#Cheap The Who Concert Tickets

[woodfrogs]

beautiful day 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[souvenirmp3]

keep scrolling this is your regular 'i hate ticketmaster i hope their server rooms just explode' post

[raindrop-21]

Sometimes I hate that I like Ghost

[frenchkisstheabyss]

☆ ａｂｏｕｔ ａ ｇｉｒｌ☆

☆ Pairing: rockstar!best friend!mingi x chubby!fem!reader

☆ Genre: rocker au/smut/fluff/friends to lovers

☆ Word Count: 4.4k

☆ Summary: During a late night hang out session your innocent request to color in your best friend's tattoos leads to a revelation about the not so platonic feelings you've held for him. Mingi's a rockstar. One of the best guitarists there is. Every boy you know wants to be him and every girl you know wants to be on top of him. In your eyes, the odds that his feelings are mutual are slim to none but a girl's gotta be wrong sometimes.

☆ Warnings: heavily tattooed mingi, he has a tongue piercing too, bestie wooyoung pops in to stir shit up, drug use (just weed), body worship, dry humping, female masturbation, marking, some soft dom mingi moments, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, spanking, nibbling, scratching, unprotected sex, his dick is kinda (very) big, doggy style, squirting, creampie, pet names (baby, good girl), affectionate use of the word whore (towards Mingi).

☆ A/N: Rockerteez has a special place in my heart, especially rocker Mingi, so I absolutely had to write something for him. I hope this satisfies something for all of my chubby alt girls out there who crush on this man just as hard as I do. Love you guys xoxo byeee.

Mingi can’t say no to you. It’s been that way since the beginning of your friendship. Craving ice cream in the middle of the night? He���ll drive you to every convenience store in a 10 mile radius just to make sure you get the flavor you want. You want tickets to a sold out concert for your favorite band? He’ll pull every string he can behind the scenes to make sure you get them.

You’ve turned into a brat, spoiled rotten to the core, and he can only blame himself for it. Tonight might’ve been the night that he stood up to you if you didn’t look so adorable making the silliest request he’s ever heard. 

You were standing at the edge of his bed rocking nothing but a baggy Linkin Park tee you stole from his drawer and a pair of black panties not meant to impress but cute all the same. Your cheeks were still stained with glitter from tonight’s concert and remnants of smeared mascara lingered in the wake of some discount makeup wipes that didn’t quite do the trick. 

“Just let me color in your tattoos. Like this, see?” You held your phone up to his face, his nose a fraction of an inch from the screen where a girl was busy coloring in the free space of her boyfriend’s tattoos. 

Mingi had been lying on his back, scrolling his own phone as he patiently awaited your return from the kitchen. Snacks. You were supposed to bring back snacks, not a fistful of random markers you found in the kitchen drawer and some impulsive idea you got from Tiktok. 

“No. I’ll get skin cancer or something” he huffed, rolling his eyes and flopping back down on the bed. 

“Oh, because you’re so concerned about your health” you teased, eyeing the shiny chrome vape pen perched between two plush rosy lips. 

Mingi casually drew in a breath, letting the peach infused smoke fill his lugs. “THC is healthy. Whatever the fuck’s in those isn’t.”

Clearing your throat, you hopped onto the bed, spreading the markers out to inspect. “Actually, these are vegan markers so they’re safe. It’s basically the rules, so…let me do it.”

“No…” he started but you were already pouting, your eyelashes batting away fake tears. It was a cheap trick to pull, especially when you know how it always gets to him, but it worked.

“Fine but you’ve got 15 minutes. That’s it.” 

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, popping the caps of the markers off and getting straight to work. Lucky for you Mingi has more tattoos than free skin on his chest. Even luckier, he has zero ability to track time.

An hour’s passed and you’re still here, straddling his lap and doodling away. You hum along to the song on his record player. It’s a vaguely familiar tune, some alt rock album that dropped before Mingi even hit middle school.��

Mingi’s yet to admit it—he actually hasn’t said a word to you since you started—but this is the most relaxed he’s been in the longest time. Everyone thinks that being in a band is one big party. The tours. The magazine spreads. The concerts. The groupies. But there’s more to it than that. Being an artist takes from you in ways the rest of the world couldn’t imagine. Something about sharing this time with you gives a little bit of that back to him. 

He steals a glance at you, eyes flicking back to his phone before you catch him in the act. You’re pretty. Not the disposable kind of pretty that you admire for one night and forget about when the alcohol wears off in the morning. You’re the irreplaceable kind of pretty. The kind that’s too pure to pursue but too precious to let slip out of his reach.

Your friendship’s never been for show. The bond he has with you—the love he feels—all of it’s genuine. But he can’t say there’s nothing else so he says nothing at all. He just lies here, your human canvas, enjoying the feeling of your weight in his lap and your soft hands brushing against his skin. 

“I’m running to the store. You want something?” Wooyoung asks, bursting through the door. 

It’s a house rule that all bandmates knock before coming in but Wooyoung’s never been one to care. His room is his room and everyone else’s room is his too.

“My bad, am I interrupting something?” 

You and Mingi’s heads turn towards the door in unison and your reactions are are identical. “Something like what?”

Wooyoung cracks a smile, tickled by you two syncing up like bluetooth headphones. “You tell me. I’m not the one who has their best friend in cowgirl right now.” 

A marker goes flying across the room at him and he dodges it like a pro. “It’s not like that and you know it’s not” you say, pretending not to know what a lie that is.

It’s not an outright lie. It’s nothing, it truly is, but you can’t ignore what this position’s been doing to you. Mingi’s a gorgeous man. Gorgeous enough to make you wish you were just another groupie some days. It’s inevitable that your vicinity to him might leave your pulse racing now and then. Maybe get you a bit wetter than anything the natural warmth of your body could do. You feel a twinge of guilt for it but not nearly enough to get up. 

“If it’s not like that then what’s it like?” Wooyoung presses, paying no mind to the growing frustration on his bandmate’s face. Mingi’s pisssed but that’s never stopped Wooyoung before. 

“It’s like you getting out of my room” Mingi snaps, “Where’s San? Doesn’t one of you die if you aren’t attached at the hip 24 hours a day?”

Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest, “You should talk.”

“Woo, I’m serious. Mingi and I are just friends. That’s it. You see the type of girls who wait for him backstage. Do any of them look like me?” 

Your question’s met with silence from both men. They share a knowing glance. Wooyoung knows something you don’t and Mingi dares him to open his mouth unless he wants to die. 

“Didn’t think so” you gloat, getting back to your coloring, “I will take something from the store though. Some chips please. My usual. Want something, Min?”

“Just for him to get out of my room. Quickly.” 

“Got it. Chips for the lady and for the gentleman…” Wooyoung flips Mingi off as he backs out of the room.

Mingi returns the gesture, “I love you too!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head at their immaturity. On stage all anyone sees are the piercings and the tattoos. They think that they’re edgy…bad boys. But they’re dorks through and through. Ones you’re happy to be around but dorks nonetheless. 

“And what’s so funny?” he frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Tossing your marker aside, you trade it out for the vape resting at Mingi’s side. You take a puff, leaning forward to blow the smoke right into his face. “You.”

Mingi does nothing. He only sits there letting the smoke dance across his face. You’ve done a lot of hot things since the two of you’ve met and that was without a doubt one of them. You’re on top of him, your back arched, plush thighs caging him in on each side. No bra. No pants. And that face—those lips so dangerously close to his. 

A long moment passes between you. The silence adds another layer of tension to what each of you has already been hiding. 

“Just because they wait for me backstage doesn’t mean they’re my type” he says, catching you off guard. 

It takes a second for you to register what he's said and when you do your brain short circuits. “Min, I mean…I wasn’t…it doesn’t matter.”

Mingi cocks his head, strands of platinum hair falling into his face. “What do you think my type is exactly?” 

You sit back up in his lap, taking another puff to calm your nerves. “I don’t know but last I checked you didn’t have a fat girl fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish.” Mingi pushes himself up to face you, refusing to let you run away so easily. His gaze trails over you like fingertips tracing your curves. “I just like what I like and what I like happens to be girls with some meat on their bones. Is that okay with you?”

Brushing off his comment, you place a hand on his chest to push him back down. “You’re being weird.”

He doesn’t budge. He just stares into your eyes, searching for whatever it is that you’re fighting so hard to keep hidden from him. He knows it’s there. It’s in the way your black nails are nervously drumming against his chest. It’s in the shortness of your breath and the subconscious rocking of your hips in his lap. But he wants to see it in your eyes. He needs to. 

“Is that the only reason then?” he asks, slipping an arm around you, “You think nothing’s happened between us because of your body? Which is beautiful by the way.”

You blush, playfully swatting him on the cheek, “Stop. It’s not just that. You and I, we're friends, that's it. Even when you say stuff like that to tease me, I know you only see me as a friend.”

“And what do you see me as?” His voice is deep on any regular day but the way it dips when he asks the question has a bass to it that has you sweating. 

You stumble on your words, fighting to make sense of the alphabet soup that is your brain. You don’t work for the CIA. You weren’t prepped to hold up to interrogation. That’s exactly what this feels like because that’s exactly what this is. Mingi wants an answer, a clear one, and you know better than anyone that when he locks in on something he never backs down. 

“You’re someone who means to me, Min. Someone I’d rather not lose by thinking something’s there when it’s not…”

You have more to say but you can’t for the life of you remember what it was after Mingi’s lips collide with yours. He lays back, finally, and he takes you with him, your body flush against his as he kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he possessed.

It’s a wild, breathless kiss. It’s wet lips and little nibbles, tongues intertwining and fingers tangling in hair. There’s no more holding back. No reason to pretend that you don’t want what both of you have all along. It’s a relief for Mingi who's been quietly going through hell for the past hour trying not to get hard with you seated on top of him. 

He thought of everything he could to ignore how good it felt to have you resting against his length but now all he can think of is you. It’s dizzying how quickly all of the blood in his body rushes between his legs, his length swelling as he takes greedy handfuls of your figure. You shiver the first time you feel him, a moan as light as air leaving your lips. 

“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, hips rolling to chase the friction. 

Mingi pushes you onto your back, lips latching onto your neck before you even hit the mattress. 

His hands dip beneath your borrowed shirt. It’s one of his favorites but right now he can’t stand the sight of it. He needs to feel the smoothness of your bare skin…feel your curves give beneath his touch. 

“You want some more?” he asks, dragging his tongue across your skin, igniting you like a match.

“Oh, fuck, yes…” you moan at the pressure of his fingertips massaging your breast.

He brushes his thumb across your nipple and it stiffens as if on command. Your whole body’s calling out his name—screaming it—begging for his attention. Mingi presses down onto you, his cock throbbing like a heartbeat against your core with every grind of his hips. Moisture trickles down your slit, soaking your panties to the point of uselessness.

You can’t say it's ever crossed your mind to dry hump a rockstar but thanks to Mingi it’s quickly become your new favorite thing. You could lay here all night moaning and whimpering, making a sticky mess all over his sweatpants while he marks your neck up like you’re his property. Well, maybe not all night. Your mind’s already flooded with thoughts of how badly you need him inside you. Good thing he doesn’t intend to make you wait much longer. 

“This shirt, take it off” he demands, already tugging it up your figure.

Mingi climbs onto his knees, sitting back to give you the room you need to slip the shirt over your head. He can’t tell where it lands, he doesn’t really care. All that matters to him is that there’s a goddess lying between his legs, one ruined pair of panties away from being completely naked. He lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. You’re a gift so perfectly designed to suit his every desire that he must be dreaming. 

“What’s wrong, Min? Never seen a naked girl before?” you tease, your nervous laughter triggering something in him. 

Mingi’s expression darkness like you’ve only seen it when he’s deathly serious about something. “Not like this…” he says, his hands patiently exploring your body, savoring every part of you. “And you thought you weren’t my type? When you’re this pretty—your cute belly, those stretchmarks, these thighs—you think I haven’t worshipped you since the day I met you?”

He pushes your knees up just enough to slip your panties down, “I remember Yunho brought you backstage after the show. You had on those heels and that tiny leather skirt. You were so fucking pretty and all I could think was, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to have those thighs around my neck’. You gonna let me find out?”

Mingi spreads your legs, running his fingers through your glistening pussy. His fingers are coated in seconds, so shiny and wet with your arousal that they slip inside of you effortlessly. He crawls onto his stomach, licking his lips as his fingertips stroke your walls. 

“Aah…mmph…Mingi” you whine, gripping the sheets as he adds another finger.

“I like the sound of my name but that’s not an answer, baby. I need you to tell me.” He licks the tip of your clit, his silver tongue piercing glinting in the light as he teases you, “Can I eat your pussy or you want me to beg for it?”

“No begging. Just fucking do it.” 

Mingi doesn’t need to be told twice. He buries his face between your legs, suckling and slurping, eating you up like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have. Your thighs slip over his shoulders and he grabs onto them with both hands, kneading their softness as his tongue dips into you. You try to keep it together but you’re  too sensitive to control how much you tremble when he laps at the ridges of your walls.

You grab him by the hair, not guiding him, just feeling him. You don’t know if it’s the drugs or the way his tongue’s swirling around inside you but it’s like you're floating. Your body’s buzzing with pleasure and when he reaches up to pinch your clit you’re on the verge of falling to pieces. 

And that’s right where he keeps you, dancing on the edge of complete ruin. Occasionally he glances up at you, not caring now if you catch him looking. He wants to see you…wants you to see him. You lock eyes and he hums his satisfaction at every pretty face you make.

A mentor once told him that every girl’s a guitar. You’ve just gotta pay enough attention to know how to tune her. A skilled musician if nothing else, Mingi knows how to tune you just right. He knows which dials to turn to make you sing. He’s strumming every string, hitting every note that he needs to for that fullness to build in your lower belly. It’s never felt this good to be close before, it’s almost too much to take and you inch up on the bed, desperate for a break.

Mingi grabs you by the hips before you can get too far, dragging you back down onto his face. “No running” he grins, “Now be a good girl and stay still for me.”

There’s no time to be shocked by his boldness. You’re right back where you left off. Back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching. He takes your clit between his lips, licking circles around it as his fingers plunge back into you, tapping your sweet spot until you come undone.

He locks an arm across your waist, pinning you to the bed so that you have to take it. All of it. Your orgasm falls over you like a blanket, clinging to your skin, enveloping you in the overwhelming warmth of it. Your moans devolve into a low, broken whine as you lay there helpless. As if you’d want the help if there were any. 

“Mmm” he hums, taking his last taste of you before his dripping fingers pull out, “I knew you’d taste good but that was…”

He swishes what’s left of your juices around in his mouth, making sure that it lingers behind long after he’s done. “Delicious.”

Pressing his lips to your inner thigh, he kisses his way up your body. Except for a few involuntary twitches from the aftershock, your body’s limp. Far too weak to stop him from teasing you with wet kisses to your curves. He whispers things to your body. Some sweet, some filthy, but the message is the same. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

A part of you wants to deny the truth of his words, shrugging them off as nothing more than lust. But there’s so much sincerity in them that you can’t fight them off. They soak right into your skin and, by the time his lips meet yours again, they’ve become a part of you. 

Mingi cups your face, his thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. “You came so hard for me, baby. Think you can do it again?”

You may be lying here with glossy eyes and pouty lips but you’re far from the innocent little thing he’s making you out to be. You slip a hand below his waist, palming his length through his pants. 

“Get rid of them” you whisper, kissing him harshly, “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pushes himself up from the bed, standing to the side of you to drop his pants. You crawl to the edge of the bed, settling on your knees to watch him. He makes a proper show of it, sliding them down at an agonizingly slow pace. Your eyes widen when his cock springs free, no boxers to hold them back. 

“You didn’t have any underwear on. You whore” you tease, admiring his cock all the while. It’s much longer than you thought it’d be, thicker too, with pretty veins traveling up the side like rose vines and a nice fat tip leaking precum down to the rim. 

Mingi tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “If I’m a whore, I’m your whore.”

“All mine?” you ask, popping the tip into your mouth. It’s a tight fit. Not easy in the slightest but you make it look like it is. You drag your tongue across the slit, collecting beads of arousal on your tongue. 

His body shudders, knees almost giving out from the wispy motion of your tongue around the rim. “All yours” he groans, his voice growing shaky the further you take him into your mouth.

You take as much as you can before it taps the back of your throat and then you take a little more still. Bobbing your head back and forth, you drool down his length, sucking him like one of those long, twisty lollipops you get from the candy store. Mingi throws his head back, swearing he can see stars on the ceiling from how tightly your fluffy cheeks are suctioned around him.

Your tongue sweeps back and forth on the underside of his cock, your throat muscles flexing around the tip. Running your fingers down his stomach, you dig your nails in. Not enough to draw blood, just enough to get his attention. He looks down at you, a mixture of ecstasy and pain clouding his mind.  

Leaning back from him, you let him slip out of your mouth. “If it’s all mine…” you sigh, sliding back on the bed and crawling onto your knees, “Then give it to me.”

You arch your back, ass poked out towards him, and he can see that you’re still dripping, your thighs soaked from your last orgasm. He slaps your ass hard enough to make all of you jiggle and you smile back at him, not minding the sting. 

“You’re lucky you look so hot” he says, aligning himself with your entrance.

You wink, sinking back onto him so that the tip pops inside, “So are you.” 

Mingi grabs you by the hips, slamming into you, and your arms give out in an instant, your cheek lying flat against the blanket as the next thrust sends shockwaves through your system. He pauses before the next to give you time to adjust. Really to give himself time to adjust.

The look on his face would make you think that he hates you—eyes narrowed, brows knitted together, lips tight—but it’s the exact opposite. Being inside of you is like dipping himself into a pool of honey. You’re warm and sticky, hugging him so well that pulling out feels criminal. Nothing has ever felt this good. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding from me all this time” he grunts, driving into you again and again.

The tears in your eyes are real this time. None of those play ones from earlier. You can’t help how they water as he bounces you on his cock, your quivering hole stretching a bit more each time to accommodate him. Music’s still streaming from the record player and the sound of your bodies slapping together matches the frantic rhythm. You have to give it to him. He’s good at staying on beat, even at a time like this. 

Leaning forward, he nips at your side before grabbing your arm and guiding it between your legs. “Touch your clit for me. Wanna watch you do it.”

You do as you’re told, blindly feeling around to find your bud. Your fingers slip around, splashing in your own slick. They land right at your entrance and you can feel him pulsing as he disappears into you. You let them hover there, stroking him each time he pulls back, but Mingi forces your hand up to where he wants it.

“Aah, Min—fuck, so good…” you moan at the added layer of pleasure. 

With his large hands splayed out on your ass, he sits back to watch you. Your arm’s shaky, mouth hung open drawing in sharp, jagged breaths. The curves of your body sit just right and each time you arch he finds a new way to admire them.

It’s more than enough to break him, your walls clenching and releasing, worsening the rising pressure threatening to ravage him. But he grits his teeth, suppressing his high until he feels your walls flutter off rhythm, legs trembling as your second orgasm of the night washes over you. 

Mingi stills his movements, keeping you flush against him as you mindlessly ride his cock. “Good girl…” he coos, “Use me like I’m your fucking toy.” 

Your whole world’s shattering and his words only make you come harder, juices cascading down your thighs, soaking the space between you. He follows close behind you, his swollen tip pumping you full of his seed until you’re drowning in the warmth of it. You bite down on the blanket, moaning his name into the thick cotton.

When your body finally collapses into the mattress, you’re on another planet and the feeling of Mingi’s arms around you are all that brings you back to earth. Cuddled up behind you, he sprinkles your shoulder with loving kisses, obsessed with the way you look even when you’re wrecked like this.

Minutes pass without a word spoken but nothing needs to be said for his admiration for you to be clear. It radiates from him, making your skin prickle. 

Turning to face him, you brush sweat slicked strands away from his eyes, “You’re staring at me.”

“I like staring at you” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist, “I always have…always will.” 

This is your cue to say something sweet back. Tell him how handsome he is—that in a room full of people your eyes will always find him. But the gravity of what you two have done sets in and with it comes the paralyzing fear that you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life. When you were his best friend. You were special. Sacred in a way that made you different from all the other girls. So what are you now?

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, searching your expression for any small detail that’ll give it away. 

“It’s nothing…”

Mingi frowns, knowing a liar when he sees one, “Nothing, huh?”

“Really, it’s nothing. It’s just—I don’t wanna be just like one of your little groupies, you know? I don’t want this to mean that you see me differently.” 

“I see you the same way that I always have” he says, fingertips tracing your spine. “But I’d like to see you as something more, if that’s okay with you.”  

The smile on your face is automatic. You can’t even begin to fight it. “Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

“Good. Not that you really had a choice. I can’t let go of a girl like you. Look at you” he growls, locking you in his arms so that you can’t get away.

He tucks his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling at you like a rabid animal. You kick your feet and giggle, hands pressed to his chest in a useless attempt to push him off.

Some things between you will never change. He’ll forever be a menace, always taking every chance he gets to mess with you, but in another sense things will never quite be the way they were before.

And, as you surrender to the relentless assault of kisses raining down on you, you can’t imagine ever wanting them to be. 

[hiiikiko]

𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓!𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

tlou m.list | caught in your web m.list

[a/n]: hi! i hope you’ll all accept this, i hv work today n i’ll be workin until like 9 p.m but i’ll make sure to write tmrw !! n ty for all the likes on this series ♡

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

♰ before ellie got bitten, she wore glasses but after she didn’t need them anymore. she still wears them with the lenses popped out though because she thinks she looks weird without them, although she doesn’t wear them at school that often

♰ when she gets in a fight with tommy or maria, she sneaks out her window and finds a nice quiet roof to sit and listen to music, sometimes smoke but she’s cut back since her vigilante career began

♰ she has backpacks hidden all over the city so she can make a quick change. there’s one at school, the library, oscorp labs, the planetarium, and your apartment

♰ she knows you can handle yourself but that doesn’t stop her from following you home, like, come on! new york city is pretty dangerous and don’t you like having your very own vigilante??

♰ might be a little stalkerish but she sometimes hangs out on the roof of the building across your apartment building so she can watch you go about your evening, she doesn’t mean to do it but somehow she always ends up there

♰ she carries pepper spray even though she has literal superpowers

♰ she’s trained her spider sense to be even more heightened so that she can fight with her airpods in

♰ she has a playlist for fighting bad guys

♰ even though she’s city renowned spiderman, she still helps the elderly cross the street and help cats out of trees (she’s a little hesistant to help the cats because of how hard it is to mend scratches on her suits fabric)

♰ she owns a spiderman figurine like what did you expect? she’s a fan girl of the avengers, she owns all their figurines and they are in mint condition so why wouldn’t she own her own?? like that has to be the coolest thing to her

♰ concert tickets are expensive so sometimes she uses her powers for “bad” and sneaks into venues (she says it’s anti capitalist but really, she’s just being cheap)

♰ she has nightmares about turning into a real spider, kinda like franz kafka (she actually read this book in freshman lit and it scarred her)

♰ another one of her biggest fears is like what if she’s having sex with someone and she’s fingering them and her webs somehow shoot up into them?? like how do you explain that to a doctor?? this keeps her up at night

♰ seeing you in spiderman merch makes the tips of her ears go red and her heart race

♰ she cringes whenever she sees spiderman edits on her fyp

♰ onlyfans ppl who make content in her suit kinda scare her LMAO

♰ she actually doesn’t mind that everyone assumes spidey is a man, it helps her hide her identity but it kinda pisses her off that people can’t tell she’s a girl?? like do you not see the boobs . (her suit actually flattens her and all the protection gear inside gives her a pretty boxy figure so you can’t really tell)

♰ she has a hate/love relationship with her webs because on one hand she’s scared of touching people and on the other, she likes that she can ‘glue’ her camera to her hands when she’s on more dangerous photo ops and that she doesn’t have to get up from her bed to get her guitar (although, one time she hit herself in the face because she didn’t get it fast enough)

♰ ellie’s a different type of spiderman.. she’s actually very violent! especially against criminals who hurt others just for fun, she’ll beat them to a bloody pulp and leave them their for the ambulance to find (she leaves a note apologizing to the emts and sheriff, but it’s not like she killed them! nobody thinks that spiderman could do this so they assume there’s another vigilante out there, a more violent one *ahem* deadpool)

♰ she met deadpool once.. never again

♰ much like her infected bite from the game, her spider bite has caused cobwebs to grow in her veins

[fanged-fanfics]

Had idea because I love red velvet in his BAD4 outfit...

Imagine reader being a shy fan of BAD4 who loves going to their shows and one point...Red velvet notices them aaaaaand let's just say when y/n pulls out their normal ticket...suddenly, much to their surprise, y/n discovered that their ticket was bumped up to vip or mvp...and next thing they know, at some point...they find themselves backstage with hellhound, their crush and y/n gets attention and a hug...bet they grow even closer when y/n reveals that they love cakehounds...

A fan of hellhound plus a cakehound lover with the hellhound himself who happens to be the general of cakehounds...a match made in heaven lol!

☆ Starlight and Pawprints — BAD4 Red Velvet x Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a kinda-AU where BAD4 is this popular boy band when the CODs get some freetime

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You were beyond thankful that you had managed to snag a ticket to see your favorite band perform in an abandoned segment of a city. BAD4 might not have been on the same level as Shining Glitter or Parfait, but you held them as close to your heart as any pop stars. Tickets had become hot on the market with time, and you had just barely secured one. It was a little odd, it seemed like one had been added to the roster right after you swore they were sold out. But either way, you were ecstatic, and made sure to dress in red and black to match the themes of the concert.

You wore a little keychain displaying the head of the staff/microphone mix your favorite member of the band, Hellhound, carried with him at all times. It was hard to find good quality merchandise in your price range, but you beamed as you stood in the crowd with it on your bag. The performance blew you away, awestruck to see the members performing live. A red-haired cookie with a neat outfit and glasses appeared, tapping you with the end of her pen. You turned, seeing the boys' manager right before you.

"Your badge" she said simply, tapping it as it hung on your collar. "Huh? Oh-" you began, holding it out for her to see. She inspected it, turning it around and seeing a golden sticker on the back. A VIP mark. She nodded as she dropped her hold, letting it fall neatly back onto your shirt "Come backstage when the show ends". As she walked off, you stood there stunned. You hadn't even noticed the sticker when the badge came in, too excited to have snagged one at all. How did a VIP ticket become available so suddenly, and for so cheap?

You were still mulling over it once the show ended, even as you walked backstage and the manager opened up the door for you to enter backstage. You felt your breathing hitch when you saw him there, Hellhound himself. He turned to see you, and you couldn't help grinning when his blue eye met yours. "You've got a pass?" Hellhound asked, and you nodded "Yeah! It was such immense luck, but- I'm really happy to be meeting you guys!"

Hellhound glanced to ZZ Skull, who gave him a little smirk before bounding up to you "Welcome, welcome! You must be quite the fan! And a Cookie of good taste". You chuckled while shaking his hand, Hellhound stepping up beside you. His eyes caught sight of your keychain, and his visible eye softened a bit. He reached out his clawed hand, taking the charm into his hold "Wow.. did you make this?". "Ah-" you began, feeling yourself flush "No, I bought it. It reminded me of you"

Hellhound cracked a small smile "It's amazing. Just like Cakehounds". "I love Cakehounds!" You replied brightly, and Hellhound perked up "Me as well! I've always had a fondness for them". "That's so cool! I knew your staff was modeled after one, but Cakehounds have always been a big interest of mine". "Maybe we could compare notes sometime" Hellhound offered. You felt yourself blush more, and Hellhound gave you a smile "Only if you want to"

"That would be amazing" you said. It didn't escape your attention how ZZ Skull and the others were watching with interest, sometimes snickering at seeing you both. Hellhound gave them a glare over his shoulder, effectively silencing them. He sighed as he turned back to face you "We can exchange information in a moment, once they aren't around to laugh". "Sounds great" You replied with a little nod. Your heart was flickering in your chest, happily anticipating the hangout to come.

[bloodlineslut]

chapter o n e

It was a Wednesday. Not that it mattered. Ever since India started being a social media influencer full time, the days just seemed to blur together.

Every morning, her manager and close friend, Karli, would send her a checklist of tasks that she needed to complete for the day. Whether it was streaming on Twitch, posting flicks for insta, or doing ad promos.

Ever since she started streaming on Twitch, her following had boosted in just a couple of days. She grew to really like it, and loved talking to all the people who supported her.

Even though most people thought she was a beautiful girl, she was single. She hadn’t been in a relationship for years, having got her heart broken bad.

She swore she would never let that happen again.

So, most of her interactions with men have been a meaningless DM, her texting them back, and the conversation going nowhere.

And India has talked to every type of man imaginable, from pro basketball/football players to even doctors and lawyers. But none of them actually drew her in enough.

So here she was, on FaceTime with her sister, Ivy, while she went through her notifications on Instagram, responding back to sweet comments and reposting people’s stories if they took pics with her when they met her.

“Mhm, girl. Mikey talkin’ bout he wanna go see them people wrestle this weekend in Florida.” Her sister’s son, her cute little nephew, was obsessed with wrestling and was always asking to go to a show.

“Aww, Ivy take my nephew so he can be happy!” India laughed and went back to the FaceTime camera so she wouldn’t be on pause on her sister’s end.  

Ivy rolled her eyes and kept snacking on some chocolate-covered strawberries while she contemplated taking her son, looking mindlessly out the window.

“You think the tickets are expensive? Girl Imma be lost at the show. I don’t know no wrestlers.” Ivy asked before grabbing her laptop that was out of the frame and looking up the prices of the tickets.

“It’s probably like a concert, the closer you sit, the more expensive it’s gon’ be.” India reasoned. “And girl, you know at least one! Ain’t The Rock a wrestler?”

In the background of her sister’s camera frame, she saw her nephew walk closer to the phone. “Hi Auntie Indie!” He smiled and waved at the camera.

“Hi my bookie butt! I miss you!” India blew him a kiss through the phone.

“I miss you too…Are you gonna go with us to go see my favorite wrestler??” He put his little hands together like he was praying she would say yes.

India pouted at her nephew, she almost folded and said yes. “I don’t know Mikey, if it’s in Florida, I don’t think I can make it…”

Mikey’s shoulders dropped dramatically. “Aww, okay.”

“Mikey where you wanna sit at?” Ivy asked her son, pointing at her laptop screen with all the seat options. Ivy grabbed her phone and flipped the camera to show India as well.

“Girl! $800 to sit right by the ring?!” India just laughed at her sister’s reaction. She always was on the cheap side.

But $800 was a bit crazy though.

“But mom!! We’ll be really close. Please, please?” Mikey was jumping up and down, his curls flying in his face.

Ivy shook her head and grabbed her purse that had her wallet in it, and Mikey knew that was a yes.

“Yay! Thank you mommy! I love you!” He hugged Ivy and smothered her face in kisses, making her laugh and India smile adoringly.

Sometimes India wished that she had a little angel baby of her own to take care of, but the thought never lingered in her mind for too long.

By the sound of another happy scream from her nephew, she assumed that Ivy had secured two tickets for the upcoming show in Florida.

“Okay Mikey, now mommy has to get us a hotel and a flight. Go brush your teeth because we got errands to run after.”

“Okay! Bye Auntie Indie. We get to see Jey Uso!” Mikey kissed the camera before he ran away happily to his room.

India took a sip of her iced coffee that she had fixed earlier. “Jey Uso? That’s his favorite wrestler?”

“Girl yes. I can never remember his name. All I know is Mikey love doin’ that damn dance he does when he come out.” Ivy mimicked it, making India almost spit out her coffee.

“No way that’s what he does.” India asked.

“Look it up then.”

India did indeed look him up on Google and boom, there he was. The most recent pictures were of him in a wife beater, chains on, belt on, with his grillz and shades on. She saw his tatted up arms and instantly thought he was fine.

“Oouu Ivy, this guy is foineee.” She spoke out, still scrolling and looking at more pictures of the wrestler. She sees the link to his Instagram and clicks on it, thinking there would be better pictures of him on there.

As her phone switched to his account on Instagram, her eyes immediately snapped to that blue button that said “Follow Back”. Her eyes bulged a little.

She saw that he had 2 million followers but he only followed a handful of people, probably his family and friends.

“Ivy. Tell me why this nigga follows me on Insta.” She tells her sister, still scrolling through his page. It was mostly just promos for WWE, ads, and workout videos.

“Who?”

“This Jey guy!”

Ivy’s facial expression changed to surprise then playful dread. “Oh girl, don’t let Mikey hear. Then he gon’ be hounding you like he do to me.”

“Shut uppp. No but forreal, that’s crazy. Should I follow him back?” India’s thumb hovered over the blue button.

“Hell yea girl, that’s cool. It’s just a follow, no harm done.” Ivy convinced her sister to click that button.

“Okay Miss A-lister. I gotta go run some errands with Mikey. Call me tonight?” India clicked back on the camera just in time to see Ivy gathering her purse and wallet so they could be out the door soon.

“You so funny. And yes, we’ll talk later. Love you sissy.”

“Love you more.”

Not soon after, India received a text from Karli with a last-minute ad that a brand wanted her to do. It was a company that made stylish eyeglass frames. Karli basically told her that she would be getting a package today with different cute eyeglass frames and she just had to make a TikTok trying them on and reviewing them. All she had to do was post on TikTok and Instagram Stories.

She remembered that she never posted her flicks she took the other night when she was just chilling in bed.

After staring at the pictures for too long, she quickly pressed 'Post' before she changed her mind, and the likes and comments quickly began coming in within seconds.

liked by ft.gioo, uceyjucey, and 984 others

indialove late night flicks...

view all 460 comments

ft.gioo ho ur perfect😍

scamlikelybabyy india somebody needa wife u up

uceyjucey Damn mama. So beautiful.

thottiewottie ik damn well jey uso ain't in my girl comments

wwe.guy45 REF DO SOMETHINGGG

She always put her phone on do not disturb after making a post just because she hated watching the comments happen in real time for some reason.

She went about her day, keeping an eye and an ear out for her package that was supposed to be delivered today. It was eventually delivered, and she was really excited to try on the glasses. She took her hair down from the claw clip it was in and ran a brush through it to look presentable before recording the review and posting it on Insta and TikTok.

Not feeling like getting out in the city and driving today, she decided to UberEats her order for dinner from In-N-Out, a double-double meal with a strawberry shake.

It was 7:09 p.m. when the delivery girl knocked on her door after taking the confirmation picture. India quickly thanked her, locking her door back so she could dig in to the food.

"Oh thank God it's still warm." She said to herself as she took the contents out of the seal proof bag. She always drank the shake first before actually eating the food, which her sister always thought was weird.

She decided that she wanted to watch her show while she ate, How to Get Away with Murder. She had just started watching it last week and was already on season 3.

While the show was on a commercial break, India decided to check on her post she made earlier. She had gotten more likes in the time frame from when she first posted it to now. Now, the post had 101K likes and 1,209 comments.

All her social media friends commented and supported as usual. She loved reading the comments, the good and bad honestly.

"Somebody said I know damn well Jey Uso ain't in my girl com-" She gasped, putting the french fry that was on its way to her mouth down.

"You're lying." She said out loud to herself, scrolling fast and trying to find his so-called comment.

And there it was.

uceyjucey Damn mama. So beautiful.

She tapped on his username and it damn sure was him.

She gazed at her phone screen for a second, not sure how to react. She found that he commented that 8 hours ago which was around the time she first made the post.

"Oh my Goddd. This nigga liked it right when I posted it..."

As she was sitting in her bed, still thinking about the whole situation, she gets a DM notification from him.

[uceyjucey]: Anybody ever spoiled you the right way mama?

India took her glasses off and brought the phone closer to her face, as if she was hallucinating. Ain't no way in hell this fine ass wrestler was talking to her right now.

She decided to respond back after a few minutes, trying to be cool about it.

[indialove]: that depends. what is the right way?

Her message said 'Seen' instantly and those three little dots appeared on the screen.

[uceyjucey]: I'm tryna wine and dine you. You deserve it.

This made India smack her teeth. Even though she was popular on social media, she had only ever went on dates with her now ex-boyfriend and he always pitched a fit whenever she suggested that they go somewhere nice. In reality, she was actually very curious what it would be like to eat in a fancy restaurant with someone.

[uceyjucey]: You gonna be in Florida this week?

Another message came through from him.

Not even thinking about how fast she was responding to him, she texted back.

[indialove]: no i won't

A lot more time went by after he saw her message. She thought that would be the end of the conversation since they clearly weren't in the same area.

[uceyjucey]: We gon' talk more tomorrow mama. Here's my number. Goodnight pretty

India sat up in her bed in shock. No way this man just-

She didn't wanna admit it but this interaction had her geeked. The more she looked at pictures and videos of him in the ring or giving interviews, the more attractive he was to her.

It was something about him, and she was finna find out what it was whether she liked it or not.

[cutieeva]

Previous chapter

“How could this be possible?” she whispers, breath uneven, eyes wild as the city outside the bus window blurs into streaks of grey and neon. Her fingers tighten around the metal pole beside her, knuckles paling. “My customer who likes me....is the actor Gojo. And worse—he’s also the stalker.”

The thought alone makes her head spin.

Her vision swims, her pulse pounding in her ears like a drumroll of panic. She stares straight ahead, barely blinking, as the bus lurches through traffic. Her stomach coils tighter with every stop it doesn’t make. Then—

A sudden hiss of brakes. The bus groans, jerks slightly, and she lifts her face, heart snagging in her throat.

Her stop.

Recognition snaps into her bones like cold water. She gasps and stumbles toward the doors, pushing through the shuffle of passengers. Her feet hit the pavement harder than she expects, and the first thing she does is breathe—deep and ragged, like surfacing from drowning.

“Nothing is going right,” she mutters under her breath, wiping sweat from her brow with trembling fingers. Her chest rises and falls too fast. The air smells of exhaust and dust and cheap fried snacks, but none of it grounds her.

She glances over her shoulder.

No red car.

No sign of him.

Her body sags with a relief so sharp it hurts, like unclenching a fist after too long. The absence of crimson metal makes her legs move faster. She doesn’t stop. Not until the streets begin to look familiar, the noise softens into the hum of home.

Safety.

Family.

The only place left where she might still outrun this nightmare.

━━━━━━━━

“What? The concert is today?” (Y/N)’s voice lifts in surprise, head snapping toward her sister.

The older twin nods with the enthusiasm of a game show host, her curls bouncing as she grins ear to ear. Dressed in a soft cream dress speckled with blooming roses, puffed sleeves hugging her arms and the fitted bodice cinching her waist just right, she spins once as if to show off. The fabric flutters like petals in spring air.

Before (Y/N) can say more, a gentle weight settles into her arms—her baby. The fourth sister hands him over with a knowing smile, and at once, the world narrows. His warmth presses into her chest, soft limbs curling instinctively, and she breathes him in—milk, talc, and that unplaceable scent that only belongs to her child. A calm blooms briefly in her ribs.

Then comes the rustle of glossy paper.

“See, see! Jealous?” The older twin’s voice chirps beside her, and suddenly a pair of ruby-shimmering tickets are flapping right in front of her eyes. They catch the light like foil, dancing mockingly.

(Y/N) blinks and recoils, then swats at them with her free hand. “Stop it.”

The tickets fall away like fallen leaves, and with them, her sister’s teasing grin. She crosses her arms in a huff, guarding her chest like a fortress. “Well, since you're being so grumpy, I guess I could let you come to the concert... Just say the word and I’ll buy you.”

(Y/N) exhales hard through her nose. Her brows tighten. Her mind is still reeling from the day—everything, still a blur, still burning cold in her memory. “No, thank you.”

Her sister snorts. “Ha! As if! I couldn’t bring you anyway. I was just messing with you. It’s already sold out.”

Laughter tumbles from her lips like a smug little melody, and (Y/N) doesn’t bother to react. She's still focused on the child against her, the weight of him, the soothing rhythm of his breath.

“Stop being a tsundere". Mutters the younger twin from across the room. She doesn’t even look up, too busy tapping away at her phone. She pulls on the last of her boots, her maroon off-shoulder top hugging her frame, paired with a form-fitting skirt that ties elegantly at the waist, red hues cascading like wine.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asks.

A hand lands gently on her shoulder, and (Y/N) startles, breath catching before she turns her head. It’s her third sister—always the quiet observer, always watching. She stands with a touch of grace, her outfit pristine: a white long-sleeve blouse with ruffled trim cascading down the front like petals, a large blue bow tied neatly beneath the collar. The light blue skirt hugs her hips before flaring out at the knees, the hem dusted with lace like snow on glass.

(Y/N) blinks, caught mid-thought. “Hmm?” she hums, feigning ignorance, but her sister doesn’t let up.

The girl’s brow crinkles further, her smile—so delicate just seconds ago—fading into a line of worry. There’s something behind that look. Something familiar.

No. No. Not now.

It’s the same expression, the same quiet dread she wore back then—back when she asked, “Are you sure he’s the one?” And (Y/N), foolishly bright-eyed, said yes. Nodded like a fool in love, her heart thudding so loud she hadn’t heard the warnings in her sister’s voice.

Now her mouth dries. The guilt itches under her skin.

She swallows that memory down, lips parting to speak. “No… I’m not,” she admits, voice barely above a breath. “But let’s talk about it when you all come back in the morning, okay?”

That deepens the crease between her sister’s brows. She doesn’t smile again. Not this time.

Before silence can settle too heavy in the air, a new voice chimes in from behind.

“If you want, I can stay with you, you know.” The eldest steps onto the threshold. Black pants, oversized jacket, black shirt beneath.

But (Y/N) lifts her chin.

“No,” she says, firmer this time, holding her gaze. “Thank you again.”

Then she adds, gentler, “Mum and Dad are with me. What’s the worry?”

And finally, she lets her eyes fall to her son boy in her arms still nestled there, small hands resting against her chest. A quiet, growing smile blooms on her face.

“Even Dong is here to protect me.”

Their mother’s laughter rings through the hallway. She presses purses and clutches into waiting hands, murmuring goodbyes and be-carefuls, humming an old lullaby under her breath

And just like that, the moment passes.

But the weight in (Y/N)’s chest doesn’t.

━━━━━━━━

“Hm… hmm…". A soft hum weaves through the room like thread through cotton—tuneless, wordless, a melody stitched from memory and instinct. She sways gently, side to side, her hand patting Dong’s back in a rhythm older than language. He’s asleep, cheek smushed against the mattress, one arm flung above his head like he’s mid-dream, claiming the stars.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm, curling in her throat. He’s growing fast. His features are soft echoes of her own—her nose, her brow, the slight curl of his lips when he frowns even in sleep. A good thing, she thinks. He won’t wear that man’s face when he’s older. He’ll wear hers.

A quiet awe rises in her chest like sunlight warming the inside of her ribcage. It’s strange, divine, how much of a miracle it is—to have made him. With her own flesh. Her own blood. To have carried him inside her, to have screamed him into this world. To look at him now, soft and small and entirely human, and know: I did this. With no one else to take credit. Not really.

Mothers. They are gods in disguise. She understands now, deeply, the weight of that title. She hadn’t before—hadn’t cared to. But now, with Dong’s breath rising gently beneath her palm, she knows in her bones that a mother is not just a woman. She is a maker. A keeper.

Only… if it hadn’t ended this way.

If there had been softness on the other side. A husband who stayed. A father—. 

The doorbell rings.

A sharp, sudden sound, slicing clean through her thoughts like a knife through cloth. Her hand stills on Dong’s back.

She lift her gaze toward the clock, its hands poised at twelve pm, though the moon outside felt no different from any other hour in this hushed cocoon. "Who comes at this time?" she wonder, her thoughts moving no faster than the steady rise and fall of her child’s breath. One hand continued its slow, instinctive rhythm—pat, pat, pat—against the baby’s back, while her head rest in the crook of her palm, propped gently on the anchor of her bent elbow. She lay on her side, body curled protectively, mind floating somewhere between stillness and alarm.

The doorbell rang again.

It startle her—not in sound, but in persistence. Her eyes drift toward the open bedroom door, its light still glowing, the frame a silent witness to whatever waited beyond. "They’ll answer". she told herself "Mum or Dad will answer". But the bell rang once more, and again, louder this time—impatient, pressing, like a clenched fist against the quiet.

“Mama…” she called out, barely above a whisper.

No answer.

The baby stir in her arms, a small frown knitting his soft brow. Her breath hitch. "He’ll wake if it keeps up like this". Panic, tender and maternal, unfurl in her chest. She move slowly, delicately, rising from the bed with the care of one lifting a feather without ruffling a single strand. Her weight was barely a whisper on the mattress.

The doorbell—now a swarm of bees, angry and insistent.

She cross the room in silence, steps mute by instinct, and reach the door. Without hesitation, without breath, she pull it close—swiftly, surely letting it settle into its frame with a soft click, the sound of quiet defiance. A lock turned with finality. A shield against whatever waited on the other side. “Mum?” she calls, her voice a bit louder now, the sound fragile against the stillness. No answer. Not even an echo. Her chest tightens.

“Dad?” she tries again, stepping into the hallway. The lights are on—too bright, too normal—and yet the air feels wrong. The shadows don’t move the way they should. The living room waits ahead, lit and empty, and a chill creeps into her skin like cold water running along her spine. She stops at the threshold. There’s no one there.

Her eyes scan, sharp and quick—then land. A piece of white paper tucked under a water glass on the coffee table. She knows the loops and gentle slope of that handwriting before she even steps closer. Her mother’s penmanship—firm, graceful, a small comfort in this eerie stillness "I know you tend to forget things when you're immersed in something, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you're scared, not realizing we’re gone. We went to the hospital—your cousin is in, and your aunty needed support".

A smiley face—winking, drawn at the bottom like a quiet tease. "Don’t worry. It’s not serious. You know your aunty".  Yes, she does. Her aunt is a theater all on her own—drama in every syllable, especially when it comes to her only daughter. Relief slips into her like warm tea. She exhales slowly, the tight knot in her chest beginning to loosen.

Then—

Ding-dong.

The doorbell again. Louder. More demanding this time. A shrill note slicing through the quiet like a blade. She flinches. Reflexive. Her body pulled taut like thread about to snap. She spins around, the rhythm of her pulse climbing fast beneath her skin. Her feet move on their own, crossing the house with urgency now, bare soles pressing into the cold floor. She unlocks the wooden door—but not the metal one. That barrier still stands between her and whatever waits outside.

And then she sees him. Framed in the mesh of the metal screen door, faint shadows drawing lines across his face. White hair catching the porch light like frost in moonlight. Hands in his pockets. Tall. Still. Too familiar.

“Gojo?” Her voice cracks on his name. It falls out of her like breath, startled and disbelieving. His eyes shift, find hers, and soften. A smile curls slowly across his face, blooming where a frown had lived just seconds before.

“Good,” he says, voice low, carrying that strange ease he always wears like a second skin. “You’re home. I was getting nervous seeing the lights are on but no one answering.” The words feel harmless, but they rub her the wrong way—too casual, too present, too him. And he sees it. Of course he does. He always does. He notices everything. The twitch of her jaw. The flick of her gaze. The way she doesn’t step closer. He watches her like a habit he never could break—like an ache he never wants to let go. .

She narrows her eyes, gestures toward the curb where his car idles under the streetlamp. “Why are you here?” Her voice is sharp now, sharp enough to slice through the awkward peace between them. “Did you finally decide to quit the nice guy act?”

He doesn’t glance at the car. Doesn’t flinch. He just looks at her—steady, unblinking, as if her silence might open first. The light from the porch paints the angles of his face in a soft gold, but there’s tension in the line of his jaw, like he’s holding something in.

“Yes,” he says—barely audible. The word slips out like it’s heavier than it should be. His throat bobs in a thick swallow, and his gaze drops. Fingers curl inward, fisting at his sides, knuckles tight and white as though he’s trying to grip the words before they leave him.

“I missed you.” It comes out raw, the kind of confession that cracks the air between them. His voice quivers, and his hand lifts instinctively, brushing over his mouth like he’s trying to rub the sentence away.

“I missed you so much… every second.” He laughs once, but it’s breathless, hollow. “Every time. I couldn’t stop. Following you. Watching you. Just—” His voice falters again, frayed around the edges now. “I want to keeping you close to me. Even if you didn’t know.” The words come in pieces, disjointed, torn straight from the gut. When he looks back up, his eyes—those bright, glacial sapphires—are wide and gleaming, full of something that looks like ache wrapped in desperation. His fingertips rise and touch the metal mesh between them. A soft clink. The screen trembles faintly beneath the contact, and so does he.

“I want you… and—" His lips press together. A pause. His gaze flickers, roams, searching her face for something to hold onto before finally resting on her eyes again. “Please,” he breathes, “just give me a chance. Let me prove how in love you’ve made me.”

(Y/N) doesn’t move at first. She only listens—each word sinking deeper into a place she thought she’d locked shut. But all it does is echo. Echo and confirm. No. She was right. The deeper he pours, the clearer her footing becomes. She exhales, slow and quiet, and shakes her head. Her hair moves with her, strands catching light, swaying gently.

“No". She says firmly. “Please respect my decision.” There’s no anger in her tone. Only exhaustion. The kind that comes from learning the same lesson twice, only with different handwriting. She’s not going to fall into a trap just because the cage looks nicer this time. Even if comparing Gojo to her ex is like weighing stars against candlelight, their silver tongues shine the same way in the dark. And she’s done being dazzled. She begins to close the door. Her hand on the handle, her breath held quiet, almost mournful—until his palm slaps against the mesh again. A sharp rattle. The sound tears through the air, sudden, desperate. Metal hums beneath his fingers, quivering from the force of it. She flinches, the sound slicing straight into her spine.

“No—don’t,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of urgency. “Please. You’re not angry… you’re just hurt.” She pauses. Her body stills, muscles lock mid-motion, gaze lifting toward him—and in that moment, he sees it. The tremor in her hand, the flicker in her eyes. The pain she didn’t mean to show. His expression changes. Softens and hardens all at once, fury and tenderness held in the same breath.

“I knew it". he murmurs, as if confirming the inevitable. “Some bastard hurt you.” His jaw tightens. Skin pulls taut along the bone, tendons standing out like wires beneath flesh. Anger coils across his face, burning, coiled tight as a storm held back by teeth.

“But don’t worry,” he says, each word heavier than the last. “I’m not him. I’m not some sick bastard who breaks what he touches.” His fingers dig into the mesh again, clenching until the thin steel bites through skin. Blood wells up—thin, red lines across his knuckles. He doesn’t look at the wounds. Doesn’t even seem to feel them. His eyes are locked on hers, pleading, burning, unblinking.

And for a breath, she sees it. Not just madness. Not just obsession.

Belief. He truly believes he’s different. A savior cast into a story that doesn’t want saving.

A Romeo clawing at a love that never lived long enough to die. Her stomach turns. A thick, sour pressure climbs her throat, settles just behind her tongue. The kind of ache that has no shape but insists on being felt. She doesn’t answer. Just shuts the door—hard.

A thud that shudders through the frame, through her arm, through the room.

The silence that follows is brief.

Then Dong’s cry—sharp, startled—breaks through the stillness in front of her. Her breath catches. “What’s that?” she gasps at his question, already moving. Her feet thud hard against the floor, her legs weak and fast beneath her, arms clumsy with panic. The hallway blurs. She sees it even before she reaches the room—through the curtain’s thin veil, a shadow cuts across the window, moving like a breath exhaled from the dark.

And when she flings the door open. The lights are on. The curtains have been pulled wide.

And he is standing there. Dong is on the bed, small body twisted with fear, face wet and crumpled. His wailing louder in that tiny, cracking voice that always breaks her heart clean open. His brows are drawn together like he’s been stung.

And Gojo—his face is pale behind the glass, his expression unreadable under the moon-washed light. But his voice—

“You have a child?” He doesn’t even need to hear it. He sees it, and it’s enough.

“You have a child,” he repeats, like a revelation spoken to the night. His lashes tremble—fluttering like wings startled mid-flight. “But you don’t have a husband. The workers at the store… and your bare finger that told me everything.”

She doesn’t answer him. Her body moves on instinct. She rushes to the bed, arms scooping Dong against her chest like he’s all that’s real in the world. Her hands press the curtain closed in a swift, terrified motion, sealing the light out, the world out—him out.

“You’re a single mother?” He laughs. But it isn’t joy. It’s hollow, lopsided—like a laugh with a limp.

“More reasons to need me,” he mutters. “I could be… I can be a good father.” The lights go off behind the window. The shadow of him fades into a darker blur.

“You’re a child yourself,” she snaps softly, rocking Dong against her chest, his sobs dampening against her shirt. “You’re in your early twenties. And me?” her voice quiets, bitter and thick, “I’m old. Used. Worn. There are lines of girls outside your world, young and sweet and untouched. You don’t need me.” She strokes Dong’s back, hushes him gently as he hiccups into her skin.

“Nor my child.”

There is silence.

Then his voice cuts through it like cold steel.

“Yes. I don’t want him.” She jerks her head to the side, scoffing, lips curled in disbelief—until he continues.

“But to have you,” he says slowly, carefully, “I will accept him.” Her breath stutters. Her chest heaves with something jagged—fear or fury or something in between. She shakes her head, desperate to shed the crawling feeling under her skin.

“And isn’t it a benefit to you?” he continues, voice dipping lower, darker, like the shadow he’s become. “That I’m handsome. Rich. Famous?” A pause. “Don’t worry,” he says. His voice is no longer his voice. It is something darker, deeper. It drips with a promise too cold to be pretend. “I’ll kill anyone who looks at you the wrong way. I’ll finish them all.”

A shiver claws up her spine—slow and silent and made of ice.

And somehow, in that moment, she knows. He means it.

Silence lingers like smoke after a flame—thin, shifting, not quite gone.

Then a sound—faint footsteps brushing through grass—pulls at the edges of her attention. Her head tilts slightly, not daring to move more than that, alert as a deer in an open field. Another set of steps follows, but these drift away, as if the night is swallowing them whole. Still, she doesn’t turn toward the window.

She holds Dong tighter, his tiny heartbeat pressing into her chest like a secret trying to stay brave. Then—light. It pours in through the thin curtains from both sides, harsh and white and too sudden, slicing through the room like a breath held too long. Her gasp escapes before she can catch it, and she spins around too quickly—so fast her head reels, vision blurring.

She hears it then. The engine rumbling to life. The crush of tires over her yard. The bright flood of headlights swings across the wall, and then turns—fading, receding. He’s leaving.

The night exhales. The light disappears.

And with it, so does he.

At least for tonight.

Her knees give out beneath her, folding like the end of a long song. She sinks slowly to the floor, Dong quiet now in her arms—breathing, warm, safe.

But she feels nothing. Only the strange hum of disbelief. The tremble of adrenaline retreating. The hollowness left behind by fear that’s had its say and gone quiet. She stares ahead, the room still glowing faintly from the echoes of what just passed, and all she can do is sit there—numb and suspended—unsure if what happened was real.

Or if he’ll return. And when ?

━━━━━━━━

Sleep never touches her—not even the lids of her eyes. It passes over her like a wave that decides not to reach shore. Only Dong finds peace, curled against her chest, breath warm and steady, unaware of the storm that was and might still be. He sleeps through Gojo’s leaving, through the ache she doesn’t know where to place.

Her parents come soon after. They knock, gentle as always, but the concern in their eyes is louder than anything they say. Questions hover at the edges of their mouths—questions she knows she should answer—but her lips are a locked door, and she’s misplaced the key. They seem to understand. They sit beside her in silence, as if they, too, are attending a funeral only she can see.

The sun arrives like a conqueror. A sliver of gold slices through the sky, spreading fast—bold, burning, victorious. Morning lays its claim over the world, indifferent to the ruins it finds in her chest.

Her sisters come with it.

One by one, they enter the home with carefully placed expressions. She sees them all—not for what they show, but for what they try not to. There’s something hidden behind each smile, each blink, each sigh. She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t look too hard. Perhaps it’s mercy. Perhaps it’s cowardice. But isn’t ignorance a kind of kindness?

They gather at the breakfast table like performers called for one final act. Plates are set. Bowls filled. The air hums with unspoken things.

She couldn't eat before them. Not until her misery—coiled and heavy, spills out and stains the morning. But her lips stay shut. Her parents didn't press her as they weren't hungry either. Her mother speaks spoke softly of her cousin—how she is safe now, how she harm herself during a mental spiral but regained her senses at the hospital, apologizing to everyone for the chaos. A sweet girl, truly. (Y/N) loves her. And it breaks something deeper.

Then the chorus begins.

"Thank you for the food," Murmurs the third sister, a faint smile curling on her lips—thin, forced, and gone before it settles. She picks up her chopsticks with hands that tremble like tired leaves.

"Thank you for the food!" The older twin chirps, voice far too bright. Her grin stretches too wide, and she eats too fast, burning her tongue but pretending not to feel it.

"Thank you for the food," the eldest offers with a quiet nod, ever polite, folding dignity around her like a shawl.

"Thank you for the food," echoes the fourth sister, her voice distant, movements mechanical as she lifts her chopsticks. Her eyes stare past the table, past the room. Somewhere far.

"Thank you," comes a hush from the youngest twin, her gaze fixed on her phone, scrolling through a world that doesn’t ache like this one. Her plate is half-empty, though she doesn’t seem to taste what’s left.

(Y/N) watches them. Feels each gesture like a ripple through her chest. Then she lowers her gaze, exhales shakily, and picks up her own chopsticks.

She eats because it’s the only way to keep from unraveling entirely.

"What the fuck!"

The curse slices through the quiet like a thrown blade, sharp and uncharacteristic. All movement halts. Chopsticks freeze mid-air. Her father chokes on a piece of tofu. Her mother coughs politely, eyebrows darting upward. And every sister turns, wide-eyed, toward the youngest—because she never swears. None of them do, not unless the world is falling apart.

She doesn’t even look up from her phone as she continues, voice flat with disbelief. "Sister, why didn’t you tell us you were dating Gojo Satoru?"

The silence collapses into chaos.

A bowl clatters to the floor, soup splashing out in a spreading puddle. Another spoon drops. Someone gasps so loudly it almost sounds rehearsed. But no one moves to clean up. Their eyes are all on (Y/N) now, every pair of them holding something different—shock, betrayal, curiosity, and something else she doesn’t want to name.

She doesn’t speak. Not yet. Her heart begins to thud with a strange tempo, part fear, part dread.

The younger twin pushes her phone forward until it’s inches from (Y/N)’s plate, its bright screen demanding attention.

Hands trembling slightly, (Y/N) snatches the phone and pulls it closer to her chest like a secret, like a wound. And there it is—there they are.

Photos. Crisp and cruel.

One of him pulling her gently behind the mirrored pillar in her store, hand at her waist, body leaning close as if whispering something meant only for her. Another of his car trailing the bus she took home one evening, headlights glowing like eyes that never blink.

Each image is threaded with implication. Spun into a story not of danger but desire. Not surveillance, but love. A secret boyfriend unable to stay away from his secret lover.

The captions drip with romance. The angles lie in the most beautiful ways.

Her stomach turns. She can almost feel the world shifting, turning its lens toward her. Her sisters are still staring, voices rising in overlapping questions, but they sound muffled now, distant—as though she's underwater, or dreaming, or both.

The phone warms in her hand. Her baby stirs in the crook of her arm. And she just sits there, caught in a story that was never hers to tell.

"What? Are we talking about the Gojo Satoru we all know?"

The eldest sister speaks, but her voice doesn’t sound like hers. It quivers, stretched thin, like it's traveled through glass before reaching the air. Something warped. Something disbelieving.

"Then how many Gojo Satoru do you think there are?" the younger twin mutters, not even glancing up from her screen. "There’s only one. One and only."

Her tone is dry, sardonic. But it lands with the force of something final.

(Y/N) doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her mouth hangs open, dry as paper, eyes glued to the glowing screen like it’s hypnotized her. The photos don’t stop. They pile higher like snow, like lies, each one more invasive than the last—each one a still frame from a horror dressed up in lace.

And the comments—God, the comments.

Thousands, streaming beneath the post like an endless tide.

“Omg he looks so in love!!”

“They’re so cute together!”

“Slay girl, you got the KING.”

“About time he found someone.”

Not one ugly word. Not one doubt. Just blind admiration. As if this were a fairytale and not a goddamn trap.

And suddenly she can hear him again, his voice soft and certain behind her ear: “Isn’t it a benefit to you that I’m rich, famous, handsome? Don’t worry. I’ll kill anyone who wrongly sees you.”

Her fingers go cold. Her heart pounds too fast, too loud.

This isn’t romance. It’s orchestration. It’s madness painted with glitter.

A ping breaks through the spiraling quiet—a new notification flashing on her sister’s phone.

Instagram. From Gojo Satoru.

Posted now.

The younger twin doesn’t even ask. She grabs her phone like it's burning and taps with urgency. The screen opens. The air stills.

A picture.

Of (Y/N).

Taken from behind, in soft gold light, her hands raised as she snaps a photo of that evening sky with white birds. But the angle—crafted, deliberate—frames the towering billboard of Gojo’s perfume ad just over her shoulder, as if he’s the one she’s photographing.

The caption follows, heavy with illusion:

"We don’t have to take each other’s picture in secret anymore, love. Forgive my proud heart for wanting to show you to the world—that this man is taken, and yours truly." A red heart at the end.

Like a stab wound.

A noise escapes her—dry and panicked—as bile scorches the back of her throat. She doesn’t think. She moves.

She thrusts Dong gently but urgently into her mother’s waiting arms and bolts from the table, feet pounding down the hall as her stomach turns inside out. The door slams behind her. Her knees hit the floor.

She vomits.

Again and again until there’s nothing but breath and the roar of her pulse in her ears.

Behind her, voices rise—her sisters’ questions sharp and overlapping—but they crash against her like waves against stone. Distant. Drowned.

None of this feels real.

And yet her body won’t stop trembling.

Then—like some cursed thing answering the sickness in her soul—a ting echoes through the silence.

A single notification.

(Y/N)'s head lifts slowly, almost unwillingly, like she’s underwater. Her fingers are still clamped around the edge of the sink, white-knuckled and aching. She doesn’t remember holding so tightly. She doesn’t remember anything but the hollow twist in her gut and the acid in her throat.

The room is dark. Not gently, but suffocatingly so.

Only the phone glows—bright and ghostly—where it lies on the counter. A small rectangle of light in the gloom.

She doesn’t rush. She can’t rush. Her body is moving like it belongs to someone else now.

One step. Another.

Each footfall sounds too loud, like it doesn’t belong in her mother’s house, in this quiet morning, in this world.

She picks up the phone. Her thumb hovers. Trembles. And then she brings it to her face.

The light stings her eyes.

A message. From an unknown number.

"Let’s create a great nest of ours—and ours only.

Yours, truly Gojo".

FIN

[mimideeznutsinyomouth]

Imagine a Yandere! Idol who sings every song based on you.

𖹭 You met Ivys when you two were 8. It was the cliché childhood bff trope.

𖹭You guys were stuck to the hip since his mom was your mom's boss and they were actually pretty good friends. You two hung out a lot. Well, often because you were forced to as Ivys was quite clingy, and when meeting up, he'll kind of force you by his side. You were used to it anyway.

𖹭Growing up, Ivys was like, your only friend, Well, true friend, actually. He was a handsome young fella and you were just… Well. You. He was popular and talented. And you were just a little fly around him (Well, according to your classmates)

𖹭Whenever Ivys was absent, the others will put down their masks and start insulting you, claiming that Ivys would just throw you away when he'll get bored of you.

𖹭It got so bad, that you started getting uncomfortable around him, trying to push away the haunting words of those stupid bullies.

𖹭But, no matter what you did, he won't budge. He's in every corner, no matter where you go and it's sort of creepy. But, you think he's just being nice, right? I mean, if he avoided you, you'd probably still try to catch up to him, right?

𖹭Thankfully, when you're with him, no one will disturb you, He liked everything that you like and you didn't really hide anything from him. You gave him your interests, and one of them was to be an idol (Just pretend guys)

𖹭You were saddened when during fourth year high school, he left because his family had a new country to continue his business. But, it was how life went. So, you needed to move on.

𖹭You expected the bullying to continue, but it stopped. Even after he moved out.

𖹭Ivys loves you. He always did. Even after he moved away (He punched the glass of his mirror and wall when he found out he was moving away)

𖹭He was considered the perfect boy. Handsome, talented, and smart. But, of course, not everyone is perfect.

𖹭He always knew about the bullying. He always knew about your insecurities. He always knew your interests. And those were idols.

𖹭He silently thanks the bullies because he could comfort you and wrap you to his side tightly. Sure, you were being quite stubborn because you feared the bullies, but don't worry, sweety. He'll chase them out. (He doesn't need to cuz a single glare will let them run away)

𖹭He knows your likes, dislikes, hobbies, and every little thing you do! Like, chewing on your pen to focus, squeezing your pillows to make them more comfy, and swaying around when you get bored. Oh, so so cute!

𖹭And he knows your current fixation on idols. Its so cute when you chatter about them, saying how they're so handsome, have pretty voices, and nice dance moves (Hm? No, he's definitely not planning for their demise)

𖹭So, when he moved away, he immediately sought your attention. Even if you aren't together. So, he's following his dream. Technically, no, but it's what you want! To be an idol.

𖹭Imagine a few years later, you're staying at your cheap apartment, eating some lame-ass ramen noodles. It was your average Saturday until the show you were watching had an ad. You sighed and tried to click the skip button. But your hand froze when it flashed a familiar name.

"Ivys Yveonne!"

𖹭You almost choked into your noodles. "What the fuck." she stared at the screen. He looked handsome as always. But way more handsome now. Then, it showed his concert address and ticket cost. It was happening in your town! And the ticket was only 300 dollars!

𖹭You wanted to see him again. Not in an obsessive way, but in an "I miss you" kind of way. It's been 8 years now and this was a good opportunity.

𖹭Little did you know that he planned all of this.

𖹭Ivys was shaking in excitement. He planned all of this. He easily got into the agency, got famous, and ordered some agents to track where you were. He literally didn't have to wait because, after a week, you were located.

𖹭He immediately scheduled a concert in a week (By blackmailing his managers) and already made the list of  all the songs he was gonna sing. (Love songs)

𖹭Nah, it isn't particularly love songs. You know those Japanese songs that sound innocent and have a catchy beat but in reality, it's about suicide and cannibalism? Yeah. But in his case, its about him wanting to sleep with you, keep you in his basement, marrying you (Forcefully)

𖹭Imagine his excitement when he sees you in the crowd. His non-existent is basically wagging in a hundred miles an hour. And when you ask his managers if he did good, they will all say the same thing. He sang like it was the end of the world.

𖹭You had a free VIP seat (Somehow), and you were amazed. He was majestic even. The lights shining his white hair and his yellow eyes looked like golden jewels. His movements were swift yet smooth, like a river.

𖹭You were cheering your heart out, supporting your friend, but you were afraid he already forgot about you. Well, he probably already did. You were just your average overworked business girl, stuck in an office with paper work.

𖹭He was looking at you. He noticed you the moment you entered. Of course, he had to keep his eyes to the crowd, knowing he'll get a scolding if he doesn't.

𖹭When the concert was over, you wanted to go up to him and hug him, but of course, you can't, too afraid to get rejected and let the body guards get you.

𖹭But, when you were just about to go to the exit, you were blocked by large bodyguards, "Please come with us," they said. Without waiting for your answer, they immediately took a hold of you and dragged you to the back stage, despite your protests.

𖹭You were scared for your life. Were you about to die?! Did you do something?! But, you were seated on a chair, as the bodyguards went back to guarding the entrances.

𖹭You looked around, frightened. Just as you were about to ask and probably scream, a pair of familiar yellow eyes was in your sight, the same white fluffy hair that you have missed so dearly.

"Hello, love." 𖹭

[baby-splash]

Nobody talks about how fucking cool Edgar and Eric Jomfru are and it's actually so sad.

These guys attended EVERY Dethklok show, with ZERO injuries, meaning they traveled the entire world. Not only that, they turned it into a business- They sold merch on their website, which had hundreds of thousands of daily views. That's fandom clout you can never even dream of.

They had the balls to stand there and threaten Dethklok for money. After Eric is shot, Edgar still has enough drive to somehow evade several snipers and be captured alive, plot his escape, swim out with a kid on his back, and become an international terrorist capable of literal mind control. He lived with a guy who spent his entire life in near-perfect solitude and they seemed to get along pretty well. Imagine their little domestic day to day life, between the revengence.

He escaped a horde of angry burn victims, once again alive, infiltrated Mordhaus (and lived AGAIN) to take the brute force route of shooting Dethklok with a gun (Magnus could never) and was still able to put his hatred aside when he realized this isn't what Eric wanted.

Despite everything Dethklok put Edgar Jomfru through he was able to put aside his hatred (and he still says they make him sick to his stomach, in DSR) and admit they meant something to him- to his brother, to a lot of people- and were part of a greater whole that he didn't have a right to destroy. Something he was ultimately willing to put personal grudges aside and die for.

He and his brother dropped out of HARVARD to follow a metal band on the road and by all we're shown, their only regret was being hit by a drunk driver. They still made what looks to be a pretty comfortable, possibly even rich (concert tickets ain't cheap for Dethklok) lifestyle for themselves.

Edgar is never once truly inhibited by his disability and never allows it to define him, and it ISNT the source of his rage, or the start of his character arc. Do you know how rare that is?

They start off as typical toxic fans who have made their livelihood by feeling entitled to someone else's work, only to end up with a deeper respect for them as people and for their output as real art with meaning to the world. They could've been NASA scientists or some other kind of mad genius, but instead, they followed their passion for metal and that's honestly badass? Also they're from Ohio so you know they're self starters because there's fuck all to do there.

They never lose their virginity because they never lose, period.

[daengtokki]

𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

idol!Kim Seungmin x female reader

wc: 8.5k rating: fluff, explicit synopsis: Your only friend sets you up on a blind date in an attempt to get you out of your apartment over a holiday weekend—you almost make the mistake of not going

→ PART ONE → PART TWO

MASTERLIST

˚☽˚.⋆

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin.

His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and back across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now.

Your plane lands four hours later than scheduled. You’re tired, hungry, and your back is killing you. Korea Air is fine, and it always has been, but thirteen hours in coach is something you’ll never get used to. There were no plans to travel home up until three days ago, and it’s a miracle you got the week off to deal with your family. As much as you hate doing it, you don’t mind a change of scenery and a break from your typical work days in Korea.

Honestly, this is the perfect solution to the loneliness and monotony. It was only three weeks ago that you finally got to see Seungmin again, and it’s been a long three weeks, but he has kept his promise of keeping in touch.

Every single day since date number two, he's sent at least one text. You try to send messages only when he does, but occasionally you can’t help yourself, and you send something in the middle of your work day, or right before you go to bed. You’re still a little worried about being a bother, and holding back your clingyness has been difficult, but he always sends something back. Not always right away, but he does answer. And he sends selfies often—those texts are your favorite.

You have failed to mention that you’ve been on your way to Chicago (he sent a text about two hours ago, letting you know the first two shows had gone well), and that you’d be arriving the day before he would also be in the same city. But you’ll let him know soon. You don’t have much hope for getting to see him while you’re both here; he’s busy, and the last thing you want to do is bother him during a tight schedule. But he's been the only thing on your mind for weeks.

You managed to get a ticket to the Chicago concert the night you realized you'd be in town for it, but it wasn’t cheap. Even if you don’t get to see him alone, seeing him on stage will be worth the price.

***

“Who are you talking to?”

There’s a giggle in his ear, and a sharp chin lands on his shoulder. “Why are you smiliiing?”

I.N grabs Seungmin’s shoulders and takes a seat directly behind him, giving him a good view of the phone in his friends hands.

“Don’t be nosy.”

“Is it the girl you’ve been talking to?”

Seungmin half turns and stares at I.N, then looks him up and down, “What are you talking about?”

He stares back wordlessly, a grin plastered on his face. He’s squinting his eyes at him accusingly. “I’m talking about the girl you’re always texting.”

Seungmin picks up his iced coffee, takes a sip, then releases himself from I.N’s stare.

I.N follows him across the room.

“Send her a cute selfie.”

“I already did.”

“Oh, haha!” He beams with pride at thinking he got him to slip up. “Did she send one back? Can I see her?”

“No. And no.”

“I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”

“How did you know if nobody else knows?”

I.N stops and thinks for a moment, then he side-eyes the other two members that are currently in the same room. They’re too far away to hear the conversation, but Seungmin stands and heads over to them.

“Chan?”

Chan turns and looks at him with a smile. He doesn’t get a chance to speak before Seungmin does.

“Did you tell I.N about her?”

It takes him a few seconds to process what he’s being asked. “No, no…I didn’t tell anyone.” his voice lowers as he realizes what they’re talking about.

“How does he know?”

Chan peaks around him at I.N, who’s already staring wide eyed. He beckons him over with two fingers, and he runs over, unbothered.

“How do you know?” He asks softly, very curiously. “I didn’t tell you.”

“I just guessed.”

Seungmin and Chan stare, speechless.

“I always see him smiling and laughing while he’s texting, and then taking selfies. I didn’t know he was actually texting…” he looks around at the others that just walked into the room. “…texting someone.” He whispers the last part.

“The less people that know, the better…” Chan says, but casually, as if he knows he doesn’t really have to tell I.N. “It’s nothing serious, right Seungmin?”

“Huh…” he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Oh um, no…it’s not.”

Chan stares a little longer, “is it?”

Seungmin feels like his mind is being read. “We just talk a lot.”

He nods and leaves it at that. I.N smiles at Seungmin once more before walking off. Then he pulls his phone out to check his notification.

Sounds like you guys had a good time. I did catch some fan videos from last night!

He smiles at the text, and then wonders what you’re doing up at four in the morning.

***

You pull out your phone, hoping the buzz in your pocket is him.

What are you doing up so late? Are you okay?

Oh, you forgot about the time difference. Maybe it’s time to let him know you’re not in Seoul.

“I’m okay. I just landed in Chicago. I had a family thing come up, and I had to come home. I promise I’m not following you.”

You see him typing a few seconds after your message is delivered.

oh, you’re from Chicago! That’s so exciting that you’re here. Are you coming to the concert tomorrow night? Please come!

Before you have time to reply, he’s typing again…

Maybe not if you have family to see

“No, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it.”

let me know what seats you have…maybe I can get you closer

You’re trying to text him and stuff your bags into the trunk of you moms car at the same time.

“I don’t think they’re very close, but I’ll let you know as soon as I get home”

don’t worry, I’ll figure something out

“What are you so smiley about?” Your mom asks and slams the trunk shut.

“Just a text.”

***

“Sooo…”

“Soooo what?” Seungmin glances at I.N. He has an inkling about what he’s getting at, and he’s trying not to indulge him too much. But Seungmin will admit that if any of them were going to find out prematurely, he's glad it was him.

“Can I see her?” He’s careful and quiet saying it. “Please?”

“Fine, give me a second.” He types a quick message and then pulls up the photos you’ve both shared. He finds one of the very few selfies you’ve sent him and shoves it a few inches from I.N’s face.

He looks and his eyes widen, smirk grows. “Oh she’s not…” he stops himself and lowers his excited voice, “she’s not Korean? Oh she sent a text.” He giggled and tries to finish reading before Seungmin pulls the phone back.

“No, she’s not.”

“Where is she from?”

“Chicago. She’s here now, too.”

“Oh she’s gonna come see us tomorrow!”

Seungmin nods and types, “yeah, she is coming. I need to get her a better seat.”

“Sneak her into soundcheck.“

***

The next morning, you wake up to the buzzing of a text notification. A Seungmin message. You open it up and squint through sleepy, jet-lagged eyes. It’s barely 8 am. You slept an entire ten hours, at least.

Good morning 🤍 if you’re able to, come down to the venue at around 2!

A close-up selfie follows. You can only see his eye, a peace sign, and a little bit of hair.

And a heart emoji. That combination is a first.

You reply, set an alarm, and immediately fall back asleep.

And luckily, you don’t sleep through it. At eleven, you’re up, nervous, showered, more nervous, and then when it’s time to figure out your wardrobe, you feel like you’re going to puke. Knowing you’ll see Seungmin is keeping most of your nerves at bay, but the fact that it’ll be at an arena of this size, with this many people (you assume there will be a massive amount of fans already hanging around that early, because you know how concerts here are), and throw in the possibility of meeting his friends…you’re nervous.

It’s as busy near the venue as you expected. And you find yourself enjoying it, surprisingly. Seeing all of the fans gathered around and clearly having a good time, despite the heat, is nice.

You jump out of your Uber and send a text to Seungmin. You need a more accurate location to head to, but for now you don’t mind wandering around and people watching. Just a glance at someone seems to immediately give away their favorite member, and you make it a point to look for anyone who prefers your favorite.

A text message buzzes before you get too far.

there is a staff entrance at the box office, just walk in and pretend like you belong

That sounds like a terrible idea, but you trust him and head in that direction. It’s not very busy there, because the tickets have long since sold out, but there are staff members milling around. You don’t look like you belong, but you also know that attitude and demeanor can get you far, so…

***

Seungmin only mentioned his plan (I.N’s, really) to Chan about ten minutes prior to his last message to you.

“I don’t know if that was the best idea,” he says. “Is she already here?”

“Yes, she’s somewhere outside. And I know.”

“Okay, I might have a solution. Wait here.”

Chan disappears for a few minutes, and in the meantime, Seungmin actually starts to feel a little nervous. His plan was simple: have you walk casually in through the staff entrance he’s already seen used many times that days, by many different people—some with and some without staff shirts or lanyards.

“Even if she gets in using your terrible plan,” Chan returns, and behind him is a man much larger and taller than either of them. “She can’t walk around alone or with you the entire time.”

“She gets her own bodyguard!”

“Chaperone. And she won’t look too out of place with him. “

“Thanks, Chan. Thank you, Jay.”

“No problem, buddy. Let’s go find her before she gets lost.” Jay pats Seungmin on the back and leads him down the hallway. “What does she look like?”

It’s a long walk toward the entrance, but both of them scan every person and group as they pass by. It gives the butterflies in his stomach more time to move up to his chest and throat. “She’s right there!” Seungmin waves and gets your attention before approaching. He doesn’t want to make a scene, so he waits until none of the venue staff is around.

You have a hard time containing yourself when you finally catch sight of him. You don’t remember him ever smiling as wide as he is right now, and it makes your legs tremble a little.

You wave and wait for him to reach you.

“Hey…” Seungmin stands a few feet from you. He seems a little uneasy.

The man following behind him is obviously trying to keep some distance, but not too much distance. “I can turn away if it makes you both more comfortable.”

“No Jay, you’re fine,” Seungmin laughs but doesn’t look away from you.

“Is this your bodyguard?”

“He is, actually. But today he’s going to hang out with you so you don’t look out of place and you have someone who knows what’s going on.”

“Oh, that's a relief.”

“But I’ll take you to our dressing room if you’d like…if you want to meet everyone."

"I'm...I do, but do you think it's too much? I mean, too much too soon?"

"Meeting them?" He thinks about it. His mouth is pushed to one side, puffing up his cheek. "I don't mind if you want to wait. We can always just go right out by the stage for soundcheck. You'll see them out there, they'll probably see you. You'll be a mystery."

"I like that idea. Maybe afterward I'll feel better about it."

He nods and waves Jay over. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. “You look nice.” He lowers his voice and drops his gaze to the floor. But you can still see his smile.

***

You’re sitting a few rows back from the main stage. Your chaperone is a few yards away and much more relaxed out here. There are so many people working the sound check that your extra face is hardly out of place, so now you feel like you can relax and enjoy the view.

All eight of them are on stage, along with a few band members, and some techs. There’s a camera filming everything just off stage, and another directly on stage with them. You watch Seungmin as he interacts with it. He looks relaxed and happy—no more worry in his eyes. You get out the earplugs he gave you, but for now you just enjoy listening to him speak into his mic and headset. He looks at you a few times, but subtly, trying not to direct too much attention.

One of the others keeps looking your way, you assume out of confusion or curiosity. Or both. It’s Lee Know. You watch as he walks along the edge of the stage closest to where you’re sitting. Another member joins him and looks out; this one is smiling, almost as wide as Seungmin smiled at you earlier. You know who everyone is thanks to the endless videos you've watched. It's IN. You try not to make too much eye contact, but you don’t avoid them completely. They seem to know who you are.

Your chaperone appears next to again and takes a seat, “having a good time?”

“I am, thank you for dealing with me.”

“No problem, anything for these boys.”

“Do you know them well?”

“I’ve been working with them for a while now, so I’d say I do. How’d a girl like you meet Mr. Kim?”

The Mr. Kim is said with a bit of sarcasm, but a cute, playful sarcasm. And by a girl like you, you assume he means an American.

“I live in Korea, near where he grew up. We met through a friend. Do we seem like a weird match? I mean…we’re not a couple—"

Jay points up to Seungmin. “Are you sure about that? He’s looking at you right now with those big puppy dog eyes.”

When you look, he quickly smiles and waves before running back to the center of the stage.

***

Your adrenaline is off the charts at the end of the concert. You had an idea of what to expect from footage of other concerts, but being there in person, watching them…watching him, was obviously on another level. You feel like you’ve been introduced to a new little part of Seungmin’s personality. You feel closer to him.

Now you’re back outside in the fresh night air. You haven’t heard from him yet, but you’re not surprised. He’s probably exhausted. You stick around, though. He didn’t mention anything about seeing each other after the concert ended, so you don’t assume anything or get your hopes up (even though they are, by default, always up when it comes to him).

A small group of girls—you can’t really tell how old, maybe around your age—find a place to sit near you. They’re understandably excited and very loud, so you listen in as they talk about their favorite parts, favorite songs, and biases. The loudest of the group is a Felix fan. You sneak a glance at them and one of them notices you.

She waves, “are you here alone?”

You look around and then point to yourself, “Me? Oh, yeah I am.”

The rest of them wave you over with such enthusiasm that you can’t possibly deny them your presence.

“Was it your first concert? It was mine, but not theirs. We’re flying to California for the first two next week.” The girl who looks the youngest, and has a Han Quokka plush strapped to her gestures to the whole group. “Are you going to any more?”

“This is the only one I got a ticket for, so probably not.

“Who’s you bias?” The one who spoke to you first asks.

You hesitate for a moment. Who is your bias? “It’s Seungmin.” The girl continues talking, but you’re distracted by the buzzing of your phone. It’s him.

you are still around, yeah?

“Of course! I’m outside”

Now he’s calling. “Sorry, I gotta get this!” You excuse yourself from the group and answer.

“Hi, it’s a little loud out here.”

“Okay, I just figured calling would be easier. Come back in the way you did earlier, I’m already here.”

“Okay, I’m near there. Give me 10 seconds.”

He starts counting down…

“Okay…nine…”

You laugh and speed up a little—

“Eight…”

—but there are more people here and dodging them is not easy.

“Seven…six…five…”

“Count slower!”

“Fooooouur…three…”

You see the door and push through a couple much harder than you intend, but your hand is pushing the door open just as Seungmin says—

“Two! You did it!”

He’s a good distance away, but you can see his smile. He takes a few steps toward you, but lets you finish closing the gap. He holds out his arms and pulls you into a hug, which catches you off guard. You’re surprised oh makes him giggle. There’s nobody around except for Jay, but it still feels very bold.

“You were amazing.” You squeeze him a little tighter around the waist, and he reciprocates.

“Thank you…I hope you had a good time.”

“I did,” you slowly release him but keep a bit of his shirt clenched in your fist. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Hotel tonight…and I think we are leaving in the morning. Unless they change things last minute, which sometimes happens.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to leave right away. It’d be nice if you stayed in Chicago a little longer, though.”

“Yes, it would be nice.” You see him glance at Jay and lower his voice. “I can let you know which hotel, though. And I’ll text you my room number.“

“Oh?” You feel your face getting hot, and Seungmin’s cheeks have definitely turned a shade of pink.

“Unless I have to share the room.”

“Well, you just let know which hotel. And we’ll figure something out if we need to.”

He nods shyly and takes your face in his hands. He doesn’t pull you in for a kiss, though, just gently rubs his thumb over your cheek, and it’s somehow even better.

“I have to go, but I’ll text you.” He disappears with Jay around the corner.

And then you panic a little, because you weren’t ready for a hotel invitation. You’re having flashbacks of the last date, and how heavy things got for just a few minutes. And how Seungmin reacted, because he hasn’t gone that far with anyone yet. Maybe that isn’t what he was getting at. You’ve spent plenty of time with him alone in your apartment, why would being alone in his hotel be any different It’s just a feeling. Just in the way he lowered his voice and blushed. Things will play out how they’re supposed to, though. No pressure. You’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation.

It might be a good idea to prepare anyway.

Going home seems pointless, because the hotel is most likely here in the city. You don’t want to waste time traveling home and then back. You’re already short on time as it is. But when you find a convenience store to pop into, you get a look at yourself in the mirror. It could be worse, you suppose. It was a hot day, and the concert was no different. Besides, Seungmin has already seen you like this. It can’t be that bad.

But you do buy a water to chug, gum, and when you pass by the condoms, you stare at them for far too long. Buying them means you expect something to happen, and you feel weird about expecting it for some reason. Not buying them and being unprepared seems worse, though.

You grab a pack. You grab two, actually. You did get a quick feel of him before. And you remember it well. Now you just have to deal with the awkwardness of checking out with two different sizes of condoms.

You stuff your purchases between the mess of other things in your bag and walk aimlessly for a few blocks. It’s still crowded down here, even though it’s getting late, and you can’t help but start worrying when almost an hour passes with no text from a Seungmin.

Maybe you should have gone home and waited.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, you get a message.

Here’s the address, and my room number is 1344.

Your heart starts to race when you read it. He has his own room, so things will at least be easy. And the address is only another two blocks away.

You text him when you get to his room instead of knocking. You’re afraid to make any unnecessary noise. He's shuffling around in the room before the latch clicks and the doorknob turns. Somehow every time you see him, he’s even better looking.

The door is closed and locked behind you before either of you speak.

“Hi…you got here fast!”

“I was close by. Was I too fast?” You look him up and down. He’s in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his hair is a little damp.

“No, definitely not. As long as I don’t look like a wet dog.”

“No, you look very handsome,” you grab a handful of his shirt and pull him toward you. “It’s a good look.”

He leans forward and kisses you on the forehead. It gives you butterflies. You like it, but you can't help but be baffled by his very bold and distinct romantic gestures. Three weeks ago he had a hard time with your hypothetical dating question. But that was three weeks ago.

“Do you want something more comfortable to wear? I can give you one of my shirts.

Okay, so maybe he does want you to spend the night, “Yes, I'd like that.”

He grabs one from his bag and shakes it out. Then he brings it to his face to smell it, “this is clean.”

“Thanks,” you hold it up and look at it.

“It not very big on me, so it should fit okay.”

You head into the bathroom and look at yourself again, try to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down. Big breath in, slow breath out. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to drive you crazy, but he’s doing a very good job. You start taking off your necklaces, your bracelets, and then peel off your shirt that’s long since dried from the sweating you did all day. You check yourself for any offending odors, and even though it’s not bad, you take the time clean up the best you can.

It’s been a while since you had to do a sink bath before a potential lay. And every single one before this wasn’t even worth it. Seungmin is different, though. Now you wonder if this is the way you want things to go. In a hotel, with very little preparation. But you may not see him again for a while after tonight. And if this feels good for him, it's good for you.

There is still the possibility that he won’t be ready.

You slip into his shirt, and it's still pretty big. The sleeves reach your elbows and the bottom hem just covers your shorts. You could walk out without them and he might not even realize it—you take them off and fold them up neatly with your shirt and jewelry, look at yourself one more time, and then head back out to him.

“Oh, that looks good on you,” he turns from his seat at the edge of the bed, then pats his hands on the spot next to him. “Come here.”

As you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him, he slowly lies down on his back. “Are you tired?”

“No, not tired,” he props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you. “Not yet...it takes a while to relax after a concert." He pulls at the hem of your shirt and his fingers slide across your thigh. He takes his hand away, so you grab it and put it back. Seungmin takes the hint and slides his palm to the side and gently squeezes. When he looks up at you, you grin, but he just lets himself fall forward so he can hide his face in the blanket. You hear a big sigh, and maybe a soft laugh.

“What’s the matter?” You lie down next to him and wait until he turns his face to yours. “Minnie?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to get cozy and watch something? Or we can talk.”

“Yes, that sounds nice.”

You pull the blankets down and fluff the pillows while he gathers himself again. “Which side do you prefer?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t usually have to choose.”

“Okay, I’ll take the left side.” You cover yourself up and relax against the pillows.

Seungmin follows, but he stays on top of the blankets for a moment and stares at you. You stare back and say nothing, then he crawls underneath them, too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” You say.

He just pushes himself into the pillows and pulls the blanket up to his chin without a word, but he turns himself to face you.

You do the same.

“If that’s what you want.” He says.

You roll your eyes around as if you’re thinking and hmm under your breath. “Can I come closer?”

He nods.

You scoot yourself toward him until you can rest your forehead against his. “That’s better.”

“Can’t watch anything like this.”

“Oh, no I guess not,” you move back a little and look him over. “Should we—“

“No,” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back. “This is good.”

You take the invitation and place your hand on his neck; he moves in for a kiss before you get the chance to, though. And he kisses hard enough to push you on your back. For a moment you think this might be it, but you find yourself hesitating and softening your kiss. Then loosening the grip on his neck.

He pulls back and stares down at you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” you cup his face and hold him there. “There’s no rush.”

“I know.” He comes back down, kisses you once, and then falls back at your side. But his arm remains draped over your stomach.

Your heart sinks a little. It feels like you don’t know what you want. Well, you do know you want him, but you’re nervous. Maybe just as nervous as he is. “Don’t think I don’t want to, because I do.”

Seungmin smiles and sets his head against your shoulder. “I know you do.”

He knows you want him. You’re glad he knows—and you love the way he says it.

“Are you stopping because you’re worried I’m not ready?”

“No, only you know that. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I am.”

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin. His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now. You keep going, touching his stomach, his chest. It’s then that you feel his hand on you. It’s warm moving across your thigh, over your hip. His touch is soft, but he squeezes when he pulls you closer.

Seungmin slides his hand down to the back of your thigh and brings you as close as he can manage.

He’s on top off you again, hand still on you, hips gently pushing into yours. You can feel him through his sweatpants, and now your brain only wants one thing: to get them off of him.

“Seungmin,” you get him to look at you. “Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

“Yeah?” He kisses your neck and lifts your shirt. “Are you okay?”

You nod and help him get it off.

“Oh,” he laughs and touches the spot directly below your sternum. “Tattoo.” He looks over you slowly, a little shyly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone.

You run a hand across the back of his neck. The other slides down his stomach until it reaches the band of his sweatpants. Your heart beats wildly in your throat as your hand disappears. Fingers wrap around him and feel every inch as he whimpers softly into your neck. The hand buried in his hair moves down and kneads hard into his shoulder as your fingers stroke him.

Seungmin’s face is still in your neck, breathing hard. Eventually he takes a hand and maneuvers it to pull at his sweatpants. You let go to help slide them down enough to free him. He moans, a little apprehensively, when you touch him again. You know you have to take it easy; he’s obviously very sensitive and you want this to last as long as possible for him.

“I like hearing you, don’t be shy.”

He tries to hold back an embarrassed laugh, but he does a bad job of it.

“Are you comfortable in this position? I could…do this with you on your back.”

He nods, but you don’t know which part he’s nodding to.

“Lie down.”

You let go of him until he’s on his back and relaxing. His face is still flushed and his breathing is a little shaky, but his eyes are almost closed. He seems relaxed enough. You kiss him and wrap your hand around him again. His eyes open fully when you begin to stroke him again, lips part, and you slide your tongue against his.

The moans coming from him become a little louder. His hand lightly grips and slides down you arm.

“I didn’t really prepare for this. It could be better…if we had lube.”

“It feels good.” He whispers and smiles into your mouth. “Oh, I do have some.”

“Where?” You slow down a bit and let go of his lips. “I can grab it.”

“It’s…” he laughs sleepily, “it’s in my bag on the chair, in the smaller black bag.”

You climb over him and jump off the bed. The bag is already open and a few things have been pulled out, but you can see a small black bag on the side. “I found it,” you unzip it and look around.

“It’s in the other little bag inside of that.” He laughs again. “Everyone is very nosy.”

You unzip the second bag, and there it is. It’s small, and still looks pretty full. You turn and look at him, “for when you’re lonely and horny on the road.”

He laughs again. “Yes, exactly.”

You warm a small amount in your hand and push the blanket down a little. You’ve touched him, but you haven’t really looked anywhere besides his lips and eyes yet. Now you watch your hand slowly move up and down , and the warmth and slickness makes everything so much better. You can feel how good it is for him. Your heartbeat drops into your stomach and you can feel yourself getting wetter every time he lets himself moan.

But as wet as you think you might be, his size is still more intimidating than you expected.

“You’re very good at this.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so soft. “Yeah?”

He bites his lips and nods. “It feels so good.”

The room is warm, and the AC hasn't kicked on again. There are a few beads of sweat forming at his temple—you kiss him there and work your way down to his chest, then across his stomach.

The muscles tighten as you move across his hot skin, further and further down. When you slide your tongue across his head, he moans out the breath he’d been holding since you got to his chest. The sound he makes is desperate. He does it again when your lips close around him and your hand grips a little more tightly.

He wasn’t prepared for your mouth. He breathes out your name and it sends a wave of pleasure through you. His hand touches softly across your back and neck.

He says your name again.

“You okay, Minnie?” You kiss his stomach again and look up at him.

He nods and sits up, “can I touch you?”

You let go of him and straddle his stomach. He reaches for you and runs his fingers over the thin fabric. You put your hand over his and push your underwear to the side so he can feel you. There’s another, almost inaudible moan when he does.

Two fingers slip deep inside as you lean in to kiss him, and with your help, he gets the hang of moving inside of you. You sigh sweetly into his mouth. You’re already much more sensitive than you normally would be. Every little movement he makes is causing just enough friction where you need it. The heel of his palm found your clit and you’re not sure he even realizes.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up, wait a sec,” you stop his hand and take a deep breath.

“You are?” His voice cracks and he sits up more. His other hand has been digging into your hip, and he finally loosens his grip. There might be a bruise there later.

You grab his face and kiss him hard, then finally maneuver yourself out of your underwear while he’s there to keep you balanced. You reach behind and find his cock, stroke him a few times, and move back. “Are you good if I…have a seat?” You laugh and wrap your other arm around his shoulder.

“Yes, very good,” he holds onto your waist to help steady you both.

When his head slides across you, he smiles and throws his head back. You do it again before carefully pushing him a little bit inside of you. It doesn’t take much to get another sound out of him.

“There’s a lot more to go,”

He looks drunk, but he smirks, “sorry.”

“For what?”

“For having a lot more to go,” he laughs.

“I’m not complaining.”

You push him deeper, just a little, because you’re not sure what your limit will be in this position. And deeper. You watch him carefully. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open. You hold him tightly around the neck with both arms before slowly lifting yourself.

It takes a few more times before you find a rhythm , but when you do, you’re sure the sound Seungmin makes reaches the surrounding hotel rooms. You try to quiet him with your mouth, but it only stifles him a little. You love the noise, but if the others are close enough to hear him, it might makes things awkward.

His hands hold your hips and slowly guide you up and down on his cock. You breath his name into his mouth, and he bites down on your lip. His voice is a whisper. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” you whine and push yourself as far down as you can. It stings, just a little, and only for a moment. “You feel so good.”

He leans back to watch himself slide inside of you, and the lusty, satisfied look on his face is making the ride even smoother. “Do I?” He takes your face in his hand and runs his thumb along your lips and cheek.

The room disappears and all that exists is the feeling of him; his breath on your neck, his voice in your ears. His hands grip you tighter, lifting you, and holding you steady when he fills you up again. He’s not ready for it when you pick up your pace. His fingers dig hard into your hips—you hear him swear under his breath as he attempts to keep himself under control.

“Talk to me, I wanna hear your voice. Do you like it, Minnie?”

Seungmin kisses your neck, his lips graze over your ear, “yes,” he manages through the soft sounds he can’t hold back, “yes, fuck. You feel amazing.”

You pull him away and look at him, arms still wrapped firmly around his neck. One hand slides up and into his hair. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Under me, lost in it. I thought you were sexy before…but—“

“You think I’m sexy?” His smile is cute and tipsy, voice is airy. If it weren’t for you holding him up, he’d be flat on his back.

All of the sudden, you’re snapped back to reality. Seungmin is there, eyes wide, but the room is back. You’re no longer floating. You lost control and went a little too hard, and it hurt. You make a pained sound and all of your weight is on his shoulders.

“Did I hurt you?” He holds you up and pulls out, and you’re now relieved to be giving your burning thighs a break.

“No, no you didn’t,” You have to kiss him to get rid of the worried look on his face. “That was my fault.”

“We should change positions.”

You lay back on the pillows, grab his waist when he crawls over you, and your legs fall open and rest on either side of him.

“This is a bad angle for you to look at,” he smiles and hides his face in your neck.

You lift his face back up, “is that a joke? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had between my legs.”

He whispers a no and hides his face again, but at the same time, his fingertips slide down your thigh as if he’s teasing you.

”Sexiest…” you moan into his ear and wrap your legs around him to bring him closer.

You don’t need to give him any more direction. He explores you briefly with his fingers before guiding himself in the same way you did; slow and gentle.

“I’ll be careful…” he slides in easily in this position, stopping short to make sure he isn’t going too far.

You take his hips and carefully pull him in the rest of the way. A rough groan jumps out of him when you meet. He stays there and looks at you until you brush the hair from his eyes and speak. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he smiles, looks down your body, then back up to your face. “Just like looking at you.”

“I’m the one with the view,” you kiss him and shift your hips, getting another sound out of him.

Now he’s finding a rhythm, but he’s much more reserved than you were. He seems to know his own limits, and maybe he’s trying not to overdo it and finish too fast.

“Is this okay?” He nuzzles into your ear and whispers before kissing you just below it.

“Yes,” your hands run up his sides and back, his neck, into his hair, “it’s perfect.”

He thrusts into you, very delicately, a few more times before slowing down. Then he stops completely, still inside of you. He’s breathing hard, eyes closed in concentration.

“Seungmin?”

“I just…need a few seconds.”

“Take your time,” you take his hand in yours and help his thumb find your clit.

He moves it in slow circles and watches you for any direction. But he does very well. He has a light touch, and a good pace. His hands are soft and warm. This, combined with him inside of you, looking down at you with eyes drunk with pleasure trying so hard not to come yet, is making everything happen very fast. But you don’t mind.

When he pulls out halfway and pushes back inside, you whimper and the pleased look on his face pushes you over the edge. He smiles and starts fucking you again, and he doesn't let up—you feel it coming. You moan much louder than you intend. He loves hearing it. Your back arches up and your legs squeeze around him. It lasts a long time, and he doesn’t stop—just carefully touches you in the right spot until your body finally relaxes

“Wow…did you—”

You nod and try to catch your breath.

He doesn’t get through his question because it’s his turn. He comes hard and fast. The condom was completely forgotten up until this point, and he certainly doesn’t attempt to pull out. You don’t even allow yourself to dwell on it—you just enjoy the moment.

Seungmin’s mouth hangs open, and his eyes water. His moan is different this time; it’s more feral. His whole body tightens and moves in slow motion as his orgasm passes through him. He pumps into you until he can't take it anymore. Then he’s catching his breath and regaining his composure. He comes down to kiss you, tucks an arm under your neck to bring you closer. He slowly pulls out and puts his weight on his knees.

“Come here…”

He listens and slowly lowers himself next to you. His hair is a little damp from sweat, and his face is pink. It’s a good look for him. You pull the sheet up and over both of you, then wipe at his brow with your thumb.

“That was nice,” he’s still catching his breath. His eyes close and you can see his body soften and relax on the pillows. “That was very nice.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“It was better than nice,” his eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Then he reaches out and pulls until there’s no space left between you. “It was much better than I thought it could be.”

“Wow,” you say into his neck. “That’s quite a compliment.”

“But I’m sorry, it’s probably not great that we didn’t use protection.”

“No, but I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

Someone’s phone buzzes.

“I think that was me,” Seungmin says and reaches behind him. His phone got lost somewhere underneath the blankets. As soon as he glances at the screen, he tosses it behind him again. “Are you going to stay the night?” He asks, arms tight around you again.

“I should get home before my mom starts to worry.”

He nods and tries to hide a pout.

“But you’re leaving in the morning, right?

“I think so, I’m not sure what time.”

“Would it be alright if I spent the night? So we can say goodbye.”

“Yes, that's a much better plan.”

“Can I use the shower?” You wiggle free of his grasp and look at him, “heat, concert, sex…that’s a lot to sleep in.”

Seungmin laughs and nods, “yes, go take a long hot shower.”

***

When you come back to the room, Seungmin is sitting at the desk writing. You can hear soft music playing from his phone. There are fresh clothes laid out on your side of the bed: the shirt you had on very briefly, and a pair of very comfy looking sweatpants.

“Are these for me?” You ask. He’s already cleaned up and redressed.

He closes the book he’s writing in and spins around in his chair, “yes, I’m sure they won’t fit very well, but they’re comfortable.”

“Thank you.” You drop your towel and pick up the shirt.

Seungmin stares at you as you pull it over your head, “what?” You laugh and grab the sweatpants. They are soft and they look expensive.

“Uhm, sorry…I didn’t see you without your bra before.”

You think he might be blushing.

“Oh!” You grab your chest, “I guess you didn’t. Come here.”

“Hm?” He smirks and walks toward you as you lift the shirt back over your head. “Oh…”

You take his hands and he immediately touches you, running his palms, and then his fingertips, over your nipples. They stiffen from his touch. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you closer, keeping one hand on your chest. The other runs down your side and over your ass. He squeezes and kisses the spot where your tattoo is.

This could turn into something very quickly, but right now you want nothing more than to get under the covers with him and sleep. You know he needs it.

“I like this,” he pulls at the hem of your shirt when you slip it back on. “You look cute in my clothes.”

***

It’s nice waking up next to him.

The room is still dark because the curtains are pulled shut, but not completely—little bits of sunlight make it in through the sides. You can see his sleeping face, cheek squashed against the pillow, lips slightly parted. He’s curled up tight in his spot with the blanket only covering his lower half, but one bare knee is far up enough to poke out.

His arm is reaching toward you, palm up and fingers curled. You slide your hand over the sheets and gently touch him. His fingers twitch and then close around yours. He sighs deeply, then opens his eyes. First he looks at his hand holding onto yours, then his eyes move along your arm and up to where you’re laying on your pillow.

“Good morning,” he squeezes your hand and moves himself closer to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and pull his hand up to your lips. “Did you?”

“Mhm, very well.”

“Did I tell you how amazing you were last night?” You ask and fluff his hair, “I mean…” you hide behind a hand, “I’m still asleep.”

“Well, I don’t know about…amazing.”

“The concert I mean!” you hide your face in the pillow, and Seungmin giggles as he tries to get you to look at him.

“I was okay I think.”

“The concert was…and you. I was focused on you the whole time.” You clarify as much as possible through your grin.

“You focused on Seungmin the whole time?”

“Yeah, the best part.

“And last night…last last night.” He smiles wide.

“Also focused on Seungmin.”

He pushes himself closer until his face disappears into your neck. “Thank you.”

A knock echoes through the room. Three heavy knocks. The voice that comes through is soft. “Seungmin, are you up?”

“Oh, it’s Lee Know. Stay here.”

You stay put and pull the covers up over your shoulders, but you turn to face the door. Seungmin opens the locks and pulls it open a few inches.

“What’s wrong? It’s still early.”

“I know, but I thought you might want to get breakfast,” Lee Know puts a palm on his side of the door and pushes, “can I not come in?”

“Uh, you can but…” Seungmin hesitates. “I’m not alone.” He gives in when Lee Know takes several steps into the room. He won’t be able to hide you for much longer.

“Oh,” he looks to the spot on the bed where you’re under a pile of covers. “Is it the girl, the one who was at the soundcheck?”

“Did I.N tell you about her?.”

“No, Chan did. I should go. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to go,” you squeak out. You can just make him out from your spot, and when you pull the covers down from your nose, his whole body comes into view. Then you remember that one of them doesn't speak English very well, and you think it may have been him. You repeat yourself in Korean.

His eyes widen a bit. “Should we all get into bed, then?” He can be sarcastic and dry; you remember Seungmin mentioned that as well.

You sit up and look at him with a smirk on your face. “He’s the boss.” You nod toward Seungmin.

“You’re the boss,” Lee Know looks at Seungmin and winks. “Text me if you want to come.”

Now he turns to you, “nice to meet you,” he smirks and lets himself out.

Seungmin let’s out a long sigh when he’s gone.

“Come back to bed,” you move the blankets from his spot and fluff up his pillow. “Please.”

He listens and crawls back to your side. When he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close, he says, “I was nervous about you meeting him.”

“Lee Know? Why were you nervous?”

“Am…am nervous, I guess.”

“You don’t think he’d like me?”

“The opposite, actually.” He hides his face in your chest and whines.

You oooh into his ear and it makes him giggle. “Does that tickle?” You move his hair and place a kiss there.

“I think you two are very similar.” Seungmin says. “You remind me of him sometimes, especially when we text.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he shakes his head, still shoved into your chest. “But, I just think you’d like him.”

You scoot yourself down until you’re face to face with him, but he still doesn’t lift his gaze. “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn't.

"Minnie?"

This time he listens, but he also gives you his best puppy eyes.

“You think I’ll get to know him and like him more than I like you?”

Seungmin nods.

“And that he’ll steal me away from you?”

He nods again, then stops and shakes his head, "You're not really mine to be stolen away..." he scrunches his face up in thought, wondering if his English made any sense.

“Well, I’m a little flattered you’d think someone else would like me that much. I’m much more flattered you don’t wanna have me stolen away.”

He rubs his eyes and sits himself up on the bed. “I’m sorry, I know we already talked about this.”

“We can talk about it again if you want to.”

He shakes his head and gets back under the covers. His hands find you and start to paw—at your side, your hip. He slides one down your outer thigh, and slowly back up. Then he starts to talk anyway. “He also knows Choonhee very well.”

“Okay, I think I'm understanding. I could have possibly been set up with Lee Know instead of Seungmin?”

You can hear his dramatic whine from underneath the covers. “It is very possible.”

“But I was set up with you for a reason. And you’re the first person I went on a date with since I left home, so I got very lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah, lucky. Good dates are hard to find.”

Seungmin pokes his head out from the covers and smiles at you. “I’m glad I was a good date.”

"You were a perfect date."

"You should call me Minnie more." He says it's softly, but his hands are in a dangerous spot. "All the time. I like it."

"You were a perfect date, Minnie."

[sgiandubh]

Idk about anyone else but it’s interesting to me that a con for Outlander is doing the same thing that Creation Entertainment does with the two leads of Supernatural, Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. Any other cast member that attends the con as a guest with them has more reasonable prices for photo ops and Q&As and such, but it’s half my mortgage for one (1) person to meet Jared or Jensen?? (Keyword OR, as you have to pay twice to see them both if they’re not together {called the J2 Panel} and my mortgage is ~$2300) yikes. I’ve always suspected these convention companies are just capitalizing on the respective actor’s name, no matter how niche said actor is. I love Jared and Jensen as much as I love Sam, I still keep up with them despite my torrential time in the SPN fandom, but once again I’m grateful I prefer to admire these wonderful talented men from afar because my bank account would be yelling at me otherwise 😅😅

Dear @samsheughan,

Unlike you, this is the first (and certainly last, thanks) fandom experience for me. Paying 25 francs (5 USD) circa 1996 for a laminated, fake FBI agent ID with my photo and name, on behalf of the French X-Files fan club does not count, ahem. Suffice to say this folly just made my entourage laugh like drains (I was a sophomore, back then, mind you) and call me Agent Sgian-dubh for about a year and a half, or so. Embarrassing doesn't even start to describe the reality of it. Especially when you are 18, you think you are Simone de Beauvoir - at a bare minimum-, as you smoke your cigarette and sip your allongé while desperately trying to look intelligent, outside Le Café de Flore.

How we were happy, back then, and in what uncomplicated world we used to live, though! Without any fan events and forced to go to the nearest Internet cafe for the slightest Altavista research, that naive fanzine I received every month by snail mail quickly grew old, as my patience for the 'Agent Sgian-dubh' gleeful quip. Interestingly enough, I still must have that fake ID, somewhere. Last time I saw it, in one of my old wallets, my mother looked mildly interested ('and what the fuck is this, excuse me? an X-Files fan club ID? oh...'), but that entire experience was definitely underwhelming. Even if I secretly did ship Mulder & Scully, without having any idea that was a thing. Too ashamed to admit to it, for all of the above mentioned reasons.

Alas, today is just another planet, where cheap thrills and a pat on the back do cost half a mortgage. As a Romanian saying would have it, 'the stupid one is not the one who's asking, the stupid is the one who's paying'. In S's case, I think the mommies were and will be his demise, if he doesn't quickly get the gist of it and branches out, somehow. I mean, come on, with all due respect and all that #silly interest, this is JAMMF we're talking about, not Lang Lang, tickets to whose concerts don't cost one kidney and a half!

I don't even find it funny, mind you. I find it sad, perhaps because I am thinking about the day this entire circus will be over and done with and completely forgotten. But until then, let's sing and be merry: with one more season to air, the #shitshow is still alive and kicking and the fat lady is nowhere near.

[glendasguidance-inactive]

☠️✧ pick a card ✧☠️

Life Purpose Reading ✯

₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟhow to pick // for entertainment purposes only, and other disclaimers ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

A tarot reading for those feeling stuck in life. In this reading, I shuffle the cards and look for the Death card, and read what comes before and after it.

spread: idk who made it, it's from a screenshot I found on Pinterest // deck: Rider Waite

Pile 1 → Pile 2 → Pile 3

Inhale, exhale 3x, pick

★ free readings ★ support me ★ other pac's ★

★ check out this one! → USA Post-Election (2024): How can you support yourself, your community, and Earth in the present moment and in the years to come? ★

Pile 1 💀

Is the transformation you need going to be from your external life or internal life?:

Death - The transformation that will get you out of feeling stuck in life will be from your outer life. The astrological houses that represent our inner lives are 7.) committed partnerships (marriage, business) 8.) other people's resources, estates, mental health, death 9.) education, religion, travel, spirituality, publishing, philosophy 10.) career, public roles 11.) community and friends 12.) loss, sorrows, enemies (especially hidden enemies). Transformation is uncomfortable of course, but it brings great relief and blessings. Surrender to the process.

What do you need to leave behind and let die?:

Ace of Pentacles reversed - You've been penny pinching everything and not giving yourself things you want because you believe you cannot have them, or that you have to be of a certain income bracket to access them. And yes, times are tough, but look at your finances. Do you actually not have enough, or do you simply tell yourself you don't? There are plenty of way to get things for free or extremely cheap - it's not an excuse to live miserly. You're so focused on lacking that you aren't seeing or looking for more obvious solutions.

What do you need to focus on in your "after" life?:

9 of Pentacles - You've found out the way to enjoy life without breaking the bank. You're relaxing, enjoying what you've made and have, you feel so grateful and are enjoying this independence. You've found resources like Buy Nothing groups, organizations that give rewards like cheap concert tickets, discounted club nights, and other things I haven't heard of. There are more ways to enjoy going out and having fun than how we see people into flex culture do. You don't need to be iced out to have a good time, or access the good stuff. You're learning that abundance isn't only about money, it's about all the ways we can access what we want.

♥︎ much love - Glenda ♥︎

♣︎★ mutual aid LA -★- mutual aid disaster relief -★- how to create a mutual aid network -★- worldwide mask bloc -★- eSIMs for Gaza -★- mutual aid Gaza ★♠︎

Pile 2 💀

Is the transformation you need going to be from your outer life or inner life?:

Death reversed - The transformation that will get you out of feeling stuck in life will be from your inner life. The astrological houses that represent our inner lives are 1.) the self 2.) personal finance, values, self worth 3.) communication, daily rituals, siblings, extended family 4.) home, caregivers, parents 5.) children, creativity, romance, pleasure 6.) health, pets, chores. Transformation is uncomfortable of course, but it brings great relief and blessings. Surrender to the process.

What do you need to leave behind and let die?:

10 of wands - You are putting wayyyyy too much energy into something you're not even getting help with! This is a burden that only you are carrying. Whether this obligation was put on your shoulders by someone else or you, you need to put it down now. It's not serving or helping you. It's like you're using this as an excuse to run away from what you need to do / what would be good for you / what you're feeling called to do from your heart. This has given you great skills and honed your talents, take your time and energy elsewhere.

What do you need to focus on in your "after" life?:

Aces of Pentacles - It seems like you're going to be putting your time and energy into budgeting and improving the health of your personal finances. You're looking at your vision board, reflecting on your dreams, and doing the math on how much you need to save in order to do what you want to do! You're looking at your 3-6 months average expenses and planning how to reach your emergency fund goal! Fuck yes to all of this!! If you're just getting started, here is someone who is a great resource to learn from (you don't have to do her method, but she's a fantastic teacher). For others, I also see you starting to garden to grow your own food (these grocery store prices are a crime), stocking up on canned goods, learning how to coupon, and setting up go-bags for natural disasters and other emergencies.

♥︎ much love - Glenda ♥︎

♣︎★ mutual aid LA -★- mutual aid disaster relief -★- how to create a mutual aid network -★- worldwide mask bloc -★- eSIMs for Gaza -★- mutual aid Gaza ★♠︎

Pile 3 💀

Is the transformation you need going to be from your external life or internal life?:

Death - The transformation that will get you out of feeling stuck in life will be from your outer life. The astrological houses that represent our inner lives are 7.) committed partnerships (marriage, business) 8.) other people's resources, estates, mental health, death 9.) education, religion, travel, spirituality, publishing, philosophy 10.) career, public roles 11.) community and friends 12.) loss, sorrows, enemies (especially hidden enemies). Transformation is uncomfortable of course, but it brings great relief and blessings. Surrender to the process.

What do you need to leave behind and let die?:

King of Swords - You're ending a relationship with someone who is pretty much emotionless, dry, highly intelligent, clever but isn't very humorous (rarely laughs, if you've ever heard it), logical, blunt, doesn't mince words (they aren't cruel, they just aren't nice or friendly). I think this person has been and still is focused on their own goals and their own life more than their relationship with you. Basically what could you do for them? Not necessarily selfish and entitled to your time, but they only care or think about what you two work on together in this goal, they don't think about you / wonder about your personal life. They will also understand and think it's fair for you to end the relationship (working relationship, academic group, platonic, maybe? romantic), provided you give clear communication as to why and are fair towards them too. I don't believe they'll hold ill will towards you, they just won't keep in touch because they have to focus on their goals and projects.

What do you need to focus on in your "after" life?:

6 of Swords reversed - I sense that whatever you're going to focus on is stressful, and the term "troubled waters" heavily applies here. But I have Bridge Over Troubled Water stuck in my head. I think you're going to be helping people in crisis. Maybe this is in the middle of conflict or disaster, but I feel like most of you will being working on / building systems to rebuild safety and stability. I think this has been a dream of yours for a while - you aren't "too old". To quote Simon and Garfunkel: Sail on, silver girl, sail on by. Your time has come to shine, all your dreams are on their way. I think this work will be with refugees from your homeland, helping the safe passage of refugees, returning to your home / homeland, and you will be covering this as a journalist or social media creator.

♥︎ much love - Glenda ♥︎

♣︎★ mutual aid LA -★- mutual aid disaster relief -★- how to create a mutual aid network -★- worldwide mask bloc -★- eSIMs for Gaza -★- mutual aid Gaza ★♠︎

header image: pinterst // footer image: pinterest // pngs: click here // dividers: click here // I do not consent to my writing, blog’s likeness, or anything associated with my work, to be used to teach any machine learning software and artificial intelligence for any purpose.

[kingkaisen]

FIVE HUSBANDS — THE TOUR

♡ — SUMMARY: This is a scene about Jean, Eren & Y/N during the Eldian Devils tour.

♡ — CONTENT: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI — smut & angst.

♡ — WC: 3.5K

♡ — A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to say that this scene is safe to read even if you haven’t read the recent part(s). Timeline wise, this takes place during chapter 2, and some of this is from the POV of 2 fans.

read the series here.

The entire stadium erupted into a fit of shrieks and screams, men and women alike tearing up in utter excitement as their dark surroundings were lit up by the enormous stage in front of them coming to life.

The concert was starting — and, god, how their arms and legs trembled from the anticipation of being able to breathe the same air as Eldian Devils.

Sabrina Rine had practically spent her entire life savings on floor seats and a meet-and-greet ticket.

She was tired of watching videos on social media, witnessing other lucky fans meeting her favorite band. She was sick of listening to their albums on Spotify instead of hearing them live.

The young waitress would surely have to pick up as many extra shifts as possible once she returned to work in three days, but it would all be worth it.

She stood there wearing her black Eldian Devils t-shirt, brown hair in a ponytail, her hazel eyes darting across the stage that had suddenly lit up with flickering white and red lights.

Her younger sister, Riley, excitedly grabbed ahold of her arm.

Unlike Sabrina, Riley didn’t care too much for Eldian Devils. She thought the drummer, Jean, was cute, and she was wearing a black crop top that said “KIRSTEIN’S WIFE” in red, bold letters, but truthfully, she was there to see the opening act.

The diamond-in-the-rough.

The cover artist from New York City.

The talented girl who once worked in the bakery.

Eren Yeager’s new girlfriend.

Those were all the titles that both trendy online articles and magazines sitting in the waiting rooms of dental offices had called you.

And while you hadn’t officially released your own music yet, leaving the internet to debate whether or not it was socially acceptable to call you an artist, Riley Rine was one of your biggest fans.

Riley’s cheap earplugs did little to protect her ears from the shouting fans surrounding her, but she didn’t mind, as she was screaming just as loudly once a pair of black, glittery, high-heeled boots appeared from behind a cloud of smoke.

It was you.

Her idol.

Your gorgeous black top and skirt — which was sparkly too, but not as much as your stylish boots — were similar to what the dancers posing at your side were wearing as well.

And Riley knew one thing for certain: she needed to find your outfit so she could dress up as you for Halloween this year.

Suddenly, the vibrating screams grew louder. Sabrina couldn’t contain her shocked excitement when, surprisingly, Eren Yeager appeared on stage by your side.

Both of you being on stage together defeated the point of an opening act, but only a bitter fool would care.

Eventually, the rest of the band joined you and Eren.

Sabrina raised her iPhone, turning it horizontally as she recorded the handsome rockstar grabbing your hand. At one point, he kissed you as well, and Sabrina could see the frantic tweets now from fellow fangirls clicking their thumbs against their phones as they typed frantically, raving on about how Eren never took his eyes off of you. How they wished for Eren — or any cute celebrity, truthfully — would look at them that way too.

However, as Sabrina zoomed in on Jean playing the drums in the background, wanting to get some footage of him for Riley to look at later, she couldn’t help but notice that he had his eye on you too.

And when Eren’s lips touched yours and the crowd shrieked and screamed in support, Jean’s soft grin slowly faded into a heartbroken frown.

—

Both Sabrina and Riley’s hands trembled, their fingers intertwined as their wobbly legs guided them backstage after the concert.

The equally excited-nervous fans surrounding them could hardly contain their shrieks, but who could blame them?

Every second that passed by was one second closer to meeting their idols — be it the gorgeous rockstar Eren Yeager with his long brown hair, perfect smile, black clothes, and just the right amount of tattoos, or you, the pretty upcoming popstar who was currently making headlines for simply existing.

The group of fans were escorted into a room where music played gently. There was a white backdrop with the title of the band plastered repeatedly across the entirety of it in the center of the room. Refreshments and water were served buffet style, but not one fan reached for a snack, much too nervous to eat anything.

They all simply waited for your arrival.

—

With his lips pressed against yours, Eren moaned softly. His thumbs graced your cheeks, tongue swirling around yours, and when your hands made their way into his slightly sweaty brown hair, he moaned once again.

As enormous as his dressing room was, it didn’t have a bed. He requested for at least a full-sized bed to be put in so he could fuck you properly. Levi immediately said no.

Eren didn’t care, though. He’d make it work with the stupid couch or the floor.

Truthfully, as he started to suck and bite at the soft skin of your neck, your lower body grinding against his hard bulge, he was more than okay with fucking you against the wall.

“You know how hard it is to resist the urge to drag you off stage and fuck you mid-show?” Eren whispered, his lips hovering over your jaw, his hand gripping your thigh, the cool material of his black rings pressing against your moist skin. “Have you been taking dance lessons? Who taught you how to move like that, huh?”

“‘Ren, we gotta go, we can’t- ah!’

Eren’s hand suddenly made its way to your ass, which he gripped as if claiming something that belonged to him. As he did so, he gently bit your ear and gave it a little lick.

“They can wait,” his warm breath patted against the side of your face. “We’ll be quick, I promise, baby.”

“Levi’s gonna be pissed,” you whined, and yet, you couldn’t help but continue to grind against him slowly, obsessed with the feeling of his dick, clothed by his black jeans, rubbing against your unexposed pussy lips.

“Then Levi never should’ve let us perform together.”

Eren’s hand moved from your ass to your skirt, which he lifted as much as he could. Then, he ran his fingers across your damp underwear. The sensation — it was too much. Feeling him glide over your clit, although clothed, made you gasp and grip his bicep, polished nails digging into his tattooed skin, and he smiled devilishly, emerald eyes staring into yours with a lustful gaze.

“Don’t tease me, we don’t have time for that,” a little whine slipped from between your lips yet again. “Hurry up. Hurry up and just touch me, please.”

Your desperation was understandable.

Watching Eren play guitar, brown hair hanging down around his shoulders, skin glistening with sweat; seeing him perform turned you on just as much.

“You know how hot you are when you get all whiny and impatient?” Eren’s fingers played with the top of your underwear. “You’re lucky I’m impatient too.”

He needed to feel how wet your clit was. He needed to feel your hole clench around his fingers.

But, as soon as he dipped his hands into your underwear and started to plunge into your soaked folds, Eren’s dressing room door swung open.

He never remembered to lock it.

Jean stood there. A look of relief washed over him, having successfully located you and Eren, but then, he grimaced with disgust.

He wasn’t at all embarrassed about catching you two in the act. After all, this was his third time walking in on you both. At least you both weren’t completely naked with you riding him like a cowgirl on a horse this time.

“What the hell are you two doing?” His heart pinged with jealousy. “Everyone’s waiting for you. Did you forget about the goddamn meet-and-greet? Jesus.”

“Dude, just give us five minutes.” Eren’s eyes darted away from Jean, and down at you, and he smirked a bit. “Maybe we only need two, honestly.”

“Eren!” You swatted his arm.

“You’re both disgusting,” Jean took a sip of his water bottle.

“Just give us a few minutes to finish- I mean . . . freshen up. Just give us a few minutes to freshen up.”

After rolling his eyes, Jean grabbed the door handle and shut it.

One minute and thirty-five seconds.

That’s how long it took for Eren’s clit-rubbing and hole-fingering combo to make you cum all over his fingers. Even so, you and Eren wouldn’t stagger out of his dressing room with sheepish, guilty grins until several minutes later, because Eren needed to take care of his painfully hard dick before greeting his beloved fans. And, well, the rockstar liked to take his time and admire the pretty sight of you on your knees in front of him, his dick slipping in and out of your mouth as he came down your throat.

Then, there was an additional ten minutes to add on, as you both needed to actually freshen up now.

Levi scowled at the popstar-rockstar couple stepping out of the dressing room. You and Eren’s little whispers and sly giggles abruptly ended once you both laid eyes on your pissed-off manager, who glared at you like a priest catching a couple of sinners fooling around during bible study.

“Do you two idiots know what happens to shitty celebrities who mistreat their fans?” Levi's voice was rough and low, brimming with anger. “They end up with a ruined name. And not anything like the little scandals that tie nicely into your bad boy image, Eren, but a real, bad name. The kind of name that ruins careers until you go from being a rich-ass rockstar to a Walmart cashier. There’s nothing wrong with being a cashier if that’s what you wanna do with your life since, apparently, being a famous rockstar with fans to please is too difficult, but if you’re stupid enough to keep your fans waiting — keep me waiting — then I doubt you’re smart enough know how to count change. And Y/N, you only have about five fans in the entire world right now. I suggest you get your shit together before you go from having fans at a concert to having customers at the bakery again. Keep this up, and your ass will be shoved on a one-way flight to New York in a fraction of the time it took you to come out of that room. Now, both of you, get your asses to the meet-and-greet.”

Levi walked off with one final glare, leaving Jean — who leaned against the wall, listening — to escort you both.

Jean wanted to rub salt in the wound, knowing it would have ticked Eren off even more, but when he saw the sad look on your face, he opted for a different idea.

“It’s okay,” Jean spoke softly. He discreetly reached down and tugged on a part of your skirt that was still raised too high from your intimacy session with Eren earlier. “He was pissed with me earlier for taking off my eyeliner before the meet-and-greet.”

“What’s up his ass today? ‘S not like anyone will leave. They’ll forget about how long they’ve been waiting as soon as they see us,” Eren frowned.

The three of you walked down the twisted backstage hallways.

“I just wish he wouldn’t constantly hold me being nothing more than a baker from New York over my head whenever he’s mad at me,” your low mumble made Eren look at you with curious, worried eyes. “I know he’ll apologize later, but-”

“I’ll talk to him.”

For a man who couldn’t say a word when he was getting scolded like a little kid earlier, he certainly sounded brave now. After all, knowing Levi had truly upset you was enough.

“No, Eren,” you waved your hand a bit. “It’s fine. Let’s not drag this out.”

“She’s right,” Jean said. “We gotta remember that all of our fuck ups just come back to bite him in the ass too. Being a manager is a stressful job.”

“I’m not fucking scared to stick up for myself like you are, Jean.”

Jean tossed his hands up defensively. “Woah, where the hell did that come from? What are you being an asshole for this time?”

Eren stopped walking. Your footsteps abruptly came to a halt as well.

“Guys, come on, we don’t have time for this,” you spoke pointlessly.

“I’m being an asshole because Levi didn’t know where we were until you ran and got him like a little snitch,” Eren’s brows furrowed. “And this is also the fourth or fifth time you’ve walked in on me and Y/N. You’d think by now you’d learn to knock on my dressing room door. I’m starting to wonder if you’re just a damn pervert who wants to catch my girlfriend with her clothes off.”

“Really? You wanna fight about this now, Eren?” Jean clenched his jaw. “You were in your dressing room, not fucking Afghanistan. Levi would’ve put that together as soon as he finished checking her dressing room. And you should learn to lock your door every now and then if you’re worried about someone looking at Y/N. Just let it go, alright? We’re about to go meet the people who pay your goddamn bills, and you think now is the right time to talk about this?”

“Don’t give me those shitty excuses, and stop trying to avoid the conversation. We’re already late, so let’s talk about it.” Eren took a step closer to Jean.

“Back off, Eren,” you tried once again. “You two have been at each other’s throats this entire tour. If people start noticing-”

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Eren questioned you, but he never broke his intense stare into Jean’s unwavering gaze.

“Because if you two start punching each other, you’ll both have to walk into the meet-and-greet with a bloody nose or miss it entirely. And either way, all three of us will get in trouble. I, for one, can’t afford to get in any more trouble, because I don’t have any money or real fame to fall back on if I get dropped as a client. So, I need Levi and CS Records or whoever to like me, okay?”

A moment of cold glares passed by, but eventually, Eren stepped away from his bandmate.

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Jean, that’s what I think. Stay away from me and my girlfriend, okay?”

“Says the bastard who goes around stealing partners, collecting women like they’re fucking Pokemons.”

Worriedly, and yet, defeatedly, you looked up at Eren, just knowing he’d punch his bandmate in the face for his latest comment.

“Sounds like you’re jealous because no one wants your ass,” Eren bit back. “You haven’t had a real girlfriend since the band was just you, me, Connie, and Marco making up lyrics in my garage.”

“Speaking of Marco,” Jean tilted his head a bit. “Is he the reason why you try to date everything that can breathe? To fill the hole he left when he died from a stupid stick game you started? Because if that’s the case, then you don’t need a desperate New York wannabe. You need to find a brown-haired guy with-”

“Shut the hell up! How can you say that to him?”

Your shout came from your soul. This wasn’t the same man who had just helped you write your first song a few nights ago, yet to be released. This version of Jean, you had no idea where he came from. Whether Eren was any better, you couldn’t be certain. Not only had he insulted you, but bringing up Marco was a new low. A new low for anyone.

Jean brought out the worst in Eren, and Eren brought out the worst in Jean.

“I’m sorry . . . I went too far,” Jean mumbled, dropping his head. “I didn’t mean what I said just now.”

Both you and Jean were waiting for Eren’s fist to connect with Jean’s jaw, but instead, a tear rolled down Eren’s cheek, one that he tried to quickly wipe away.

“It wasn’t like that, so fuck off and go to hell.” Eren’s words packed no punch.

It broke your heart into pieces, knowing that Jean didn’t make Eren angry.

He just hurt his feelings.

Eren continued to walk and frown. Frown and walk. But, as the meet-and-greet entrance came into view, his face softened, knowing he couldn’t greet fans with a face full of tears and attitude after keeping them waiting.

After taking a few deep breaths, the three of you stepped through the door with bright smiles, not showcasing anything that happened moments ago.

—

Oh my god.

It was you three. Eren in the middle, Jean standing to the right, you to the left.

Oh my god.

Sabrina and Riley screamed just as loudly as the rest of the fans. It felt as if the room started to vibrate, and she was certain the girl next to her fainted when Eren locked eyes with her for half a second.

Getting the fans into organized lines was indeed a chaotic, but functional mess. Luckily, there were only fifteen or twenty people who snagged the VIP passes within seconds of them dropping online. Sabrina figured that the company behind Eldian Devils was a smart business, as only having a few exclusive meet-and-greet slots meant there was an easier crowd to manage, fans got more time with the stars, and they were well within their rights to charge a fortune.

Where most celebrities quickly snapped a picture with their admirers after mumbling a short, careless greeting before sending them away, you, Jean, and Eren, would be able to talk to everyone for at least a few minutes.

It was wonderful.

After waiting for a while, it was Sabrina’s turn to approach the three celebrities standing in front of the backdrop. She made her way towards her favorite person first, her entire body trembling, tears streaming down her face.

Nervously, her wobbly legs led her to Eren Yeager’s side.

It was him. It was really him.

What if he was mean to her? What if she said something stupid? What if he refused to take a picture with her for some reason? What if she still smelled like all of the cheap restaurant food she had to serve to afford this opportunity? What if . . .

“Hi, sweetheart.” Eren Yeager smiled down beautifully at the shorter girl as if he had known her his entire life. “How are you?”

“Good!” Sabrina squeaked out, speaking between sobs as best as she could. Just her luck. She was meeting the Eren Yeager and she could barely see his gorgeous face thanks to the tears clouding her vision. “I-I love . . . I love you so-so much!”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet?” Eren wrapped his arms around his fan, rubbing her back gently. “I love you too. What’s your name?”

“Suh-Sa-” The girl couldn’t speak. She could only focus on the fact that Eren was hugging her. “Su-bean-a.”

Eren’s smile grew. He knew what the brunette girl was trying to say, as by now, he was a master when it came to understanding what his fans were saying while they sobbed.

“Sabrina? That’s a cute name. Wanna take a picture?”

She nodded as she sobbed, wiping off her tears and ruined makeup before turning and facing the camera.

“What pose do you wanna do, bean?”

Oh, she almost fainted when Eren called her that.

If Eren didn’t still have his arms around her, the young girl was certain she would have collapsed on the floor.

She couldn’t speak well enough to tell him what pose she had been planning in her head for months, so she showed him as best as she could with her trembling arms, but he understood.

Eren stood behind her, leaned down a bit, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

After the camera flashed, Sabrina turned back around to face Eren. Unlike other meet-and-greets, she didn’t have to move on immediately.

But she’ll be damned if she lets her nerves ruin her chances of chatting with Eren.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s okay,” Eren gently wiped her tears away with her thumb. “It’s okay.”

That only made her sob harder.

“Aw, she’s the cutest, isn’t she?” you appeared at Eren’s side, smiling at the crying fan. The fan who visited you earlier had wrapped up the photo and conversation rather quickly, as they were in a hurry to meet Jean next. That was understandable, being that it was the Eldian Devils tour.

That was when Sabrina’s younger sister — who was next in line — suddenly ran up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Unlike other fans, Riley showed up specifically to meet you, and she wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity because her dear sister was taking too long.

And, unlike her sobbing sibling, she was strong enough to hold her tears back so she could effectively communicate.

“I love you so much, Y/N! You’re so pretty! I love your voice, I swear to god, I’m your biggest fan!”

You and Eren exchanged smiles with each other, the both of you thinking: what an adorable set of fans.

You hugged the girl back, saying, “Thank you! You’re too kind.”

“Can we get a group picture? Please?” Riley pleaded, clasping her hands together.

You looked up at Eren, unsure if such a thing was allowed.

“Of course,” Eren spoke up. He didn’t know if it was allowed either, but he didn’t care.

You, Eren, and Sabrina huddled together, but Riley — who was wearing a Jean Kirstein shirt — ran over, grabbed the drummer’s wrist, and pulled Jean into the picture as well.

Fans in the background groaned with impatience and jealousy, but Riley and Sabrina didn’t care one bit.

This was the happiest day of their lives, and yet, one of the worst for the three smiling celebrities.

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

[dollfacedsl1ut]

Her first concert

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compendium : Karina and her friends decided to go to a local concert before college the guitarist caught her eye but to no avail she couldn’t get her number the next day when she moved into the college dorm a familiar guitar was found outside her neighbors door, when you walked outside she noticed why it looked familiar you were the guitarist she met at the concert maybe this would be her chance to finally talk to you or maybe even more

dynamic : !fan Karina x g!p guitarist reader

warnings : alcoholic drinking, heated make out session, mentions of vomit, tipsy driving

word count : 1.5k

a/n : made 10/11/23 let’s see when this’ll be posted HAHAHAHAHHSH okay enough I hope you guys enjoy if you say anything about the band name you will be found

Band name: Barrack Beetles

There will be made up characters Lalala idc hush there’s

Y/n : Guitarist

Eleanor : Drummer

Chloe : Vocalist/Singer WTV helps you sleep

Luna : Pianist

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“Come on please it’s the last fun thing we can do before college tomorrow” winter one of karinas friends begged, karina still resisted shaking her head “why not it’ll be fun I swear” Giselle pitched in of course gi would know it was one of her favorite bands “fine…but if I don’t like it I’m coming straight back” Karina got off her bed rummaging through her of her many suitcases under her bed she pulled out a pair of black ripped jeans and a beige crop top that hung off her shoulder (spicy era outfit inspo) “simple enough” she groaned standing up before putting on her clothes matching with a pair of black dr martens.

“Are you finally ready we’re gonna be late” Karinas youngest friend ningning whined “yeah yeah hold on” spraying a bit of perfume on her neck and wrists Karina walked out her room making sure to grab an emergency whistle, her phone, and pepper spray for protection of course..

The car ride to the concert was filled with cheers and excitement Karina never seen her friends this happy to see a rock band before maybe she underestimated their excitement. The venue was crowded with loud music being heard from the outside “I’m totally gonna make luna sign my boobs” Giselle giggled “as if…” ningning glared at the older friend who just kept a smirk on her face Karina heard the girls talk about which member they were gonna make do what whether it’s sign their neck, face, tongue, back maybe if the band members liked them enough maybe their boobs like Giselle suggested, winter parked the car a few feet away from the entrance at this point the line was wrapped around the building.

“see I knew I should’ve stayed at the dorm” Karina groaned hitting her head against the window looking at the line “unless..I preordered virtual tickets so we can get her early access in” Giselle snickered pulling out her phone showing the tickets “seems legit….already let’s go” winter was the first one out the car whilst Karina was last the smell of cheap perfume from the girls in the line filled their nostrils, once they reached the beginning of the line Giselle showed the bouncer the tickets as he let them in through the red rope a bunch of “Day 1 fans” protesting and yelling profanities.

Walking in the club a rush of sweet booze filled their nostrils the sound of music rang in their ears as they shuffled their way to the front of the stage seeing a host pick up the mic he was a tall guys with long curly hair he had a few visible tats and a deep voice that made any girl go weak “Our next performers are a very popular band we Have Barrack Beetles(omg I hate this name)” the crowd cheered as a group of 4 women stood tall on stage with their punk clothing, mix dyed hair and tattoos and piercings the usual rebellious look

Karina gawked at one member the guitarist, the lights changed into a purple tint as the music started the song started with you aka the guitarist. Karina watched in awe as you balanced the pick in your hand strumming the guitar she was starting to regret not seeing you much sooner, she looked at her friends seeing them scream and giggle whilst dancing aggressively to the song.

After your band finished with a few songs on your latest album the 4 of you gathered together holding any handheld instruments in hand before introducing yourself to your fans, waving and winking to anyone who caught your eye even the blonde headed girl wearing the beige crop top she seemed like a new listener you couldn’t deny she was very beautiful, better than any other fans you had quick make out sessions with, After the time was up you walked backstage “I seen the way you looked at her dude” Chloe the vocalist said nudging you “she’s probably crazy like other fans…but she does have a pretty doll like face I dig that” you loosened the guitar strap tossing it over your shoulder before tightening it back around you “you say this about every fan that makes your dick hard y/n” Chloe glanced at you “maybe you’re right but still she’s pretty” after your band finished packing the equipment your manager piled it inside the car “you guys have 30 minutes until curfew have fun” your manager said getting into the drivers seat…

You guys scurried off into the club immediately going to the vip section, you turned down the bottle service only taking shot by shot you didn’t wanna be too hungover to go to school tomorrow but you didn’t wanna be too sober so that you didn’t get laid, After your 4th shot your body felt tingly but you still could function the blonde haired girl you seen earlier was in the booth across from you guys she noticed you and gave you a small smile, waving your hand you ushered her to come over with shaky legs the girl sat next to you..

“Hi I’m karina what’s your name.?” Her voice was quiet but you were close enough to hear her speak “hey I’m y/n” you looked her up and down taking in her pretty features “I can tell you’ve never been to one of our concerts before did you enjoy it” Karina nodded as her pale face heated up “you were really pretty on stage y/n” her confession made you chuckle slightly “thanks you’re pretty too I noticed you mumbling along to our lyrics but I didn’t mind” she looked at you with wide eyes as she laughed leaning her head against your shoulder her heart was beating fast..or was that yours it didn’t matter but you could tell she was nervous.

You cupped her face placing a gentle kiss on her pointy nose “you’re so fucking pretty doll face wanna’ kiss you all over” she smiled at the compliment before leaning forward and planting a kiss on your lips, you cupped the back of her head deepening the kiss her soft whimpers were muffled as she clawed at your shirt, you pulled her by her hips on your lap she moaned feeling your dick harden under her, before the kiss could get anymore intimate your band mate Luna yelled your name before telling you time was up, you groaned loudly placing Karina back on the sofa “sorry doll face maybe another Time yeah” you sat up trying to hide your bulge before walking with Luna back to the car.

Karina sat on the sofa horny and upset before she could even get her mind focused Giselle pulled her up “we gotta go winter threw up on a random girl while dancing…seems like she won’t be able to make it to school tomorrow” Giselle started to realize karinas disheveled state “you got laid??” A smile formed on her lips “almost..” Karina began to start to walk out the club with Giselle beside her “really?? Before me but with who??” Her questions started to give Karina a migraine but she still answered “the guitarist uhh y/n” Giselles eyes widen as she stopped in the middle of the parking lot “you’re serious?? What that’s wow-“ she couldn’t form sentences but she was happy for Karina if it was true “yeah we were making out then a girl came in and said her time was up and her manager was waiting” Karina sighed opening the door of the passenger seat and then flopping in the car, she glanced back seeing a sleeping winter and ningning on her phone “I’ve never seen her this wasted” Ning said still looking at her phone “well she’ll obvious gonna miss school tomorrow so I’ll just try to get her classes and cover them that’s if we have the same ones” the 3 nodded as Giselle drove back to their dorm apartment..

Parking the car near the elevator Giselle carried winter on her back as ning pressed the button for the top floor, the walk down the hall seemed long to their tipsy bodies as they walked to their room their neighbors door was wide open the trio gave each other looks before walking into their apartment before showering and heading to bed…

THE NEXT DAY

Karina sat up in bed stretching her limbs before putting on her slippers she walked to the bathroom brushing her teeth then doing her morning skincare she picked up her phone cheeks the time “7:57” her screams seemed like they could be heard blocks away “fuck I’m gonna be late” she quickly pulled out a simple outfit she knew the bell rung at 8:10 and after that you’d have to get a slip to access the building she checked the other rooms seeing Giselle and ningning gone but winter was still asleep she groaned grabbing her backpack and her dorm keycard before rushing out the door, as she locked it from the outside she noticed a familiar looking guitar on the ground and her neighbors door still open she heard their footsteps walking closer to the door but who see seen walk out was beyond her belief but before she could speak up you did “hey doll face long time no see how you been” the way you spoke made it seem like you were childhood friends, s’not like you and her weren’t practically gonna have sex in a public club but Karina didn’t get upset she just waved….

Prologue

[atiny-for-life]

Ticket prices are fucking insane these days.

Even for smaller groups like P1harmony, prices went up by 100€ between when I saw them with my sister in January 2024 and the next EU tour - and that was for the exact same venue.

So, I went digging for a bit why this is happening and here are a few notable factors which play into it:

Stage production! K-Pop artists (especially ones like Ateez) use a fuckton of props, sets, etc. and putting those up each time, transporting them, paying the people who do that - it all costs money

Professional resellers/scalpers use bots to buy up hundreds, sometimes even thousands, of tickets which allows them to rip off people by artificially inflating reseller prices

Hidden fees which don't go to the artist but the venue, etc.

Inflation (because of course), plus the aftermath of the pandemic which drove up prices temporarily due to staff-shortages, has now driven up what the new acceptable price range is to everyone involved, including consumers

There's also recently been a massive cost increase on bus rentals, insurance, crew wages and more because most countries (but especially the US) are becoming increasingly owned by private equity who monopolize markets and jack up prices on EVERYTHING which also means you need to pay people more so they can, y'know, afford to stay alive until the our ends

Dynamic pricing, aka the more in demand a ticket is, the more expensive it will get - Ticketmaster introduced this system in 2022, claiming it'll prevent scalpers from being able to buy up cheap tickets and resell them at an increased rate, but... we all know that's BS

Live Nation Entertainment, aka the merger that killed it all - after Live Nation and Ticketmaster joined hands to form what is basically a monopoly, everything got worse, especially since they also own hundreds of venues across the globe - they're basically free to price-fix concerts on a global scale

There's probably more, but this is what I could find with a quick Google search - if anyone knows more about the behind the scenes on all of this, please add your wisdom in the reblogs! <3

Sources: x x x