, a serious injury could mean a jarring change that includes giving up the things that mean the most to them.

I was physically fine until I was 18. Back then, my sense of self was entwined with interests that required a lot of movement and dexterity. I started doing MMA in middle school for self-defense. I loved parkour and even had a few hundred subscribers on my old YouTube channel. I learned to shoot and was gifted my first gun when I was 16. I took up multiple instruments. You get the idea.

My motorcycle accident fucked up the joints on my left side—my knee and shoulder especially, but also wrist to an extent. When it first happened, I thought I'd be on crutches for a bit but things would eventually get back to normal. The pain didn't go away even after I got rid of the crutches but I figured it was just residual and I should do what I'd been doing before. It's why I turned to substances—to block the pain and do what I love, but that's another topic. I didn't recognize my injury as a disabling thing until the end of the pandemic, when I put my parkour channel on an indefinite hiatus because it was seriously wearing my body down. It might sound silly to you but I was devastated. It's like if Spider-Man wasn't allowed to swing from buildings. It took me a long time to make peace with losing that part of me.

Another piece of that grief is even when you can do stuff, it's not the same because you have to exclude certain aspects of it for your own health. It's like the Robin that died and came back wrong. I can't use certain gym equipment and I have to tell my sparring partners what to avoid. I don't go to the shooting range much now because I can't extend my arm and hold a rifle for the amount of time it takes to aim without it starting to hurt. I'm a drummer, but I need breaks throughout the setlist and I can't do anything too fast or complex with the pedals, which means I can't play some of my favorite songs and my band is limited in what we write and perform. I can't take my motorcycle on road trips without frequent rest stops. Making accommodations helps physically, but emotionally, they're not always easy to accept because that means accepting the pain as a long-term disability rather than a temporary setback.

This got super long because I think it's unexplored in fics so some tips for creators:

First, learn how the body works and how stupidly fast and easy it is to get hurt. Mine was on a residential road because I didn't pay attention for 0.2 seconds

Learn the difference between internalized ableism and being upset over becoming disabled. I think a lot of writers skip over the feelings someone would naturally experience because it can be construed as ableism. Let them be in denial, sad, angry, etc. upon finding out because acceptance almost never happens right away. That's different from being a dick to themselves or others based on disability

Also, not everyone uses the same labels or has the same vocabulary to describe themselves. Different characters will have different ways of describing depending on their personality, level of knowledge, where they come from, and their relationship with their disability. I still don't really call myself disabled since I don't have it as bad as others so I tell people what happened instead (anyone who says "differently abled" will receive a different ability from me in the Denny's parking lot)

Think about how they cope with their new disability. Do they realize it's a disability right away? Do they talk to someone? Search desperately for a cure? Numb the pain? Turn to alternative methods? Do they worry about something else first, like money? Do they develop something else because of it, like a mental illness? Again, coping poorly is not ableism

What stays the same and what changes? I think about the difference between Forrest Gump and Lieutenant Dan after they were both wounded in battle

If they have a passion they can no longer pursue, it doesn't make much sense for them drop it so readily. Maybe they find a way to continue with accommodations (a good place to get creative!). Maybe they try and push through anyway. If they do ultimately resign, include the thought process and internal conflict behind it

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

W.C › 12k

Warnings › bottom male reader. Reader is a bit immature. If you wanted an example of the bands music: Love Countdown vs Black Rose. Translations at the end. Some homophobia with a slur but very light. Unhinged OC, he’s crazy

Plot › This post I had but expanded.

Kinks › size difference, pain, possessive, lite spanking, toxic, dacryphilia, dubcon

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Seonbae (선배) — title of respect for someone in a higher position of you, usually work/school. Dongsaeng (동생) — little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

안녕하세요, 러브카운다운입니다!

박도현

Leader, 1997, Bassist, main vocalist

신원식

1998, Guitarist, lead vocalist

유키

1999, Drummer

양준호

2000, keyboardist, lead vocalist

이영재

2002, guitarist, sub vocalist

초 (Name)

Maknae, (B.Year), guitarist, violinist, main vocalist

Festival performance this Friday at Yellow Wood University, 8 PM KST

A giddy grin spread on your lips as you looked at the social media post your company posted not even an hour ago. There were mainly positive comments, everyone excited to see you all live after listening to the debut album.

You debuted into Love Countdown just five months and your band was already getting love most bands would kill for.

Your music was certainly good but it did help most of your band mates were practically model material. Any type of fans were fine with you, even if all they cared about was one of your band mates abs.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention as you exited out of Twitter and looked up. As with most groups, you lived in an apartment with your band mates. Lucky for you, your company wasn’t inhumane and forced six men to group in one small apartment.

You roomed with Junho and Young-Jae. While Dohyun, Yuki, and Won-Shik roomed together right next door.

“Hey, Hyung. You bought any dinner?” You asked, watching as Young-Jae only had to walk two steps to get into the kitchen. Hey, your company wasn’t that rich.

“Just pizza because I’m not buying your picky ass anything else ever again.” He said, placing it on the kitchen countertop. “Can’t believe you didn’t even attempt to eat the expensive Italian food I bought last time.”

“No one told you to buy me Italian food.” You rebutted, walking over to grab a slice.

“Ungrateful brat.”

“Love you too, Hyung.”

You grabbed two pizzas slices as Young-Jae put away the groceries he bought.

“Hey, is your violin tuned? Dohyun Hyung was on my ass because of what happened last time.”

Last time meaning you pulled out your violin to play a song from your album and it sounded like absolute shit. You were lucky the crowd found it cute and were just laughing as you hurriedly tried to tune the violin. The perks of being the cute maknae!

“Of course, I wouldn’t want Dohyun Hyung to spank you again.”

“He did not spank me, stop being weird.” Young-Jae rolled his eyes, reaching over to deliver a smack to the back your head. You cried out in pain as you glared at him.

“Do you know who else is playing at the festival? I didn’t pay attention when Manager Nayoung was talking.”

“Of course you didn’t. Mostly solo artists. I think a rock band is playing there… can’t remember their name. Starts… like uh…” Young-Jae sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Le..? No… Uh. Damn. It was something edgy.”

“Edgy?”

“Yeah. Their music is all rock and emo. The made the OST to that crime kdrama you watched. Seriously… their name isn’t long, why can’t I remember?”

“You’re getting old.”

Young-Jae looked up at you, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again?”

“What?”

“(Name)….”

“Hyung…”

You both stared at each other as a slight smirk pulled on your lips.

“You fucking……!”

“I’m home.”

The door opened just before Young-Jae could attack you. You shrieked and immediately ran to your savior, clinging to Junho. Junho was unfazed as he wrapped his free arm around your waist and tugged you close, closing the door with his foot.

“Pizza for dinner? Thanks.” Junho said, placing his bags down on the kitchen counter.

“Stop protecting that little shit, Hyung. I need to give him a spanking.” Young-Jae glared at you with a murderous intent in his eyes.

You giggled. “Oh~ so kinky Hyungie~! Should I pull my pants down?”

“You…!!!”

Junho maneuvered you away just as Young-Jae made an attempt to grab you. You wrapped your arm around Junho’s neck and grinned, sticking your tongue out at Young-Jae as a sign of victory.

“Hm, Junnie Hyung, do you know that emo band that’s playing at the festival this Friday?” You asked, looking up at Junho.

“Hm. Black Rose?”

Black Rose? Hm… Why did that sound familiar?

You were about to think more until your stomach growled.

Forget it. It’s probably nothing important anyway.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Looking good boys. Your first ever festival performance. Let’s do great okay?! Fighting!” Manager Nayoung said as she patted you on the back.

You gave her a smile as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. There were hearts drawn over your nose, almost like freckles. Being the maknae meant you usually got the more cutesy makeup compared to the others.

Dohyun was always… more naked compared to everyone else. You glanced over at your leader and couldn’t help but stare at his ass. He was wearing a crop top with no sleeves, a waist chain and sinfully tight leather pants. You were almost jealous of his abs but also wanted to touch them again.

Your eyes flickered over to Young-Jae and you almost laughed to see him unabashedly staring right at Dohyun’s ass. You sauntered over to him and smacked his head.

“Hey, are you trying to burn a hole through his pants?” You whispered, snickering as Young-Jae’s face practically turned red.

“Shut it!” He weakly retorted, turning his attention to the mirror to fix his dyed red hair. “I was just looking at his outfit. The stylists love putting him tight clothing. What if he’s uncomfortable?”

You hummed. “Dohyun Hyung!”

“Hey—!”

“Yes,” Dohyun looked up from the book he was reading, smiling over at you. He had red lipstick with dark eyeliner that brought out the blue colored contacts he wore. He’s lucky he’s handsome, blue contacts just freak you out.

“Are you uncomfortable in your pants?”

“Hm, no? I won’t be moving much anyway.” He answered. “Why?”

“Just asking!”

You turned back around to see a furious Young-Jae staring at you. You only giggled. “See? He’s fine. You’re just enjoying his ass.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Hyungie~!”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you turned back to see Yuki behind you. He was wearing a more tamed version of Dohyun’s outfit with lighter makeup. “Some snacks I stole from the staff table.” He handed you a chocolate bar, a bag of chips, and a soda.

“What about me?” Young-Jae asked.

“What about you? Love you, (Name).” Yuki patted you on the head before walking away to join Junho on the couch. Favoritism. You loved being the maknae.

You smirked. “Maybe try being cuter. Then your hyungs will want to take care of you.”

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

“Kinky~!”

Young-Jae rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the mirror, fixing his collar. “I’m not even sure why we’re dressed like this. Our concept isn’t this dark.”

“It’s just for the event. Manager Nayoung was telling me that the event organizers wanted a darker theme.”

“Our songs are literally all about being in love and being happy. We have no emo or rock songs.”

“Stop complaining. At least they still wanted us. We’re first for a reason. We just need to get everyone upbeat.”

You glanced over at Young-Jae, taking in his outfit. It was similar to yours. A white lace shirt with black detailing. Basic black slacks with combat boots. Except he had a choker while you had a necklace. The hearts across your nose were red, brightening your face in comparison to the dark eyeliner.

Won-Shik and Junho had similar outfits as well, an inverse of yours and Young-Jae. You preferred the more colorful clothing you wore during your regular performances but it is what it is. As you flicked at a lint on your cheek, the door to the dressing room opened.

“You’re going to preform in twenty minutes, boys. Get going!”

As your band mates got ready to set up their instruments, you saw the next band come in to get dressed. And to your horror, a familiar face walked right in.

Kim Ye-Jun.

You felt your heart drop to your ass as you stared at him. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, busy directing his band mates to get dressed. It wasn’t until he turned around that he froze at the sight of you.

“Let’s go, (Name)-Ah.” Young-Jae said, grabbing your arm as he began to pull you out of the room. Your gaze was still locked on Ye-Jun before you quickly turned away, the memories of him flooding your brain.

That fucking dick. He’s in that band?!

Shit. You wanted to delete their OST off your playlist stat. Why were they even playing at such a small event, they weren’t mainstream by any means but they were big in the band scene.

“Violin tuned?” Dohyun suddenly asked as you assumed your position, fixing the mic to your height.

“Yea. It’s tuned…”

“You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

You wished he was a ghost.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little nervous.”

Dohyun took your word for it and simply patted you on the back, turning his attention back to his own mic. It only took a few minutes before the MC was announcing the band and the yells from the crowd increased.

You stood tall, clutching the guitar to your chest just as the lights shined on you all. Dohyun began his usual speech while you couldn’t help but smile at attention. A few girls were screaming your name!

Yuki tapped his drumsticks together before starting off the beat. You were only going to be performing five songs so you weren’t worried in the slightest. Of course you forgot you were the one that started this song off.

Despite the slight hiccup and Dohyun’s swift glare at you, you continued on, earning a few giggles from the crowd. As you played, you didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching you from the side of the stage.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You were great, boys! I think you gained some new fans,” Nayoung said, handing each of you a bottle water. “Go get changed and enjoy the rest of the festival! Do anything to get fans.”

Won-Shik smirked as he wrapped his arm around your neck, “anything?” You grinned, rolling your eyes.

“Absolute not! Get your mind out of the gutter!” Nayoung yelled, glaring at Won-Shik. “Yuki, watch him! I don’t want a scandal before you’re even a year old yet! Matter of fact, stick with one other person.”

Young-Jae groaned. “Guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, glaring at you.

You smirked before glancing over at Dohyun as he began wiping off his makeup. “Well… Dohyun Hyung!”

“What do you—!”

“—Can you pair with Jae Hyung? I wanna hang out with Junnie Hyung!”

“You little—!!!”

“—Sure. You okay with spending time with me Jae-Ah? I don’t think I’ll be much fun.” Dohyun laughed, turning over to face you and Young-Jae. His makeup was smudge now—lipstick off completely. His eyes resembling deer eyes by how round they were. Boba eyes, that’s what Won-Shik called them once.

Because of how perverted you were, you couldn’t help but imagine if that’s how he would look after having sex.

A quick glance at Young-Jae told you he was thinking the same thing.

“C..Course, Hyung!! You’re great, amazing even! I mean… you’re great to hang out with… Yeah… I’ll go change.” Young-Jae grabbed his duffle bag and quickly sprinted to the bathroom.

“What’s with him?”

You shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe he has diarrhea.”

“Oh no… I’ll get him some tea.” Dohyun said, taking you seriously. Before you could even tell him it was a joke he already left the dressing room. You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. He was so weirdly naive sometimes.

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention as you looked over to see Junho smiling at you. “You gonna change or go out like that?” He was already changed—dressed in a black t-shirt with washed out jeans. His styled hair purposely brushed out, now just a brown mop on his head.

“No, I’ll change. Wait for me, Hyungie!” You blew him a kiss that he quickly caught, laughing.

You and Junho seamlessly blended into the crowd of college students as a the next band began to play. Black Rose had already played while you were getting undressed so you ended up missing it.

You tried to ignore the odd feeling in your stomach at the disappointment you weren’t fast enough. But you didn’t care! You didn’t…

Certainly not.

“Shots?” Junho suddenly asked, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. You hummed in agreement. He left and was quick to come back with two shots. About an hour passed on you just listening to each act perform before the DJ came out and everyone started dancing.

The cool October breeze made you shiver as you felt Junho wrap his arms around you. You grinned and turned around to press your chest against him. Junho was not only taller than you but muscular in comparison—having worked out religiously with Dohyun and Won-Shik.

He was warm so you eagerly pressed as close as possible against him, burying your face in his chest. Junho simply swayed to the upbeat noise music. If the music wasn’t there, people would’ve assumed you both were slow dancing to a ballad.

“Feed me a shot?” You suddenly asked, tilting your head back.

“What are you, a baby?”

“Yup, your baby.”

Junho simply hummed as he used his free hand to grab your face, keeping it still as he slowly tipped the plastic cup’s rim against your lips. You squeezed at his shirt as the cool liquid rushed down your throat, causing you the cough once you swallowed.

“Wow… again!” You laughed, ignoring the judgmental look Junho gave you.

“You’re so weird, (Name)-Ah. I’ll be back, stay right here.” His hand trailed down your waist before he pulled away, poking you on the cheek as he walked away. You hummed and swayed slightly, feeling a bit buzzed from the amount of shots you took by now.

You subconsciously began to whisper the lyrics to one of your songs when a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. The words couldn’t even leave your mouth before you’re tugged away from the crowd. You whined and was about to scream when one of the street lamps illuminated your attacker.

Kim Ye-Jun.

A groan left your lips, no longer feeling the need to put up a fight. At least it’s not a saesang.

Ye-Jun dragged you all the way back go where the dressing room was. You assumed he was going to drag you in there but he suddenly took a sharp left turn and pulled open the storage closet, shoving you inside. A gasp left your lips as you bumped into the wall, groaning in pain.

Your eyes felt heavy, especially with the bright ceiling light shining down on you. “Seriously..? I was about to get another shot!”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing at you.

You bristled, standing up straight. “What?! I’m of legal age, dick. Anyway, I need to go back before my friends start worrying about me.” You moved to push past him but he grabbed your shoulder and slammed you right back against the wall.

The force knocked you sober as you stared at Ye-Jun in shock. “What.. What the fuck is your problem?!”

“I thought you wanted to be an Idol.” Ye-Jun suddenly said.

You tilted your head. “Wha..? The company thought I fit the band aesthetic better. Besides, I can’t dance well anyway. Why do you even care? You could’ve asked me this in front of everyone else..”

Ye-Jun stared at you for a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say. You took the moment to really take him in. He was taller than you, his buzz cut had grown out from university, though still short and spiky. A worn out leather jacket with a wife beater. Leather pants that hugged his thighs. Wow, he was working out.

You shook your head. Nope, you weren’t about to fall back into his arms. “Well, if you’re just gonna stare at me, you can follow our band’s instagram. I post on there. It’s TheRealLoveCountdown.”

A bitter laugh left Ye-Jun just as you were about to push him. You wanted to ask what’s his problem was when he surged forward and slammed his lips against yours. A strangled gasp left you and your hands quickly moved to push him away. But he was stronger, grabbing your wrists as he slammed them against the wall.

He kissed you hungrily, pressing his crotch against yours. You couldn’t help the soft moans that left your throat as he bit your lip. The pain sent a shockwave through your spine. His hands released your wrists and shoved themselves into your jeans.

“Kim Ye-Jun!” You managed to stutter out as you pulled away from the kiss. He paid you no mind, grabbing a fist full of your ass. An embarrassing whine left your lips as finger teased your hole.

“Why are you speaking respectfully?”

“Aren’t you my seonbae now? You debuted first.”

Ye-Jun looked down at you, his grip tightening on your ass. “Seonbae? I told you to call me Hyung.”

“You lost that privilege, Seonbae. We aren’t friends.”

“Mhm,” Ye-Jun hummed. “Yeah, you weren’t ever a friend. You’re mine.”

You shivered and felt your hips buck against his, your bulge rubbing against his own. Ye-Jun smirked as he pulled you, hands gripping your waist, as he turned you around. A grunt left you as you’re pushed against the wall.

The feeling of cool air touches your lower half before you can even complain. He pulled your fucking pants down. You gasped as he pried your ass open and you felt a puff of air tease your hole.

“You… Yah, what the hell do you think you’re doing, bastard?!”

The air stilled in the closet as your lips pressed into a tight thin line. Oh god. You really said that.

“Sae…kki…ya?” Ye-Jun whispered, his grip loosening on your skin. You were grateful that your back was facing him so you couldn’t see the face he must be making.

Young-Jae was right. You really needed to work on having a filter.

“I’m a son of a bitch? I’ll fucking show you a son of a bitch, Cho (Name).”

It was silent for a moment—you almost believed Ye-Jun was getting ready to leave when you felt two fingers shove themselves inside your hole. The fingers were slick so it wasn’t in there dry but the intrusions felt like it was the worst thing you could ever experience.

Ye-Jun waited for a moment before slowing flexing his index and pointer finger inside. You grunted and gripped at the wall for some type of purpose. What the hell was he looking for?

A guttural scream left your throat as his fingers rub against your prostate. You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as you looked behind to try and get a look at Ye-Jun.

His head was down so you could only see his hair. He patted your ass before leaning forward and pressing his lips against your right ass cheek. It felt oddly sweet—it almost made you short circuit.

Until you felt teeth sinking into your skin.

“Fuck!” You cried out, pressing your head against the wall as his fingers began to repeatedly press against your prostate. His teeth felt sharp on your skin as if he was biting to break skin.

Ye-Jun didn’t allow you to breathe or take in the pleasure, pumping his fingers to attack and abuse your prostate. He moved to your left ass cheek and left a matching bite mark—you were sure that one broke skin.

You weren’t even sure how long it had been. Your legs were shaky as you had to use your hands to keep yourself help. The leaking from your dejectedly cock made you whimper at being unable to bring yourself to true pleasure.

There were bite marks not just on your ass but on your thighs. You had weakly tried to keep him off but he easily stopped you with a painfully slow rub against your prostate that sent you into a frenzy.

It was building—the tell tale sign of you reaching your peak. Your toes curled as you hiccuped. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

Just as you felt the orgasm coming to its peak… Ye-Jun pulled away.

You whined, looking back at him in shock as he wiped his fingers on your t-shirt. He looked unbothered as he fixed his clothes. His eyes flickered over to you when you made another pathetic whine to get his attention. It almost hurt to talk. He only smirked.

“You can take care of the rest, right?” He asked, his lips moving into a slight snarl as his eyes narrowed. “Or maybe call that band mate of yours. You were practically on his dick earlier.”

Your eyes widen as you watched him leave, slamming the door shut behind him. You slid down the wall and could only just sit there in pure shock.

The dryness of your throat was beginning to affect you as you reached down to pull your boxers up.

You just wanted to go home.

❝ 목이 메어 ❞

It had been two weeks since the “incident” and you had made a clear effort to never listen to Black Rose. You blocked them everywhere—going as far as to block them on your other members phones as well.

Yuki and Won-Shik didn’t seem to care that much.

Young-Jae called you insane.

While Junho and Dohyun were the only two that seemed worried about your behavior.

Which led to now. You were curled up on Dohyun’s bed as he sat at his desk, working on some lyrics for your comeback that was four months away. He always liked getting ahead in work. The band wouldn’t start recording until December. It was only November 3rd.

The lyrics were technically done and approved by the company but Dohyun was always a perfectionist so everyone had let him be at this point.

Junho was beside you on the bed, occasionally giving Dohyun some of his opinions on the lyrics.

This album was going to be more ballad heavy. Focusing solely on heartbreak and toxic relationships. You almost scoffed to yourself.

You had so many lyrics you wanted to put but knew they would end up being too personal so you kept them in your journal for safe keeping.

“Oh, we’re trending on Twitter…” Junho suddenly said, earning both yours and Dohyun’s attention.

“What? What did we do?” Dohyun questioned, quickly moving to sit on the bed. You sat up and curled close to Junho, worried that someone on a random forum made an insane rumor that the Korean netizens would eat up in a heartbeat.

“Oh, it’s mainly (Name)-Ah and that guy from Black Rose.”

Your heart dropped to your ass. “W..Why?!”

Junho glanced down at you curiously before showing you a Twitter post that had almost 20k likes. He soon clicked on the link of the forum posts that was talking about it.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑4599 ↓235)

↳ guys, have yall seen who’s been liking (Name)’s posts on Instagram??

Below the text was a collage of your Instagram posts on the band’s account. You and Yuki were the only ones that really posted selfies religiously. But it wasn’t the pictures that caught people’s attention.

No it was the fact that the account that seemed to like every single one of your selfies was no other than fucking Kim Ye-Jun.

You balked. You didn’t think he had a public Instagram account that didn’t belong to the company. Fuck, you should’ve checked!!! Of course an older group had more freedom than your own.

You couldn’t even try to assume it was someone else. The next reply to the post was someone clicking on the account and lo and behold, Ye-Jun’s face showed up in the accounts posts.

They even showed that the official band account was following him—as well as his other band members.

Yeah… that was him.

@BRkim_yejun — 589k followers, 6 following

The video checked his following and he was even following the band’s account. You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“He likes Yuki’s posts too right..? It’s not just me!” You muttered, scrolling to see the other accounts.

@junhoswhore (↑239 ↓26)

↳ if (Name) was a girl, netizens would’ve started a dating rumor ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑102 ↓34)

↳ he doesn’t even likes Yuki’s posts. He wants him so bad ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@yukiwukii (↑20 ↓2)

↳ aren’t they alumnis from the same university??

@lovewonshiik (↑1020 ↓125)

↳ girl they’re college dropouts ㅋㅋㅋ

@_loveandfear (↑409 ↓89)

↳ Ye-Jun doesn’t even like his own members posts. He must really like Cho (Name). I wanna see them interact!!

@freakfundashi (↑2987 ↓3082)

↳ I wanna see them fuck on stage

“Okay that’s enough.” Dohyun suddenly said, grabbing Junho phone as he exited out of the forum. “You shouldn’t pay attention to them. They’re just weirdos. What does ‘Dohyun got a fatty’ even mean?”

Junho glanced over at you. You both tried to hold in your laughter.

“I’m not sure, Hyung. I can ask around.”

Dohyun shook his head. “I don’t think I even want to know. Anyway, do you know Kim Ye-Jun, (Name)-Ah? He seems to know you.”

“Yeah, why would you block the Black Rose account if you know him? You aren’t friends?”

You blushed slightly as you tried to come up with an excuse. “We.. we did go to the same college but I dropped out to pursue music. I lost contact with him after that! I wouldn’t even say we were friends.. we were just both music majors!”

Junho and Dohyun didn’t seem too convinced but they got the message that this was all you were going to tell them at the moment.

“If you do feel uncomfortable around him, I can block him, y’know? I want my maknae to be comfortable.” Junho said, leaning over to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch and hummed in appreciation.

Ye-Jun’s words suddenly got to you. The hyung he was talking about had to be Junho. But you don’t remember ever being on his “dick.” You didn’t like Junho romantically. Besides, you were pretty sure him and Yuki had something going on despite their attempts of being discrete.

Won-Shik seemed to be the resident straight man of the band.

“Manager Nayoung can always speak to Black Rose’s manager and make them get Ye-Jun to back off as well. Just tell us, alright?” Dohyun said, rubbing your head.

You gave him a grin that wasn’t forced and cuddled closer to Junho’s touch. Ye-Jun would probably back off sooner or later. It wasn’t like you would have to see him again any time soon.

Oh how wrong you were.

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞

The memory is hazy by now, but you still remember the exact date, time, and weather when you first met Kim Ye-Jun.

November 3rd, 20XX. 5:30 pm. Heavy rain and scattered thunderstorms.

You had just came from school, wanting to just plop down on bed and cry. Your future uncertain with your parents refusal to allow you to try out at a company to pursue your dreams on being a musician.

Your umbrella was big, a bit hard to hold upright because of how old it was. There was a hole in it that allowed small drops of rain to drip on your shoulder. You couldn’t even afford to pay for a new one. The wind suddenly picked up just as you were getting to cross the street.

“Shit…!” Your grip loosened as the wind folded your umbrella upwards. It slipped from your grip and twirled across the crosswalk. You made the step to run after it until a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you right back onto the curb.

A car breezed past you, splashing water over you and your savior. You coughed as the savior pressed you against their chest. They were saying something but it wasn’t hard to hear anything in the heavy rain.

You looked up, pushing away the wet hair that clung to your face. There he was: Kim Ye-Jun. A shaved head while dressed in a Korean military uniform. He looked young but you knew lots of boys your age that were going to do their Korean service before college to get it over with.

The first meeting hardly meant anything to Kim Ye-Jun while it meant everything to you. He released his grip on your waist and bent down to grab your backpack, handing it over to you.

Before you could even say anything else, he handed over his umbrella. You tried to refuse but he forced your hand open and wrapped it around the handle. You watched with wide eyes as he reached up and wiped something off your face before pulling away.

You were so happy that the rain hid the fact you were crying just a few minutes earlier. But judging by the soft smile he gave you, your red eyes must’ve given it away.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag just as he was leaving, sprinting away to what you assumed was the nearby convenience store.

❝ 김예준 ❞

You would see him again at your college welcoming party. He was also a freshman just like you despite being twenty years old. A few freshman teased him about it while he just laughed it off, saying they’re gonna wish they got their service over with.

You didn’t originally want to seek him out, worried he wouldn’t even remember you. But he ended up speaking to you first. Those first nine months you spent with him almost felt like a dream.

He wasn’t your first kiss but he was your first boyfriend, your first time, the first boy you believed you could spend a lifetime with.

But it seemed you were the only one who thought that.

“Cho (Name)? Is he your boyfriend or something? He’s so clingy with you.”

“I don’t know how you do it! He acts so childish, it’s gross. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you need to act like a fag. I’m gay and I act fucking normal.”

“Does he even know about the band you got accepted in? Whenever I see you guys interact, it’s literally all about him! He hardly lets you speak.”

You expected Ye-Jun to say something in your defense.

“Yeah… He’s clingy. I didn’t expect him to be when we started hanging out.”

“—Hanging out? You’re not even dating him? You’re fuck buddies?”

“Well it’s only been nine months. We’ve only been fucking. He just whines a lot about his parents before I can even talk. The only way he stops is when we fuck.”

“Really? Why do you even keep him around?”

“Nine months is a long time, haha. It has to be sex, right??”

“He makes me feel good about myself. Plus he is cute despite how annoying he can be—”

“—How is he in bed? Whiny? Bet he’s a slut—”

You couldn’t take it anymore, walking away from the wall as you rubbed at your face. Fuck buddies. You were Kim Ye-Jun’s fuck buddy.

A bitter laugh left you as you pulled your phone, opening website you were on earlier. It was auditions for a new company. If Ye-Jun thought all you did was complain, you would show him you have drive.

You blocked his number and signed up for the audition, dropping out of school the next week. Your parents disowned you but you pushed through, staying at your aunt’s before you got the acceptance call.

It’s just a shame you had to see him again after four years.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

‘ COMEBACK ’ 러브카운다운 - Love’s Fool

After an intense music video recording, it was released three hours ago. It was your groups first comeback so to say you were nervous was an understatement. The music video was different from the debut’s sunshine and happy vibes from the single debut album.

This 1st mini album, named after the title track, was darker and certainly more depressing. Though it seemed the fans were eating it up. A few even saying they cried to the song.

You straightened your back as the hair stylist pulled at your hair. It was the first performance at a music show. Online so many fans were staying they were going to get the band its first music show win so you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

Switching the phone onto the camera, you held it up and smiled, taking a few pictures. You immediately posted them onto Instagram, choosing the ones where you looked the cutest. It was only a second before the first like came in.

@BRkim_yejun liked your post

You almost threw your phone. But that wasn’t the worst. He actually commented. In the past three months that’s he’s been religiously liking your posts, and only yours, he’s never commented on it.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Kiss?? You almost passed out as you reread his comment over and over again. You couldn’t believe he was asking for more selfies! You’re just happy he didn’t use “키스” as that would’ve been too romantic. But the nerve to call you jagiya was pissing you off. You haven’t been his baby in few years now!

@TheRealLoveCountdown responded : 꺼져

Sure, it’s petty to tell him to go away but you weren’t feeling generous to be nice right now. You turned off your phone and placed it on the table in front of you. The hair stylist had finally finished your hair as she walked away. Dohyun came up to you, smiling slightly.

“(Name)-Ah, you okay? That’s the first time he commented on your post right?”

“Yeah… But it’s fine, I told him to go away. Maybe he’ll listen.”

Dohyun only chuckled in response. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you as he rubbed his cheek against yours. You giggled and basked in his warmth, sighing in relief.

But you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering about how Ye-Jun used to hug you just like this. Especially when you were slaving away on your assignments and he wanted you to take a break.

He’d press kisses on your neck before your cheek, inching close to your lips before pressing a wet slobbery kiss on your lips. Because that would always disgust you and make you chase after him to deliver another wet slobbery dog kiss on his cheeks.

Then he’d always hug you close on the couch and force you to watch tv. He’d always get you. And you’d always fall asleep in his arms.

“Are you method acting again? No one’s expecting us to cry on stage, dumbass.”

You flinched as a napkin taps at the edge of your eyes. You glanced over to see Young-Jae gently dapping the tears away before they have the chance to fall and ruin your makeup. Dohyun just tightens his hug and comfortingly rubbed your shoulders before pulling away.

“Thanks, Hyungie~!” You grinned, moving to pull Young-Jae into a hug that he swiftly dodged.

“You’re not messing up my outfit! Stay back!”

“Hyung… I want to hug you!!! Come here!!”

“Stay back, Cho (Name)!!!”

The performance was great if you had to toot your own horn. This was one of the first songs that you played the violin for entirely—the other time it was sort of a gimmick. You even had a violin solo with Junho’s keyboard.

Now it was wining down time. You took another selfie, even one with Won-Shik and Young-Jae. Young-Jae practically never posted so you usually forced him to join your selfies for his starving fans.

You tried to ignore the weird feeling in your heart when Ye-Jun didn’t immediately like your post. You didn’t care! Nope… You did not.

But you didn’t stop yourself as you typed in the Black Rose Instagram to check the account. You had unblocked a month ago at the request of Nayoung since it looked weird on your part when there’s no history between you and the band.

There wasn’t much pictures beside promotional material. Photos for their comeback. It was only five members, Ye-Jun as the leader but he wasn’t the oldest. You wondered if this was the band he was talking about back then.

@TheBlackRose

(블랙로즈) 4.9M Followers 6 Following

Six following? You clicked on it and sat up straight on the couch to see that the account was following Love Countdown! Though the fact they were so close to five million followers shocked you. They really were popular. Love Countdown only reached 320k followers just recently.

Did Ye-Jun make the account follow you? You tried to push away the giddy feeling in your chest. Deciding you had nothing to lose, you checked the band members account.

@BRpark_shion

(박시온) 518k Followers 5 following

@BRim_roha

(임로하) 538k followers 6 following

@BRseo_minji

(서민지) 515k followers 5 following

@BRhwang_hanbin

(황한빈) 529k followers 5 following

“Roha..?” You muttered, confused on why he was following the account as well.

“Who’s Roha?”

You jumped, looking up to see Yuki sitting down beside you. “Yuki Hyung! Ah.. I was just..”

“Snooping?” He chuckled, leaning over. “Im Roha? Oh, he’s cute.”

“Who’s cute?!” Junho suddenly asked, turning his head abruptly from his phone. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re cuter, Junnie.” Yuki placated, snickering. “Very Kawaii.”

“Oh! Yuki, can you still teach me Japanese? I want to be confident in my pronunciation for our Japanese debut!” You asked, subtly trying to change the conversation.

“Yea.” He said, pushing back his overgrown bangs. “But I still want to know what you’re doing. I thought you hated Black Rose.”

“I do! I really hate them…”

“Or do you hate Kim Ye-Jun? Did he do something to you?”

You frowned. The word hate next to Ye-Jun’s name made you upset. Despite everything, you couldn’t hate him. Fuck, you were pathetic.

“He just… We just ended things badly. But it’s mostly my own fault. I thought we were something special—he didn’t think the same.”

Yuki blinked for a moment as if he was taking in your words. “Oh. You dated him?”

“Wha?! How’d you?!”

“What else could you have meant?” Yuki chuckled. “Do you wanna stay at Hyung’s tonight? We can have a movie marathon.”

You grinned, nodding your head. “Mhm. I would like that.”

The door to the dressing room opened as the next group to preform came in. Dohyun and the others had already gotten ready to leave so they moved to the side so the group could get ready. Much to your shock, it was the Black Rose.

Your eyes stopped on Roha. He was tall, slim, with dyed purple hair. Your body flinched when his eyes fell on yours and a grin pulled on his lips as he waved to you.

Roha looked so familiar but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Was he from your university? It’s been five years at this point. You shook your head, deciding it wasn’t important.

You grabbed your bag and stood up, looking over at Junho. The others were already leaving.

“Junnie Hyung—”

“—Yes?”

“—Yeah?”

Your body froze as a voice was heard behind you. Junho looked up confused at who else would answer to your call. You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Before Junho, you had called someone else “Junnie Hyung.”

Yeah, Kim Ye-Jun.

“You call him my name?” Ye-Jun suddenly said, walking right up in front of you. Your eyes quickly looked down. Embarrassment swirled in your stomach as you felt Junho’s and Ye-Jun’s eyes on you as they waited for you to speak.

You took a deep breath and managed to look up at him. “Yeah… he’s my hyung.. and his name is Junho. So, Junnie Hyung. You’re not the only man named Jun.”

Ye-Jun laughed, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t remember allowing you to do that. His name is Junho, yeah? So call him Junho Hyung.”

“Uhm,” Junho muttered, a look of confusion on his face. His brows furrowed as his lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t like how you’re speaking to my dongsaeng.”

“Dongsaeng?” Ye-Jun tilted his head before turning his attention back over to you. “Cute. That’s real cute. (Name)-Ah, my number hasn’t changed. I’ll be waiting, Jagiya.”

He gave a slight nod at Junho before walking away to join his members to get his hair and makeup down. Junho looked more confused than angry as he glanced over at you.

“Jagiya?”

You blushed. “He’s just.. teasing me! Yeah.. he didn’t mean it.”

A tap on your shoulder caught your attention. You looked over to see Roha grinning at you.

“(Name), my number is the same as well, okay? Talk to you later.” Roha lovingly patted your head before walking away.

Junho blinked. “Wow. I thought you didn’t know anyone in Black Rose.”

“Me neither…”

You were so fucking screwed.

Why was your heart beating so fast?

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞

You unblocked him. Mainly because you had no back bone. You laid on Yuki’s bed, wondering if you should text first. Yuki had some Jpop song playing as he folded up his laundry. He had dumped it on his bed a few days ago but didn’t really do it until you were now gonna stay the night.

“Is it normal to still have feelings for your ex..? Oh well, ex fuck buddy.”

“Yeah. If you really loved him.” Yuki said, muttering something to himself in Japanese before putting away the last of his clothes. He turned off his music and sat down on the bed.

You frowned and sat up. “I’m so confused. He hurt me. He.. He said I complained too much. I was clingy… I didn’t let him speak in our relationship. Said I only shut up when he fucked me…”

“Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren’t the best boyfriend.”

“What?”

Yuki gave you a small smile. “Even if you weren’t, he should’ve talked to you. He should’ve told you instead of bad mouth you to your friends. And.. maybe you should’ve spoken to him about how you were feeling instead of just ghosting him.”

“I… Well he embarrassed me in front of his friends.”

“He was wrong for that. But how can a relationship work if you let one problem ruin it?”

You frowned. Yuki was making sense and you didn’t necessarily want that right now.

“You don’t have to get back with him. He did hurt you. Not everyone can forgive something like that. But how old were you when you dated him?”

“Eighteen…”

“First ever relationship?”

“Mhm…”

“Well, I hope in those five years you know that you can’t just go silent during a relationship problem. You had the right to cuss him out but to also see if you could fix the problem he was feeling.”

“Man… I was hoping you would’ve just let me complain. I didn’t want this philosophical shit.”

Yuki grinned. “You should’ve went to Won-Shik Hyung if you wanted to complain. Do you want to text him?”

You glanced over at your phone, sighing. “Maybe.. But he was acting really weird before we left. He got mad at Junho Hyung because I called him Junnie Hyung.”

Yuki smirked. “He’s just jealous. Then he really does still like you. Wah, you have yourself a possessive boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You whined, biting your lip.

“He probably doesn’t think that way. I’ll pick the movie while you text your honey.”

You glared at Yuki but still grabbed your phone, staring at the contact of Kim Ye-Jun. It still had a heart on the name. The name proudly written in as “주니형.” You exited out of his contact and went to look at the other blocked numbers you had. It was mostly spam until a familiar named showed up.

Im Suyoung.

Im…

A gasp left your lips. Suyoung was Ye-Jin’s friend, they were practically brothers. You had gotten close to Suyoung by association but soon felt as if he was the big brother you never had. There was a distant memory you had when he said he wanted to change his name to something cooler.

Roha.

Ah. You unblocked his number and saw the loads of messages that didn’t end up going through to you. It had stopped four years ago. But before, it was loads of them asking where you were, if you’re okay, if something had happened to you.

The last message made you laugh at how stupid it was.

↳ Ye-Jun’s worried. He’s going crazy over a nine month relationship, what did you do to him? ㅎㅎ He’s gonna find you one day, (Name)-Ah, be ready.

Find you? Be ready? What the hell was Ye-Jun gonna do to you? You were mainly shocked that he was even going crazy over you being gone. Why would he care when he himself said you were “hanging out?”

You sighed, sending a quick message to Roha to tell him he’s unblocked. Your fingers moved on their own and you found yourself on Ye-Jun’s contact. The profile picture was of him and you, faces pressed together as you grinned at the camera while Ye-Jun looked as if he was mid grimace, eyes squeezed shut from the flash.

You scrolled up to five years ago, to the day you had blocked him. It was tamed for a moment until Ye-Jun seemed to notice his texts weren’t going through.

It was panic after that. Multiple texts with spams if you’re dead, if you’re okay, that he’s freaking out. You couldn’t help but laugh. It felt surreal to see this side of him. After a few months, he only kept sending hello, as if checking everyday to see when you’d unblock him.

A few times he’d type a message. Asking if you ate, if you’re doing okay wherever you are. The next year, he started sending pictures. It was of him and the band. He was talking about how nervous he was being the leader.

Ye-Jun never took selfies, he hated pictures which was why most pictures of him he had a grimace or frown.

But the ones he was sending you, he smiled. Well, as best as he could. It looked forced but you still felt giddy that he was trying.

You scrolled through the messages until finding one on the day of the festival at the university.

↳ you didn’t move on, right? You wouldn’t move on, Jagiya… put cream on the bite marks, I don’t want you to scar. Don’t get so close to that bean pole with the fried hair again, okay? It made me upset ㅠㅠ

↳ you know how to piss me off, Jagi. I wanna keep you locked up so you won’t ever run away from me again. Hah, Love Countdown is a cute name. I wish I went to your debut performance. I think I’m insane at this point, Jagi. Nine month relationship and I’m acting like this ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

↳ it’s weird, I liked seeing you cry. Back then, when that bastard called you a slut I almost killed him ㅋㅋ … I like putting you in your place. If it’s just an act, it’s okay right?

“Back then… Did he… Did he defend me after I left?” You whispered, shame suddenly rose in your heart.

“Hm?” Yuki asked, looking back over at you.

“Nothing… Nothing. Did you find the movie?”

“Not yet.”

You scrolled down, the rest of the messages going back to being little tidbits on his day to date life. It wasn’t until you made it to today that you tried to read what he sent.

↳ Junnie Hyung to another man? Jagi, are you trying to piss me off??? I’ve been staying calm these past for months when all I’ve wanted to do was drag you home and punish you for abandoning me for five years

↳ don’t do that again… you are always mine, no man should be touching you again like he did. I don’t know what made you leave me, but I hope you know I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again

↳ …Those pants you wore on stage were nice. can you buy your own pair, Jagiya? I wanna tear them off you.

↳ you unblocked me?

A gasp left your lips. What the fuck? How did he already know that? You watched as he began typing, the three dots causing unnecessary panic in your heart.

↳ Did you eat?

Huh? You waited to see if he’d send anything else but he didn’t. It took a moment but you soon replied with a sort yes. The anxiety was building within you and you wanted to just block him again. But your heart wanted him back. Even if the messages he was sending you were insane to the normal person.

It was radio silence before he sent a picture.

It was of him in what you could assume was his bedroom. He was lying on his bed and an LED light illuminated his face. His hair messy while a slight smile pulled on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted to ask about that day. If maybe after you left, he realized he wanted you. That maybe he just didn’t know how to word his feelings properly.

But you felt as if it would be better in person. So, you did what you thought was the best response. You sent a selfie to him, making sure to smile.

It didn’t even take a minute before he started sending hearts. He usually never reacted like this before whenever you sent selfies. Did he change when you were gone?

Roha was right. He did go insane when you left him.

“Found the movie. You better leave before you even think about sexting him.” Yuki suddenly said, laying down on the bed.

You blushed. “What?! I wasn’t going to sext him!!”

Though you were feeling giddy at the thought of being close to him again. You couldn’t help but feel a bit worried about how… odd Ye-Jun was acting.

He really did change. And you weren’t sure if it was for the better.

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞

It had only been a week and you had kept a small conversation going with Ye-Jun—he texted you every morning and night. He was more confident as well. Leading to the incident that happened a few days ago.

Black Rose had won on the fan voting for the music show win. Everyone on stage was clapping as Black Rose came to the center to grab the reward. You and your band mates were close so you were right in arms reach when Ye-Jun came over to you.

“Thanks to all of our fans for voting. I’m happy I get to make my dongsaeng proud with our twentieth music show win on our four year anniversary.” Ye-Jun said, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close.

He kept his attention on the camera recording him. “Please send some love to my dongsaeng’s group, Love Countdown!” He squeezed you tightly before pressing a quick peck on your cheek, earning yells from the crowd.

Your band mates, and Black Rose themselves, looked absolutely shocked to say the least.

Including Korean forums not even a day later.

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑645 ↓320)

↳ dongsaeng my ass.. they fucking ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@jaesflatass (↑236 ↓67)

↳ he wanted to call him Jagiya so bad…

@junhoswhore (↑127 ↓378)

↳ I know skinship is normal but I’ve never wanted to kiss my homies

@_loveandfear (↑564 ↓24)

↳ you not a real homie then. I love kissing my boys good night. Tongue action too

@yukiwukii (↑764 ↓203)

↳ he’s so gay, i wanna call him the f slur ㅠㅠ

@lovewonshiik (↑389 ↓27)

↳ college drop out and gay, pick a struggle ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@freakfundashi (↑386 ↓867)

↳ everyday I get closer to seeing Cho (Name) get creampied on stage

@_Dohyungotafatty (↑433 ↓189)

↳ you’re insane ㅎㅎ but Cho (Name) is definitely the bottom

@jaesflatass (↑330 ↓219)

↳ Kim Ye-Jun makes Cho (Name) bounce on his cock… wonder if it’s big ㅎㅎㅎ

@freakyfundashi (↑3980 ↓340)

↳ I have fanfics of them on AO3. Here’s my username ******

“Is Kim Ye-Jun your boyfriend or something? He keeps commenting on your posts.” Young-Jae asked, sitting down beside you on the couch. You glanced up from your phone and shook your head, blushing slightly.

“What are you even talking about? Kim Ye-Jun is just my seonbae. Don’t be so rude, Hyung.”

“Rude? Look at this.” Young-Jae pulled up on your more recent selfies, one you literally took not even an hour ago. It was of you in the fitting room, getting dressed in a fluffy white sweater and white trousers.

Today the band was doing a photoshoot for your upcoming Japanese debut.

@BRkim_yejun commented : 나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ

“Dude, he likes you. He literally called you cute,” Young-Jae said, shaking his head. “If you were a girl, knets would’ve exploded with dating rumors already.”

@BRim_roha replied : 죽을래, 새끼야!!! GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND PICK UP THE PEN!!!

@BRpark_shion replied : 떨 떨?? I’ll give you something to tremble about

@BRseo_minji replied : IM GETTING MY ASS BEAT BECAUSE YOU WANNA GET YOUR DICK WET?!?

@BRhwang_hanbin replied : don’t you guys think you’re as weird as him for spamming the Instagram account? Everyone can see this, you stupid fucks.

Young-Jae looked over at you. “His band mates are as equally as insane. They deserve each other.” He turned off his phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of you both.

You only forced a tight grin. “They’re just eccentric people. Though Roha Hyung wasn’t like this back in university.”

“Hyung? You call Im Roha Hyung but not Kim Ye-Jun? Special treatment.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I heard that.”

You and Young-Jae sat up straight as Dohyun walked over to you both. He shook his head in disapproval before pulling out his phone. Your gaze flickered over to Young-Jae to see him ogling Dohyun. It wasn’t shocking. Dohyun was in a cropped t shirt once again with tight jeans.

Someone on the stylist team wanted to fuck Dohyun so bad at this point.

“Anyway,” Dohyun muttered, frowning at a text message he read before turning his attention over to you and Young-Jae. “The company is holding a birthday party after this for Manager Nayoung. Make sure to come.”

You gave him a quick thumbs up, “course, Hyungie~!”

“Yeah I’ll be there.” Young-Jae muttered.

“To stare at your ass.” You coughed out, earning a swift glare from Young-Jae.

Dohyun raised an eyebrow. “Stare at my slacks? When did you start using the work slacks, Jae-Ah? I can give you the website I buy them from.” He said, smiling.

Young-Jae sighed. “Sure…”

You gave a comforting pat on Young-Jae’s shoulder. Poor guy.

Party. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he’d be there…

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞

The party, of course, was nothing big. Manager Nayoung had asked for something small and chill. So the DJ was playing more 90s and 2000s Kpop. You were glued to Young-Jae for the most part until he got too drunk, somehow, and had to be taken home by Dohyun.

Won-Shik was being weirdly flirty with the older female staff who were enjoying his attention.

Yuki was somewhere, you remembered him saying he wanted to speak to someone.

That just left you and Junho together. You leaned closer to him and sighed, glancing up at him. Junho was staring straight ahead, watching the older people dance as much as their bones could handle before his eyes flickered down to you.

A soft smile spread on his lips. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s cool.” You giggled. “I know how old people party now.”

“Hey, don’t judge. This is gonna be you in a couple of years. Just you wait.”

You snuggled closer and hummed, reaching up to wipe something off Junho’s cheek. Junho leaned in closer so you didn’t have to stand up on your toes to reach him. It was only a second, just a split second to where it almost looked like you kissed him when an hand grabbed your arm.

A shocked wince left your throat as you looked over to see who your aggressor was.

“Kim Ye-Jun? You were invited?” Junho asked, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of him.

Ye-Jun’s upper lip was pulled into a snarl as he glared at Junho but turned his attention over to you. “What did I tell you, Cho (Name)? Did you forget?”

“What..? I’m just talking to Junnie Hyung…?” You whispered, glad that you were all in the corner of the party so no eyes could see this altercation.

“Excuse me?” Ye-Jun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned close to you. His hand tightened its grip on your arm. You felt an odd sense of dread as you shut your mouth, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Junho reached over and grabbed your free arm, tugging you back over. “Yah, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going to allow you to manhandle my dongsaeng. Speak to him nicely.”

“Who I think I am?” Ye-Jun turned his attention over to Junho, standing up tall to look straight in the eye. Junho was only two inches taller than Ye-Jun but was carrying more muscle mass in comparison.

It wasn’t even that Ye-Jun didn’t have muscle. Junho was just a bit too buff for his own good.

You knew deep down in your heart Junho would certainly win the fight but judging by how unhinged Ye-Jun has been… you wouldn’t put it past him to act dirty.

“Junho Hyung…” You whispered, catching his attention. “It’s okay… I’ll talk to him in private.”

“I don’t think it’s smart to be alone with him.”

Ye-Jun scoffed. “Why? And you’re safer?”

“Yeah, I am. You haven’t been in his life for five years and only had him for nine months. What claim do you really have over him, Kim Ye-Jun? Do you really know him? Do you know Cho (Name)?”

You balked, wondering how Junho knew that but realized Yuki must’ve mentioned it in passing. It makes sense, Yuki told Junho everything. You should’ve been a bit angry at that but couldn’t help but be happy that Junho was indirectly speaking what you felt deep down inside.

Why was Ye-Jun so set on keeping you as if you’d known him for years?

Ye-Jun’s jaw clinched. “I know how it feels to be without him.” You looked over at him as he tightened his grip on your arm. “And I’m not going through that again.”

“You’re being pretty selfish, Kim Ye-Jun. Did you not even make him your boyfriend? You only realized how much you came to love him when he left?” Junho released your arm, frowning slightly.

“I am selfish. I never said I wasn’t. I want him for myself. It just took for him daring to leave me to truly realize that I can’t be without him.”

“Uhm.” You squeaked out, causing the two men to look down at you. Gosh, it felt so awkward being shorter than them that you only reached their chests. “I’ll be okay… Just let me talk to him so we can resolve our issue.”

Junho sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay. You’re an adult. Call me if he does anything.”

You glanced over at Ye-Jun, seeing a slight smirk tugging on his lips. Can’t have him think you’re crawling back so easily.

“Thanks, Junnie Hyung!” You grinned, enjoying the sight of Ye-Jun’s smirk dropping in a millisecond. “I’ll have you on speed dial!”

Once you got the okay from Junho, Ye-Jun practically dragged you out of the building. You waved goodbye to Junho before trying to make Ye-Jun slow down.

Maybe Junho is right.

Kim Ye-Jun doesn’t seem safe in the slightest

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞

“A hotel? What? Am I not worthy enough to enter your home?” You laughed, allowing Ye-Jun to push you inside the hotel room. The room was fancier than anything you were used to. Black Rose must be making money.

Ye-Jun slammed the door shut behind him. He tugged off his jacket and tossed it on the ground, his feet heavy as he walked over to you.

“I didn’t take you home because I didn’t want to bother Roha with your screaming.” He said, grabbing your waist.

You blushed, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Screaming? You’re overly confident… Who’s to say I was going to sleep with you?”

Ye-Jun didn’t answer, leaning down as he began pressing kisses against your neck. You whimpered. Your hands gripping at his shirt as he nipped and bit at your skin.

“I don’t need to be confident. I know your body. I know I’m the only one who gets it.” His hands reached down and tugged at your shirt. You stared at him before raising your arms, letting him take off your shirt.

You tried to ignore the hungry look he gave you as he practically clawed at your jeans. Your voice was barely above a whisper, as if you were a bit too nervous to say it. “You act like you’re the only man that’s fucked me.”

His body froze, his eyes narrowing in on your face. You couldn’t help the cockiness that began to build within you at the look on his face.

“What? It was five years. Did you really think I was going to turn celibate because my first ever boyfriend… no, first ever fuck buddy allowed his friends to call me a slut? When asked what you liked about me, all you said was that I made you feel good about yourself.”

Ye-Jun’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled away, tilting his head as if he was thinking about what you were saying. You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“You forgot? Forgot that you wouldn’t even call me your boyfriend? That I was annoying?!” You couldn’t help yourself, the past anger beginning to bubble up, ready to spill out. “Did those nine months mean anything to you? Or was I… was I just romanticizing our relationship?”

You sighed, rubbing your head. Your throat burned. Shit, were you really about to cry?

A laugh caught your attention as you looked up at Ye-Jun. “You’re laughing…?” You whispered, eyes widening. “You’re laughing after I just poured my heart out?!”

Ye-Jun hummed nonchalantly, tugging off his own shirt. “Yeah. You left me for that? For five years I thought I did something wrong but it was just you getting emotional.”

“Getting emotional?! Yah, Kim Ye-Jun—!”

“—Cho (Name).” His voice sharp. “That day, November 3rd, when I first saw you—I thought you were cute but stupid. Who would run head first into a busy intersection for a stupid umbrella? It was my luck that when I finished my service and you were at my university.”

The calm atmosphere around Ye-Jun made you feel uneasy as you watched him pull off his bracelet. He looked over at you and grinned.

“That first day I got to truly know you, I thought you were the most selfish annoying little shit ever. Me, Me, Me. That’s all you talked about—didn’t ask me any questions about myself.”

You frowned, throat tightening as you tried to fight back the tears welling in your eyes.

“But you know what made me come back? Guess, Jagi.”

“Sex…?”

“Jagiya… Don’t sell yourself so short.” Ye-Jun laughed, shaking his head. His hand reached over and grabbed the belt hoops of your jeans, pulling you flushed against his chest. You let out a shocked gasp. “I saw you. Outside at the college park, crying your eyes out. You looked so cute.”

You shuddered, glancing down as you felt his hand move to your button, pulling it loose.

“You saw me and then immediately ran over to me. Jumped into my arms without even asking me and just cried, begging for comfort.” Ye-Jun chuckled as if he was remembering the moment. “I almost pushed you off but you were cute… So cute. I liked seeing your face ruined with tears.”

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, unable to stop him as he slowly pulled down your zipper.

“I wanted you after seeing you cry and cling onto me. I’ll be honest, I was going to stop seeing you after we first fucked. But then you suddenly said I was your first time… that you didn’t want any other man to touch you.” He laughed. “But you didn’t seem to keep that promise, did you?”

Ye-Jun pushed you onto the bed, grabbing your jeans as he pulled them off. You whimpered, unable to move as you watch him stand tall over you. A small smirk pulled on his lips.

“Everyday, you practically threw yourself at me. So cute and innocent. Whiny in bed as you begged me to fuck you. Slowly you ruined me, Jagiya. I liked how overly dependent you were on me.”

A strangled gasp left your lips as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room. You looked down to see Ye-Jun’s hands tearing open your boxers, creating a hole right at your ass. It was practically ruined.

“I didn’t think at first to make us ‘official.’ My mistake, huh? I didn’t think you’d run off so quickly without speaking to me just because of other people.” His hand gripped at your thighs. “When you didn’t immediately text me back I knew something was wrong. But I tried to think that it’d be good to not have you up under me.”

He laughed, looking down at you. “It was lonely. The first night without you made me never want to be alone again. But you left me alone for five years. Jagiya, did you not think about how I’d feel?”

“But… You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Defend you? Is that what you want from me? To be your knight? I’ll be him. Anything to make you stay.”

You gasped, clutching the bedsheets as you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, back arched. It was silent for a moment before you felt something cool coat your ass. Your body flinched, a pained whimper leaving your throat.

“Who was it?”

“H..Huh..? Ngh!” You cried out, feeling two fingers sink inside your hole. There was no build up or even a second for you to get used to it. Ye-Jun began to pump his finger in and out, using his free hand to deliver a smack to your ass.

“Who was it? Yang Junho? Did he get to touch you?”

“N..No! No, never..!” You whined, crying at the repeated thrusting against your prostate. The fact he was able to find it so easily scared you. Why could he remember stuff about you after five years?

“Then who, Jagi?”

“Ngh…! It… Mmh!! Ah… Hah.. Y..Young-Jae Hyung…”

“Lee Young-Jae..?” Ye-Jun whispered, his thrusting suddenly slowing down. “You had sex with him?”

“Mhm…” You whined, missing the feeling despite the tears threatening to fall. “We.. We were bored during our trainee years and we couldn’t date so we just became fuck buddies for about a year or so.. Ngh.. We stopped when we met Dohyun Hyung because Jae Hyung caught feelings for him…”

“Only him?”

“…Uhm…”

“Jagi.”

“No… I… I slept with someone after that. But then I couldn’t do it anymore because I got so busy with our debut.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know him. Why do you even care? You probably slept with people during these five years!”

Ye-Jun chuckled. “Mhm. I didn’t. Well, I tried at least.” His finger slipped out of your ass, both hands now spreading you open. “But no one could compare to the pretty face you make whenever you cum on my cock.”

You gasped as you were forced back onto your back and dragged so your lower half of your body hung off the bed. Ye-Jun tilted his head as he drank you on, a slow smile creeping on his lips.

“I missed see you like this. Scared and complainant to my touch. You didn’t fight me at all, Cho (Name). You still want me, don’t you?”

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets as you turned your head to the side, clamping your eyes shut. He only laughed.

“Keep pretending you hate me. I heard sex feels good with hate.” The sound of the zipper and his belt buckle made you flinch, legs instinctively clamping together. You were scared but made no real attempt to move away.

A strangled gasp left your throat as he began to slowly thrust inside of you. It had been up to a year at this point—you almost forgot how much it hurts the first time. Forgot about how big he was.

Ye-Jun groaned, his hands reached up to grab your wrists as he brought them together over your stomach. “Mhm. You still feel so good, Jagiya. How can I live without this?”

You whimpered, eyes shut tight as you feel tears threatening to fall. It was silent for a moment. Your hole repeatedly clenching around his cock as you tried to get used to the feeling. Just as you were about to feel just a smidge of calmness, Ye-Jun slammed into you.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room in tandem with your hiccuped gasps. Tears were freely flowing as your lips parted, trying to say something. You couldn’t even remember what you were going to say.

Your toes curled as the repeated thrusting got you to finally open your eyes and glance down.

Ye-Jun looked downright sinful. His gaze never left your face as his hips slammed into your ass. Hands tightening around your wrists. A smirk pulled on his lips when he noticed you were finally paying attention to him.

“You really are so cute.” He muttered, a crazed look in his eyes as he took you in. “You’re crazy for trying to deprive me of you, Cho (Name). I shouldn’t have let you leave so easily.”

“Ngh… Wh..! Mhm, you act… hah.. act like you could’ve stopped me..!” You managed to finally speak, though it was short lived when his cock finally grazed against your prostate. Ye-Jun moved his hands so only one held both your wrists while the other held your right leg up.

“Oh, you’re still able to talk.” He said, completely ignoring your comment. “Can’t have that.”

He pulled out, much to your dismay, and released his grip on your body. You looked at him with wide eyes, tears staining your face as you wondered what he was going to do. Ye-Jun hummed as he maneuvered you to rest on your stomach once more.

You grunted at the force. “Stop…! Manhandling me!” You whined.

Ye-Jun ignored you again, forcing you to bend your knees on the bed so he could force your ass up high. His hand slipped underneath your boxers and gripped the band. You wondered if he was going to finally just take them off when he thrusted his cock inside your slick hole.

A stuttered high pitched gasp left your throat as he began to repeatedly slam his hips against your ass. He tugged at the hand of boxers, forcing your body to move back on his cock whenever you attempted to pull away just for a second of clarity.

It was repeated attacks on your prostate. The squelching from the lube and the sounds of skin slapping together with the sound of your high pitched moans filled the hotel room. Shit, you were so sure you would be getting a complaint tomorrow.

“I have so many things I want to do to you, Jagiya. To make up for lost time. Because you aren’t ever leaving me again. But I’ll be nice tonight… You have a Japanese debut to prepare for.”

You only whimpered, trying to form some type of words but could only rest your head against the bed.

“But after, I’m going to make you feel the pain you made me feel when you left me for those five years. What happened at the festival was only a taste.”

Ye-Jun delivered a harsh smack to your ass as you let out a shocked gasp. You couldn’t think clearly anymore—just babbling nonsense as your cock rubbed against the bedsheets dejectedly.

You were so close… You hoped Ye-Jun would be kind enough to let you cum tonight.

It seems your prayers were answered as a hand suddenly wrapped itself around your cock. A appreciative mewl escaped you as he began to pump your cock in sync with his thrusting.

The pleasure became too much as a long cry left you as your body began to slump. Your cock squirted against the covers, messing up your stomach in the process. But Ye-Jun didn’t stop, he continued fucking you despite your whines of overstimulation.

His grunting got louder as his hand gripped your ass. You gasped when he slammed deep inside one last time, hips flushed against your ass you began to feel something hot coat your inner walls.

He didn’t wear a condom… You hadn’t even noticed. This was the first time you ever had sex without a condom. Your first ever creampie.

Of course, Kim Ye-Jun was the one to do it.

Your body slumped against the bed, falling onto your side as he pulled out. You couldn’t even complain, too tired to do anything beside sleep.

Ye-Jun leaned over your body and leaned down, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t sleep yet. You can’t sleep on the sheets.” He wrapped his arms around your legs and upper body, easily lifting you up.

You were in and out as he got a bath ready. Your eyes fluttering close just as he lowered you into the water. He flicked your forehead, jolting you awake as you whined.

“Wha…tsthatfor?” You whispered.

“You can’t fall asleep. I don’t want you to drown in the bath.”

You must’ve ended up falling asleep anyway because you awoke on the bed, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe. It was dark in the room, only a little light shining through the cracks of the shades from the street lamps.

A hand tightened its grip on your waist as you looked over, seeing Ye-Jun’s face buried in your neck as he clung to your body. You managed to free one hand and reached over to check your messages on your phone.

Roha Hyung

↳ make sure that homosexual is back by 10 am, we have practice in the morning

Jun Jun Hyung

↳ Are you safe? Please make sure you’re safe. Text me in the morning.

Ki Ki Hyung

↳ when did you leave? Are you okay? You better be in your room by 8 am when I visit

Dohyunie Hyung

↳ please don’t come home until after 10 am!!!!! Stay in my room tonight!! PleSjheja!!!

Wonnie Hyung

↳ was I the only one that didn’t know Yuki and Junho are fucking?!? wtf??? Am I only the one who likes girls in this damn band?!??

Jae Hyung

↳ !!!! DOHYUN HYUNG IS SUCKING MY DICK!!!!

↳ IM SO FUCKING HIS ASS TONIGHT!!!!

↳ anyway don’t come home, we’re gonna fuck all night ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

You shut your phone off and gently placed it back on the nightstand. You’d deal with that mess in the morning.

Your body shifted as you glanced down at Ye-Jun.

Surely you didn’t think he was serious. He couldn’t be this obsessed with you after nine months.

Right?

Poor, naive Cho (Name).

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞

He thought he was seeing things that day.

Love Countdown’s Cho (Name). You stood right there in front of him. He almost ran over to you and hugged you so tight, hoping it wasn’t just a dream. You looked so cute with those heart freckles.

He didn’t think you’d debut in a band. He didn’t remember anything about you being able to play any instrument.

Roha would tell him of course he didn’t. He only knew you for nine months. That wasn’t enough time to get to know someone that well. Especially someone like you who seemed unable to talk about anything besides your family drama or love for Ye-Jun.

Ye-Jun almost thought you just looked oddly similar to his (Name). Until Lee Young-Jae called your name. Until he saw how you looked at him with fear but also some type of love? Like you also wanted to just run into his arms.

No matter.

He was used to having total control of the relationship. He should’ve never allowed you to just take control so suddenly. You broke the relationship without even talking to him.

He’d get you back. No matter what. Because you were his.

Even if you didn’t know that.

@BRkim_yejun started following @TheRealLoveCountdown

❝ 점점 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞

…. Don’t make fun of me, this wasn’t supposed to be so long lmfao. Anyway don’t even ask, I’ll be using Ye-Jun again and make a part two in future. He’s too toxic to pass up on

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @star-3214 @tehyunnie @flurrina @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tomoeroi @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mello-life25

Translations:

ㅎㅎㅎ (하하하) — hahaha

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ (크크크크) — LOL

ㄷ ㄷ (떨딸) — trembling

❝ 목이 메어 ❞ — my throat is tight

❝ 매달려 봤는데 상처 발더러고 ❞ — I clung onto that person, and I ended up getting hurt

귀여워, 자기야… 셀키 더 찍어 주세요… 뽀뽀하고 싶어요 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ — cute, baby. Please take more selfies!! I wanna kiss you, lolol

❝ 진지하진 않잖아 가벼운 간보기잖아 ❞ — you’re not being serious, it’s just a test, isn’t it?

❝ 이러면 안 되는데 머리론 아는데 ❞ — I shouldn’t be like this, I know in my mind

나는 너를 먹고 싶어…!! 왜 그렇개 귀여워? ㄷㄷ — I wanna eat you. Why are you so cute? *shaking*

죽을래, 새끼야!!! — do you wanna die, son of a bitch (this is where sae kki ya came from)

❝ 거기 멈춰 줄래 빠지기 싫어 싫어 싫어 ❞ — please stop right there, I don’t don’t don’t want to fall for you

❝ 단지 너의 외로움을 단래긴 싫거든 ❞ — I don’t only want to soothe your loneliness

❝ 시작해 버린 순간 못 헤어나올 걸 아니까 ❞ — because from the moment it starts, I know I can’t break free

❝ 점점 멈추기 힘들어 갈 수록 중독돼 ❞ — it’s getting harder to stop, I’m getting more addicted to you

Songs used — 121u by Day6 and sOng Of ice and fire by OnlyOneOf

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Listening to Skating Polly and just remembering last May when I technically met their drummer because he was hanging out with two people I used to volunteer/work with and who I stopped to chat a bit with when I saw them again.

[jarofstyles]

Jarofstyles Author and Fic Recs

Hi my friends! I wanted to give official recs that weren’t just reblogged onto our fic rec tumblr ( @jarofstylesrecs ) and highlight some authors and my absolute favorite fics. I love most of the writings by these authors so I implore you to check out their entire master lists.

So much time gets put into writing (for free!) and I’d love to share these with you all. This is part one, I will be doing a few of these.

For your comfort, please read trigger warnings when provided

Remember to like and reblog stuff you love ❤️ It’s a free way to support these authors.

@1800titz

The Devil is a Gentleman- fucking incredible. 10/10, one of my all time favorite fics. Currently being rewritten but worth the wait for the updates. Some of the best smut, and immersive writing. (Series)

ridethetiger- pornstar!Harry x Pornstar!Y/N. This and the extras are chef’s kiss, I eat them up (one shot + extras)

Hitchhikerry- this one is very very dark so PLEAZE read trigger warnings at the beginning and be mindful. I don’t want to spoil but if you like darker things, this may be something you like (two parter)

Fetish- spanking and neighbors. That’s all I’m gonna say, you gotta read it. Thems the rules. (Series)

@gurugirl

The Arrangement- sugar daddy meets Dom. Super smutty, super good. Read warnings but I loved it and the extras are so worth the read as well (series)

Best Friend’s Dad- if you like a little so wrong but it feels so right, you’ll like this. Age gap, a plethora of kinks, I’ve revisited this whole thing many times. Read TW (series)

Can We Start Over- I ate this up in one sitting a while ago and forgot how good this was. A good balance of angst and smut! (Series)

I Guess You’re All Mine- drummer Harry and bandmate’s girlfriend one shot, I’ve reread this multiple times! (One shot)

Baby Daddy- friends to lovers to parents, one night stand with your friend leads to much more. (One shot)

@sushirrrry

Wrangled- Cowboy Harry. Enough said (one shot)

Pulse- brother’s best friends at a music festival… do I need to say more? It’s a dream to read. (One shot)

Trace- tattoo artist!Harry, so fucking cute my toes were curled and I let out real noises. There’s a second part I read on wattpad and they are so cute. Tattoo artist is a weakness of mine (one shot)

Executive- CEO Harry- cue heart eyes. (One shot)

Au Pair- you guys know I’m a sucker for single dad…. So I ate this up.

Penalty- hockey Harry blurb. I loved this (blurb)

Order- bodyguard!Harry… so yummy. (Blurb)

@1d1195

Pucking Rookie- hockey, coaches daughter, I loved this one. I love all the writing from them but this got me, I’m a sucker for hockey (series)

Dolecezza- Harry works at the resturant below her apartment. So fucking cute, I’ve reread this one a few times. He treats her so well… lemme get one of those (series)

Toothpaste- Dentist Harry 🦷🪥 (series)

Protection- god another trope I die for- pun intended- security agent Harry! She’s the secretary of state’s daughter. This one was so fun to read (series)

Sun-Kissed- a dreamy vacation love story (short series)

@heartateasee

Cherry Bomb- ongoing, complex relationship, singer main character, troubled Harry. Read the trigger warnings before reading but I love this one (series)

Georgia- Dancer main character, Harry tries to help her get out, 10/10 (series)

House Call- STRIPPER HARRY YES!

Part Two

Qualified Ride- as you already know I have an extreme soft spot for cowboy Harry (one shot)

Streaming- streamer Harry x reader. I’ve been dying for more of these

Part Two of the recs will be coming shortly!

[celestiamour]

ft. roderick heffley x f! reader — diary of a wimpy kid

╰₊✧ the alcohol made you do it, maybe the feelings too┊0.7k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub roderick┊slight dubcon due to intoxication, reader is a popular mean girl, roderick is whipped & whiny, unprotected piv, more plot than porn sorry

➤ author's note: how did roderick not have any maidens in the movies

“oh my god, could you be any fucking louder?!” you hissed. you couldn’t believe you were doing this, hooking up with a loser like roderick heffley. what would your friends think if they ever found out? they would probably exile you and tell everyone in the school, you’d never hear the end of it unless you moved to a different country or something.

“can help it,” he slurred, planting his face in between the valley of your breasts, “you’re so pretty…” everything about this altercation felt like a dream, so hammered that he couldn’t even think straight and in bed with one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his entire life. he wishes that he didn’t drink so much to remember this moment and treasure it, but he also knows that this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if he was any less buzzed.

all you could do was roll your eyes, but at least he was more quiet now that his moans were being muffled by your tits. the music blaring through the walls was loud, yet still not loud enough to drown out how noisy he was. this wasn’t something you typically did, but you were wasted and liked the way he looked at you, so here you were in his bed with his throbbing cock buried deep inside of you. 

“i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you sighed, rolling your hips into his and hearing him choke on a moan. “this is all your fault for throwing such a boring ass party.” his little brother and his friend managed to renew some of the fun, but they ended up falling asleep before midnight and the rest of the party was carried on by drunken antics. 

“‘m sorry…”

you let out a sound in exasperation at the pang of pity his apology left in your heart, gritting your teeth and closing your eyes for a moment so that you didn’t need to look at how pathetic he was. “it’s fine…” despite how cruelly you treated him at times, he was pretty easy on the eyes and not that bad of a fuck even if he’s clearly more inexperienced than you.

it’s actually kinda cute, you have to admit, how he looks up at you like you’re a goddess and touches you like he’s never seen a woman before. it gave you a rush of confidence that you’d never felt before, but in the end, he was just a hookup and this was the product of drinking too much. you don’t even get the satisfaction of “taming” the bad boy because he’s just some wannabe drummer of a shitty band whose music would make a deaf person beg for them to stop playing, one who chases skirts like a lost puppy and is known for being a flirt so terrible that not even the most desperate girls would be put off by his attempts of being cool.

and yet you’re still here on top of him, his hands digging into your thighs before you grab one of them by the wrist and direct them to rub at your clit, throwing him a bone by praising him for following your directions so obediently and feeling his cock twitch inside of you at your words. you could argue that it was the alcohol all you wanted, and maybe you have to thank it for initiating this contact, but you know deep down that it would have happened sooner or later whether or not you want to admit the infatuation growing over the past few years. you always acted as if you hated him when you truly hated his charm that shines through when he passionately plays his trash songs and his dopey smile every time you so much as looked his way.

you’ll think about all that later when you aren’t chasing your own orgasm and suffering from a banging headache. who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to coax a confession out of him and chalk it up to your friends as a pity date, they’ll believe it and probably encourage you to trick him into falling in love with you before breaking his heart. after all, you two are from completely different worlds, but you’ll make it work somehow.

[simplyholl]

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

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