#'how do they put the music on there? they upload it after' no the fucking dont.

[bluebellhairpin]

Omg people seriously don't know how vinyl records work im on the floor crying wheezing rn.

[aphrogeneias]

more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it. 

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space. 

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I  was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking." 

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?" 

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements. 

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus." 

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

[barleyo]

Prom Queen. (Re-upload)

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: tumblr took this down. I'm re-uploading it because idgaf. No tags because I'm lazy, read at your own risk. Obviously reader is of age, and obviously, if you DON'T LIKE what I write, DON'T READ what I write, thanks :3

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AHEAD

You had always dreamed about your senior prom. Even as a young girl, you thought exhaustively about how the night would go. You would wear a gorgeous gown, drink spiked punch, dance and laugh with friends, and most importantly, you would go with a cute boy.

Those dreams fell flat when your strict father outlawed prom for you. He said that prom was just an opportunity for hyped up, hormonal teens to gyrate on each other on school property. Prom was a night where girls opened their legs for their subpar dates who barely made the effort to scrounge up a corsage for them. Prom was the chance for unwanted, "happy accident" babies to be made by teenaged fuck-ups.

In short, prom was for whores. Leon would be damned if he would have a nasty whore of a daughter. It made him sick to even think of you wasting your sweet, nearly virginal body on a shit-for-brains boy whose only sexual experience no doubt came from his own right hand.

So, yeah. Prom was a nonstarter.

Of course, this angered you to no end. You could be heard sobbing each night after Leon's declaration of war on you having any fun was drawn up, but a small part of you thought it was the best.

You knew that prom wasn't like how it was shown in the movies. You wouldn't get an invitation from the hottest boy in school, you wouldn't get there in a decked out limo, and the punch would be lukewarm and watered down at best.

You wouldn't dance: you would have no one to dance with. You would sit alone at one of the tables eating fun sized candy bars aimlessly scattered on the repurposed lunch room tables in your school's gymnasium, while a horde of your peers would dance nasty on each other, being free and young.

The whole time, nobody would look at you, aside from the sly glance paired with a snicker shared between two gossiping teens, indulging in the rumors that floated around about you.

Nobody would want to dance with the girl who had an overprotective daddy that fucked her. Especially when that girl liked it.

The more you thought about it, the more you came to peace with the idea of staying in with Leon. Technically, being demanded to stay at home with him meant that you were sort of, kind of asked on a "date" with a hot guy, even if you shared DNA with said hot guy.

On the day of the dance, Leon had the decency to let you skip school. You sulked in bed the entire day, thinking about what could have been, rather than what was. He did not bother you, having enough sense to let a sleeping dog lay, but at exactly 10:00 PM , you felt your phone ding under your pillow.

'Come downstairs. Wear a dress. Not one of your church ones.'

His texts were always sharp and to the point, just like he was. Commanding. Strict.

You, as always, obliged. You put on one of his favorites, the one that always left his eyes lingering on your body a little too long. As you made your way down the stairs, you heard the faint sound of romantic music playing in the living room, which you naturally followed like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Dad, what's all this?"

Your living room looked like a scene stripped from a cheesy romance movie. Rose petals scattered on the floor, lights dimmed low, and a tall, hot stud in the midst of it all. Your father's face was stern, but past that you could see the inkling of excitement in him.

"Your prom. I know it meant a lot to you," he said gruffly, adjusting the collar of the nice shirt he wore, "so I did what I could. Hope this'll make you forgive me."

Your feet pattered softly against the cool flooring, bringing your body along with them. You took a final look around the room and let your eyes lock onto your dad.

"I do. S'okay, I'm not mad at you, daddy."

How could you ever be mad at him? Your perfectly stubborn, grouchy, yet sexy father? Your father who—

"You know I just want the best for you, right peach?" Leon grasped you in his arms, snaking both arms around your lower waist while he rested his chin on your head. "Just wanna keep you safe."

"I know."

You both stood like that for a moment, neither speaking. The soft sound of the music slowly playing in the background was the only noise filling your sense. Well, that and the husky sound of your father's breathing. And his manly, leathery scent. His strong hands placed on your body, too.

You heard him clear his throat briefly and snapped to give him your attention, something you found yourself doing often. He liked when you listened to him quickly, made him feel respected.

"May I have this dance?" Leon asked, giving you a rare smirk when you nodded.

One of his hands stayed on your waist, while the other took your hand gently and clasped it in the air, leading you into a sweet waltz. With each step, he guided you with rigid, calculated movements. His movements were neat, as if he had been planning every moment of your shared dance.

The longer you danced with him, the closer your bodies pressed together, creating a faint friction between the two of you. In that moment, any negative emotion you had felt before faded away, leaving only the image of him in your mind.

Leon knew your signs. He'd spent a long time decoding them, and the look on your face was one he read easily. With a tilt of his head, he leaned in, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when he felt your increased heartbeat against his chest.

You made the first real move, pushing your tongue deeper into his mouth. Kisses were the only time he let you take on a dominant role. He thought it was cute, feeling your smaller tongue fuck into his mouth like you were in charge. Not wanting to spoil your fun, he softly guided you backwards to the wall, giving him a surface to work with.

"You're a bold one, I'll give you that," he said, breaking the kiss. "Can't ever actually ask for what you want, but you go wild once you get it, don't you?"

You hummed, letting him pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist. His hand slid under your dress and pushed it up, giving him a view of your panties.

"God, you're soaked. So wet f'me." Leon stuck his fingers in his mouth, slurping on them and covering them with spit before he forced them past the band of your underwear. Tight, quick circles were made around your clit, denying you of any time to think. "Nobody else can play with this, you hear me? This is all mine, you don' let anybody else have you," his voice was a warm whisper that fanned across your ear.

"I promise, 'm all yours. Don't want anyone else, only you, daddy," you swore desperately, meaning every word even if it sounded like you were just babbling on.

"Fuckin' slut." He spit a fat glob onto his fingers and spread it around your cunt, lubing you up. "Thought I raised a sweet girl. Bet you act like this for the boys at school too, huh?" Your panties were slid to the side.

His teeth clenched together jaggedly as he prodded the tip of his cock at you entrance, drawing in a deep breath when he pushed it fully in.

"No, never! I don't want any of them, just want you. They aren't good enough."

"Yeah? Greedy little cunt only wants her daddy, is that right?" The ego boost he was getting from this ran through him immediately. He wound your clit up with his thumb, quickly zigzagging on the little bud to match his thrusts. "Good. They don't deserve to feel you—"

You cunt fluttered around his length at his words, leaving him biting down on his lip.

"Just like that. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up, baby."

Your mouth hung open, pathetic mewls leaking from it. Each sound he drew out of you was nearly pornographic. He bullied your guts and hit deep, far deeper than your fingers ever could, and left you far more needy than your digits did.

"Inside this time?" You had wanted it so bad for the longest time, and instead he would pull out of you and coat your soft tummy or the fat of your ass with his ropes. "I need to feel it, please. I don't wanna be empty again, jus' fill me up," you slurred, drool spilling from the corner of your plush mouth.

"Yeah," he huffed, nodding along with you words, ready to finally jump at the opportunity, "yeah, inside. I need it too, baby, you have no idea. Daddy wants to spoil you real bad, he wants to give you all the babies you want."

Your lower body tensed, squeezing him tightly as the familiar rhythmic pattern of your orgasm set in. It felt so right in that moment, like your body was made for this exact purpose: being a warm hole for your dad to fill with his hot cum.

"Ready?" He said it more like a demand than a question, and within seconds he was creaming into you, still pounding your cunt like he hated you. "Take it, don't spill."

He kept his dick sheathed away inside of you, hoping that if he kept most of his cum in you, it would take. His brow was slick with sweat and his face was flushed. He had never looked so attractive before.

You ran your hand through his hair to get his attention. When he darted his eyes up to you, you mumbled something about wanting to go again.

"Anything for you baby. Night's still young, isn't it? We got time."

[tkaulitzlvr]

BEAUTIFUL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom flirts with an interviewer at an event the two of you are attending, he has to make it up to you once he realises how hurt you are.

content: angst & smut

a/n: something small to compensate for my lack of posts lately, just in case i don’t manage to put something out in the next few days - exams finish after this week so i should be back to uploading a little more regularly!! (not proofread yet - apologies if there are any errors i’ll fix them asap)💗

the drive home is utterly silent. i refuse to turn my gaze toward him, despite the annoyingly noticeable glances he throws in my direction as he takes his eyes off of the road every few minutes, attempting to work out how i feel. doing so had never been easy, though now, it seems completely impossible, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. the only hint that i lend to him is concrete proof of my anger, this part of the endless puzzle of my emotions easy to piece together. tom is aware that he has fucked up, the silence buying him time to carefully consider his choice of words to avoid worsening this situation.

the streetlights lining the smooth path of the highway ahead cast their dull orange light into the silent car, melting onto my stern features, starting at my eyes, dark and heavy, dangerously close to letting the tears welled up within them go, trailing down to my lips, curved downward into a painfully noticeable frown. the radio is just as silent, no longer blaring out tom's obnoxiously loud music, instead replacing its heavy bass with the sound of our breathing, tom clearing his throat when the silence would become slightly too awkward.

it started with the two of us attending another event for the band, this becoming a usual occurrence since i had started dating tom, though i didn't mind it. i had always been supportive of the band - it was impossible to not be, supporting the man i love in the career he is passionate about is something i consider to be my biggest achievement, and i would proudly stand by his side no matter what he decided to pursue, as long as his happiness is guaranteed. he knows just how proud of him i am, this one of many reasons why i make sure i can support him in any way possible, and something that comes along with that is being his plus one for any event.

whether it is a good thing or not, our relationship has never been private. since it's beginning, we made it clear to the public that we are together, parts of our lives perhaps too out there, figuring that allowing unnecessary speculation would only worsen the cruel comments coming our way - though tom never really receives anything close to the backlash that i do.

however boundaries are still something that some couldn't grasp. the publicity of our relationship was and still is visible to anybody with a working pair of eyes. it would be unusual to see me without tom at any event, or to be pictured elsewhere whilst he would be playing a show - the two of us are attached at the hip, utterly infatuated, as the gossip magazines obsessed with our lives would say. and this is why i found myself so enraged that one of his female interviewers acted as if i was invisible, though i maintained my stance beside tom as he answered any questions she directed at him. touching his arm playfully whenever he made a funny comment - though her reaction would always be totally exaggerated, tom's responses never warranting anything more than a slight chuckle, tossing her silky brunette hair and adjusting her already very prominent cleavage at any chance she had, she made it evident that she wanted tom.

and he didn't try to stop her. his eyes scanning her body, twinkling with a foreign sense of lust, speaking thousands of ideas on what he would like to be doing in that moment, forgetting that his girlfriend was beside him. to anyone else, it would look like i was a friend, perhaps even an acquaintance standing beside tom, clearly nothing romantic seeming to be going on between the two of us, his promiscuous glances practically screaming the phrase 'i'm available', regardless of the fact that he is everything but.

it is his acts that lead us to the present, us leaving the event rather abruptly as the tears spilling down my face ruined the makeup i had spent hours applying - for him. embarrassment habituated within the pit of my stomach more than anything, the effort i had put in to look my best meaning seemingly nothing to him.

the berlin cityscape encircles my vision as i watch it quickly pass, skyscrapers and flashing lights heavily contrasting to the emptiness in the sky above, reminding me of why i love this city. the view from the tinted windows of tom's ridiculously priced sports car temporarily distract me from the sorrow i feel, providing me with some sense of security as i find myself longing for more and more of it, my mind and its thoughts spiralling far out of control.

the silence was almost painful, indisputable tension between us so palpable it is almost visible, air thick with thoughts best left unsaid yet i am still unprepared to speak to him, not after he had disregarded me for somebody who couldn't keep her hands away from what had clearly belonged to someone else. his hand hesitantly reaches down from the wheel to caress my thigh, this being a usual habit whenever i am in the passenger seat, yet this time he visibly contemplates doing so, wondering how i will react to his small act of affection.

"don't." i mutter through gritted teeth, my voice shaky and uncertain as i move my leg harshly away from his gentle touch, adjusting the material of my dress so it flows below my knees. an exasperated sigh escapes tom's mouth as he moves his hand to touch the wheel once again, not a single word uttering from either one of us for the entirety of the journey home.

i swiftly exit the car, slamming the door shut and quickly rushing inside of the house that tom and i share, deciding against waiting for him like i usually would. instead, i tug my uncomfortably tall heels off, carrying them under my arm as i trudge up the stairs to our shared bedroom, before he has any chance of catching up to me. i don't need his worthless apologies, especially in this moment when i know one small glance into those eyes will lead to an emotional outburst, or my surrender, his soft features enough to make me forget it all, something which this time, i don't want to do.

my body slumps into the chair facing my vanity as i begin to remove my makeup. the wipe traces across the intricate detailing along my eyelids, smudging the deep orange powder across it, ruining the colour as it smudges with the thick black eyeliner above it messily, completely ruining the blend that i had spent at least an hour perfecting. i take a fresh wipe, running it along my lips, watching the dark pink colour gracing them disappear from my face, leaving the natural colour of them in place of it. my foundation had already been ruined since i had rushed out of the event, long streaks where tears had once fell destroying the flawlessly applied base, the movements of my hands becoming much more ragged, channelling my frustration as i rush to remove each inch of makeup from my face, feeling pathetic for bothering to put any of it on in the first place - it clearly wasn't enough. eyes red and raw, glossy with the thin layer of liquid that covers their exterior, cheeks a light shade of pink from the force i had applied when removing my makeup, my reflection stares back of me, a gut-wrenching reminder that i'm not good enough for him, what i see in the mirror quickly making me realise why. i am a mess - my entire appearance disheveled, an unbelievable contrast to the woman tom had his eyes glued to, everything about her utterly flawless, seemingly crafted by god himself

seconds pass, each one painful and silent, allowing me to continue over-analysing every single aspect of my physical appearance, until a familiar pair of footsteps near my bedroom, a lump in my throat forming as i refuse to turn my head once their presence finally becomes much harder to ignore. even when he walks over, eyes filled with regret, my face remains still, gaze staying put as it burns into my own reflection.

"baby come on, don't be like this." he begins, his hand brushing against my shoulder tenderly as he stands behind me, peppering a single kiss onto where his calloused hand had previously been, this simple act of affection almost making me fold. his reflection gazes into mine through the large mirror in front of us, the tension thickening by the second as my heart closely considers betraying my mind, however remembering the way he acted tonight brings me back into my furious state.

"fuck you tom." i bitterly reply, standing up and swiftly moving into the en-suite, noticing the way he follows closely behind me, clearly not willing to give this up anytime soon. i ignore him regardless of how determined he is, walking toward the mirror and slowly beginning to brush my hair, eyeing his reflection as he moves closer towards me, our gazes interlocking, yet i force myself to look away before I foolishly forgive him.

"i'm sorry, please don't fight with me schatz." he pleads, moving toward me and gently wrapping his arms around my waist from behind,  beginning to plant slow and soft kisses along my neck, his thumbs massaging my stomach lightly. his eyes never leave my own through the mirror, staring intently with a look unable to be mistaken for anything else other than admiration, totally different to how he had ignored me earlier on. though it still isn't enough to put out the worried thoughts that occupy my mind, the belief that i am no longer good enough seeming more real than ever.

"wouldn't you rather be doing this to the girl who interviewed you earlier?" i ask blankly, removing myself from his grasp and walking toward the wardrobe, facing away from him and attempting to remove my dress, yet my small hands fail to reach the zipper that starts from my shoulder blades and travels down to my lower back. i am not in any position to ask tom for help as I usually would, instead mentally cursing myself for wearing this dress. he quickly returns from the bathroom, face softening once he registers my helpless state, his frame nearing my own, stopping once his chest is almost pressed firmly against my back.

"leibe you're being ridiculous." he sighs, moving my hair to the side so that it rests against my shoulder, positioning his hand gently on my lower back, the other reaching towards the zipper that i had struggled to pull down.

"get off me-" i begin, just about ready to pull away from his touch and spew out reminders of how much of an awful boyfriend he is, though i am cut quickly off by his steady breathing close to my ear.

"shhh. let me do this for you, then you can go back to being mad at me, okay?" he whispers gently, breath fanning against my skin as goosebumps begin to form along it, his mouth slightly open whilst he begins to unzip my dress at an agonisingly slow pace, exposing my bare shoulders as he removes the fabric from my upper body, his other hand caressing my waist, so gently as if he could break me. he is careful, tentative even, though his movements become undeniably more calculated, going even further once his face leans forward, in line with my shoulder, sinking lower and lower, until his lips hover over the now bare skin. my eyes are on the verge of closing shut, not stopping him just yet, even when both his hands place themselves firmly onto my hips, pulling my body backward so that it is pressed against his own. it is when his lips ghost over my skin, brushing against it so gently i wonder if i am imagining the contact, that i finally snap out of it.

"you said you would undo the zipper, not undress me." i say, the small moment of lust soon lost within the harshness of my words as i utter them, my back still facing him.

he says nothing, clearing his throat and slowly removing his hands from my waist. despite increasing our proximity more than it had been seconds ago, he still remains closely behind me as i grab an oversized t-shirt and fresh panties from my closet.

"can you leave? i want to get changed." i sigh, rolling my eyes and covering my cleavage as i turn to face him. after seeing the way he looked at her body, i tense in discomfort at the thought of him looking at my own. all the times he called me beautiful quickly seem insignificant as i am suddenly ashamed and insecure, almost embarrassed to be so exposed around him.

"what? you always get changed around me. we've been together for four years schatz, it's nothing i haven't seen before." he states, clearly surprised as i usually have no issue being naked around him, used to being showered with kisses and compliments whenever i am exposed around him, yet now i cannot imagine anything worse.

"my body clearly isn't good enough for you tom, i'm sure her's is perfect. i'm sure you'd agree right? the way you looked at her pretty much fucking said it all anyways." i respond, blinking the tears away as they are dangerously close to falling, my gaze dropping from his as i curse myself for acting so vulnerable around him, for letting him get to me this much.

"you and i both know that's not true." he sighs, reaching to wipe the tear falling down my cheek, his pointer finger gently tilting my chin upwards so that i am met with his gaze. "you know what i think of you. you know how perfect you are to me."

i don't respond, scoffing at his empty spews of supposed reassurance. instead, i ignore his presence as i should have done the first time he walked into the room, grabbing my pyjamas and entering the bathroom, quickly removing my dress and slipping on the t-shirt i had grabbed from the closet. i am immediately engulfed in tom's scent, an addictive mix of vanilla and his favourite cologne, this alone almost convincing me to run into his arms and forgive him. this time i know better, returning to the bedroom to find tom gone.

i take no notice, silently thankful for him leaving me alone. i switch the light off, slipping silently under the covers, allowing them to engulf me in warmth. a few minutes later, the bed dips beside me, tom sighing as i turn over to face away from him, instead of moving into his arms as i usually would.

he soon nears closer to me, refusing my attempts at keeping us apart, brushing my hair out of my face and nuzzling his head into my neck from behind, placing a single tender kiss before speaking up.

"please talk to me schatz, i'm so sorry." he mutters into the darkness, awaiting my response, yet i refuse to give him one, not moving from my tensed position.

"you said that your body isn't good enough for me." he slowly begins, turning me on my back in one swift motion as he props himself up beside me, one hand holding himself up as the other gently caresses my cheek. the darkness prevents me from making out his features, though i can still distinguish his dark brown eyes staring into mine. "let me show you. let me show you how beautiful you are."

my speechlessness forces me to do nothing but slowly nod my head, my quick acceptance clearly surprising him as he slowly leans downwards until his lips meet mine. the kiss isn't rough or lustful, it is slow and passionate, carrying every unspoken apology as his lips mould perfectly with mine. as much as i still hold back, still reluctant to let him in so easily, i can't hide it. we fit together flawlessly, our physical contact providing me with the certainty of our love. we are attached, not just physically, but spiritually, emotionally, in any way that two people can be bound together.

without breaking the kiss, he slowly crawls on top of me, caressing my face gently, our desire and hunger for each other increasing by the second, the fire only sparking further within me as i fall further into his touch.

"so perfect..." he mutters against my lips, pulling away only to begin gently kissing my neck, sighs of pleasure elicited from my parted lips as he finds my sweet spot, his tongue circling the area whilst my hands travel down his back, finding the hem of his t-shirt as i lift it over his head, his lips capturing mine softly once again. his hands caress my waist, finding my underwear as he loops his fingers around it, pulling it down slowly and throwing it on the floor beside him, doing the same with my t-shirt. my hands fumble with his underwear, pulling it down soon after, leaving our bare bodies pressed against each other, our craving for one another growing with every kiss he leaves against my lips.

he is the sun, and i am the planets orbiting around him. my entire being is his, only being able to function with the reassurance that he is mine, and i am his. every part of me belongs to him, and as i clutch on to him i find myself wondering what I did to deserve him, what i did to find somebody that compliments me so well, no one else providing me with the euphoria that he can.

he parts his lips from mine, staring into my eyes as i find myself in awe of his perfection. his lips are open ever so slightly, the minimal light cast into the room hitting his lips, soft and tempting, directly, the metal ring adorning them knocked to the side as his tongue comes out to rest against it. however my time to admire him is soon brought to a finish as positions himself at my entrance.

"you sure baby?" he asks, eyes scanning my own, searching for any sense of doubt within them. though i am quick to nod my head, muttering a clear 'yes' as my hands grip onto his biceps, studying the way his face changes from caring to lustful the second that his top pushes inside of me. he is slow, sliding into me carefully, though when he bottoms out, he makes sure that every inch of him is inside of me, his own eyes squeezing shut when my walls clenching around him. he starts off slow, maintaining a steady rhythm as i savour every second, holding onto him so tightly as if he could fall out of my grasp. quiet groans fill my ears as he buries his face into my neck, slowly beginning to pick up the pace, inaudible whines escaping my lips, each thrust further fuelling the ecstasy within me.

"fuck…i love you." he mumbles into my neck, planting fast and sloppy kisses anywhere his lips can find, my vision blurring as i am soon overwhelmed with pleasure. he is inside me, his body pressed against me as even the air cannot come between us, yet i long for him to be closer. i know that isn't possible, and god, that hurts to think about.

“right there, oh my god!" i cry out, my legs wrapping around his torso as he delves further into me, hitting the spot where i need him most perfectly, my eyes to rolling to the back of my head, no noise escaping my mouth as i can do nothing but savour this pleasure, knowing that it cannot last forever.

“so pretty baby…shit- so perfect." he whispers, connecting his lips with mine in a sloppy kiss, quickening his pace as i know he is getting closer to his release. his calloused hands gently grab my waist, pushing me into him further as he struggles to kiss back, moaning into my mouth as his pillowy lips hover over mine.

“i'm so close schatz." he mutters against my lips, his rhythm becoming irregular as his hips stutter and i feel him twitch inside me. i sigh in relief, finally letting go of the knot built up in my stomach, mouth falling open as i reach my climax, this enough for tom to come to his own.

“fuck, oh my god…" he groans, throwing his head back as i feel him release inside of me, his breathing becoming heavier. he slowly thrusts in and out of me, muttering inaudible words of praise, riding out our highs before collapsing on top of me, leaving a few lazy kisses on my shoulder. my hands find their way into his hair, gently running through the dark braids whilst his wrap around my waist. the room stays silent for a few seconds, this soon interrupted by tom’s voice, slow and rough.

“i'm sorry for everything. i love you schatz, you know that right?" he says breathlessly, lifting his head from my chest to look into my eyes, any lustful intent within them now fading as they display nothing but pure regret.

“i know. i love you too." i reply, kissing him tiredly on the lips before closing my eyes, close to falling asleep. though i am soon interrupted by tom’s hand over my shoulder, shaking it gently, whilst the other trails to my face, thumb running across the skin comfortingly.

“c’mon, let's clean you up first liebe, then we can sleep." he whispers, smiling weakly when i nod my head lazily, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist, carrying me into the bathroom and turning on the shower, both of us climbing in.

the warm water covers my body, droplets running down it as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a tight hug. it is silent, though the quiet is everything but awkward, instead the reassurance that his embrace brings is everything i need, my eyes closing contently as he begins washing my body, occasionally kissing my forehead and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, before lifting me out of the shower and grabbing a fresh t-shirt, placing it over my head and onto my tired frame.

he collapses into bed, opening his arms out as i fall into his embrace, wrapping one arm loosely around his bare torso, tracing random patterns on his chest with my pointer finger, head resting against it so firmly i can hear the steady thumping of his heart, each faint beat somehow soothing me, until i fall into a deep sleep.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 17<-

Part 18

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Under 18 DNI!, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, dom!Minho, fingering

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: Currently I’m a bit busy with my mental and physical health. So if you have to wait for more parts I’m really sorry. I’ll do my best to upload! I really love this part and hope you will like it as well! Minho will always be my first big kpop crush -much love

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

The photo shoot went smoothly. Lee Know was a pro at this and the first pictures were finished in no time. He looked outrageously handsome in the outfits, which were mainly made of leather and thin fabric and you couldn't take your eyes off his thighs as his muscles tensed while posing.

Restlessly you crossed your legs on the small armchair as you were much more sensitive without your panties and you silently cursed Hyunjin for flinching at every touch and look from Lee Know.

Minho didn't miss your tense and partially absent attitude either. Especially since you shivered every time he stroked your thigh with his fingers or inconspicuously touched your butt as he walked by.

Just as he sat in front of you and the stylist was busy with his hair, you stared straight at your Ipad because you couldn't stand eye contact with him. He looked too hot and you were already rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the rising tension.

Since the day you almost fucked in the practice room, there was this unspoken tension between you. His looks were more intense than usual, as if he was waiting for something.

But today without panties it was like torture. You felt exposed and as his eyes rested on your thigh, you could tell something was going through his mind.

You could only guess what he was thinking.

"When will the teaser be released?"

Questioningly, you raised your eyes and made the mistake of looking directly at him while he had not yet put on his shirt. His abs stood out under his marble-colored skin, making you falter. You could only stare at his broad shoulders and how the seductive muscles on his arms and chest tightened as he pulled the linen shirt over his head.

It took you a few seconds to remember that you actually wanted to answer him.

It will go into post-production tomorrow. We're aiming for next Friday", you explained quickly after clearing your throat and typing something on your Ipad quickly.

"We should have a movie night after everything is wrapped up."

You nodded quickly and squeezed your thighs tightly together to put a stop to your attention-seeking core. It didn't pass Minho by, but he was already called to the photographer and stroked your thigh as he stood up before disappearing back to the set.

You finally breathed a sigh of relief, and after a few minutes you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up your makeup and recover from the crackling tension.

In the small bathroom, you marveled at the modern furnishings. In addition to high-quality cherry wood furniture, there was a huge mirror behind the stone sink, set in a golden frame.

The magazine company seemed to pay a lot of attention to aesthetics. While you stood in front of the mirror touching up your makeup, you didn't hear the door open and Minho slip in behind you because of the soft music playing in the room.

Until he pulled the door shut and stepped behind you and you could see him in the mirror.

"Minho? What are you doing here?", you asked in amazement and when you saw his face in the mirror, your heart automatically skipped a beat.

There was a fire burning in his eyes that took everything in and before you could react, he grabbed you by the hips and hunched you over the sink with his hand on the back of your neck.

One hand went under your dress and stroked your bare cunt, making you suck in a sharp breath.

"Fuck I knew it! You're not wearing any panties, you naughty kitten."

His grip on your neck was firm and he slid your dress over your hips without hesitation, giving him a perfect view of your ass and exposed core. Over the mirror you could see his eyes glowing with lust and immediately you got wet just from the way he dominated you.

“Should have guessed it, since you fucked Hyunjins thigh all desperate.”

He was still wearing the last outfit from the photoshoot that had driven you crazy. It consisted only of a linen shirt that revealed a little of his chest and a pair of leather pants that sat tight around his trained thighs.

His hair fell into his eyes, which shimmered like bitter coffee in the orange light of the bathroom.

"Hyunjin stole my panties earlier. Lino What..." but that's as far as you got, as he was already sinking a finger into your throbbing cunt and looking right into your eyes in the mirror.

Your mouth was open in surprise as he began to pump it into you mercilessly, putting pressure on your clit.

"You've had no panties on all morning like a needy slut. Anyone could have seen your bare pussy. The mere thought makes me hard. Do you think I'm going to let that go unpunished?"

In response, you could only gasp softly as he curled his finger inside you and you held onto the edge of the sink.

"Don't think I'm letting you get away with that, kitten."

It sounded like a threat he meant seriously, and his voice got a lot darker as he continued to finger you, tickling the naughtiest sounds out of you. He pushed the straps of your dress off your shoulders and freed your tits, unceremoniously undoing your bra and tossing it aside.

"Now I want to see you scream around my cock!", he murmured, reaching from behind to take your breast firmly and knead it.

„What about.. the Photoshoot... Minho", you gasped and he just grinned savagely.

„They have to wait. I, on the other hand, can't wait any longer to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock." When he added two more fingers, you moaned loudly and moved your hips eagerly against his hand.

A knot formed in your stomach as he continued to pump his fingers into you and you clenched hard around his fingers when he bend you firmly with his hand on your back over the sink.

That's when he suddenly pulled them out of you, grinning in amusement as you whimpered in despair at the loss of contact.

"The only way you're gonna come is around my cock, understand?", he whispered into your ear and you heard him already undoing his belt buckle. You eagerly shoved your hips towards him and arched your back, while your heated cunt was getting soaked by just his words.

"Don't worry kitten! I'll bend you over and fuck you against this sink, like the desperate little slut you are."

You bit your lower lip in anticipation as you couldn't wait to finally feel him inside you. Your eyes met in the mirror as he pulled out his hard cock and palmed himself a few times.

"Look at you! How beautiful you are, all desperate for my cock", he purred and slapped your ass, that made you tremble beneath him.

He looked stunningly beautiful with the dirty smile on his pink lips and the fluffy hair falling in his forehead.

And there you felt his tip already at your entrance. A contented growl tore from his throat as he pushed relentlessly into you, and the feeling of him tearing your insides apart brought tears to your eyes. With your vision blurred, you clawed tightly into the stone of the sink and felt it pressed coolly against your belly as he sunk inch by inch into your aching core.

His fingers dug firmly into your skin at your hip bones as he began thrusting into you and after the first few times you saw stars, due to the immense size that was filling you up.

He was so big that it took your breath away and all you could do was choke out gasps as he used your sore pussy to please himself. His roughness and his desire for you sent heat throughout your body and the pain quickly mixed with pleasure into a single overwhelming sensation.

"You love this, don't you? Love being treated like a useless little fuck toy?", he moaned as the soft elevator music was drowned out by the slapping of skin and your dirty whimpering.

One look in the mirror was enough to know the answer to his question. He continued to hold eye contact, enjoying your fucked out facial expressions. Your lips were parted and your eyes were glazed with tears as he relentlessly thrusted into you, stretching your walls.

Everything inside you strained and the knot in your stomach was about to snap.

"Oh fuck, don't stop! Minho please don't stop!" you pleaded, squinting your eyes. He hit all the sensitive spots deep inside you that made your legs go weak, and his little moans that escaped every time he thrusted hard into you and slapped his balls against your clit, emptied your head.

Your begging only heated him up more and that's when you felt his hand around your neck, closing it around your throat unshakeable. With the pressure on your air supply, he forced you to open your eyes and lift your gaze.

"I want to look at your pretty face while I fuck you until you come around my cock!"

The eye contact over the mirror with him was too much. Seeing his jaw twitch tensely and him pulsing parallel inside you with his hand around your neck pushed you over the edge and you clenched hard around him before you came with pornographic moans.

Your lips were swollen and you looked so naughty you would have been ashamed if he hadn't kept thrusting into you relentlessly.

"I'm gonna use that tight little pussy, until I'm coming, understand?", he clarified as he noticed you squirming under him from the overstimulation. Your clit was swollen and you felt drowsy from Lee Knows assault on your aching cunt.

But his thrusts were also getting sloppy and he thrusted so deep each time that your fingers were already aching, from clawing so hard into the sink.

He looked down as his dick disappeared into your sore pussy and was covered by your juices and with another look in the mirror, your face tensed with pleasure was enough to make him come inside you. You felt him deep inside you painting your walls white and he sunk into you a few more times until he slumped over you, his breathing rattling.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed along your spine, up to your shoulders. As he did, you felt your juices mixing inside you and he sighed softly against your neck.

"Your so perfect for me...", he murmured and you smiled exhaustedly at him over your shoulder.

That's when he leaned down to you and kissed you so hard it made you dizzy. He moved his lips against yours with so much passion and your tongues played in unison that it was in strange contrast to his rough manner.

Now his touches were loving, careful and gentle, bringing butterflies to your stomach.

Before he pulled out of you, he grabbed wipes next to the sink and cleaned you and himself up. Your legs were shaking from the orgasm that had messed up your insides and after he threw the wipes away, he put his clothes back on, turned you to face him and helped you fix your clothes.

“I’m so sorry that I can’t take my time with you… I’ll make that up to you, I promise.”

Then he kissed you again, with both hands on cupping your face, and your body automatically snuggled up to his. He smelled like soothing herbals and woodsy citrus scents that messed with your mind while kissing you intensely.

"We should go back. We've been gone for too long", you moaned into his mouth in between kisses, because he made no move to let go of you. He kissed you like he needed your lips to breathe and as much as you enjoyed being caressed by him, you still had a job to do.

"I can't help it. I'm addicted to you", he said when he finally broke away from you and placed a few more kisses on your neck.

"You go ahead. I'll catch up with you", you said, fixing his hair a little so it looked kind of like it did before.

He gave you one last kiss, from which it was obviously hard for him to break away, and then reluctantly disappeared through the door.

Only then did you dare to breathe and with your heart pounding you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a mess and your makeup was completely smeared. You used the time to put everything back in place and at the same time you couldn't stop grinning.

Tonight would be the first night in the dorm and you had just been fucked by one of the most attractive men at an important photoshoot. It was too surreal to be reality and yet here you were, still able to feel him filling you up.

On the way back, you kept giving each other meaningful looks and smiling like love-struck idiots. That little secret between you was exciting and made the sex even more addictive. Later, when you were getting your things ready in your office to go home for the day, you started to get restless.

Moving into the dorm with the guys was thrilling and you were looking forward to it too. When you were done with everything, you went to the studio and found Chan at his laptop and Seungmin on the couch.

"I'd be ready", you said, and they both nodded.

"Yeah. We're done here for the day too. Let's get out of here!", Chan said and was relieved to see you.

It was a strange feeling going home with the boys and at the same time it felt right. They had become your family by now, after all, you slept with them too.

In the dorm you threw your shoes right off and when you got to your new room you were flooded with happiness. It had turned out really nice.

There was a huge canopy bed, a desk with everything you needed to work, a big closet, a dressing table and much more. Everything was there and the room looked inviting and friendly because of the plants and decorations Hyunjin helped you to choose.

Satisfied, you changed your clothes and in a pair of leggings and a top, you strolled back to the living room where Hyunjin was sitting on the couch on his cell phone.

When he lifted his eyes, he grinned with amusement.

Directly, you stood in front of him with your arms crossed and held out your hand.

"Can I have it back now?"

He took your hand, turned it and kissed the back of it teasingly.

"You're not going to get it back that easily. You'll have to try harder for that."

All right. If he wanted to play like that...

You kept your eyes on him and he looked surprised as you tied your hair up in a ponytail and got down on your knees in front of him. You stroked your fingers slowly over his knee and up his thigh and you could feel his whole body tense at the sight.

You looked him in the eye again, biting your lower lip seductively and stroking the bulge in his pants.

He smiled in anticipation and stroked his fingers down your cheek to your lips, where he pulled your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb and let it rest against your chin.

You leaned forward, enjoying how he was completely absorbed in you. Then you took his index finger and middle finger in your mouth and started sucking on them.

"Shit...", he mumbled aroused and you felt him getting hard under your fingers. Challengingly you let his fingers slide in and out your mouth as you would suck his dick.

"Oh my god...", you heard from the doorway and you both looked to Han who was holding an apple he must have grabbed in the kitchen. You used the moment to stand up, giving Hyunjin one last amused look as he grabbed a pillow to press onto his growing bulge.

Standing before Han, you put your arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek before taking the apple from him, taking a bite, and disappearing into the kitchen.

Han and Hyunjin were left equally perplexed and Hyunjin now gradually realized that this was your sweet revenge.

-

Han dropped down next to Hyunjin and looked at him in confusion.

"What happened?"

"I stole her panties at work today, and this is how she's paying me back."

Han had to laugh and looked down at the pillow he was pressing between his legs.

"She got you heated up so easily and then disappeared?", he laughed, trying to snatch the pillow away from Hyunjin, who was desperately trying to fight off Jisungs hands.

"You'll get hard if she just looks your way!", he snapped at him, and you smiled as you heard their bickering all the way into the kitchen.

That's when Chan joined you and hugged you from behind.

„I missed you", he whispered near your ear and you leaned against him and giggled slightly.

„We have just seen each other."

„I know. It was still too long."

He pressed a kiss on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your body so tightly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

„I live with you now. So I have to see your face every day now", you teased him and wiggled your butt at him. You squirmed in his embrace as he lightly began to pinch your side and tickled you with a warm smile.

Quickly he turned you around and pulled you by the face into an exuberant kiss. You melted into the sweet kiss and pressed your chest tight against his.

„Channie don't eat her up on her first evening at the dorm!", Felix voice appeared next to you and you both looked at him with an amused smile.

„Hey, jagi", he said and you loved the new blonde hair on him that he got today.

„Hey Lixie. You look amazing", you said a bit flustered and the smile he gave you, lightened your mood even more.

„Let's get something to eat!", he decided and an hour later you all gathered in the living room to eat your delivered food.

„Jagi, if you want to stay in my bed for the night, I wouldn't say no", Han teased and Changbin looked at him while shaking his head.

„If so she would definitely want to sleep with me", he said.

„Next to you she would have no place in bed", Seungmin said dryly and made you all laugh.

„Absolutely. Bin, you would crush her while you sleep!", Han laughed at him and he drew his eyebrows together.

„With you, she wouldn't get a second of sleep. Cause you'd try to bang her all night!", he shot back.

Chan tried to hide his smile and Felix head rested in your lap, while you listened to them bickering. While you tried to follow the conversation, you stroked Felix's hair and he had meanwhile closed his eyes, humming delightful.

Hyunjin laughed loudly because of Hans outraged face and Jeongin snorted entertained.

"To be clear: Tonight I sleep in my bed. And all alone!", you declared and ended the discussion with that.

->Part 19

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (closed):

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[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Oh My, Good Lord

Day #25 - Gareth | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC), Background Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Retired Corroded Coffin, TikTok Trends, Who Can You Traumatize If Not Your Friends?

Gareth watches the analytics tick upwards and he's getting concerned. It was meant to be a joke. Now, it's breaking containment. 

Nobody has ID'd him yet, not as far as he knows, but there are lots of comments that mention that he looks familiar. So, it's coming. His tattoos are on full display, so he might as well be showing the world his fingerprints.

They're gonna figure it out. 

And as soon as that happens, it's gonna get picked up by TMZ and then Eddie's gonna know and never shut the fuck up about it.

He should delete it. 

Quit while he's ahead. 

But, Di likes it. Says he looks good, and that she wants to show off her sexy husband. She's the one that put it to that popular sound clip and uploaded it to an account unattached to either of them. Just for fun, and it was fun, at first. Now it's threatening to really go viral and there'll be no escaping identification if that happens.

So, he's standing by. Hoping it'll have its brief moment in the algorithm and then fizzle out.

It's not like it's that racy. He's showing less than he showed every night for decades onstage. But he still feels exposed. The before, the kind of dorky kid that was in Hellfire Club, that's how he feels inside. Not whoever that slicked-back hair guy is.

Gareth's phone buzzes on his desk, and he picks it up, and it's a text from Eddie:

Got something to tell me, kid?

Gareth isn't sure what he's talking about, but then a photo is attached and yep. There it is. A screenshot of his viral video.

This you?

Well, shit.

He hovers in the text box, and he knows Eddie can see that he's dithering. Before he can make a decision, his phone is ringing. He'd just as well face the music now, there'll be no avoiding it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

He's never gonna live this down. No way in hell.

"Shut up," Gareth says by way of greeting, and Eddie just laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"Kid," he finally says, "does Di know you did this?"

"Di filmed it and uploaded it. Yeah, she knows. I was an innocent bystander."

Eddie laughs, "Just wait until Goodie finds out."

Gareth grabs a fistful of his own hair and tugs. Goodie won't ever let it go. Gareth may have to move to another continent to escape him. Eddie will make fun, but it won't be anything on what Goodie'll unleash.

"Do not tell him, Eddie. I swear to god. How'd you even find it in the first place?"

"Steve. It showed up on his for you page, and he yelped like he'd been struck by lightning."

"Do I at least look good?" Gareth asks.

"Uh, well, I had to tell Steve to either mute his phone, put on headphones or, you know, just stop watching it on a loop. One or the other. The music was driving me crazy."

Gareth laughs. He's under no illusions that Steve Harrington actually thinks he's attractive, that's absurd, but there was something mesmerizing about it. That seamless quick cut from one version of him to the other. The stats show that people are looping it, for sure. How, even to himself, it was crazy to watch how he changed how he looked. Like he might not have been the same person at all.

He was, though. Yeah, Di made him up to be extra dorky for the before, but she also did some magic on the after, both in real life and with some sort of filter on top. But both worked together to make him look pretty damn different than he does on a daily basis. He falls somewhere in between the two. Not that goofy, but not that attractive, either.

But, he can almost look like that. It's been a funhouse mirror of a weird thing to realize. 

And now Eddie knows. 

Fuck.

He finds Di in the kitchen, folding towels. 

"Eddie knows."

She looks up, meeting his eyes.

"Eddie knows what?" Di asks, folding another towel and putting it on top of the large stack on the kitchen island as she grabs the next one.

"About the tiktok," he says, and she laughs. Fucking cackles, and he smiles, because if she's that delighted there's no way he can't be, too.

"How'd he find it?" she asks.

"Steve," Gareth answers, "because the universe hates me."

"The universe wouldn't have given you that face if it hated you," she says, leaning forward and squeezing both of his cheeks between her fingers. 

He's old. A dad. Of adults. 

He was in a band, and they retired. That's how old he is. That his band stopped because they were so old they didn't want to be on the road anymore. 

Now he's a tiktok thot. 

The front door opens and slams closed, and Gareth looks up, expecting Eddie. It's not Eddie. He wishes it were Eddie.

Goodie's got his phone up, that seven-second clip of music playing on a loop.

Gareth hangs his head, "How'd you find out?"

"The kids called. Wanted to know when Uncle Gare got hot," Goodie says, "I'm traumatized. Is this a midlife crisis?"

"If it is, it's Di's," Gareth says.

"She did this?!" Goodie hollers, "She's the one that unleashed this evil onto the world?"

"Yep. Keep playing that, you're making me money." 

Goodie pauses, then slumps down onto the couch, the music abruptly cutting off, "Well. If it was Di."

"Oh, when she does it, it's fine? But if I'd done it, that'd be gross?"

"Of course. She did it, and that's funny. If you'd did it, it'd just be sad."

Gareth ignores him. Then has a thought.

"So, Uncle Gare is hot, huh?" Gareth asks, unable to resist poking Goodie just one more time.

"Stop. I beg of you. Those are my children and they both need to find Jesus for saying such things."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Based off this tiktok. It just felt very Gareth-coded to me, and, well, here we are. The fake tiktok video screen in the header is made from a picture from Gwydion's insta where he dressed up like Gareth.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

blurb 7 of blurb night!!!

Steve and Peggy

Tom Wambsgans x Reader

prompt: “dancing with Tom 🥰”

eeeee again I’m sorry I’m so slow with the uploads!!! I promise they’re all coming don’t worry <33 thank you so much for being patient, and thank you anon for requesting!! I love you and I hope you enjoy xxx

Word Count: 688

“Hi, honey.”

Tom’s voice is dripping with affection, with pure love for you. He comes over to where you’re sitting, stooping over to give you a lengthy, sweet kiss hello. Your fingers trail down his arm as he pulls away, turning to put his stuff down.

“How was work?” you ask as you do every day, watching as he shrugs off his blazer.

“Tiring,” he admits. “Maybe it’s time I took a break.”

You hum in agreement. “You should take it easy for the next couple weeks, Tom.” As you speak, he wanders back over to you, kneeling next to your chair. He gazes up at you lovingly, his expression nothing but reverent.

You reach out to touch his face, and he immediately leans into your touch. Your thumb strokes over his eyebrow before your palm moves to cup his cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

You lean towards him and plant a kiss onto his forehead. “I’m perfectly fine.” He gently pries your hand from your cheek and presses a sweet kiss to the palm of your hand before lacing his fingers with yours.

“Does anything hurt? Are you stressed? I hope you’re not exhausting yourself.” His expression never wavers, his features still knitted tightly together with affection. His thumb gently strokes over the divot of your palm, back and forth, Your heart warms as you gaze at him, his concern making you feel all warm and fluffy.

“I’m just tired, Tom.” You lean towards him again and catch his lips with yours for a long, tender kiss. “I just want the work week to end.”

He gets to his feet, his hand still holding yours, and pulls you up with him. You give a half-hearted protest, smiling up at him as he tugs you close to him.

“Come on. Let’s dance,” he urges softly.

“Dance?” you ask, laughter seeping into your voice.

He gets his phone out from his pocket, and without looking up from it, he kisses the back of your hand. “I have an entire playlist.” He presses play and drops his phone onto the chair you were just sitting on, his attention now solely on you.

“Isn’t this the song from Endgame?”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you when his free hand goes to sit on your hip and he begins slowly whirling you around your living room. “It is,” he says simply. “We’re recreating the scene,” he says excitedly, eyes never leaving yours. He’s just so fucking in love with you. If you’d asked him to recreate the movie, he’d blow millions on it. Just to make you happy. Just to see that beautiful fucking smile of yours. The hand of yours not gripping his own is set on his chest.

You slow dance through the room with Tom, unable to wipe the smile from your face. He holds up your intertwined hands, encouraging you into a spin.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs once you’re back in his arms. His thumb strokes soothingly over the bone of your hip as you both sway. You just stare at each other, and you can feel the adoration rolling off of him in waves. You hope your gaze is as loving and tender as his is. As the music continues on, you fall more and more for him. He’s soft, gentle, kind. He’s everything you need, everything you’ll ever want again. He leans in and manages to kiss you, long and hard. “I love you.”

“I love you t-” You cut yourself off with a giddy yelp, his hands suddenly letting go of you and instead hooking his arm under your knees and hoisting you up bridal style. Your fingers scramble for purchase on his shirt, but you’re still grinning ear to ear.

He’s kissing into your hair as he Carrie’s you back to your shared bedroom. He gently sets you on the bed, making sure not to hurt you, and climbs on after you.

His hand goes to cup the back of your neck, his mouth following and lining kissing all up and down your throat.

You’ve never felt more loved.

[tonixe]

☆ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑/𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

n.o.t.e.s - This was floating in my head!!

w.a.r.n - Little NSFW, fluff, and dirty thoughts, Kenny being a total perv

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Kenny x Rapper/Singer!reader

w.c. - 934

☆ Kenny is 18+, so don't try to kick me off.

☆ Reader is also 18+.

Ꮺ SFW Ꮺ

You met Kenny when you were disguised as you were going to a coffee shop in South Park called 'Tweek Bros Coffee' trending on your Instagram page. Due to your concert that was being held there.

He caught your eye, he was an employee working there. He had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes. When he looked at you, it made you blush.

☆ Kenny walked over to your table holding a notepad, "Hey beautiful, what do you want to order?" he asked you holding his notepad and pen.

You blushed immediately at his compliment, "looking down at the menu, your hair covering your cheeks. "I would like a latte and strawberry cheesecake," you said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"That's a good choice," he gave you a wink, and you turned redder by the second, "T-thank you" you smiled, you swore you saw pink glitter all over your cheeks.

You saw some paparazzi trying to find someone, as they were searching for the celebrity that was rumored to be in the area.

You waited, looking at your phone and scrolling through your Instagram feed.

Soon your food was served by the hottie, which got you blushing. The food was good something that suite your sweet tooth, you were with awe with the food.

Soon your mood was ruined by the paparazzi that ambushed the cafe, you didn't want to get caught in the action of them ruining their mood, as you left your balance on the table in cash and a lovely tip for the hot waiter.

Soon the paparazzi figure out where you were, and you started walking faster away from their stupid questions, "Y/N why were you spotted at this cafe in the south park"

"Did you know that south park is a dangerous area"

"Are you visiting a lover" the paparazzi yelled out trying to get you before you got pulled somewhere, your mouth covered before you can even scream.

"Shh!" your eye came to contact with the person who pulled you into what seem to be a storage unit, "H-how did you know?" you said quietly.

"Your smile" he said.

"O-oh" you murmured, after what happened at the cafe you guys seem to hit off.

Kenny would definitely be a supportive boyfriend for you, he would be backstage cheering for you. He would help you with everything.

Kenny would deliver your lunch stop by your record label, and support you all the way. What would only happen would you cuddling with him and your producer just yelling at you to record your music.

☆ He would be always humming some catchy song that you made from listening to it for so long.

He would be your little photographer, when you want to take a picture Kenny would get on his knee to even to take the perfect picture for you.

The first time you take a picture with Kenny and upload it on your Instagram, the comments exploded with some much drama, and comment about you and Kenny.

Even the paparazzi are making the theory of your relationship with him.

Kenny would put you on a pedestal; he kissed your feet, always treating you like a queen.

Kenny would there for you, especially when you're doing a music video that takes most of your energy.

☆ Kenny is going to be your number 1 fan.

Ꮺ NSFW Ꮺ

Kenny is your number 1 fan and your favorite groupie.

Imagine this, After your concert, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him, as he picked you up, heading to your guy's hotel.

Throwing you onto the bed as he stripped himself and you of your clothing, throwing your head back as you moaned out from him fucking you.

As Kenny glittered your neck with hickeys and love bites.

☆ Imagine getting ready for your show, doing your makeup, touching up your outfit, and feeling nervous about performing for hundreds of people. Hearing Kenny entering the dressing room.

Looking at his reflection in your mirror, "You ready for your show," Kenny said, walking toward you and rubbing your shoulder.

"I'm a bit nervous; there are more people," you murmured, looking down before turning your head to Kenny before he lifted your chin, "Want me to make you feel better" he whispered into your ear.

Nodding at him, soon he was in between your legs, as he held your legs up, going to town on you, your moans filling the dressing room. His tongue fucking you, making eye contact with you, you as he gripped your thighs.

Kenny's saliva drooled down his face, making you feel embarrassed, hiding your face in your hands.

"Don't be shy, Y/N. I want to hear you moan."

Kenny couldn't keep his hands off you, especially when you were wearing a revealing outfit or tight for your concert. He loves it when some of your outfits squeeze your body the right way. But it makes him jealous that he's not the only one who gets to see it.

☆ Imagine Kenny having jealous sex with literally ripping your clothes off and fucking you dumb, random babbles coming from your mouth.

While Kenny is just ramming into you, making your breast bounce from his thrust, you look like a porn star, your body sprawled on the bed, as your sweat glistens on your body.

"Who fucking you, Y/N" Kenny yelled as he plunged into you, his breathing slowly becoming heavy.

"You, Kenny, and only you," you moaned, your tongue lolling out.

"-And only me," he groaned, before painting your walls white.

[ram-bam-writes]

The Highlight and The Shadow pt. 1 [Graves x NB Reader]

A/N: This is for the Graves Series I've started working on. Pt.1 is the background, the rest will be more 'interactive', per se. No real posting schedule, just whenever I feel like it. So feel free to ask to be tagged! Dm, request box, or comment/tag will work :>

Summary: Phillip Graves is a lonely man. He had no intention to be. So when his Chief Finance Officer gives him a golden nugget, he runs with the plan. Too excited to question CFO Henley, Phillip rents out part of his house to a snake and music loving college kid. What could happen?

CW: Graves being a desperate baby and Henley (oc, not reader) being a sneaky bastard, no beta we die like soap. [CW's will change as each part is uploaded]

Word Count: 1256 words

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Phillip Graves is a man of many things. He’s a hard worker, he’s a protective boss, and he’s a relaxed soul. He cares deeply for his Shadows and he does everything in his power to keep them safe. He works hard to get after what he wants and never lets things deter him — that’s how he started the PMC in the first place. 

One thing Phillip Graves is not, however, is a family man. 

It wasn’t always like this. He’d had the classic American dream of a partner and a few little Graves running around, maybe a kitten and a puppy to consistently separate. But with his love for his job and his soldiers, it just… didn’t work out.

He’s 41 now, and he can’t imagine putting the stress of a family on top of his work, let alone any potential lovers. He’s tried dating apps, looking for people who have children that lack the other parent. But he couldn’t do that to them. He can’t. At any given moment, he might drop from a bullet to the head.

But he isn’t fond of coming home to an empty house.

Sure, it’s grand. He makes a lot of money from Shadow Co., how could he not invest in a beautiful house? Especially when he can house a few of his Shadows who might be a little more anxious or jittery than normal. But they aren’t consistent. Sometimes it’ll be weeks before he’s coaxed a Shadow through his doors. He doesn’t mean to pressure them. He’s just… lonely. 

One of his Chiefs, specifically his Financial Officer, had figured this little quirk of his out. He decided to drop the restless CEO a little tip.

“Y’know, Graves…” Henley started, eyes glancing over at the CEO with an amused expression. “You could always rent out part of your house.”

Graves stared at his Chief of Finances for a moment, eyes glazing over as he blinks. Then, those bright blue eyes narrowed, and he gave a low look at the man typing away at his computer. 

“Now son, what the hell does that—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. “Miller said you practically threw him into one of the guest rooms last time he so much as exhaled.”

Graves’ jaw would tense, and he’d work his tongue in his mouth. Is he really being that obvious?

“And… theoretically… how would… how would one do that…?” 

The conversation lasted almost two full hours, with Graves’ excitement filling up more and more. He can house a person or two, make Shadow Co. a bit more cash, and be less restless at home. 

The next few days, however, would be spent with Henley desperately trying to ease the Commander’s nerves. No one has applied for the house despite its beauty, and Graves was getting far too anxious. 

He paces around the room, eyes flicking left and right, up and down.

“Hen, what if no one— what if no one takes it? What if I get a tenant that’s just… ungodly annoying?” Graves’ mind was spinning a hundred miles a minute, and Henley was starting to get just as desperate as the commander.

Mostly because he’d like to go back to his job as the Finance Officer. But also to get his Commander to shut the fuck up and be less pushy when the others so much as shiver after a mission. 

“Sir.” Henley’s voice is filled with a comforting kind of exasperation, a lazy grin on his face. “Give it time. I’m sure by tomorrow night, someone will apply. And I’m sure they’ll be just what you need.”

Graves wants to argue, he does. But there’s a look in Henly’s eyes that tells him everything will be okay. It’s the same look that he got from the man last time they needed to scrape up the money for a new Blackhawk. Somehow the man had found enough money to pay for two, and Graves was too scared to ask where he got it from. 

Henley had always been a mystery to him, but he trusted the man with his life. So he takes a breath and nods, giving himself room to slow his mind down.

“Alright… If y’say so…”

——

Ping.

Graves nearly shot out of his chair when not even an hour later, a message had pulled through.

Is this still out for rent…?

Graves couldn’t breathe when he read the message, eyes sparkling perhaps a little too bright.

And, is it pet friendly?

His thumbs worked quickly on the screen, so fast he hit send but nothing went through. He grit his teeth, quickly ripping off his tactical gloves before trying again.

Yes! And, yes, as long as it doesn’t make much of a mess. :)

He exhales slowly, eyes burning into the screen of his phone. He watches the bubbles as the potential tenant — from the looks of the profile a younger individual — continues to text.

And… how are you with snakes…?

The Commander freezes. Snakes? Snakes. Snakes? But he wants this tenant. He wants anyone, damnit.

Is it going to poison me in my sleep?

The teasing route, he decides, is the best way to approach this. He doesn’t want to scare the tenant away.

No.

He sighs in relief.

But it is venomous :> And likes to chew

The Commander wants to be irritated, but he beams something bright. 

Name, species, and a photo. I want to know my hitman.

——

He soon discovers that there is three of them. Two hognose snakes and one corn snake. One arctic morph, one lavender morph, and one opal morph. In that order, he learns their names are Fehttuchini (or Fetta), Tulip, and Tequila (or Tiki), and all three are sweet and loving boys who love to snuggle. 

He also learns that his potential tenant is an artist on the side, being both part-time in college and part-time in work. They’ve promised to not bring trouble, expressing that they have a few close friends that are mostly relaxed. He made them promise to just alert him when people will be over, as well as to not throw any parties. Graves also explained his role in the military, albeit ambiguously for OPSEC purposes. 

Henley took over the paperwork for Graves, stating that the Commander had enough paperwork already from Shadow Co. Graves was too excited to really care who did the paperwork, he’s just excited to have a tenant. 

And within three weeks, he’s got three snakes he’s already decided are his, too, now, and a relatively tame tenant that switches consistently from being shy to bold. And within two months, he’s already got their schedule down, habitually takes care of the snakes, and knows every little quirk to know about his tenant. Even down to being capable of knowing when they needed a home cooked southern meal or a bath and tea when right when they get home.

So sue his lonely ass if he starts to daydream about his tenant at work. And sue Henley for keeping an entertained eye on his boss, a devious little glimmer in his eyes as he listens to his Commander ramble and gush about the sweet tenant.

After all, the CFO was a sneaky little bastard that knew what his Commander needed. And that’s a sweet tenant with a burning temper and three little snakes that just so happen to have the last name of Henley. But Graves doesn’t need to know. Not yet. Not when he’s too excited to check the paperwork. That’s what Henley’s for, right? 

[seosejun]

After months of promising activities only for none of those activities to happen, Sejun made waves with a performance at the 2024 Seoul Waterbomb. He performed four songs: two he released as a solo artist and two from 1V1’s discography. Though his performance was generally received well in the moment, he was subjected to criticism surrounding his position as an idol, his relationship with his label, and his lack of public decorum the minute the first fancam was uploaded.

As per usual, he seems to be operating under the assumption that any news is good news. Fan speculation that he no longer wants to be an idol has only intensified, and his performance seemed to be another attempt at tarnishing his idol image. It’s probably the most successful one so far. He was criticized for not being very family friendly (saying ‘fuck’ every three words) and setting a poor example of how an idol should behave (not showing any remorse for saying ‘fuck’ every three words). A few fans have began to put the onus on C Entertainment to reign him in the way his former company did. A protest truck eventually made its way to the label’s building, where it was towed away less than fifteen minutes later—clearly, a sign that they do not care.

SET LIST

MELODY — The title track of Sejun’s debut mini album, NEW GAME. Released in 2023.

GO BIG OR GO HOME — Originally by 1V1. The promoted b-side to their second mini album, LEVEL II. Released in 2021.

OK — His solo track from 1V1’s disbandment full album GAME OVER! Released in 2022.

GALAXY — A b-side from his second mini album, RNG. Features fellow former 1V1 member KIM CHAN. Released in 2023.

VIRAL MOMENTS

He started off his set with his debut song, MELODY, which he performed in a plastic poncho. He is extremely unserious. The poncho later sold out online.

He did have a hard time taking it off after the song. He held his still-on microphone too close to the plastic, resulting in feedback and his worst aura loss in recent memory.

Some of his song introductions went viral. MELODY, was of course, the poncho. He introduced OK by laughing while saying, “I fucking hate this fucking song” and then putting on a good show anyway.

Prior to the performance of his final song, GALAXY, rumors about Chan making a surprise appearance spread like wildfire. Sejun was in on it too, telling the audience he had “a special guest” he thought “everyone should meet.” After an extremely dramatic pause, he followed it up with, “Nah, I'm just fucking with you guys.”

He was not dancing on that stage. He didn't do a single choreography point from Go Big Or Go Home. It’s like he never even filmed the Galaxy music video.

A YouTube comment under a fancam of his performance went viral for proposing a drinking game with a shot every time he swore. The commenter provided a time stamp for every occurrence, which came out to 84 times. The top response, with more likes than the original comment, simply reads, “alcohol poisoning.”

Between songs, he addressed the music-less allegations head-on for once, saying, “Don't blame my company. They'd fucking love it for me to put out another album. I don’t feel like it.” Common reactions to that included “it’s his job,” “he’s burnt out,” “how can he be burnt out when he doesn’t do anything?” and “maybe we'd be distracted if he took off his shirt.”

1V1 fans in shambles as usual. They thought Chan was going to make a surprise appearance and he didn’t. Sejun went twenty minutes in public without talking about Alex, which might be a personal best. He is not nearly as well-behaved as he was in 1V1.

STYLING

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

[trigger warning: depression, mental health]

ian is heavy.

not enough energy to leave his couch.

everything weighs on him just a little bit too much, but sleep refuses to come easily.

the sun has set when he finds the videos for the first time, his living room painted in soft blues and filling with the muffled hum of a motorcycle. it should be thrilling in theory, the view straight over the handlebars. but ian finds himself being lulled by it - getting lost in it.

the dark road is open before the driver, and so the odometer climbs and climbs and climbs, the hum of the engine rising as the motorcycle peels out under the calm, pretty music. ian watches the numbers go up. watches the streetlights whip by. wonders what it must feel like. to go that fast. to be that free. to feel it all around him.

the video ends and autoplays to the next and he doesn’t even catch that he’s spent a solid half hour at the wheel. it all blends together. the next video is the same. headlights and lane markers. green lights and fast food signs. the driver slowly weaves back and forth and ian’s eyes grow heavy with it, slipping under the hum by the time they reach the stretch of dark, open road.

the next night, he’s back for more.

the night after that too.

a week passes and in the back of his mind he starts to worry that he’ll run out. as if he isn’t already just letting the playlist play on repeat over and over. but the guy uploading them has a routine too, he quickly finds. so there’s always something to fall into - always a road to speed down. 

he’s got no idea how many he watches before the signs the guy passes start to grow familiar, but when they do, it’s got ian’s heart aching in his chest. to be out. to be free. the sign for the auto shop he used to pass whips by, and he opens up the comments section, driven by something he hasn’t felt in a while.

great area, he types. nice quiet spot about ten minutes north. 

because he likes that spot. and he thinks the guy will like that spot. because he’s always driving out. driving away. leaving all the street lamps and other cars to get to the open road. so he’ll like it, ian thinks. he hopes, at least. and it would be nice to see it again after all this time. without having to leave his couch.

but only if the guy sees his comment which he probably won’t. he’s never in there replying or anything. fuck, he barely even says anything in the video descriptions. just the time - always late - always a mystery. ian never would’ve even known he’s nearby now if he hadn’t clocked the auto shop. so…

he puts his head back down, his eyes growing heavier and heavier as the road stretches out before him.

ian is heavy. every part of him, clouding his brain so much that he forgets he even left that comment. until the next video. it starts out at a gas station - the camera following the flow of the guy fueling up - and then when he pulls out onto the road, all the signs that ian recognizes start flying by again.

and when all the lights fade out behind him - when the sky and the road open up - something in ian’s chest does too. because it’s a short ride. ten minutes. north. 

the guy pulls off by the water, the lake almost impossible to see in the dark but ian knows it’s there. his heart knows. his brain, slowly peeking out through the clouds. the guy gets the kickstand down and the view sways as he dismounts and then the video fades to black.

ian wonders if he liked it. the lake. if he found as much peace there as ian used to before-...

he opens up the comments section. feels driven, by the views and the rush and the comfort of being seen. thanks, he types. havent gotten to see in a while. need to make my way out there when im feeling more myself.

he’s not sure he likes seeing his own face in his little comment icon, but he doesn’t have the energy for that right now. at least the guy will know he’s just a dude. and that he’s thankful.

he pulls back out into the video and starts it over, drifting asleep to the passing streetlamps and comforting hum.

when he wakes up, it’s to a notification. from youtube. he didn’t even realize his phone could do that.

and when he opens it, it’s letting him know there’s been a reply to his comment. 

headed back there tonight. tag along if you can get yourself out.

it’s already noon by the time he’s reading it. already halfway through the day. and for one second, ian thinks he’s still sleeping, his foggy brain mixing up a dream for him after passing out to this so much.

he’s not dreaming. 

he’s waking up, in more ways than one, his brain lighting with the suggestion. he’s gotta get out. gotta take this. gotta shower and get himself dressed and take this. exhaustion be damned.

it takes longer than it should but he knew it would. and it doesn’t matter because he gets himself up. gets himself out. gets himself to the gas station he peeled out of last night by proxy. he waits under the flickering street lamp, moths hovering by the light and in his chest. and then he hears it.

the rumble of the motorcycle is louder in person - obviously - even as he hears it bouncing off the buildings from however far away. and as it grows closer, ian wonders for one second if this is stupid. if he’s getting himself in trouble. putting himself at risk. 

but when he sees it, lights catching and glinting off the bike as it pulls into the gas station and stalls right in front of him, he realizes he doesn’t fucking care. at all.

the guy plants his boots on the ground to balance. pulls his sleek black helmet off, the streetlamp stutters over slicked back hair and blue eyes that flick over ian once, before he’s nodding him over.

ian drags himself away from the lamp post. grabs the helmet from him, something warm and interested and alive stirring in his belly. he slips the helmet over his head. lets him adjust it, those eyes all over him in the thin space. and then without a single word, he’s climbing onto the back of the guy’s motorcycle and they’re pulling out of the gas station.

ian could be dreaming, he realizes halfway down the street. he’s probably asleep on his couch right now, the hum underneath him piped in from the hum on the tv. but even if he is, he doesn’t care. because he wraps his arms around the guy’s middle and when they hit the stretch of open road, everything sort of comes together in this overwhelming, beautiful way. 

ian holds on and the sky swallows them up and the lump in his throat is too big to push down, tears welling up in his eyes as his body rejoices - brain rejoices - heart rejoices - open and alive and free. they tear down the dark road, the odometer climbing, climbing, climbing, and ian is so alive that his skin is buzzing with it - brain is buzzing with it - heart is buzzing with it, his grip around the man in front of him tightening as they speed into the triple digits.

ten minutes.

north.

and when they finally pull off onto the side of the road, the lake glistening in the moonlight, ian is off the bike in a heartbeat. he tugs the helmet off his head, eager to take it all in. and when he turns to hand it back, the guy is looking at him with this subtle smile.

“it’s a great spot, man,” he says, voice quiet but thundering in ian’s soul even louder than the motorcycle’s engine. “thanks for showin’ me.”

they walk down to the edge of the lake. linger, the night wrapping around them pleasantly. 

ian takes a deep breath in. refreshes his memory. he’s got no idea when he’ll manage to get out here next, so he’s gotta soak it up for all it’s worth. 

and when he hears the footsteps next to him, he expects an ultimatum. a timeframe. a ‘this was cool and all that but now that i’m done with my charity work, i gotta get a move on.’

he doesn’t get it.

what he gets is a long breath out, the guy making himself comfortable in a spot in the grass. “don’t really got anywhere to be if you don’t.”

it’s nothing. truly. but it hits him hard like they’re still on the back of the bike. like they’re still speeding off. triple digits at a complete standstill.

so ian sits. next to him. “i can hang out for a while,” he murmurs, and he realizes it’s the first thing he’s said out loud in days.

beside him, the guy grins and it’s very subtle. very soft. he turns back to the lake, his tone even more-so. “name’s mickey, by the way… just between you ‘n me...”

the warmth in his belly stirs. “...ian.”

he nods. props his arms up on his knees, appreciating the sights ian’s grown to love. “got any more of these spots, man, you gotta lemme know.”

as if he can read ian like a book. as if he knows, even if he doesn’t, how that stokes something promising in ian’s chest. he probably doesn’t, of course. but that doesn’t make it feel any less powerful.

it’s hope, ian’s pretty sure. 

something to look forward to.

“got a few,” he grins. 

triple digits at a standstill.

[aphrogeneias]

don't go (sharing your devotion) — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did. or, eddie realizes he can't keep being the sole object of his best friend's attention forever and ends up screwing things up.

maybe it was about time.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: friends to lovers, jealousy (on eddie's side, he's not proud of it), light angst, unresolved sexual tension, a little bit of smut (+18), a hint of sub!eddie

author's note: was inspired to upload this to tumblr by @cursedyuta's stellar subby eddie content, and it made me remember i had this hidden. this was supposed to be two-part but i couldn't find the motivation to write any more, i'm sorry about the open ending! maybe it will gain a follow up one day, never say never <3

Eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did.

It stemmed from regret, pure and simple. Regret of not asking you out all the times you were alone with him, of not confessing his feelings, of not making you his when he had the chance. You weren't his, no matter how much he acted like you were.

As far as everyone was concerned, you were Eddie's girl. Being the only girl in The Hellfire Club — until Erica Sinclair's unexpected arrival, that was — and the only girl he was always seen with, it was easy to make that assumption, and neither of you really cared to clear those rumors. Something in his chest swelled with pride anytime someone called you his girlfriend and all you did was roll your eyes, but never tell them they were wrong.

Sometimes he wondered if you knew. You had to know, he wasn't exactly hiding.

His reputation did most of the work to keep guys away from you, but there were a few, brave ones who weren't really intimidated by Eddie "The Freak" Munson — alleged satanist, cult leader and whatever other false atrocity this town was willing to put on his shoulders. Those brave ones, the ones who asked you on dates and dared keep you from spending time with him, suffered with Eddie's relentless, petty teasing and practiced death stares.

Steve Harrington didn't seem easily intimidated by him in the slightest, though.

Eddie had all but scoffed when you told him you'd been going out with the former King of Hawkins High. It wasn’t until he saw the two of you together that reality started to sink in.

He didn't mean for things to get ugly, but the moment realized you were slipping through his fingers was an awakening he didn't think he could handle.

"What was all that about?"

Eddie shrugged, running a hand through his shaggy hair, a little humid from sweat. It was hot that night, even hotter inside the small downstairs bathroom you locked yourself with him in. Outside, the small party the drama club kids were throwing went on, voices and music being muffled by the closed door.

"I just wanted to know what Harrington was doing hanging out with low lives like us. Can't I be curious?" His voice was a bit slurred, no doubt from all the cheap beer he downed before and after Corroded Coffin's gig, fuming as he stared at you from across the room, all tangled with Steve, laughing at his jokes.

You leaned on the tiled wall, crossing your arms. He tried not to let his eyes wander lower, to the way your tits were pushed up in that halter top that left little to the imagination, but his was already running wild. "Do you hear yourself, Eddie? When you speak? Or did all that headbanging finally mess with your brain?"

"I think that would be the drugs, sweetheart."

It was a poor attempt to make you laugh, he knew. You knew it too, because your face remained impassive.

"You were curious, then. That's why you threw a fucking scene? Is that why you acted like an idiot and dragged me along with you, in front of all of those people?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." He mumbled, now unable to meet your eyes. Shame was something Eddie rarely felt, comfortable in his own skin most of the time, no matter what other people thought — but when it came to you, all he wanted to do was shield you from those same judgemental gazes, but instead, he put you right in the way of their scrutiny.

All because he couldn't stand the sight of you flirting with someone else.

"Goddamnit, Eddie! Can't you be serious for once in your life? This isn't the first time you do this shit but this time you went too far."

"I didn't like watching Harrington being all over you, okay? I didn't like knowing he's going to take advantage of you just like he does with all those other girls. Is that what you want to hear?"

He knew he was exaggerating, in fact, he knew nothing about Steve Harrington's intentions towards you, or any of the other girls he was seen around with, but none of that mattered to the ugly, jealous monster roaring in his insides.

Sighing, you close your eyes before looking right into his. "No, Eddie. That's not what I want to hear, but an apology would be nice."

The words "I'm Sorry" were stuck inside his throat, along with those three little words he struggled to say to you, as he watched you leave through the door and lose yourself amongst the crowd.

The day after your fight was spent in his trailer, nursing a bad hangover and a broken heart, both of which were his own fault, and the consequences of his reckless behavior. One of them hurt more than the other.

Eddie was sitting on the old brown couch on the trailer's porch as the sun went down on the horizon, smoking the uptenth cigarette of that cursed day when he saw Steve's burgundy BMW enter the trailer park from afar, and stop right in front of the Mayfield's trailer.

That wasn't unusual, since Steve was often checking up on the Mayfield girl, just as he did with Dustin, as far as Eddie knew. What was different this time was you on his passenger seat, looking as pretty as you did the night before. He stood up as he watched you talk, his heart clenching inside his chest when you exchanged a quick kiss before you both left the car, Steve going into the Mayfield's home and you made your way to the opposite side.

His side.

He could see it from afar, the pain in your eyes. There was rage too, lingering, somewhere in there. Your hips swayed with the determined movements of your feet, and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the mini skirt you were wearing — the black one, his favorite. Not that you knew it was, but every time you wore it, his mind raced with thoughts of what was hidden under that tiny piece of fabric, struggling with the soft flesh of your thick thighs.

For a moment, he thought about how might look like to you, standing shirtless on his porch, a long since extinct cigarette hanging from his fingers, wearing those same old black jeans. He wondered if you could see the dark circles under his eyes, or if his hair looked like the bird's nest it certainly felt like. Eddie felt sick, unworthy of your presence, unworthy of you. He kept wishing you would turn away, back to the golden boy who had apparently won your heart, but suddenly there you were, right in front of him.

"Will you let me in, please? We need to talk."

Not trusting his voice, he nodded, stopping out of the porch and towards the door, where you followed him to. Once you were inside, the silence between you was heavy, oppressive, until you were the one who broke it.

“You know, you can’t keep guys away from me forever.” There was a shy, almost teasing, smile behind your words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He avoided your eyes, tracking back further into the house and in the direction of his room, knowing you would follow him. The angry stomp of your boots behind him was like music to his ears, it made his heart race into his ribcage unlike any heavy beat of bass drums.

At that moment, Eddie couldn't find anything more beautiful than you — standing in the yellow light of his room, eyes set on him, brows and lips set on a hard line, making him want to reach out and run his fingers through them to soothe your expression. You looked like an avenging angel, a goddess come to put him in his place.

There was no one else he'd rather be on his knees for.

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and the worst part is that you keep acting like nothing is happening, like… like you haven’t been doing this for years. Eddie, I’m…”, it weighed on his heart, the way you sighed deeply, stopping yourself mid-sentence, “I’m tired. I’m tired of dancing around whatever is going on here, so you’ll either spit it out and tell me what you want, or I’m gonna walk out of here and go home with Steve, because at least he’s not the one bullshitting me.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie Munson was left speechless.

Ever the wordsmith, he should have had the perfect excuse on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he has nothing. Eddie watched you with dark eyes, burning under your gaze, his mouth sewn shut. With one last look, a bullet through his already wrecked chest, you turned to leave.

"No, no, no!" Panicking as he felt you slipping through his fingers, Eddie finally reached out, running to stand between you and the door, voice rising in a whine, "Don't go with Harrington. Please, I'll do anything you want, just… stay, please?"

You hesitated a little before coming closer, neatly brushing his chest with yours, your perfume making him almost dizzy, making him close his eyes for a moment, taking you in.

"All I want is for you to tell me what you want." You insisted.

Placing his hands on his hips, the same hands that were itching to touch you, and looking up, chuckling with nervousness, he finally confessed, "I want you. Is that good enough for you, huh? Is that what you want to hear?" He caught himself repeating the same words as yesterday, only this time, he meant then. "In fact, you're all I've ever wanted. I want you so bad it's embarrassing, Y/N. It's fucking ruining me."

Eddie was met with silence, but at the same time he looked down to you, you raised your hands to rest them on his chest, spreading heat through the worn out Sabbath shirt he was wearing and into his skin. "Did it kill you to admit that?"

"No, but you are, baby."

"Consider it payback for all the years you wasted being an asshole and not realizing you could have had me this whole time."

Pushing him slightly, taking advantage of How distracted he was by your unexpected — or should they be expected? — words, you maneuvered the both of you until he felt his knees hit the edge of his bed.

"Can I still have you now?"

With a final push from your delicate hands, Eddie landed softly on the bed, lying on his back, his hair falling like a dark halo around his bed. He saw your expression soften as you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, he didn't restrain from touching you, letting his hands slide over the skin of your soft thighs, squeezing them lightly. He could feel the heat of your pussy from under the thin fabric of your panties, making him swallow back a moan. He wanted to grind against you, release a little of the tension rising in his jeans, but he kept still, waiting for your next move.

It felt like a dream, you on top of him, looking like every bit of a wet dream as well. Your hands grabbed his wrists and positioned them above his head as you lowered your face right above his flustered one.

"You see, the thing is… I don't think you deserve to have me right now, Eddie baby. You need to think about what you've done a little more, don't you think?"

A shiver ran down his spine with your words, making his body writhe under you, a wild fire spreading through him, ready to eat him alive — just like you looked like you were about to do.

"See, I'm gonna have to go and find a way to let Steve down gently, and then we're gonna talk, actually talk, about whatever this is," you motioned with your head at the two of you, "okay? No more running, no more hiding."

"No more running, no more hiding." He nodded frantically, repeating your words. Eager to get on your good side again.

"Good." You placed a sweet kiss to his forehead, a stark contrast to the torture you were putting him through. "Was that so hard?"

You had no idea.

[n7punk]

What’s your beef with Spotify?

It's less beef and more just a product I don't like - because that's what Spotify is, a product. They really don't want you to think of it that way, but at the end of the day it's particularly invasive product packaging around the thing you actually want to listen to, and there are dozens of different ways to listen to music. As far as gripes, though, number 1 is that it doesn't really pay its artists for shit and its objectively kind of shitty audio-quality wise (I'm not a snob on this, but depending on your hardware it can be especially crunchy while other things like Youtube sound just fine). Number 2 is how much it spies on you and tracks your data. Number 3 is the ads. Number 4, and the actual reason I will never use it, is that it's the enshittification of media consumption.

I do, actually, have a Spotify account. I used it for all of a day before never logging in again or verifying my email. Spotify forces you to experience music the way it wants you to, with absolutely no benefit aside from cloud syncing cross-platform for your playlists that I don't actually need, and I'm used to the freedom from the dawn of the accessible mp3 era.

Better Kind Of Best Friend is a single. I bought it as part of the entire The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn't album, so it came with the album artwork. I wanted it to have its single artwork - so I changed it. And now, in MusicBee and on my phone, I see the single artwork because it's in the file metadata. Spotify doesn't give you that option. It's a little thing, maybe, except when it isn't, like when a song's cover art is graphic or otherwise upsetting to look at, or just plain doesn't fit it.

Sometimes I don't agree with a song's "official" genre (usually because the entire album classifies the songs one way while they actually span genres). The range of things that are classified as indie rock is insane. Anyway, other times I use the genre more specifically, such as "Dark Pop", which isn't actually a thing but if I played you Dark Pop songs you would understand what I mean. In MusicBee, I can change genres to be whatever I want, which is important for various auto-playlists in filtering.

I also have a custom tag for any sapphic songs that automatically populates my lesbian love auto-playlist as they're defined, and another playlist that automatically adds all music from my custom-defined list of queer artists to the "Gay Life" playlist. When I buy a new Reinaeiry song, it automatically gets added without me having to do anything.

I can't listen to demos or any music that Spotify has lost licensing to on it, which means that if I want a complete playlist with a demo song on it, I have to have all those songs exported anyway, and at that point why am I bothering to split my listening across platforms? Idk if you heard, but Spotify lost licensing to a giant catalogue of Kpop music at one point because one company pulled out, and all those listeners were fucked. I don't have to wait for an artist to upload their shit to Spotify (although right now I am waiting for Reinaeiry to put Too Sweet up for download - pls queen - this is luckily more rare of an occurrence than me seeing "please add this to Spotify" comments is).

I like music I can keep forever, listen to whenever, and do so without ads or paying three figures a year to hear uninterrupted. I'd rather buy one album a month with the Spotify premium money than pay for it. I like creating folder after subfolder worth of an unlimited number of playlists (admittedly idr if Spotify allows this feature. It varies by online listening platforms and I don't bother to track the ones I don't use). I like being able to drag and drop my playlists from MusicBee into iTunes to instantly listen to them on my phone (and thus cross-play isn't a concern for me as long as I remember to synch my phone). I like the feature of being able to instantly and permanently adjust the volume, as well as the beginning and end point, of any single song I chose (super helpful for when certain albums are inexplicably quieter/louder than others or have a stupid incongruous music or dialogue part in them).

If I want to listen to something without actually getting it, then I do it on Youtube, which has a wider music selection with more control. Don't like album art? Find a lyric video upload with a generic nebula background. Weird movie sample at the beginning? Someone might have cut that out in their upload (shoutout to the person who turned DICTATOR into a part 1 and 2 to match the two different mood halves), but otherwise Sponsorblock will skip the non-music segments. The only downside of Youtube versus Spotify is I can't share the playlists without exposing my name, but again I actually create those playlists in MusicBee 99% of the time so I wouldn't be sharing a link anyway.

[lexygabe]

nandi mokena headcanons/rewriting/etc.

(june/11/1999)

gemini sun | taurus moon | scorpio rising

ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si) - 6w5 - so/sp - 793 - Sanguine [Dominant]

general headcanons:

• either ace-het or ace-bi, cis, she/her,

• i think this is canon, but she is a gifted child in the family. she was in top 5 of the class and popular as hell,

• she is that mf of friend group that will always bring up snacks and drinks with yourself,

• her love language is making edits of funny/embarrassing photos of others with music that totally don't match vibe with anything included in edit,

• her tiktok and instagram likes are full of some people talking gibberish and cringe compilations, so if u want to get her joke you at least need to know lore of all of this people and incidents that happened x years ago,

• when we talking about memes, she loves absurdism humor, so when shakes send something to her that he thinks is funny, her face is like: 😐 how are we even related?,

• i also think she is reading the most surreal literature (franz kafka is her beloved),

• skarra pierced her ears for the first time,

• she is very loyal,

• her notes are full of stickers, adhesive gems and drawings. some of things are even written in glitter gel pen,

• her channel is pretty much all things mixed up. there is commentary, there is gaming, there is some art projects and video blogs, everybody can find something for themselfves,

• she goes to film school.

through the series (og tv show, rewriting)

SEASON 1:

• for me, season 1 starts at the time when shakes is 20 years old, so by this logic nandi is 17,

• there is no physical apperance of her, she is just mentioned by (mainly) shakes.

SEASON 2:

• at the beginning of the season her and shakes are talking about the fact that nandi moved to college (they have their little family bonding time),

• in s2e5 (el sound of silencio) spenz calls her to help him and fran, but she just listened to all of this shit and was like: ok bro 🧍🏾‍♀️*disconnects*,

• in s2e13 she tracked down skarra before this big "all stars vs supa strikas match" and interviewed him about this fucked up rivarly that him and shakes have (she saw both of them in tv last night), and why they even decided to have a bet of the pitch where they had great time together in past (like hell, nandi knew that this friendship was homoerotic, holy shit). ofc nandi "as annoying as the little shit she was" (skarra's words, not mine), she didn't take any type of crap from him about this whole situation. after this, she called shakes out on his stupid ass actions, in his apartament, and just left him with: you both are total blockheads. and shakes was like: both? who is both? wtf.

SEASON 3

• in season 3 nandi and shakes have this conversation about what nandi meant, when she literally lit into him in his own apartament before super league final. to which nandi,, replied with: ahh yeah. but this doesn't matter. at least this debt of yours and skarra's was dissolved :D. after, they had honest conversation and disscus about childhood and how this can't be put before good of the team (nandi wanted to argue with this, but then she quickly give up. all the stress that the shakes' finale cost her was enough for her),

• at this season we see more of nandi as a future filmmaker, because she trolls everyone on twitter with uploading this type of videos like fake interviews with celebrities (and with some footballers ;)),

• in college, she met woman from completely other school (remember this. i probably make headcanons for this semi canon character so wink wink) and became friends with her,

SEASONS 4-7:

• all of her story arcs focus on her career and school and on a few other events that will be described by me as i write about other women from strikas universe.

relationships with (disclaimer: i do not include her relarionship with shakes and their mom, bc it was pretty well managed in rookie season. i will probably make another post but about whole mokena's family dynamic):

• skarra: writers rotally fucked up. WASTED POTENTIAL.

their relationship definitely started as: you are my brother's (boy)friend/you are shakes' sister. and then, they became partners in crimes. when shakes, skarra and nandi went to school nandi always pulled out a card titled: don't talk to me like that, or i'm gonna call my brother and my brother's best friend. in othet occasions, skarra went to nandi and asked some stupid questions like: ey, nandi you have ruler to lend 🧍‍♂️?? (,,yo, nandi you want some hotdogs?", ,,nandi, we are going to shopping mall", ,,hey, nandi you have some time to hide a body----?"). why writers of rookie season acted like nandi wouldn't care that much about skarra, like he literally used to call nandi's mom 'auntie' wtf wtf wtf.

• klaus: YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE HER FAV OUT OF SHAKES' TEAMMATES. nandi and klaus definitely have long conversations about shows that they watched, about ships, about premieres. they are just two little nerds with heads full of ideas <33333

• mara: me and @strudelbbg once talked about mara and nandi's possible relation and we decided that mara, when nandi was younger, probably carried her on her back and stuff. tldr mara sees nandi as "little sis 💞💞💞💞",

• others: ?

fashion headcanons

• i think she would wear these "crazy" make-ups like:

(i also think that people, who would be her fans and shakes' fans would create threads on twitter titled: nandi's makeups as team colors of supa strikas rivals')

(and nandi would reblog these posts🥰)

• has 3 pairs of dungarees,

• a lot of fandom t-shirts but not ones designed in "tomboy" way but in "girly" way, shirts with strawberry shortcake, winx club, princess peach from mario, destiny's child members etc.,

• HANDMADE RINGS, BRACELETS, NECKLACES, EARRINGS EVERYTHING,

• she is fan of crocheted clothes (especially sweaters, tank tops, knee socks),

• even tho she is popular, she wears second hand clothing and buys from smaller companies (rich people clothing ugly and she don't want to be one of them),

• wears bralettes as form of a lingerie,

• when she wears dress she NEEDS to have tights under,

• when it comes to shoes she likes: new balance, converses, CROCKS and mary janes but on a small heel.

music headcanons

• definitely had nightcore phase when she was younger,

• hates slow music,

• like i said destiny's child fan, probably likes also avril lavigne and mariah carey, and maybe blackpink.

[dtupdates-archive]

♡—DREAM replied to a post and a comment on Reddit! A transcript of the long comment is under the cut.

"So many people in this thread are just being ridiculous or saying things that are completely factually wrong. Like you are so pessimistic and hate twitter so much that you feel the need to disagree on everything. Like you can hate twitter and still recognize when a twitter take is right or not criticize everything I do on twitter.

Me asking the fandom to not comment about “body doubles” wearing the mask for required promotional content while I’m literally recovering for surgery, because it takes away from the content, is totally ridiculously okay. Especially given the fact I told them that would be the case in the first place, and far less people would comment on it in the first place. I’m not “policing” anyone, I’m asking and explaining why, as I have done tons in the past because it works because my fans respect me and I respect them (very generally lol). People say it all the time when it’s me under the mask that it’s not because of X or Y or Z and sometimes even those reasonings make me a little uncomfortable, especially in times when it is me.

Or speculating that George or Nick or Ken or whoever is under the mask.

People saying stuff about TikTok stats being terrible and that it’s trash content and not because of fans. First of all, no one’s blaming fans for anything, and it wasn’t even about past content it was seeing everyone comment “Ken” (when it’s not even Ken) on my TikTok and me realizing that would be confusing and could impact views, that’s just how I am, I analyze everything.

And anyone saying “TikTok views are trash because trash content” are just morons. My TikTok views are high, and I’ve uploaded more in the past months than I have like times 30 in the past years. Yea I’ve posted shit ones as well, that comes with trying to post more and more frequently. I’ve gained more followers recently than in years. Some of what I’ve uploaded is high effort skit content, others low quality memes or whatever. But I’m uploading what is fun and unique to me and that’s it and you can not watch it if you don’t like it.

For those complaining so much about the mask, literally just step back and realize how ridiculous you’re being?? Of my last 12 TikTok’s, 6 of them featured the mask. a few of them my face, a few of them Minecraft/normal content I’d make. Most the mask ones were just making fun of me wearing it in public lol. I post snaps in the mask, and also not in the mask. For those saying it makes my music impersonal, I’ve promoted on different platforms in the mask and out of the mask, for that reason lots of the UIEUD music video wasn’t in the mask since that was such an emotional piece. For my tour I plan to have plenty of show elements where I’m wearing the mask, and lots of singing and stuff where I’m not. At TwitchCon Paris I was in and out of the mask, at the boxing event I was in and out of the mask, I take fan photos without the mask. Like you’re far over exaggerating, and you’re forgetting I WAS A FACELESS CREATOR, I made 100% of my content without showing my face, AND I said I didn’t plan on showing my face all the time after, said I wouldn’t do face-cam streams, etc. If your complaint is that you’d rather see no person than me in the mask, then you’re just trying to look for something to complain about.

You could say “well now that we’ve seen your face we just realize that we’re missing out on seeing your face in that TikTok or post or whatever and it’s annoying” that’s totally valid, but have you ever thought that maybe you wouldn’t see that post at all if it wasn’t for the mask? I’m fairly confident, but I’m still very conscious of my looks and being judged by hundreds of millions of people makes me double take about putting just anything out on to the internet. “Oh I have a bad hair day, usually wouldn’t record, oh fuck it throw on the mask”

I’m not obligated to make content with my face in it, and I ALWAYS SAID I WASNT GOING TO, but I’ve actually grown a healthier relationship with how I look and the internet, so I do plan on showing myself more than I originally said. That being said, I love the mask, it’s great for me, and it’s always been my brand so get off your high horse about “dreams an idiot everyone hates it!”, when that’s just YOU being parasocial and not even recognizing it. I am enjoying what I’m doing and amplifying things that make me enjoy it, and I like the mask. I don’t owe anyone content of my face, but there will be plenty. I plan on making public appearances showing my face, making TikTok’s showing my face (as I have), posting pictures showing my face (as I have), and lots more. But only when and where I want to, and not because you think it’s stupid to wear the mask, but because I want to.

It’s fine to not like the fact that I wear the mask and express that you’d rather see that TikTok or post as my face, but just try and remember that I was faceless, and hardly planned on posting my face after the face reveal. There was years were I never showed myself, months where I was caught up in everything and showed myself so much, months where I JUST wore the mask, and now we’re slowly moving to a middle ground. Coming to terms with what I enjoy the most and is the best for me overall. Jesus reading this thread was exhausting so many just patently false things out of anger. I get it I haven’t communicated here much with this side, here’s a comment rip me apart"

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 12 - Tell Me The Truth

Chapter summary: Dook spends a day at home.

A/N:

halfway through writing this chapter I realized CDs weren't invented until like 1981 and weren't brought to America until like 1983 but I've been "fuck it we ball no post-upload edits" about this fic since day one so I didn't change it to a cassette. just assume this fic takes place in a universe where everything is the same except the CD was invented 5 years earlier lmao in actual news: we're finally entering an arc of the fic I've been waiting for for literally months. I've been sitting on this exact chapter for months. and after all that time I am still afraid the end of this chapter is gonna seem like I'm jumping the shark w this fic lmao. bear with me! I know what I'm doing! you just gotta trust me 👍 all that said I hope you enjoy the chapter as always! thanks for reading :]

Chapter word count: 2,173

<- Chapter 11 - Chapter 13 ->

Read it on AO3!

It's Sunday.

When Dook wakes up, Beach Bear is already gone. This isn't out of the ordinary by now– Dook knows Beach Bear spends his Sundays at the beach. It's sort of his thing. He could be gone anywhere between a few hours and and all day, honestly. Depends how the waves are, he figures.

Dook has come to take these days for himself. Write some music, clean up the place a bit... He owes Beach Bear at least that much for letting him live here for so long.

After standing in the kitchen idly eating an untoasted bagel, Dook decides that that's good enough to get to work. He turns his attention to the counter, sifting through the pile of notes, receipts, and other stuff they've left there over the week. He tosses what he knows they won't need, and organizes the rest.

As he lifts up a notepad to put it back in its drawer, Dook reveals a CD, still in its case. Scribbled onto the front in Sharpie: "Ballroom Dancing." This is the CD he saw in Beach Bear's car a while ago. He didn't know it ended up here. Beach Bear seemed embarrassed of it at the time, but... Dook eyes the radio next to him.

...But he doesn't have to know, right?

Dook pops the CD out of its case and into the radio's CD player.

The CD whirrs to life, and out comes the sound of Beach Bear. He plucks at his guitar a few times, warming up at first, before beginning to strum a song. He hums along in accompaniment for a while, and then begins to sing the lyrics. Dook recognizes this song– it's by Paul McCartney. But hearing it in Beach Bear's voice is a whole new experience... Though, he is admittedly aware of his infatuation with his voice.

Awareness doesn't stop him from being completely entranced by the recording, though. It's just Beach Bear and his guitar– a far cry from a finished cover– but the smallness of it almost feels more personal. More intimate. Like he's performing just for him.

But eventually, the song ends, and Dook is reminded how he stands in Beach Bear's house without him. Silence falls over the kitchen once more. Left with only his thoughts, Dook can only imagine one thing.

"Beach Bear can sing," he says aloud to himself. How come he was so nervous about this? He's fantastic!

He puts the CD on again, returning to cleaning as he listens. He should bring this up to him when he comes home. He should encourage him to sing in the band! That would solve their singer problem for sure.

Dook's cleaning eventually brings him to Beach Bear's bedroom. He hasn't been in here in some time... not since he slept here. Even then, it was only for a couple hours, and he wasn't conscious for most of it.

He hasn't accustomed to this room fully, even after all this time. Something just feels too intimate about it. Sacred, almost. Maybe he shouldn't clean in here.

Still, Dook finds himself stepping into the room, his feet meeting the plush carpeting.

The silence of the room hangs over him, the air still. The very act of being in here is a disturbance. The posters on the walls watch him. Dook walks over to the desk and runs the tips of his fingers gingerly over the top of a notebook left out there. His hand then comes to rest carefully on the top of the chair parked by the desk.

Old photographs are pasted just above the desk. Some feature Beach Bear himself, where others look like they were taken by him. He spots Queenie in a couple of them. There's a wolf, a dog, a gorilla... Is this the rest of the Wolf Pack?

Beach Bear himself in these images looks different, too. Tougher. Maybe even meaner. Dook remembers the day him and Queenie fought... the way he held her against the wall like that. The way they were both able to hurt each other. Did they learn that back when these photos were taken? How long has he been capable of that?

What would it take for him to do it again?

Dook pulls back from the desk, shaking the thought from his mind. It's not something worth worrying about. Besides, he shouldn't stay in here much longer.

·–—–·

It's been several hours, and the sun has begun to set. Dook has occupied himself with writing a full arrangement of "Ballroom Dancing." They've got a full band, and with Beach Bear singing, it would be something perfect to work on at band practice! He's almost giddy for Beach Bear to come home so he can show him the work he's done.

Almost on cue, Dook hears the door unlock and open. He stands excitedly, ready to meet him at the front of the room.

"Beach Bear!" Dook says enthusiastically. "I'm–"

"We need to talk," Beach Bear says.

Dook's smile fades, a pit beginning to open in his stomach. "Uhm– Sure, about what?" He asks, trying to retain some of the pleasant tone in his voice.

"I was at the beach today," Beach Bear says, "and you'll never guess who I ran into."

"...Uh," Dook's mind begins to race. Should he play dumb? How much does Beach Bear know? He probably knows everything, right? If he doesn't, maybe he can convince him he's done less wrong? No, that's a bad idea. Maybe this isn't even about what he did. He doesn't know it is. He doesn't know anything.

"...Fatz?" Dook offers finally.

"No," Beach Bear says, unamused. "I saw Mini. And we got to talking. She told me some real interesting stuff." His voice drips with barely concealed annoyance.

"O- oh," Dook says meekly, offering no other information.

"Where is that outfit you picked up yesterday, anyway?" Beach Bear asks.

"Uh–" Dook grabs the bag he left at the side of the couch, bringing it over to Beach Bear. He reaches inside, pulling it out just enough for him to show that it's real. "It's here, see? I got it yesterday."

"Okay, where'd you get that from?" Beach Bear continues, relentless. "Because according to her, you didn't spend the money I gave you for a costume, on a costume. What happened to it?"

"I..." Dook stutters a few times. "I have the costume. Are you gonna trust her saying that?"

"Mini's a real jerk sometimes, but she's not a liar, Dook," Beach Bear says. "And right now? I trust her a lot more than I trust you."

Dook feels a knot form in his throat. "I...!" Lying is only going to make this worse. "...I got the costume from Billy Bob and Looney Bird. We made it together."

"Where's my money, Dook?" He asks, relentless.

"I... I don't have it," he admits.

"What did you do with my money, Dook?!" Beach Bear takes a step toward him, towering over him. Dook steps back instinctively. His heart races.

"I- I–" He stammers. "I don't have it. I didn't... I was gonna spend it on the costume. I wanted to spend it on the costume, but I–" He stutters a few more times, unsure how to soften the blow. May as well just come out with it. "W- when you met me that night, and I wasn't doin' so hot, I– I was kinda... reliant, y'know? And I– I don't know what I was thinking that night, I dunno why I went back there. I dunno what's wrong with me. I love spendin' time with you, I've liked all the time we spent together, I just– It– It felt familiar. It was what I used to." The words spill out of him, hasty and messy.

"You... you spent it on booze," Beach Bear says. His voice is low, but his stature doesn't relax even a bit. Then, "You spent all that money on alcohol!?"

"I knew I shouldn't've when I did it!" Dook cries.

"That doesn't make it any better!" Beach Bear shouts.

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"And to find this out from Queenie, I–" He retreats a bit, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this! What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Dook's voice breaks a little. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I– I didn't want you to be upset with me...!"

"I am upset with you!" Beach Bear snaps. "I'm more upset that you thought you could just get away with it! What, that you could just sweep it under the rug? That I wouldn't notice? That it'd just be a funny story later down the line?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I could've done with that money, Dook?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I have had to do since then just to keep the damn house?! I had to go crawling back to my parents again!" He falters for a moment, as if he wasn't planning to tell him that. "I..."

"You–? You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes, I did!" Beach Bear says, just as angry once again. "I had to call them and– and all but beg for the money to keep the house ours! I had to– I had to tell them I was over the being a guy thing! I had to tell them I was wrong and delusional and everything else they wished I was...! Because of you!" Beach Bear pokes him forcefully in the chest. The tip of his claw is sharp.

"Beach Bear–"

"Because I trusted you!" He pokes him again, getting even closer now.

"B- Beach–"

"I liked you, even! I thought you were my friend!" He's practically on top of him now. "And what do you you do but spit in my face?!"

Beach Bear pushes Dook, who stumbles and falls to the floor. He isn't hurt, but he's terrified.

"Is... Is this what you were keeping from me?" Dook asks. "You said you weren't being truthful with me."

"Do not try to turn this around on me," Beach Bear says.

"I'm not tryin' to, I–"

Beach Bear sighs sharply. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe this!" He turns, beginning to pace the distance between Dook and the front door. "Who do you think you are?"

Dook begins to stand again. "B... Beach Bear, I–"

"I can't," Beach Bear says. "I can't be here." He turns for the door once more.

"Beach Bear–?"

Beach Bear opens the front door, leaving the house. Dook scrambles to his feet, chasing after him.

"Beach Bear, wait!" He calls. Beach Bear is already getting into his car. "Wait, please! Don't leave! I'll– I'll leave instead! I'll go! Don't leave, please!"

Beach Bear pulls out of the driveway.

"Beach Bear! Beach Bear! No! Please!" Dook attempts to chase after the car, but it's too fast.

"Beach Bear!" He tries once more. But he's left alone in the street now. "B..." The words die in his throat.

He feels empty. He feels destroyed. This is all his fault.

·–—–·

Dook stares blankly at the papers he left on the coffee table. What he once was so excited over feels embarrassing now. It's been a few hours since Beach Bear left, to where, he has no clue.

He's considered what he should do when he comes back. Apologize profusely was the first idea, obviously. Maybe he could prepare some sort of grand gesture, like making him his favorite meal... but he's got no idea when he'll be back, and it would be a shame to let the food get cold. Maybe he should just leave. But if Beach Bear returned to find Dook gone, that might cause distress all over again. But to do nothing feels like he doesn't care...

The phone rings. Dook springs up to answer it. It's probably Beach Bear, calling to make up with him, right? Maybe chew him out some more, but at least he'll have the chance to apologize again.

Dook picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"What the hell did you do to him?" Queenie snaps.

"Wh– Huh?"

"What did you do?" She repeats.

"I–" He stutters a few times, recounting his memory. "When he got home, we argued. Obviously. Then he left. I haven't– I haven't seen him in a few hours."

"Well, what did you say to him?!" She presses.

"I didn't say anything! I apologized!"

"Well, you must have done something," she insists, "because he's in the hospital!"

Dook freezes. "He's... what?"

"He's in the hospital," Queenie repeats. "I don't know what happened yet, I just got a call now. We're leaving now."

Dook isn't sure what to say. He's in the hospital? What happened? What did he do? This is all his fault.

"Meet us there," Queenie says, and then she hangs up.

Dook holds the phone to his ear a moment longer, still stunned. Then, finally, he puts it back on the receiver. Guess he's going to the hospital.