#Timbre Concerts

[thepermanentrainpress]

Gallery: Be Your Own Pet @ Wise Hall - Vancouver, BC Date: November 18, 2023 Photographed by: Josh Papalia

[dollyyun]

VIDEO CALL ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ you’ve been missing your boyfriend a little too much, yearning him to return to your arms, but you need him more than ever. seeing how desperately you crave him, he offers a solution that eventually leads to the two of you having video sex.

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader GENRE ✧ idol au, soft and sappy in the beginning, fluffs, soft love, loverboy heeseung, little (none) plot, heeseung is in love WARNINGS ✧ reader whines a lot, reader is so fucking needy (i know i am), video call sex, masturbations, fingering, clit stimulation, mild degradation, uses of dildo, orgasms, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, idk what else WORD COUNT✧ 9.4K

A/N ✧ idk how to write a good video call smut (or a good smut in general) but idc bc i HAD to get this out of my system and i enjoyed writing it since i’ve been going insane in oomf’s dm about this weverse live heeseung specifically. oomf told me how i was really down bad for this heeseung and the way he made me so needy for him plsplspls I NEED HIM SO BAD IT ACHES- anyways, this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away. enjoy this light and fun fic :3 or don’t.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST

The thumping of your heart amplifies as soon as his handsome face appears on your phone screen. His hair looks slightly dishevelled, and he is still adorned in the same sweater he was wearing three hours ago when he was doing a Weverse live. God, he looks so good. But a frown slowly pulls at the corners of your lips as you notice a fleeting somnolence in the weight of his hanging eyelids. 

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you affectionately while your heart flutters at the boyish grin on his face, but his raw, husky timbre sends the familiar signals to your throbbing clit that has been yearning for his touch. You squeeze your thighs together, suppressing the arousal that throbs unrelentingly in your bundle of nerves.

“Hi.” You reciprocate shyly with a small smile, your soft voice a mellow to his ears. His eyes darken, narrowing slightly at your bottom lip being tucked in between your teeth, prompting him to stifle a groan while his cock beneath the slacks hardened at the harmless action. Shit, not now. He mentally scolds his own cock. But God, he so badly wants to kiss your lips.

Oblivious to his struggle, you feel the guilt tugging at your heartstrings as you know that he must’ve been asleep before this, considering the timezone he is currently at, whereas it is still early for you to call it a night.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You ask, your eyes turning crestfallen. You never want to be a clingy girlfriend, nor do you want to disappoint Heeseung in any way because you are aware of how much he appreciates you for being incredibly understanding of this aspect of his career, but this time, you couldn’t hold back any longer, needing him more than ever despite video calling him just yesterday.

Heeseung chuckles breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair, the sound being enough to make the butterflies swarm in your tummy. “Nah, you didn’t. I wasn’t even sleeping.” His attempt at reassuring you fails when he tries to stifle a yawn.

“You’re a bad liar.” You remark, eyeing him disapprovingly while the guilt is twisting painfully at your heartstrings. Maybe you shouldn’t have disturbed your boyfriend and allowed him to have some time of his own, considering he had to perform for the tour concert for two constructive days.

But little do you know that there is an entirely different reason why he looks a tad weary — he was jerking off to every deliciously sinful thought of the things he wanted to do to you before he took a nap — but you didn’t need to know that. Besides, despite being in a relationship for three years, the two of you have never once crossed the boundaries of being that level of sensual intimacy. Sure, he had sex with you every so often whenever he wasn’t needed at his line of work, but there has always been this unspoken boundary that the two of you never dared to cross for some reason. Maybe it has to do with you being incredibly shy when it comes to being more upfront about such salacious matters.

“Well, I couldn’t just ignore an incoming call from my gorgeous girl.” Heeseung casts you a smirk, knowing that you get all shy whenever he praises you, to which you always cover up with a rather cutieful scowl in his eyes. His features slowly soften as he seems to examine you, his eyes practically sparkling with a familiar adoration. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You automatically scrunch up your nose, feeling dubious over his ever-flattering compliment. “What are you talking about? I’m only wearing my comfy home clothes.” You say as you look down at your attire. You’re only sporting a hoodie, his hoodie specifically, and elastic waistband shorts that reach way above your thighs. 

“I’m not talking about your clothes, baby. It’s your face. God, if only I get to wake up to this view every day.” You swear you are about to combust from his excessive compliments, and it doesn’t help that he is looking at you as though you are his whole universe. “I mean it when I say you look really beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“You’re being weirdly cheesy, Hee.” You huff, feigning indifference as you try to tame the butterflies swarming in your tummy, and yet you know that your boyfriend loves to shower you with compliments and affections, but this time, something feels different in the way he gazes at you. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He drawls playfully while adjusting to a different position that looks like he is resting his back against the headboard of the bed, one hand placed at the back of his head. “Just looking at your beautiful face is enough to make me feel drunk, and that’s saying a lot about you. My gorgeous girl.”

The warmth in your cheeks travels down to your neck. “Stop it, Hee.” You shoot him another scowl, a pathetic attempt that fails to tame the flutters all over you. 

“Oh, so I can’t compliment my girlfriend now?” He scoffs, his eyebrow raising just slightly before a pout slowly forms on his very kissable lips.

“Don’t pout. It’s not a good look on you at your grown age.” You tease him, breaking the character from your collected facade. You always did like being the one to tease him on rare occasions since he’s the one who does most of the teasing in your relationship.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend insulted me just when I was about to tell her I missed her.” He complains exasperatedly, but you overlook his usual theatrics as his last three words strike a chord deep inside of you. He continues to pout, oblivious to your silence of melancholy. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

“You missed me?” You finally ask quietly after a couple beats of silence, your tone sounding as though you are in disbelief that your own boyfriend, the guy who completely adores you, missed you. But this time, it hits differently and deeper that renders you out of breath for a moment.

Any playful mischief or humour dissipates from his countenance while his features soften. “Of course, I did, and I still do.” He reaffirms softly with a small smile unfurling his lips.

“I’ve missed you too.” You tell him after having to swallow the familiar painful lump in your throat, and you hope that he doesn’t notice the palpable tremor in your voice. You clear your throat, now adjusting yourself to get more comfortable on the sofa and curl at the corner with both your knees pressing to your chest. “So, wanna tell me about your day?”

“Nothing much. The boys and I had takeaway dinner in Jungwon’s room after I ended the Weverse live—“ Heeseung continues while you listen attentively; at least you try to because it’s hard to process his words into your brain when all you can think about is how much you miss him. You hum every once in a while to acknowledge him, your eyes focusing on his animated face, but your vision eventually gets blurry with each blink while your throat feels painfully constricted with the bundle of emotions threatening to implode. 

“The practices before the actual concert were tough, and it sucks how I needed my girl more than ever, but I’m miles apart from her.” Heeseung speaks out his frustration before realising that he is getting too carried away, but in the relationship, he’s the one doing most of the talking, whereas you would listen to him and gives your input politely whenever appropriate. He notices how unusually quiet you have gone and the way tears are welling in your waterline, alarming him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum with your lips pressed thinly together, but there is a discernible crack in your voice. You muster a smile that feels painful, trying to maintain the facade you put up. “I’m glad that the tour went well in the end.”

“Sweetheart… you’re crying.” He points out gently, his eyes soften, and his lips downturn into a frown, watching as the teetering tears in your waterline finally cascade down your cheeks.

“I’m not.” You insist, using the end of your sleeves to wipe away the tears, a futile effort as they keep coming down like a waterfall. You hear him calling your name, but you are too absorbed by the whirlwind of emotions within you. An accidental sob leaves your lips as you still busily wipe the tears away. “I’m not crying.” You insist weakly, lacking the resolve to remain strong in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a hard time at work?” Heeseung asks, fussing like a mother hen as his concern for you amplifies. Throughout the years of your relationship, you rarely ever showed him the vulnerable side of you, so to witness you breaking down hits him in the gut. He can only watch you helplessly on his phone screen as you continue to cry, his heart clenching painfully at the sound of your heartbreaking cries and sobs.

“You gotta let me know what’s wrong, baby. It’s hurting my heart to see you like this. Tell me, please?” He pleads, his fingers on his phone tightening as he feels useless and helpless that he isn’t there by your side to comfort you right now. He decides to wait patiently for you to become coherent again while offering you sweet nothings in a gentle tone.

Finally, you manage to calm yourself down, albeit hiccuping every now and then from going nearly hysterical over your emotions. “Work was fine. Everything’s fine. I just—“ You sniffle as you look away from him, your chest tightening with a familiar emotion. When you muster the courage to look at him again, your eyes turn glossy. “I just missed you. I miss you so much, and I need you.” 

Heeseung can feel his own heart breaking at the way you look at him with raw yet intense yearning. “Sweetheart—”

“I know I shouldn’t be like this when I promised that I’d be your most supportive and understanding girlfriend, but it keeps getting harder to be apart from you.” You finally pour out your pent-up emotions, letting him know earnestly without filtering your words. A hiccup leaves your lips, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to hold back an endearing smile as he finds you quite adorable with your slightly puffy eyes and lips. “You know that I’m happy and proud that you’re thriving in your career, but I can’t lie to you anymore when I say it hurts that you’re not here with me. It hurts to be apart from you constantly.” You close your mouth, realising how absurd you are being before looking down, ashamed of how you are acting on your emotions. “I’m being dramatic, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t ever apologise for speaking out your feelings.” He says sternly, his tone compelling you to look into his eyes, but all you see is how they soften with assurance and reserved affection for you. “We promised each other that we’d be more open and communicate, right?”

You nod your head feebly at his reminder. “It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you by being a clingy girlfriend who needs you by her side every day, and it’d be unrealistic because you’re a K-pop idol.” You mumble, and tears prick in your eyes again as you feel fear-stricken by your worst nightmare. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You could never disappoint me, baby. I don’t care if you want to be clingy with me or need my attention 24/7. You’re my girlfriend. I’d give you anything you want.” His words of assurance do little to allay the worst possible outcome that taunts you in your mind. “Besides, it’s going to take more than that for me to leave you, not that I would, ever.” 

But you remain avoidant with your head turned to the side as you hide your face in your arm, eliciting a soft yet patient sigh from him. “Look at me, baby. Let me take a look at your beautiful face, please.” He pleads softly, his tone mellow; you can’t help but be compelled. When your glossy eyes meet his, he gives you a warm smile, a smile that provides comfort over your distressed mind. “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m not even mad or disappointed.”

This time, you believe him, his assurance putting your frazzled emotions at ease. Seeing how relaxed you are as you lean back against the sofa with your face devoid of any sign of distress, he feels at ease too, knowing that you are no longer in such an intense spiralling of your emotions. “You’re good now?” He asks for confirmation, his tone remaining a soft lull.

“Yeah.” You manage to utter quietly, no longer feeling dubious or embarrassed by the fact that you showed him your raw vulnerability, and instead, you feel closer to him in an unexplainable sense despite him being literally in another country at the moment.

Heeseung seems satisfied by your affirmation. “Let’s focus on you now, yeah? I wanna hear my girl talk about her day.” He says while there is an avid interest in his countenance, rendering you flattered.

You begin to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie subconsciously, hyperaware of his dark, mesmerising eyes being fixated on you in a way that feels intense. “I didn’t do much. Just resting and lazing around since today’s my day off from work.” You tell him, being careful with how you choose your words because he doesn’t need to know the exact truth.

A frown touches his lips. “You didn’t go out? Not even with your friends?” It’s weird because you would usually go out with your friends or do something productive on your off days, not saying that you're unproductive just staying at home. “You must’ve been bored staying at our home all day.”

“No, I wasn’t bored at all.” You counter, and yet you sound weak as the recollection of today plays on your mind while warmth weaves across your every vein. “I was busy with—” You immediately smack your lips shut, nearly revealing the truth to him.

Heeseung is intrigued, really intrigued, because he has never seen you being so meek like you are now. “Busy with?” His question is harmless, a genuine curiosity, but your mind resorts to producing such filth you want him to do with you — the kind of filth you have never done with him, nothing to the usual loving he always did with you.

“Doing stuff.” You mumble, your eyes purposely avoiding his confused ones, probably wondering what part of his question suddenly makes you avoidant, but this time, he can see that you’re flaring with diffidence.

“What kind of stuff?” Heeseung probes, and you know he will remain unrelenting unless you cave into his curiosity. The corner of your lips twitches up when he whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

“The kind of stuff that reminds me of you.” You utter each syllable slowly, but you decide to focus on his prominent Adam’s apple, which is one of your favourite parts of him, and fuck, you can imagine yourself rubbing your clit on it. 

For a moment, Heeseung doesn’t exactly comprehend your words, eliciting an annoyed huff from you, because there is no way your dirty-minded boyfriend does not understand the subtle implication. “Since I’ve been busy missing you too much, I played with the stuff that you bought for me.” You elaborate, your tone being carefully measured, and yet you can feel yourself weakening when a familiar suggestiveness shadows his once-softened features.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice a low rasp, igniting the heat flaring in your lower abdomen. The look in his eyes feels like a silent command as you find yourself slowly parting your legs as they hang over the edge of the sofa. “Did my baby have fun with it?”

You hum as you nod your head, his sultry voice making your clit throb. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” You say softly, but you can feel your breathing getting heavier.

“Of course, it wasn’t. It could never be compared to the real thing.” Heeseung smirks, his dark eyes scanning you intensely. He can see how needy you actually are behind this front of yours, and he knows that it won’t be too soon when you finally reveal to him. “My poor baby has been missing me too much — too much to the point that she’s craving my cock.”

You can physically feel your clit pulsating at his lewd words, and damn it, he’s right, because instantly, you drop all pretence, revealing what you have been keeping at bay. “Missed you so much, Hee.” You whimper, your cunt clenching at the smirk on his handsome face.

“I know, baby. You’re needy for me too, yeah?” He swallows down a groan, seeing the glossy look on your face. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling horny, but you look practically fuckable. This time, he doesn’t bother controlling his primal urges as his cock becomes a prominent bulge against his sweatpants.

You hum in an agreeing whine, the sound going straight into his cock. “Need you so badly, Seungie.” You mewl as you arch your back off the sofa while your hand travels down to your clothed cunt. “I need you and your cock to stuff me full.”

“Tell me more.” He demands, his jaw tightening with tension as he becomes intensely aroused by the sultry look on your face. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Things.” You nearly slur in the way you speak as your head spins at the palpable tension that you can feel even through the screen. You stroke your clothed cunt slowly, your fingers itching to remove your garment just to properly touch yourself. “Many things. The filthy kind.”

“You gotta be specific, sweetheart.” He chuckles lowly, his smirking countenance makes it seem like he’s degrading you, and fuck, you feel more turned on than you did before. It’s even better when throughout your sex life with him, he has never once degraded you in any way. “What sort of filth does my naughty girl want me to do to her?”

A needy whine escapes you, getting unbearably turned on as flashes of obscene scenarios appear in your mind while every inch of your skin feels hot. “Want your tongue on my pussy, lick and eat me out messily till I come, do it over and over again, and make me squirt.” You manage to utter such words without feeling any embarrassment, overshadowed by the pure need of your desire for the man beyond your reach. You let your head fall back to the sofa’s back, your eyelids weighing heavy with the lewd imagination playing in your head. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me with your cock till I break. Want you to use me as your cocksleeve every day. I need you to ruin me, Hee.”

“Fuck, baby.” Heeseung breathes out harshly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back at such lewd words leaving your once sweet-mouth. Never in his life has he ever heard you talking like that. His eyes flicker down at his very prominent bulge, feeling it painfully hard with incessant need before he directs his focus back on you through the screen. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

The thought of pleasing him makes you eager, so you nod your head, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him at your enthusiasm. “I want you to grab the dildo I bought for you, and I want you to strip naked for me before you come back.” He instructs firmly, his dark eyes piercing into the screen as he stares at you, sending shivers through your heated body. “And position your phone where I can see every inch of you clearly, alright?”

You nod your head wordlessly in compliance and quickly toss your phone aside on the sofa before proceeding to rush for your room while the sound of your footsteps through the audio of his phone renders him amused at your obvious eagerness. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung decides to lower his sweatpants just enough for his cock to spring free, and damn, it looks angrier than it did just earlier. He is incredibly turned on that his cock remains hanging high, the ridges and veins protruding as a result of being neglected. He clenches his fist, restraining himself from touching his cock, not until you arrive. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard, feeling quite surreal that this will be his first video call sex with you ever.

“Heeseung?” Your velvety voice prompts him to snap his eyes open before grabbing his phone at the side that he nearly fumbles with from the unbridled excitement. When he looks at his phone screen, he nearly drops it while his heart pumps harder at the lewd sight of your nudity fitting in the frame as you sit politely on the sofa with the pink dildo in your grasp.

Heeseung marvels at your nudity, his eyes hungrily feasting on every inch of your body, and he swears he can feel blood pumping in his cock as it hardens tighter than it did before. He smirks at the lingering diffidence in your countenance, being aware of his effect on you, even just by his mere gaze. He fucking loves it whenever you become shy all because of him.

“You look so damn beautiful, baby.” He is in complete awe, as though this is the first time you bare your nudity to him. Your clit throbs faintly as you observe the raw hunger in his eyes, his eyes roaming around your tits. You flush warmly at the sound of his low groan through the audio as he sees your perky nipples that look delicious enough to be devoured by his untamed mouth. “We’re going to do something new this time. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.” You utter softly, earning you a small smile from him. You had placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you with your abandoned ceramic mug supporting your phone horizontally.

“I want you to put aside your dildo first.” He instructs, and you do so without tearing your gaze off his face. You can practically feel her fluttering in excitement as you observe his eyes trailing down to your closed legs. “Now show me your pretty pussy, baby.”

For a moment, you hesitate as it dawns on you that this is the first time you and your boyfriend will be engaged in this type of foreplay. But the encouragement he offers you with a soft, subtle head nod dispels any lingering doubts and embarrassment from you. You allow every muscle in your body to relax before slowly spreading your legs open, shoving down a needy whine in the back of your throat as the action causes your clit to throb incessantly.

You see the way his nose flares slightly just by the mere sight of your shaved mount, and with a daring spirit, you use your fingers to spread it open, revealing your already glistening folds to him. You feel grateful for how easily you can get wet just by the thought of your hot boyfriend.

“There she is. Fuck, she looks so soaked.” He groans as his cock visibly twitches at the explicit view of your pussy. He quickly recovers, wanting to give your needy pussy some attention as he leans his body slightly forward with interest. A grin smears across his lips, his eyes being solely fixated on your pussy. “Hi, princess. You’ve been missing me too much, haven’t you?”

“Heeseung.” Your humourless tone silently indicates your bafflement upon witnessing your boyfriend speaking and cooing to your pussy as though it is a person, and you can practically feel her preening under his overflowing affection. Yet, you can’t deny that there is something hot about this.

“Shhh. I’m still talking to her, baby.” Heeseung playfully admonishes you without meeting your gaze. He continues to entertain exposed pussy, adoration and lust blending in his eyes. “The dildo did not satisfy you enough, did it? You need my cock to keep you warm and full, nice and deep inside of you that you won’t even wanna let go of me.”

You can’t help but instinctively clench at his words. “Look at you, princess. I can see you clenching. It’s too bad that you are not stuffed with my cock right now.” He remarks in amazement, and yet the mockery belies his adoration is not lost on you as you find it undeniably hot. “You love it when I talk to you like this, hmm? Should I talk to my pretty princess like this once I get back?”

“Hee, please.” You plead, having had enough of his teasing, and you must be insane to even feel bits of jealousy that his attention is on your pussy instead of you, as though your pussy is not a part of you.

Heeseung chuckles softly as he is very much amused by your pouty attitude before deciding to cease his teasing, albeit he was very much serious when he was talking to your pussy. “Touch your clit for me, baby.” He finally directs his words to you, and you comply, the padding of your index and middle fingers now touching your clit that throbs under your own touch. “Now rub it nice and slow. That’s it.”

Your fingers continue to rub your button in a circular motion, nice and slow, just as he said. It does not take you a minute when you begin to feel the familiar sensation in your aroused little button as you continue to stimulate it.

Heeseung observes your reaction carefully, drinking in the pleasure that faintly contorts in your mesmerising features. His own hand goes straight to his neglected cock, hissing lowly as he uses the padding of his thumb to stroke the red slit in a repeated up-and-down motion, imagining how good it would feel if he were there with you to use the tip of his cock to rub your clit instead. 

“Does it feel good?” He asks in a slightly strained voice, already feeling sensitive under his own touch, his thumb continuously rubbing the slit in slow yet hard strokes, delaying the peak of his pleasure to arrive as he wants to see you come undone first.

You hum in response, still maintaining your composure as you are focused on rubbing your clit, but when you flicker your gaze to him, you bite down your lip upon seeing how he is evidently caught in a lustful haze, no doubt that he is touching himself. “But your fingers would feel better on it.” You whine softly.

Your words feed into his ego. “Of course, they would. I can easily make you cum just by rubbing your clit with my fingers, because your clit is so sensitive.” He says smugly with a smirk curling at his lips. “It’s actually so fucking adorable. Wonder how you’ll be once I get my tongue to touch your swollen little button instead.” 

“Fuck, Hee.” You moan softly as you arch to your own touch, your imagination going vividly wild — his tongue caressing and licking your clit relentlessly with such precision. 

“Look at you. Already falling apart.” He finds great delight in teasing you just by his lewd words that affect you more than he expected. “You wanna know what I would do just to your cute clit alone?”

“Tell me, please.” You keen, your fingers now rubbing your clit in fast motion, causing your back to arch off the sofa while you spread your legs even more, disregarding the limit to your flexibility. 

“I would rub it with my thumb, giving it a little tease before I go licking it, swirling my tongue slowly around your swollen clit—” He becomes distracted by the pleasurable sensation as he rubs the slit that is now glistening with his arousal. He recovers with a grunt, refocusing on you, and fuck, you look sinfully divine with your body arching to your touch while your tits are pushed out. “And then, I would suck it like how I suck your nipples, and maybe I’d smack your pussy before making you cum hard, repeating the same actions and overstimulating you just to listen to your cute whines till you cry.”

You’re imagining the delicious description of what he would do to you hard, and your building pleasure intensifies as your fingers stimulate your clit at full tilt. You control the moans spilling from your lips as you look at your phone screen. “I wanna see your cock.” You tell him in a demand, earning an eyebrow raised from him.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” He asks in a playful drawl, his lips curving into a lazy grin as he enjoys how the expression on your face is bordering on such desperation.

“Please let me see your cock, daddy.” The syllable leaves your lips wantonly as you whine, and it feels absurdly natural to utter such a forbidden endearment to refer to your lover as. You catch a glimpse of a fleeting surprise in his face amidst your desperate, lustful haze before it is replaced by something so primal. “I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? You missed daddy’s cock?” Heeseung sounds more than on board with it, practically into it as he gazes at you hungrily while his voice sounds rough at the edges. You whimper out a ‘yes’ with glossy eyes, and that’s all it takes for him to cave into your request as he tilts his phone to the angle where you are greeted by his seven inches. “Look, baby. You got daddy so hard — it’s angry that it’s not inside of my pretty baby’s pussy or mouth right now.”

“S’unfair!” A sob leaves your lips while you pour your pent-up frustration into your fingers as they rub your swollen clit vigorously. “I’m so needy for you, daddy!” Your unabashed moans echo off the walls of your shared apartment with Heeseung, finally letting go of the last thread of your inhibition.

“I know, baby. It’s unfair that I’m not there to give you what you want right now, but daddy will make it up to you soon.” He coos, his features softening with the familiar affection before something dark shadows them, causing his eyes to darken dangerously. “Daddy will stuff you nice and full with his cock soon. I promise you.”

His firm promise is enough to quell the bitterness at the current circumstances that burns indignantly in your heart. You move your hips slightly in tandem to your vigorous fingers, feeling the imminent release that is teetering at the edge while your clit painfully throbs that serves as a warning. “Hee! I feel—"

Heeseung bites back a growl, feeling practically ravenous at the delicious sight of you losing yourself to your own touch as your mouth is partly open, silently moaning with your eyes rolling to the back. “Come for me.” On his command, you let go, your pussy fluttering with the mess of your release as you can feel it sliding down on your skin to your butt.

Heeseung hums lazily, watching you intently as you slump against the sofa while he continues to manipulate his now-wet slit in measured strokes. “Tired already, sweetheart?” He asks mockingly.

Something inside you gets triggered by his mocking, and you refuse to back down from the challenge that he benignly imposes on you. You shoot him a brief glare, defiance burning in your irises that has him smirking. “No.” 

“Good, because we’re not done yet.” His dark chuckles intensify the burning need in you. He looks down at your slick cunt, his tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip. “Finger yourself. Need you to be prepped because I want to see you fucking yourself with that dildo.”

Your fingers feel like they have muscles of their own as they instinctively heed his command, now travelling down to your weeping cunt. Using your middle and ring fingers, you slowly insert them into your hole, cringing at the unfamiliarity of fingering yourself since you are used to Heeseung doing it for you with his long, slender fingers.

Still, you want to appease him, your fingers thrusting in and out steadily, but it just doesn’t feel right. “I missed your fingers in me.” You whine, your lips forming into a pout that you hope he would get the hint that you’re not into this despite the slick of arousal accumulating as it trickles down on your skin.

“Keep going, baby.” He orders sternly, eliciting more whines of protest from you, but he easily tames you with his dark, penetrating eyes, rendering you completely compliant. It baffles you how he looks collected as you can clearly see that he is rubbing the red tip of his cock. “Use your other fingers and spread your pretty pussy. I wanna see it.”

You hold back a whimper before obeying his command, your other fingers aiding your currently occupied fingers by using your index and middle fingers to finally spread your wet folds open, now giving him the raw obscenity of your fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“You’re so soaked, princess.” He comments, his voice a low husk that has your pussy fluttering again. Fuck, he’s so damn attractive in everything he does. “Close your eyes. Imagine that’s my fingers fucking you.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head to the back, your brows pulling together into a soft knit as you try to imagine his fingers fucking you instead of yours, and it’s working as you feel your hips moving in tandem with your fingers.

Heeseung nearly chokes on his saliva, completely mesmerised by the raw sensuality of you as you evidently lose yourself to your own touch. He desperately wants to engrave this moment on his mind, even better if he could record you and save it to his gallery. He stops rubbing his slit, only to begin pumping his cock.

“Look at you. Fucking yourself so desperately, but it isn’t enough, is it?” He sneers, feeling turned on that you seem to like when his words are bordering on mean as you moan in response. “You need daddy’s long fingers deep inside and curl them, fucking you fast and hard till you squirt.”

You fuck yourself harder with your fingers, trying to attain that familiar pleasurable sensation the way you did earlier, but it isn’t enough. “Please! I want your fingers so bad.” You sob out, your eyes seeking him as they plead desperately while the movement of your fingers nearly falters. “I can’t do it. I can’t make myself cum with my fingers alone, daddy.”

Heeseung can’t help but break character just slightly, his concern and affection for you slipping between the cracks. He even loses momentum in pumping his cock that remains hard for you. “But baby, you aren’t properly stretched.” His tone holds the familiar protectiveness.

“I can take it, daddy.” You reassure him after a needy sob leaves you. You look at him with doe-pleading eyes that you know he can’t resist. “Please?”

“Fine. Then take it like a good girl, yeah?” He smirks, resuming to pump his cock at an intensity that has the tip swollen and redder. “Grab that dildo and fuck yourself with it. Don’t forget to keep your legs spread open. Daddy wants to see your pretty pussy taking it.”

You quickly remove your fingers from your hole, eagerly grabbing the pink dildo despite the stickiness of your arousal on your fingers. You position the head of the dildo and align it to your hole before slowly pushing it inside, inch by inch. A gasp leaves your lips at the inevitable stretch of your walls, prompting you to halt halfway.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” His mockery reignites the flame of defiance within you, but his dark eyes feel gradually intimidating, which renders you submissively whiny as you spread your legs further with your back arched. “Come on, baby. You fucked yourself with it earlier, so you can definitely make it fit. How is your cunt going to fit daddy’s cock?”

“I can.” You whimper, tears prickling in your eyes before you muster the courage to continue pushing the dildo into your cunt. The unrelenting stretch elicits more gasps from you, your breathing ragged. “I just need a minute.”

Heeseung is caught in a lustful haze as he zeros in on how your hole takes the dildo, imagining hard at the sensation of your velvety walls being stretched by his girth and eventually enveloping him. With a grunt, he begins to pump himself harder, wanting to test the limit of his endurance in prolonging his orgasm.

Finally, every inch of the dildo is now snuggled in your hole. “There we go. Good girl.” He purrs in satisfaction, making you preen. His dark eyes are heavily fixated on the dildo being stuffed in your dripping cunt. “Now fuck yourself with it. Thrust it into your needy cunt however you want.”

You let out a silent whimper as you begin to pull the dildo, only to push it back in, your walls having to be stretched by the girth, but you know that this is nothing compared to his real cock. You allow your head to rest on the sofa’s back, your chest heaving up and down as you imagine the ridges and veins of his cock grazing against your walls while he fucks you in slow, deep strokes. You moan softly as you increase the tempo of your hand manipulating the dildo into your dripping cunt.

You glance down at your phone screen, only to moan out at the pleasure contorting in his face as he fists his cock with his hand. “I watched some of your concert clips earlier.” You tell him breathlessly as he looks at you with an attractive eyebrow raised. “And you got me so wet, daddy.” You moan again, now reaching for your tits with your other hand, palming and fiddling with your nipples, which intensifies the building pleasure.

“Oh, yeah? Naughty girl.” He teases you, his eyes watching you playing with your tits that he had been dreaming of latching his lips to your suckable nipples. He pumps his angry cock harder, his mind running wild at the scenario — sucking your tits while he fucks you hard with his hips bruisingly snapping into yours. “Which ones are your favourites?” 

“Um—“ Your voice shakes at the instability of having to focus on his question, but the dildo that is fucking into your cunt right now feels good. “Teeth and Future Perfect performances.” You answer in a breathy moan, recalling how you felt when you were watching those clips of him.

You thrust the dildo faster and harder; the squelching sound of your wet cunt reaches your ears while he clenches his jaw at how wet you really are, pissed off that it’s not even his cock that is making you that wet.

“You looked so hot when you were performing those songs, the way you looked angry.” You tell him keenly, practically purring as you recall the intensity in his dark eyes that looked primal when he was performing and how he looked pissed off, making you wetter as you imagine the stuff you want him to do to you. “You should’ve felt how wet I was while I was watching those clips. Got me imagining how you’d fuck me angrily.”

Despite your sultry admission going straight into his hard cock, his eyebrows furrow with a tinge of concern plastered on his face, but he never relents from pumping his cock. “Baby, you know I would never fuck my anger into you.” The reserved softness in his tone elicits a whine of protest from you, needing him to be mean to you instead.

“But it’ll be so hot!” You moan out as you arch your back off the sofa before moving your hips sensually to meet the thrust of your dildo deeper. “I want you to fuck me mean till I’m a sobbing mess. You know you’d want that, daddy.” You purr, your sultry eyes gazing at him with a challenge while his cock twitches angrily at the thought. Fuck yeah, he’d want that. 

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, faltering in his momentum as his head spins at the scenario of him fucking you ruthlessly till you beg for him to stop, till you cry and sob as he overstimulates you with his cock all night. “Yeah? You want daddy to be mean?” He nearly growls out his words while your cunt clenches around the dildo at the sound.

“Want it so much.” You whine needily as you palm your tits harder, getting crazily turned on as you watch him throw his head to the back with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down attractively while sweats trickle down his neck. “Want you to cuff my wrists and choke me while you fuck me hard. Want you to do mean things to me so badly.”

Your needy yet genuine admission has him reeling in the head. He feels like an animal, growling at the salacious thought of you being restrained to the bed while you take everything he gives to you like a good little fucktoy — nothing like the usual lovemaking. He groans huskily at the image of you in tears as you pathetically plead with him to stop despite your sopping cunt meeting his thrusts.

“I’ll do more than that.” He rasps, his tone darkening with promises that cause your clit to throb and your nipples to perk. When you meet his eyes, you whimper at the intensity that reminds you of those concert clips of him. “I promise you, baby, I’ll give you what you want once I come back.” A cruel smirk touches his lips, shocking you at the dark sensuality he emits. “You want me to be fucking mean while I fuck you senselessly? I’ll do just that. I’ll make you scream and cry while you take everything I give to your needy pussy. You’ll get mean Heeseung, alright.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You moan loudly, getting unbearably turned on by his dark promises as you thrust the dildo harder, hurtling yourself to the edge of ecstasy. You abandon your tits, only to stimulate your clit in fast, circular motion.

“We’ll go all night, never stopping till your needy pussy is leaking with my cum, till your pussy can’t fit any more of my cum, but I’ll make you swallow them.” He lets out a guttural moan as he pumps his cock furiously, his eyes rolling to the back at the height of his pleasure. “I’ll fuck you for days, keeping you satisfied and full till you can’t walk. I’ll fucking do it, because it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess.”

“Yes, daddy! Want you to spoil his princess!” You’re not sure if you’re referring to yourself or your pussy, but you are deprived of coherency as you get lost in the dual sensation of your cunt and your clit being manipulated by your own hands. “I’m feeling close, Hee!”

“Don’t you dare come before me.” He warns in a growl, sending pleasurable shivers through you. You obey him, whining and moaning as you try your best to stave off your orgasm that is teetering, yet you are rubbing your clit skilfully fast. “Yeah, baby. Keep rubbing your clit for me like that. Cock feels good, hm?”

You hum in response with tears pricking in your eyes. “But not better than daddy’s cock.” You sob out pathetically, and that has him cooing at you with mockery. “Need daddy’s cock to satisfy my needy pussy.” But in the haze of lust, the familiar sentiments manage to grip you tight as your glossy eyes meet his. “I missed you so much, Hee.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He softens up just slightly, seeing the familiar yearning in your pretty eyes. He clenches his jaw, pouring his pent-up emotions he hasn't conveyed to you just yet into pumping his cock while effectively stroking his thumb on his wet slit. “I’m never letting you go, ever. We’ll fuck every day once I get back, and I’ll breed you till you get pregnant with our kids. Daddy will take such good care of you.”

“Yes, yes! Breed me, daddy!” You keenly moan, your hips stuttering as you imagine he pumps his load into you to the brim, breeding you. 

“I’m gonna buy you a ring, and I’m gonna marry you, tying you to me forever.” He pours out what his heart has been yearning for. Despite the lust fogging his head, he looks at you with an intense yearning from the love he harbours for you, desperation contorting in his features fleetingly. “I’ll make you my wife.”

“Nngh! Hee!” You can feel it coming, your teetering orgasm on the brink of being released against your weakened will while the coil in your tummy threatens to snap at any moment. You fuck the dildo into you even faster, sobbing out. “I can’t hold back! I need to come, please!”

“Daddy will make you beg more too. You sound so fucking pretty when you do.” He groans, and with one last pump, his cock spurts out the white, sticky essence that now soaks his sweatpants. He breathes out harshly at the intensity of his own release before looking back at you, only to smirk at how obedient you are, waiting for his command with tears staining your cheeks, such desperation. “Alright, sweetheart, you can let go anytime for me.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Your moan tangles with your sob, and at once, your orgasm comes crashing down on you violently, leaving your legs trembling while you arch your back, your mouth parting with a silent moan as your cunt gushes out with your sticky release.

“That’s my perfect girl, making a mess all over.” He remarks with an unmistakable affection as he watches you with primal hunger, enjoying how ruined you look just from fucking yourself, but not nearly as ruined as he will make you once he returns.

Your heart flutters at his praise while you remain slumped against the sofa, allowing your limbs to rest as the exertion begins to dawn in every part of your muscles. Eventually, you force yourself to remove the dildo from your cunt slowly, whimpering as you do so as it grazes down against your walls. You eye the dildo that is covered by your sticky release before tossing it aside. You can feel how soaked the cushion is beneath you due to your release, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You take a moment to recover while the sound of your boyfriend’s ragged breathing can be heard through the audio. The silence is familiarly comfortable, neither of you uttering a word to each other as you bask in the afterglow of your session. But some of the words he spoke to you in the midst of your lustful haze resonate deep in you. Your heart begins to pound harder while butterflies return in their wake.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, now being the sweet and gentle boyfriend that you’re in love with. He is still wiping off the excess of his release with tissues off his now-limp cock, but he grimaces at the apparent stain on his grey sweatpants.

“I’m okay.” You tell him reassuringly, your voice coming out small from the excessive whines and moans that bring your face to flush warmly at how wanton you were earlier. You lean forward, grimacing at the aches in your legs and the stickiness in between your thighs before grabbing your phone. Your eyes soften as he gazes at you. “Heeseung, did you mean what you said?” 

You refer to every word he spoke to you, needing assurance and affirmation from him; otherwise, you’d be overthinking at night. “I meant every word, sweetheart.” He says firmly, his tone lacing with promises.

You bite your inner cheek, feeling nervous about what you are about to ask. “Even about making me your wife?” You ask quietly, your eyes scanning his unreadable expression carefully. 

“Especially that.” His declaration sends a wave of emotions to you as your breath goes hitched in your throat. The raw vulnerability and yearning in his eyes are palpable, as though they are the reflection of your own sentiment. “I really feel the same way too, you know?”

Somehow, you have a strong inkling that he is referring to him missing you. You exhale softly before a small yet weak smile touches your lips. “I know, Hee—“

“No, baby, you don’t understand because I’ve been missing you too much, more than you missed me.” He cuts you off, taking you by complete surprise at the sheer desperation and pain that contorts in his handsome features, because you have never seen him being like this — as though the distance is killing him agonisingly on the inside too. “You’re on my mind constantly, even when I was practicing, and all I could think about is going home to you as soon as possible. I needed you, I still do.”

You try to find your voice, wanting to speak out, anything to ease your lover’s pain, but he continues to pour out the pent-up emotions he had been grappling with. “I hate to say it, but it got me thinking if my being an idol is even worth it if it means that I’d have to leave you again and again for tours.”

This time, something inside of you snaps. “Don’t say that, Hee. I never want it to reach a point where you find yourself in a position of choosing between me or your idol job.” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but you can’t allow it to happen, even if it means that you might lose him to his job. Your voice trembles as you speak again, tears welling in your waterline. “You love being an idol, you love your teammates, you love performing in front of your fans, and you must be crazy to think that I’d even allow you to choose me—“

“But I love you more.” Heeseung declares with vehemence while the devastation painting his handsome face tears a sob out of you. “Yes, I love being an idol, but it could never be compared to the weight of my love for you.”

“Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly as tears cascade down your cheeks freely. His declaration of love is all it takes for you to break down.

He watches you helplessly as you attempt to wipe your tears away. “God, I hate it when I’m not there to wipe your tears for you.” He whispers, his heart clenching painfully when your glossy eyes meet him.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hating how you are being overly sensitive and getting too carried away with your emotions. 

“No more apologies from you, baby, because I’m the one who should be apologising to you.” He says softly, yet firmly enough for you to grasp his sincerity.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.” You counter weakly, sniffling. “You’re simply doing your job, and I’m just being a dramatic girlfriend.”

“I did you wrong by leaving your side when you needed me the most.” He says with a rueful smile. “You can expect a lot of apologies from me once I come back home, and a ring too.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, earning you a chuckle from him. “What? You thought I was joking about buying you a ring?” He adorns a boyish grin that you so badly want to kiss him. “I did say that I’d be making you my wife. I’m a man of my words, sweetheart.”

“But it’s still early for us to get married!” You protest despite your heart thumping in agreement to his words. A frown tugs at your lips, determined to make him change his mind as you don’t want him to regret it. “I won’t allow marriage to get in the way of your job. Would your fans even accept the idea of us getting married?”

“Baby, you’re my future and my happiness. If the company wants to kick me out simply for marrying you, then so be it. I can always take over my dad’s business as a source of income. As for my fans, well, they’ll be happy for me — I’m sure they will, at least the real ones will.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it for you to go through such lengths, Hee.” Your lips quiver, feeling dejected. “I don’t want you to throw away your years of hard work because of me. You went through so much just to get where you are now.”

“You are worth it, worth more than you think.” He says reassuringly, his tone sounding firm with conviction, but it does nothing to alleviate the thoughts he can see swirling in your head, eliciting a soft sigh from him. “If you’re still worried about my consideration in quitting my idol job, then I’ll figure things out and find ways so that I won’t have to leave your side again.”

“Promise me that you won’t quit.” You plead, your voice breaking as you feel immensely conflicted, because you can never deny a part of you that yearns for him to choose you. “I don’t want you to have any regrets if you had chosen that path.”

“Baby, I won’t have any regrets when it comes to you—”

“Just promise me, Heeseung.” You implore as your eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Promise me that you won’t quit because of me.” because of love.

Heeseung doesn’t respond as he examines your teary countenance, noticing how desperate you are and knowing that you won’t back down, even if he can feel your heart breaking. He resigns with a sigh. “I promise.” He hopes that he sounds convincing enough, because you are crazy to think that he would never choose you, but only for now, the idea of marriage is pushed to the back of his mind. 

You feel at ease despite your heartache, but you know that this is for the best for him. You sniffle again, earning an adoring grin from him. You avoid his eyes, a sudden diffidence cloaking you while your cheeks flush warmly. “Besides, how else will I be able to watch you perform on stage? I love watching you perform.”

“I know, baby, because I turn you on whenever I perform.” His mischief returns to his demeanour, a smirk unfurling on his lips while desire burns in his gaze. “What did you tell me earlier? Something about how I looked hot while I was performing Future Perfect and Teeth?”

You smile shyly as you nod your head, and God, he feels like he’s in love with you over and over again. “Mmhmm. You looked like you were angry, but I loved it. It got me all hot and bothered.” You tell him bluntly, oblivious to your words that rouse him.

“Fuck, baby, we should stop now.” He groans, repressing the arousal from reaching his cock. “I don’t think I could handle another round.”

“Right, you need sleep.” You say, pouting as you realise that he is supposed to be asleep right now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says reassuringly before his lips curve into a smirk again. “I hope you won’t forget what I promised you earlier, because we’re not done yet.”

“Hurry back, then.” You adorn a sultry smile on your lips, and the sensuality of you elicits a breathy cuss from him. “I expect you to ruin me once you return home, daddy.”

“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll get what you asked for. You’re gonna get it.”

You have never felt as anticipated as you are now, but the reality of him returning to you is in two long days. You let out a silent huff before eyeing your pink dildo. Guess that’ll work and keep you company for the next two days.

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[anjelicawrites]

Paring: Lestat de Lioncourt x reader

Synopsis: sick and tired as you are of Lestat’s treatment you decide to put your situationship on hold, until he comes for you. Inspired by the SDCC trailer.

Warnings: toxic relationship, kissing, p in v sex, blood drinking, biting, choking, clit pinching, edging, violence, butchering of the French language.

A/N: reader is AFAB. They/them pronouns used, but French is a gendered language, which forces me to decline the adjectives as feminine whenever Lestat uses them when referring to reader.

The bustling in the dressing room is doubled by the fact that there’s no space to move; the concert is due to start in no time and you are all still running about, trying to prepare the man of the hour, the rock star the people in the arena are cheering, whose name they’re screaming at the top of their lungs: The Vampire Lestat. The one and only.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

Your current walking, not breathing headache. The undead man you’re trying to ignore with all your might.

You had asked a colleague to do his hair and makeup these last few nights, even though you’re supposed to be his personal stylist, and threw yourself into working with the rest of the band as a revenge for the way he’s been treating you lately; you know you’re on borrowed time, that he’s letting you give him the cold shoulder that, if he truly wanted, you’d be still working on him, whether you liked it or not.

You almost crash in one of the documentary crew people: they swarm everywhere and are always in everyone’s general space, filming and asking questions. You try to lay low, do your job and then hide until the next concert, yet you feel like the journalist, Daniel Molloy, has his eyes trained on you behind his tinted glasses, and you don’t like it: Lestat has a rabid fanbase, if anyone had the inkling he’s fucking you (because to call whatever it is what you two have a ‘relationship’ would be an exaggeration), you’d have no peace.

Lestat has been a menace, more than his usual self, during rehearsal and in his dressing room, unhappy with the various options for the Halloween concert, changing his outfits too many times and now your colleagues are in a hurry to prepare him, hence why you’re here instead on your perch backstage, ready to do touch ups in between songs.

You ignore his stunning eyes as you bend to finish applying the last layer of powder on his forehead and nose.

“Ma choue.”

You can hear is deep voice in your head, almost snapping the small brush in a half in annoyance: he knows you hate it when he calls you ‘my cabbage’, it makes your blood boil that it’s supposed to be a term of endearment; who, in their right mind would call someone at least dear to them ‘cabbage’? Might as well call them ‘lettuce’ or ‘ tomatoes’!

“Tu me manques.” He continues, his face not betraying any emotion, while his hand moves sneakily to caress the inside of your tight; in your head his voice has taken that low timbre of when he’s deep inside of you, fighting his orgasm.

“Would that be all, Mr. De Lioncourt?” You ask, coldly, moving away from his grasp. “You don’t look like you need me.”

Your words echo his when he dismissed you, not longer than a week ago, right before the first day of shooting.

As used as you are to his mercurial moods, that day you were already angry with him, his careless words were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and made you decide to put whatever the two of you have going on (“Still better than Twilight” a voice in your head keeps telling you) on an indefinite hold or, as indefinite as he’ll decide it’s going to be.

Before leaving for the backstage, you let one single thought ring through your mind, positive as you are that he’s listening:

“Fuck you Lestat! The only thing you miss is my blood!”

To everyone else his face betrays no emotion, you’re used to read in between the lines with him and the twitch of his mouth tells you there’s going to be hell to pay: you’ll burn that bridge when you’ll get there, if ever, now it’s your time to be an asshole, and have fun while you’re at it.

You run into the dressing room swearing under your breath: how in the name of all is holy and sacred you forgot one of the foundation sponges here? You didn’t even use it on Lestat!

In a hurry you start rummaging through all the crap and garbage your colleagues and Molloy’s crew have left around: between your crazy work hours and the concerts dates being so close to one another, you don’t have the time to buy a new one and you find yourself hunting for this stupid one that’s finished God only knows where.

“Looking for this, ma choue?”

You turn around too fast, whipping the muscles of your neck painfully to look at Lestat, who has closed, and locked, the door behind his back and is leaning against it, pink sponge in his hand.

You know he’s fresh off the stage after the third encore, the pinkish red of perspiration is staining the dying makeup and collar of his elaborate shirt.

“I should have known you had taken it.” You growl back.

“What should a man do when he’s been ignored?” He says nonchalantly. “You left me with no choices, ma belle.”

Instinctively you start looking for a way out of the small room, knowing all too well there’s only the door, and that he stands on your pathway out of here and towards the safety of your hotel room.

“Perhaps, a man, should ask himself why he’s been ignored.”

You square your shoulders, yet your insecurity is betrayed when you start pinching the inside of your right arm, where he’s first bitten you.

The wound has healed nicely, the scar remains, too small to be truly noticed if not for the constant redness of your picking at the skin there.

You remember when he first drank from you, so many months ago when you still believed the whole ‘Vampire Lestat’ persona was just a stage play; he had looked at you with those eyes, mesmerizing, whose color you couldn’t truly name, making you feel like a lamb would in front of a hungry wolf, right before gently grabbing your uncovered arm to bite the delicate skin and drink enough blood to make you feel dizzy on your feet.

“And what did a man do?” He asks, advancing like the predator he is, as if he owns the room hell! The entire building.

You try to stand your ground, shoulders squared, legs firmly planted on the floor: the bridge is here, you might as well go down swinging.

“Oh, I don’t know, treat me like a blood bag and demean me in front of the cameras?”

Two days before your personal bombshell, he had complimented the taste of your blood, and responded a second too late, when you had bluntly asked if he looked at you like he would a steak, then the whole ‘Do I look like I need you?’ incident had happened: the proverbial icing on the cake.

To be absolutely clear, you don’t expect anything from him that is not great sex (narcissist or not, he knows how to show you a good time and not having to breathe to live helps when you’re going down someone) and a bit of consideration.

“Oh, that.” He stands in front of you, impossibly tall, cutting off any escape route. “Would you like me to apologize publicly? Perhaps in front of the crowd tomorrow?” He mocks you.

And you fall for it: hook, line and sinker.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You growl, invading his personal space, as if you’d ever pose a threat for him.

In a second you find yourself against the wall, arms stretched over your head, your work bag on the floor.

“What would you do, ma choue, how would you stop me?”

You’re so angry you’d kill him with your mind, if only you could!

Uselessly you try to kick him, squirming in his light hold, until he’s plastered against you with your legs around his trim hips.

“Let me go, now!”

That wins you a laugh, a low rumble against your chest: he knows that you know that he loves when you fight back, that your fascination with him doesn’t stop your fiery spirit to burn bright, like a light in the darkness.

“Why would I do such a thing?” His lips leave butterfly kisses all over your pulse point. “After scheming to have you here. That would be most stupid, wouldn’t it?”

Slowly, seductively, his hips grind against yours, his erection already pushing against your core, almost forcing a wail of need from your lips: even angry you missed the liquid need pooling in your belly as soon as your bodies are near, how his touch would ignite your desire and burn any reasoning to keep him away.

“I hate you so much!” And you both know is a lie.

“Then why can I smell how ready you are for me, ma petite?”

You let your head slam against the wall, baring your neck to his fangs, now tracing a path of goosebumps leading to your collarbone and heaving breasts.

You squirm against him, not trying to evade him, but because you need him desperately: you want to tear his clothes off his body and fuck your rage and pent up desire until you are both spent on the filthy carpet of the dressing room.

The words almost leave your mouth, when knocking on the door, followed by the voice of your fellow make up artist stops you, and him.

“Are you coming or not?” She asks from the corridor. “I need to shower! Come on!”

“I’m on my way!” You shout back, your desire retreating as your brain reminds you of the way he’s been treating you.

Lestat eyes you with a smirk on his lips; for a moment you think he’ll not let you go and blow your illicit relationship for the whole crew to see. His eyes seem to shine as he stares into yours, searching, searching as you wonder, again, what color they truly are.

“Saved by the bell.” He murmurs in your ear, letting your shaky legs off from around his hips. “Off you go, ma petite lapinou. You’re not going to be as lucky the next time.”

You’re still trembling as you grab your bag and rush to your friend, cursing yourself for being so weak in your resolve.

As per your contract you, and the other two make up artists, are supposed to share the hotel room to kill the costs for the whole production; the rest of the crew does the same, while the actual band members have rooms for their own, usually in a better hotel than the one chosen for you all.

The wandering life you have all chosen has changed those plans: in fact you have the hotel room all for yourself, since one colleague is in a committed relationship with one of the sound technicians (they always crash together), the other is in a situationship with a girl from Molloy’s crew; the relationship is even more toxic than whatever you have going on with Lestat, yet the two always bunk down together.

You don’t mind having all the space, and the bathroom for yourself: you love the quiet after a concert and before you are all on the road again.

You exit the bathroom, your skin still warm after the shower. You hear the TV on in the background, not giving it much attention: it’s just white noise to keep you company as you dry your hair and decide what to wear to go out with some colleagues.

“Now, what is this?”

You screech in surprise and almost slip on your ass.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why are you here?! I’m naked!”

Lestat looks at you from the armchair where he’s sitting, long legs encased in skin fitting leather and a white shirt half unbuttoned to showcase the hard planes of his chest you’re trying very hard not to ogle.

“You haven’t answered my question, ma petite lapinou.”

He’s holding your Taylor Swift pink T shirt, showing it to you with a frown on his brow.

Him and Taylor, better, the respective fan bases have this crusade going on, sniping at each other: the swifties being absolutely rabid whenever one of Lestat’s songs is higher in the charts or his tours sold out faster than hers. Taylor has published another remastering of her latest album and Lestat responded with new songs that beaten her to the top: it’s an ongoing messy feud and Lestat loves throwing jabs at her and her fans in his interviews. Thank God he has no control over his X and Instagram accounts.

All of this considered, you bought it before your fallout with him, as a prank: you thought about appearing in his hotel room clad only in that to see how he would react, and reap the benefits. You deciding to withdrew from the ‘relationship’ killed that idea; you have been using it to sleep.

“It’s a T shirt.” You answer.

“That I can see.” He says reigning in his annoyance at your pretend ignorance. “I have never pegged you as a fan of mademoiselle Swift.”

“With the things you don’t know about me, you could build a ladder from here to the moon.” You shrug your shoulders, hoping he’s not snooping in your mind right now.

He throws the T shirt in the general direction of the bed and spreads his legs even more, the outline of his bulge clear against the tight fitting leather.

“Going somewhere, ma petite?”

His voice is a low rumble that goes straight to your core.

“Yeah.” You feign indifference. “Out with some people, have fun. I have decided I’m going to play drunk trick or treat.”

He’s not wearing any makeup now, he looks like a carved marble statue come to life, yet you can see curiosity etched on his beautiful, alien features.

“I am not, comment tu le dis, privy to this particular brand of trick or treating.”

You tighten the towel around your head, you’re going to need it.

“It’s pretty simple, actually. I go out, get drunk and fuck the first person I meet. Having an orgasm, finally, is going to be my treat. It has been too long.”

In a heartbeat you find yourself slammed against the wall. You should be used to his inhuman speed, yet he’s managed to knock the breath out of your lungs again.

Your ears are ringing, the towel having done a poor job at shielding your head from a hard knock against the wall: one of these days you’ll get a concussion. How fucked up is it that you’re accepting your fate so calmly?

Your vision swims as your eyes try to focus on his face, now contorted in rage: Take that asshole, you think.

“Who would be the lucky candidate, ma petite?” He growls, his hand finding home around your throat. “Perhaps one of Molloy’s subordinates? Or one of the sad men drinking themselves in an early grave in the hotel lobby?”

“Anyone would do.” You spat back, despite the pressure of his hand. “You wouldn’t know how to find my clit with two hands, a flashlight and a neon sign pointing at it!”

For a second his hold is too tight, cutting off your air supply completely: is this how you die?

The thought flies out of your head when you find yourself on the bed, coughing and trying to absorb as much air as your poor lungs can manage, Lestat between your splayed legs: you have gotten to him, to his pride and possessiveness. Revenge tastes so sweet, knowing you can slither under his skin the same way he does with you.

“Ouch!” You whine when he strips you of the towels, uncaring of the cotton burning your skin.

“Two hands, a flashlight and a neon sign, is that what you said ma belle pute?”

You try to push him away, fruitlessly: he’s far too heavy and strong for you, even if he were a human man, yet you trash under him and try to go for his eyes, like a cat, until two of his long fingers pinch your clit cruelly.

You cry out in pain, arching under him in the vain attempt to escape your punishment.

“I hate you so fucking much! I wish I could put a stake through your heart and see you die!”

He doesn’t move for a second; he truly seems a marble statue, Bernini’s masterpiece, betrayed by the shining of his eyes.

You scream when his fangs pierce the delicate skin of your neck, and his cock slams into you.

The pleasure is a wave that engulfs you and your senses. You don’t know where you are, who you are, you’re only feeling his heart beating to the rhythm of yours as his hips meet yours, again and again, fast and hungry in the desperate pursuit of his own end.

You can’t plant your feet on the mattress, too taken by the impossible high you’re experiencing, all of your senses drunk on him and on the pleasure burning through you, the tight band in your belly snapping, forcing another scream from your lips.

You whine when his fangs leave your neck.

Through the roaring of your own blood in your ears, you can ear his moans of pleasure when the pain of your nails in his back finally register in his brain. Through hooded eyes you look at his beautiful face, now marred by the red of your blood, his pupils so enlarged you can’t see the color of the iris.

He’s still hard inside of you, not pounding away anymore his hips have taken a sensual, slow rhythm, meant to savor the warmth your body provides.

He kisses you when you try to say his name, your taste, metallic and heady in your mouth, pushes you into a frenzy he doesn’t let you follow, forcing you to go slow and feel the way he owns your body.

You arch your spine when he starts kissing your neck and chest, unhurried and possessive, his cockhead finding your G spot to bully it again, to feel your walls clamp again around his erection, too slow to throw you into the throes of another orgasm but enough to keep you on the razor’s edge, your moans and keens music to his ears.

You buck under his weight when his skilled fingers find your center again, massaging your bud with slow, deliberate motions.

“Two hands.” He groans after a vicious push. “A flashlight and a neon sign, n'est-ce pas? Then why are you moaning, ma belle?”

You grab his arms, needy and desperate for the end he’s denying you, embarrassed by the squelching sounds your cunt makes around his cock.

“Anyone would do.” He spats in your face, pinching your clit cruelly, to enjoy your whines of pain and how your body squirms under his.

You want to beg for mercy, scream how sorry you are but his devious fingers have rendered you speechless and thoughtless, mad for an orgasm he’s denying you with a cruel smile.

His forehead meets yours, now that the pace is slow. He’s switched to French without truly realizing what he’s doing, too lost in feeling your muscles clench and massage his cock: he’s missed your body, something you must never know.

His tongue finds the bites on your neck, licking lazily at the blood still spilling as his hips pick up the pace again, grinding cruelly against your puffy clit, drunken words of appreciation fall from his lips when your cunt wounds so tightly around his cock, forcing him in deeper and deeper, the fullness blanking your mind to his words and to the world around you.

You shatter like crystal again, forcing him over the edge as well, your combined screams of pleasure reverberating against the cheap walls, his breaking the table lamp on the desk.

Your cunt milks him of all he can give and robs him of his strength; it’s a miracle he manages to pull out and fall by your side, unfocused eyes trained on the chipped ceiling.

You hear him stretch luxuriously next to you as you try to find the strength to go to the bathroom and deal with the mess of blood and semen he’s left on your body.

Your legs wobble when you stand and the room spins as you bend to retrieve your Taylor Swift T shirt fallen on the floor, after your ‘activities’; you hear him say something in French, his voice a low purr and you can feel his eyes trained on your naked arse.

“Shall I remind you I have taken Spanish in high school?” You say, wobbling to the bathroom as you feel his come slide down your legs, ignoring how he grabs his shirt to wipe the excess of blood on his face.

When you come back he’s still laying in bed, smoking, arms spread on the headboard as if he owns the place.

“This place is horrible.” He says, as if you had chosen it yourself. “Sincèrement affreux."

“Your tour manager picks the place for us, which means that you did.” You retort, sliding in bed to put your head on his naked shoulder. “This one isn’t so bad. The clown themed one was worse.”

“Clown themed?”

He wants to know more, but you’re already asleep, out like a light; he can hear the whooshing of your blood through your veins, now that your heartbeat has calmed into your usual tattoo.

Without waking you up, he kills his smoke and tries to make himself comfortable on the lumpy mattress: perhaps that’s why you have been in such a bad mood lately. He will look into it as soon as he wakes up from his slumber: he’s going to be famished and his tour managed looks delicious.

[elryuse]

Fuck It, You're Ours Now

Yandere Bae & Lily X Male Reader

I was a mere speck in the cosmic expanse that was K-pop, a solitary planet adrift in a galaxy of stars. Then came Bae and Lily, twin suns igniting my celestial existence. Their performances were a supernova, a cataclysmic event that consumed me entirely.

Their Seoul concert was the Big Bang that created my universe. As the stage transformed into a cosmic canvas, their eyes, twin black holes, pulled me inexorably into their orbit. In that moment, I became a satellite, forever bound to their gravitational pull.

After that night, I became a cosmic stalker, charting their every move with obsessive precision. Their concerts, their public appearances, became my pilgrimage, a desperate attempt to satiate the insatiable hunger they had ignited within me. I studied their laughter, memorized the timbre of their voices, and their smiles were the constellations by which I navigated my nights. I was a ghost in their world, a silent specter haunting their dreams.

Unbeknownst to me, I was far from invisible. Backstage, in the twilight zone of their dressing room, Bae and Lily whispered about me, their voices a cosmic symphony of desire. Their eyes, twin quasars, held galaxies of obsession as they dissected my every reaction, my body language a map they were desperate to explore.

“He watches us with such hunger,” Bae breathed, her voice a nebula of longing, a cosmic ache.

Lily, her eyes twin black holes, replied, “He is ours,” her voice a low, possessive growl.

I was their black hole, a cosmic anomaly that consumed them entirely. With each concert, their desire for me grew, a supernova of obsession building within them, a force of nature that threatened to consume them both. They began to anticipate my presence with a desperation that bordered on madness, dressing to impress, hoping to ensnare me in their gravitational field.

One night, after a performance that shook the very foundations of reality, I found myself backstage, pulled by an invisible force, a cosmic tether that bound me to them. The dressing room door creaked open, revealing two goddesses, their cuteness amplified a thousandfold by the soft backstage lights.

“You,” Bae breathed, her voice a cosmic whisper, filled with a desperation that chilled me to the core.

Lily's eyes were twin black holes, sucking me in with an intensity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. “Ours,” she corrected, her voice a low, possessive growl.

The room contracted into a singularity, the outside world a distant memory. I was trapped in their event horizon, a cosmic prisoner in their celestial cage.

“You’re cuter than we imagined,” Bae purred, her voice a velvet caress, laced with a hint of madness.

Lily stepped closer, her hand a comet brushing mine, her touch sending shivers down my spine. “Ours,” she repeated, her voice a low, insistent demand.

The room crackled with static electricity, a supernova about to erupt. Desire, a black hole of its own, consumed me, a cosmic tempest raging within me.

“You’re both incredibly cute,” I managed, my voice a distant echo, a feeble attempt to assert my own reality.

Bae's lips curved into a cosmic smile, but her eyes held a predatory glint. “Ours,” she corrected again, her voice a low, menacing growl.

Lily moved closer, her eyes twin pulsars, boring into my soul. “Closer,” she demanded, her voice a hypnotic command.

I hesitated, a cosmic battle raging within me. Fear, excitement, and an undeniable pull warred for dominance.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bae assured me, her voice a soothing nebula, but her eyes held a predatory gleam.

With trembling hands, I reached out and touched Lily’s face. Her skin was like stardust, warm and inviting, but her eyes held a possessive fire.

“You’re so cute,” I whispered, a satellite lost in her orbit, but my voice held a tremor of fear.

Lily’s eyes flashed triumph, but there was a darkness lurking within them, a cosmic void that terrified me. “Ours,” she repeated, her voice a final, irrevocable claim.

Before I could react, Bae’s lips met mine. Her kiss was a supernova, consuming me in a celestial explosion, but there was a desperation in her kiss, a hunger that went beyond mere desire. I responded instinctively, lost in the cosmic dance, but a cold dread crept into my heart.

Lily’s kiss followed, deeper, more demanding. Her tongue explored my mouth with a cosmic hunger, but there was a possessiveness in her kiss, a mark of ownership that chilled me to the bone.

We kissed for what felt like eternity, our bodies entangled in a cosmic embrace, but a growing sense of entrapment consumed me. When we finally broke apart, we were breathless, our eyes locked in a gravitational pull, but the darkness in their eyes had deepened.

“Ours,” Bae whispered, her voice a possessive echo, filled with a chilling intensity.

“Forever,” Lily added, her voice a deadly serious cosmic promise, but her eyes held a promise of something far more sinister.

I looked into their eyes, galaxies of obsession and possessiveness swirling within them, but there was a darkness at the core, a cosmic void that terrified me. I knew in that moment that my life would never be the same. I was a planet captured by two black holes, and I was theirs to consume, to possess, and ultimately, to destroy.

Time warped into a surreal dimension. Days bled into nights, and reality blurred at the edges. Bae, Lily, and I existed in a secret universe, a hidden constellation amidst the glittering chaos of our public lives. Our rendezvous were clandestine, stolen moments in ordinary places - a cozy café, a dimly lit restaurant, any space that offered a semblance of privacy.

These were our sanctuaries, our cosmic refuges. We’d slip into these worlds, shedding our public personas like discarded skins. In these moments, we were raw, vulnerable, and utterly consumed by each other. Their eyes, twin black holes, held galaxies of obsession, a cosmic hunger that never seemed to satiate.

Their touch was an electric current, a shock to my system that both terrified and exhilarated me. Their kisses were supernovae, consuming me in a celestial inferno. And yet, amidst the passion and the obsession, there was a fragile tenderness, a vulnerability that surprised me. They would confess their deepest fears, their wildest dreams, their darkest secrets.

"I can’t stop thinking about you," Bae would whisper, her voice a trembling nebula. Her eyes, usually filled with a predatory glint, would soften, revealing a vulnerability that was both heartbreaking and intoxicating.

Lily would nod, her eyes filled with a silent storm of emotion. "Every moment without you is an eternity," she would say, her voice a low, mournful melody.

My heart would ache with a bittersweet longing. I loved them both, a love that was as vast and complex as the universe itself. But their obsession, their possessive nature, cast a long shadow over our paradise.

Our nights were a continuation of our days, a descent into a world of shadows and desires. In the hushed intimacy of our shared spaces, our inhibitions melted away, revealing the depths of our obsession. We were a cosmic triangle, a dangerous and intoxicating equation.

Their bodies were constellations I longed to explore, maps I was eager to memorize. And yet, amidst the physical ecstasy, there was a growing sense of unease. The lines between love, obsession, and possession were blurring, and I was losing my grip on reality.

One night, as we lay entwined, the weight of our secret world pressed down upon me. I looked at them, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the nightlight. They were beautiful, terrifying, and utterly consuming.

“I love you both,” I whispered, my voice a mere echo in the vastness of our shared universe.

Their eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and vulnerability crossing their faces. And then, as if in unison, they leaned in, their lips meeting mine in a passionate, possessive kiss.

In that moment, I was lost, a planet adrift in a sea of desire, fear, and obsession. Our love was a cosmic anomaly, a beautiful and terrifying force that threatened to consume us all.

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura Manga Vol 6 Animate Bonus SS

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! Author: Satoru Yamaguchi Source: Manga Vol 6 Bonus (Animate) Synopsis: Katarina stumbles upon Alan practicing piano before class. Translation: maboroshi-no

Translation below ⮟

At an hour when it was still too early to go to class, I, Katarina Claes, was idly walking the academy's hallways when I heard a piano performance. When I headed there, lured by the beautiful timbre, a silver-haired, blue-eyed prince was playing piano alone.

Katarina: Prince Alan, are you practicing?

When I spoke to him, Alan stopped his performance and turned his eyes to me.

Alan: Yes. I have a concert soon.

He said this, then…

Alan: By the way, what are you doing?

…He asked me.

I woke up early because I was hungry and decided to farm since I was already awake. And here I am. 

When I honestly said this, Alan burst out laughing.

Alan: You woke up early because you were hungry, so you farmed?! Are you a kid? A granny? Which is it?

He said this and burst out laughing. As usual, Alan was quick to laugh. In my opinion, it was his innocent smile that never changed since the old days that was childish.

Katarina: By the way, Prince Alan, did you also compose the pieces that will be played during this concert?

When I asked Alan this after his laughter calmed down,

Alan: Yes, I did.

That's what he said. So Alan, overflowing with musical talent, could also compose music.

Katarina: Wow, you're amazing. Could it be that you can also play a piece you only heard once?

When I casually said this,

Alan: Yes, I can.

He said this without hesitation.

Katarina: Eh?! Really?

I never expected him to be able to do such an amazing thing. As I was surprised to learn this, Alan said this a little bashfully.

Alan: Just sing something. I'll play it.

He said this.

Katarina: Really? Then…

I was thinking of singing a piece that was often played among nobles, but Alan probably knew it in the first place. Was there a piece I knew and Alan didn't? Ah, right.

I hummed an anime song I heard in my past life. Alan was a little confused since it was a piece he had never heard, but he immediately grinned, turned towards the piano, and played the anime song perfectly. 

Katarina: You're amazing, so amazing, Prince Alan! You're a genius!

I said this, took Alan's hands, and got carried away. Maybe because Alan felt bashful, he turned away and just said, "Is that so?"

I was so glad I got up early. I grinned to myself. Then, after that, I had Alan's beautiful performance to myself during the little while until class started.

[ninibeingdelulu]

I’m scared

synopsis: simon can’t sleep due to his nightmares, so he tells you about his childhood and…his fear of becoming a bad father

The fading sunrays streak vibrant tangerines and crimsons across the dusky skies gradually dimming over the secluded ranch you both retreated to - desperate for a more tranquil life far removed from Simon's harrowing past.

Despite the idyllic setting and near-constant solitude constantly surrounding your cozy homestead nowadays, he still instinctively startles awake most nights drenched in a cold sweat.

Tonight seems no different when that painfully familiar shudder wracks Simon's powerful frame beside you in the tangled bedsheets.

One moment, he's coiled tighter than a loaded spring through the entire rippling expanse of his musculature while visions of yet another fallen brother scream silently behind those tightly screwed eyelids.

The next, Simon jolts upright sucking in air like he just emerged from being submerged as the last vestiges of his latest night terror dissipates.

You stir only fractionally at the abrupt disturbance, too preoccupied with your own dreams involving a much more joyous source leaving you both deliriously giddy as of late.

Blearily cracking one eyelid open, you're greeted with the sight of Simon swiping a weary palm across his sweat-slicked brow while continuing those subconscious white-knuckle grips along his thighs.

He remains completely transfixed by some unseen assailant lurking in the shadows beyond your bedroom door for another few interminable beats.

"Hey you..." Your voice is soft yet purposefully pitched just loud enough to penetrate the lingering fog clouding Simon's senses.

Instantly those impossibly soulful blue irises you fell hopelessly in love with swivel back towards you - naked vulnerability completely undisguised in their sunken depths as his respiring gradually calms.

"Shh...c'mere, baby." You beckon with your arms outstretched - Simon swiftly answering by collapsing with practiced ease against your welcome embrace while thumbing away the sudden moisture rimming his lashes.

Neither of you exchange another syllable for what feels an eternity. Simply existing in rare respite tangled as one until his residual tremors finally cease.

"Tell me about your nightmare..." You murmur - lips brushing the sensitive shell of Simon's ear while trailing your fingertips along the corded musculature spanning his shoulders.

His timbre emerges low and throaty when he acquiesces - callused palm drifting towards where your hands remain splayed across the bunched plane of his abdomen.

"It was… it’s stupid, it was about my dad. All the shit he put me through when I was just a kid,” His voice crack slightly at the word. “It disgust me. The animals, the concerts..."

You squeeze Simon closer at those doleful parting words - mouth parting to rebuke his self-deprecation when his palm suddenly clenches against your belly into a taut fist.

Those once warm blue spheres boring through you with naked terror reflecting in their unsettling blankness.

"...but now, how can I be a father worthy of passing anything on when I'm still such an utter wreck myself?" Simon croaks desolately.

"My own childhood ended before it even began between what the 141 had me doin' out there...and that ain't exactly the example I want settin' for our--"

"Simon Riley, you are going to make the most natural, incredible father this little one or I could ever dream of - end of story."

Your tone brooks no argument as you unhesitatingly seal his fears beneath the scorching press of your mouth colliding against his.

Imprinting every ounce of staunch belief and devotion swirling behind your next declarations directly onto his plush lips.

"Because no matter how much darkness this crazy world dragged you through? You somehow emerged even brighter...and when I look at you now all I see is pure, unconditional light. Nothing else matters except the profound love you have shining in these eyes and overflowing from your beautiful soul, okay?"

Simon remains resolutely mute as you cradle his visage in your palms - thumbs gently caressing those gratefully glistening irises swimming closer with every steadying breath cycling between you both.

Until eventually another profound epiphany seems to dawn across his expression while one hand slowly descends to cup your burgeoning swell...

[ssivinee]

✧In Control✧

Jam Republic! Kirsten Dodgen x Idol! F Reader: You were the famous soloist, Han Y/n, and held a complex reputation for yourself, but that doesn't stop Mnet from inviting you as a guest judge on Street Woman Fighter 2. You didn't know much about the foreign dancers, but this one caught your eye.

Word Count: 4.8k

Note: I toooootally didn't struggle while writing this🥲

Character Vision Board

Being in the limelight was always familiar territory to you. It was something you were always bound by due to your sister being one of the most notable actresses in the acting industry today. Your older sister, Han Sohee, had always been popular with everyone. Her authoritative and sophisticated qualities had everyone on their knees, adoring her existence. With releases like “My Name” and “Nevertheless” on Netflix, your sister has been recognized for her talents worldwide. You couldn’t have been more proud of your sister's mind-blowing career, always supporting it in any manner.

You, on the other hand, had your fame in the music field. The Han Y/n began as a soloist under Pnation and had a significant fanbase, mainly consisting of Sohee’s fangirls. Nevertheless, when you started releasing music, your career exploded with the sound of R&B you delivered. The public idolized your image, often calling you the “Predebut Han Sohee.” You had tattoos and piercings, had an extended wolf cut, loved partying, and had the tomboy style. It had the male public hating you and their girlfriends wanting you. Through your career with Pnation, you gained many friends who were also soloists in the industry, B.I. being one of them. During his time with YG, you always went to their concerts, ensuring your best friend knew you’d be right by his side no matter what.

If people didn’t believe in your bond before, the union was proven when you made an unexpected move. When B.I. left YG and decided to create the 131 Label, you quickly joined the company and collaborated with the fellow soloist. BTBT was a hit, not only in popularity, but the song was undeniably a banger, and you were honored to even be featured in it, even making an appearance in the music video. 

But fame wasn’t always going to be in your favor. As an avid party girl, you fell into a hole of rumors and lies. You were in a scandal after almost every event, especially with female idols. So here you were again, with Hanbin and Sohee in your apartment, reading the statement your company had released, denying the accusations again. This time, it was with Blackpink’s Rose, as the public had seen you coming out of dinner together in Paris.

“I just can’t be friends with anyone nowadays.” You scoff, forehead in hand, and hear both chuckling at your issue. “You can’t blame the public, Y/n. Everyone is just in love with you,” your sister points out, and you roll your eyes. “Says you, unnie.”

“You should be used to this by now, noona,” Hanbin tells you with shrugging shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh. “I am, though! It seems like the public is the one who isn’t.” You were aware of your impression on the public, but it irritated you when they acted this way. But that was just part of your job, telling yourself that every single time a scandal happened. “Disregarding that for now, aren’t you excited about next week?” Hanbin asks you, and Sohee looks at him confusingly. 

“I’m the guest judge for Street Woman Fighter,” you say in a calm timbre, and your sister’s eyes widen. “You gonna meet Jam Republic, Bebe, and Tsubakill?” You look shocked at your sister. “You knew who was on the show yet had no idea I’d be guesting next week?” Your teasing tone made your sister smack your arm, “I only saw clips, okay? But I’m excited for you!” She gets jumpy in her chair while Hanbin laughs at you, a face holding disgust as you watch your sister. “She can’t even be happy. She knows nothing about the international crews,” Hanbin points at you accusingly, and you just shake your head. “I can’t help it, okay? I only know 1Million because of Lia unnie.”

As the two of them argue with you and introduce the other crews to you, a set of girls were squealing in their hotel in another part of Seoul. The two youngest of Jam Republic watched on an iPad, and the three oldest sat there, watching them in slight worry. “Are they okay?” Ling whispers to the two, and Latrice laughs, “They’ve been obsessed with Han Y/n since they found out she’d be the next guest judge.” 

“Han Y/n?” Kristen asks confusingly. Ling and Latirce can’t hold back the distress on their faces, “Yes, Kirs, THE Han Y/n.” Kristen shrugs at their words, “I don’t know her.” That’s when the two youngest hear this and let out a blaring gasp. “Girl, you have to listen to her music,” Audrey says, shoving her phone in the leader’s face. Kristen listened and was pleased to hear everything presented to her.

“Dude, she’s smoking hot, man,” Emma voices, and she relaxes more on the couch, thinking of seeing your face. Ling rolls her eyes at her, and Latrice smiles, finding Emma’s rare fangirling cute. 

This intrigues Kirsten. Emma wouldn’t openly share things like that but had no hesitation regarding you. 

Before the day came to the first start of the Kpop mission, Kirsten found herself having your songs on repeat, dancing to them when she had the time. Her crew observed her, loving her newfound liking for you. Well, not you specifically. The woman still had no idea about what you looked like, only ravishing over your music.

“She gonna be so surprised tomorrow,” Ling tells the group as they watch their leader dance in the studio, and everyone nods. “Agreed.”

Finally, it was time for your appearance on the show, and you made sure to be prepared for the first impressions you were about to have on most of the girls.

The ride there was quite eventful, though. Friends were blowing up your phone in anticipation of your presence on the show. So when you make your way into the building, you send a selfie to the group chat, showing the building's lobby. Everyone fans over the sight and asks you to take pictures with specific crews, and you laugh at their texts. 

You go backstage and see the guest room that was prepared for you. As you sat in a chair, the team touched up your hair and makeup. “Oh Y/n-nim!” You hear and see Monika coming from the door. “Monika-saem! It’s nice to see you again,” she greets you with a side hug. “Are you ready for this?”

“I can’t deny I’m a little nervous,” you tell her as you anxiously move around in the chair. “You? Nervous? Never thought I’d hear that from you,” she jokes while patting your back. “I’m not known to be a dancer like that! I’m just worried about the public's opinion.” She then looks you dead in the eyes, “You know well that you shouldn’t be worried. The people will always love you, Y/n-ah. Besides, everyone knows you’re a talented dancer.”

“Thank you, unnie.” She nods at your appreciation and smiles. “Have you met Shownu yet?” You shake, “I met him during the Hero promotions a few years ago.” The male idol walks in as if right on queue, with 3 caramel iced coffees in his hand. “I heard my name?”

“Of course you did. With your sonic hearing,” you say, making the two judges laugh. He hands you the coffee, and you thank him. “Dude, you’re gonna be so hyped when you see them all dance.” Your brow raises at his statement, “Now you're raising my expectations too high. They might blame you if I’m too harsh on them.”

“You can’t even be too harsh. They’re all professionals. I'm sure they’ll be to your standards.” Monika points out, and Shownu nods. Everyone starts getting ready, and when it's time to announce you, you hear Daniels' voice ringing in your ears. “Today, as your guest judge for the Kpop mission, we have Korean-American solo artist Han Y/n.”

You walk out onto the stage's walkway, bowing at everyone as you walk to your seat. Emma and Audrey could be seen jumping up and down, hugging each other when seeing you in person. Ling and Latrice, on the other hand, felt a sense of comfort when they heard that you're also American. They blindly trusted you, hoping you wouldn’t be so biased amongst the Korean crews.

Kirsten was the only one who stood in that room, frozen, when you walked in. She knew to predict someone attractive since the girls fangirled over your face for the entire week, but she wasn't expecting this. You looked like you were built by the gods. All she wanted to do was get on her knees and thank them.

“Wah~ Everyone’s right when they say she's every girl's type.” 1Million Redy says in awe of you.

“She’s so pretty, what the heck?”

“You think I can get a picture after?”

All the crews cheered and gossiped at your appearance, admiring your appearance.

“Hello, I’m soloist Han Y/n. Please take care of me,” you bow and introduce yourself in Korean, English, and Japanese to the teams. “I’d love to take care of you,” Kirsten mumbles under her breath, but Latrice hears the words, giggling at the sight of her leader, who looked like she was about to drool because of you. “Kirs, pull yourself together.”

“I can’t help it, like are we looking at the same person?” Kirsten dramatically sighed, and the girls teased. “Maybe you should ask her for help later~.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to help you,” Ling gazes at her leader with a wink. “Alright, please pay attention and stop bullying me,” they all laugh, and your eyes find their way to the sound. “The Kpop mission has everyone fighting against each other with songs under the 4 companies: HYBE, JYP, SM, and YG.”

You relax in the chair, manspreading a little as Daniel continues, “2 of the 4 companies have a three-way tie and will battle it out here in the fight zone. The crew with the most votes will have to choose a different company to work with.” You nod in understanding. As much as Kirsten would like to say she was listening, she watched your loosened stance on the chair. You looked so fine just sitting there, and Kirsten bit her lips at the sight of you. She was a sucker for piercings and tattoos, which you did have, but her eyes lingered on your arms. Your veins could be seen popping out as they rested comfortably on your chest, and your lap looked like the perfect seat for her. “We’ll start off today with HYBE. Jam Republic, you're up first,” Daniel announces, pulling Kristen out of her unholy thoughts.

The girls get up from their seats, stretching more, “Should we just go for it?” She asks her team, and everyone nods, “Yeah, let's go.”

The girls stood before the judges as some other crews stayed beside them to enjoy the front view. Your eyes travel from every girl on the team until you stop at the leader. “Kirsten Dodgen, huh?” You whisper, remembering everything Hanbin and Sohee told you about the girl. How she was the famous “green shirt girl” in Justin Beiber’s “Sorry” music video and how she was part of the mega crew, the Royal Family. With this information in mind, your eyes never left hers as they performed.

When holding the starting pose, Kirsten feels the weight of your gaze, feeling her hands gradually sweat. The music begins with Le Seraphim's track starting them off,  and regardless of how nervous you make the girl, she shows you every cent of confidence she has. Her hips moved swiftly like water, and you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. She could really move, you admit to yourself. The afro-dance was evident in how she carried herself, the rhythm similar to the choreography of BTBT, which led to your body feeling uncontrollable. Swaying to the way they moved.

“Well, we know who Y/n would’ve voted for,” Mina Myoung quips as all the crews watch you enjoy their performance. “Dope” by BTS begins to blare on the speakers, and their groove switches to Hip-Hop. Audrey put a smile on your face with her facial expressions and nearing the end, when the finale consisted of the little twist their waist did with an added reverb effect, you toss your hands up with a clap, “That was nasty,” you told Shownu who nods in agreement. 

Mannequeen then took the stage, and once again, everyone had high energy as they watched. The same could be said for DeepNDap. Still, once people saw the votes, everyone felt the intensity of the room when seeing DeepNDap lost by a landslide compared to the two other crews. “That’s gotta burn,” you mumble.

Next was the JYP battle, and Tsubakill went first. Your attentiveness shows with the scary look in your eyes, but you get hyped up when Tsubakill uses their shirts as a prop, clapping at the scene. Then, Team Bebe joined the stage, and it was phenomenal. You shouldn’t have felt any anxiety or nervousness since you thoroughly enjoyed each performance, especially when Bada is revealed through the imitation of double doors. You smirk at the sight, finding it quite enticing to look at. 

“Another heart stealer, huh?” You tell Shownu, who chuckles at your words. While you watch, Kirsten notices the look you give team Bebe. “Looks like someone likes team Bebe as well,” and the team looks at you. “I don’t blame her,” Audrey shrugs, and Emma laughs, “Everyone’s in love with Bada as well. They’re like a match made in heaven.”

Kirsten's chest tightens at her members' words. You surely weren't interested in the taller dancer...right?

“Kirs? You good?” Latrice asks, and she nods, not wanting to expose herself, but Emma catches on quickly. “I think Kirs may have a slight problem,” the second youngest teases the leader, and the younger girl points at Bada. “She may have some competition.” Kirsten rolls her eyes at the girls as they snicker around her. Because of their noises, your attention goes to them. You see the frustration on the girl's face, and it makes you smile. She looked so adorable with a pout on her face. This causes you to barely watch the 1Million stage.

“I hope whatever song we get, we’ll do good.”

“We’re always good guys. As long as we try our best, that’s all that matters.” You hear from the dancer and nod to yourself, her words also resonating with you. When the votes came in, Tsubakill had zero votes, and you gasped. Everyone must’ve really liked the dance if they had no votes. So when each group is presented with their company of choice, everyone begins practicing.

You began walking around, handing bottles to each team and chatting with them. Your first few stops were DeepNDap, Lady Bounce, Mannequeen, and Wolf’Lo, and then you make it to the trendiest crew on the show.

“Hello~,” you said, bowing to the girls of team Bebe. They all look at you with terrified eyes. You chuckle at this, “Here, I don’t bite,” you tell them as you hand the water bottles, everyone thanking you. “You didn’t have to, Y/n-nim,” the blonde, Tatter, says, but you shake your head. “It’s the least I can do for you guys.”

You straighten your shirt and ask, “Do you guys have anything yet?” “Yeah, we have a bit for the chorus,” Bada says, and you settle in the dance studio a bit more, sitting on the floor in front of them. “Can I get a sneak peek?” They all nod excitedly, and you hide a giggle, finding the younger girls cute. They play Maniac by Stray Kids from the chorus, and your smile grows when you see the blonde being dragged with her team walking, almost like robots, beside her. When finished presenting, you stand up, clapping your hands. “I can’t wait to see the final product, girls.” They bow, most covering their face in happiness. “You're leading your team well. I can tell your chemistry is strong,” you say as you pat Bada’s arms. “Thank you, Y/n,” she smiles, and you head out. “Okay, good luck, guys! I’m gonna bring more water for the other teams.”

Then your next stop is 1Million, and you enter their rehearsal room with a cheesing grin. “Lia-unnie~,” you say, walking towards her to hug her. You had worked with Lia in a previous comeback and were close friends with her. She made the entire process enjoyable for you. You always kept that in mind since it was stressful, and you appreciated her guidance. “Y/n-ah,” she says softly, reciprocating the loving hug. “I brought all you guys water,” you tell them, showing the bag filled with bottles.

They thank you, and you watch them practice a little, and you can tell Lia is stressed the entire time. So once they took a break, you approached her, giving her a piece of candy. “Here, don’t be too hard on yourself, unnie,” you say, patting the older’s shoulder. “I can’t help it, Y/n. Everyone has high expectations for me here.” You nod, understanding the pressure she felt. “That doesn’t matter. You’re one of the greatest choreographers out there. I’m sure you’ll make it past this unnie,” you try and reassure her, and she tells you to get going so they can practice. You mumble fine and move along to your next destination.

Tsubakill. The girls were so concentrated on practicing they didn’t even notice your arrival in their room. “Hello?” You question in Japanese, and they jump in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you all,” you chuckle at their reactions.

“I’m here to just deliver some water, and I’ll be out of your way,” they gratefully accepted the water bottles but were curious. “Your Japanese is really good. Where did you learn?” Their youngest, Rena, questions you.

“Aye~ I’m not that good. But I wanted to learn for my Japanese fans to communicate with them when promoting.” A series of ‘ah’s could be heard. “That does make sense.”

“Anyways, I don’t think you guys need any of my feedback right now, so I’ll leave you all to it,” you wave off and end with the final team you were anticipating. You searched for them in every room but finally found them practicing on the walkway area on the second floor. 

Your eyes linger on the team, not wanting to distract them while they do a draft take of their dance. That's when your gaze lands on Kirsten as she leads her team, “So when we do this swing part, I want both of you to kind of mimic the movement,” she tells Ling and Latrice, who automatically follow her lead, taking the critiques into account.

“Hey,” you voice out, and everyone stares at you, not knowing what to say. “Um… I brought you guys some water,” you say in English, and they smile. “Thanks,” Kirsten tells you, and you give a curt nod, “It’s no problem.”

“You guys are insane, by the way,” you say as you tilt your head to the side. “I hope you guys don’t mind if I watch your practice for a bit.”

“Of course not, by all means. Just try and get comfortable,” she gives you a wink with a teasing grin, and your head falls back due to her gesture. This girl was gonna be trouble for you. You travel to a chair in the corner and watch as the practice goes on, eyes never leaving Kirsten's figure.

Your head spins at how she moves, finding her body rousing to witness. That was until they made it to the next series of parts. Kirsten had to shake her hips, but somehow, it wasn’t up to the quality of your liking. You raise your hand, and the crew notices, “Yes, Y/n?” “Sorry, but when you move your hips, you can exaggerate more.”

“Can you show us what you mean?” Latrice presses on, and you make your way over to Kirsten. You towered behind their leader, and your hands traveled down her hips. Position her into the move and put pressure on your hands as you take control of her lower half. Kirsten’s mind was out of focus when she felt your strong, veiny hands touching her. “I know you can move those hips, girl, so how about we put them to work?” You question in her ear, and she has a devious grin. “Show me then.”

Her team watches as you rotate her hips with the touch of your hands, and they can’t help but giggle on the sidelines. “She took asking for help way too seriously,” Audrey whispers, and the rest nod with their fits of giggles.

You two feel a rhythm despite no music, and Kirsten’s heart fastens as you caress her waist. “Shit, you- you are so beautiful,” you mumble but make sure she heard it, and her face reddened. She shakes her head, straightens, and claps at her team, “Alright, thank you, Y/n, but we have to do some more choreo to be in top shape in 2 days.” You stand there a bit surprised, which follows a soft laugh at her crappy excuse. “Okay, okay. I’ll just watch a bit more.” You sat back in your chair, watching them more freely this time as they did their work.

After an hour, you look at the phone and decide it is an excellent time to head home, but talk to the girls before leaving. “Are you guys free tomorrow?” “I believe so, why?” Kirsten asks, and you hand your phone over to her, “I thought it would be a good idea to bring all the crews out for a relaxing night. I was gonna rent out the VIP section of a club before you guys performed.”

The girls all jump in excitement while Audrey sulks, and you pat her head, “I know you're too young, Audrey, but I’ll plan a dinner with everyone just for you.” Her eyes brighten at your promise as she hugs you. “Okay, don’t kill the woman now, Audrey,” Ling tells the youngest, and everyone laughs. Kristen puts her number in, and you grin, “Okay, good luck with practice, girls. I’ll chat with you later, Kristen,” you point at her, and she waves you off seductively. 

“Kirs is down bad right now.”

“Stand up, girl,” Emma jokes, and the leader rolls her eyes at the team.

The next day, every girl was preparing for the long night ahead, and Audrey watched her team as they frantically ran around their hotel room. “You guys look good in anything,” the youngest says, but everyone pays no mind. “This is what I get for trying to be nice,” she mumbles, but Emma hears it and laughs. “They stressed Auds. What can we do,” Emma says with a shrug.

After an hour, all the girls were ready, and Kirsten revealed her outfit. She had a pleated denim skirt, a pale yellow halter top, and white mini-heels. The leader's hair looked slightly slicked back, and it tied everything together. “Ooo~, who are you about to show out for?” Ling taunts and Kirs has a light smirk on her face, “You already know, girl.”

The girls squeal in eagerness, “So we ready to go?” The older three nod and Audrey walks them out, “Be safe, and don’t come home too late.”  The older girls hug her goodbye and travel to the club by Uber. You had sent the leader the details, and she was incredibly excited when you said, “I can’t wait to see you there, beautiful.” It caused her so much happiness the entire day that she couldn’t sit still. 

Once the four entered the club, they were escorted to the VIP area on the second floor, overlooking the crowds who cheered for Y/n and the other crews. You sat at the bar, Lia and Bada by your side, with a dark-colored drink in hand. Kristen halts when she sees you. Your attendance wakes her up as she notices every detail about you.

Kirsten wanted to tell you how delicious you looked, but just for the sake of her pride, she greets the other girls instead before getting to you. Bada points at the foreign crew, making you look at them, and a coy grin forms on your face. The Jam Republic crew began to split up, talking to multiple other teams, and you made your way over to Kristen, who sat with some of the Mannequeen girls.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say, handing her a drink of soju, as you weren’t really familiar with her type of alcohol. She thanks you and sips the beverage, “I’d never say no to a party and having fun.”

“I don’t either, but I was kinda excited for this one,” You voiced in a playful tone, and Kirsten smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Your body bends down to her ear, and she feels your breath tickling her as you breathe out, “It means I get to see you more.”

The shorter girl’s breathing becomes unsteady at the close distance. Still, Kirsten's exact flirtatious nature wouldn’t make that obvious. You take her hand and lead her to the bar, “Is there something you prefer to drink?” “Coke and rum would be nice,” and your eyebrows go up at this. “My type of girl,” You tell her calmly, ordering the drink as a blush forms on her cheeks. “So, the green shirt girl in Justin Bieber’s music video?” Kristen lets out a burst of laughter at your random question.

“You went viral all those years ago, and I never knew who you were? I’m so out of touch with internet culture,” you shared, your head hanging low with a chuckle. “It’s fine. I was also seventeen then, so you probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”

“SEVENTEEN?” You inquisitively ask, and she nods. “Well, you grew up into a fine young woman, if I say so myself,” you tell her as you take a swig of alcohol. “You say that as if you’re much older than me,” Kirsten looks at you with a questioning face. “Hey, 3 years is quite some time, okay?” You point out, both of you letting out a laugh. 

“How about you? I don’t know how you got into dancing,” She says truthfully, and you think. “It hasn’t been that long since I started. Compared to you guys, I’m pretty mediocre at best.” Now, that statement, Kirsten knew, was a lie. “That’s definitely not true,” She says, and you look at her curiously. “How would you know?”

“Or else you wouldn’t have been a judge on the show,” She explains. The truth was, she had watched some of your dancing videos throughout the years, but why would she want to expose herself in front of you. “That’s true, I guess.” You were about to continue, but another song started, and the whole club cheered. Kirsten’s eyes brightened at the song, and she pulled you to the dance floor, “Come on, let’s dance!” She says, trying to yell over the loud music.

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, you felt the mixture of sweaty bodies and the wafting scent of alcohol that clung to everyone’s bodies. That didn’t matter to either of you, though, as Kirsten confidently whines her waist to the beat. Your eyes study her with hunger, finding every curve of her body moving to the rhythm. Your self-control defeats you as you grasp her waist, and Kristen feels the warmth of your hands. She moves back, grinding her ass on your body, and you wrap one arm around her waist as you motion in sync. The shorter applies more pressure on your pelvis, and you can’t help but let out a subtle groan in her ear, finding her irresistible. The halter top didn’t cover much, and you wanted to touch every part you could, skimming over her chest as if her skin begged to be marked.

She turns around, arms wrapping around your neck, closing the distance between you two, if possible. Now you felt her chest beating on yours, your forehead resting on each other. Her eyes linger on your lips, and you notice, when bitting your lips, that she lets out giggles of expectation. You adored the charming sounds, and your lips chased hers, and you felt the buzz of her lips on yours. The taste of sweetness from the alcohol lingered on her tongue as they mingled harmoniously. Hearing the soft whimpers encourages you to pull her waist tighter, hand leading lower and lower on her body. You pull away, trying to catch your breath as you mumble to her, “You think you’ll be able to dance if I take you home tonight?” 

“I’ll make it work,” She mumbles, pulling you in again. The kiss felt heated as her hands roam around your toned figure, “Besides, I told you I want to have fun tonight.” You smirk at her words and pull her out of the club, ensuring you made it worth her while tonight.

Tag list (OPEN): @gaymoregayandgayer @froufrousnowman @yxine @tikitsune @kpopgirl-97 @hellokittyyysstuff

[odetoalostpairofkeys]

All of Mixolydian's Moths!

One big happy family :D

Sky Research Notebook entry under the cut (My Narrator's thoughts on this group)

MIXOLYDIAN’S MOTHS [25F]

This is obviously the best group there is. 

Mixolydian and Aeolian were both taught by the same musician, and they continue that tradition of music. Mixolydian enjoys adopting moths, guiding them through the realms and up to Eden. After that, if they stick around, she’ll bring them back to the Valley House to meet the rest of the siblings. Aeolian teaches everyone how to play instruments and read music, and some music theory if they’re interested. 

Aeolian pretends not to like moths, but he does have a heart. Otherwise he would’ve fed Capo and Coda to the krill long ago!

Mixolydian and Aeolian both work closely with Performance Guide and the Crabs, and we often have concerts at the Theater (which reminds me, I need to go practice. Or find a better hiding spot than last time). As I said before, Mixo’s Moths also join the pit for performances. Aeolian requires everyone to do it at least once.

Aeolian and Mixolydian go on candle runs somewhat frequently, sometimes inviting the others too and sometimes not. They also go to Eden, and then on a short winged light run after that. After going on a candle run or Eden run with just the two of them, Mixolydian gathers everyone who is at the Valley House and shows off trinkets and treasures she found, telling a story to go with each one and then giving it to someone. It’s become enough of a thing that those at the Valley House will go and alert the ones who aren’t there that Mixo’s coming back soon so no one misses it. The others will use these treasures for betting against each other on when Mixo will get a new moth, or what the next show at the Theater will be, or other stupid stuff like that. It's become a bit of a currency among us, which is fascinating to me

Oh, and how could I forget? Each one of Mixo’s Moths has a musical name. I think it’s very fitting.

Leader(s): Mixolydian, Aeolian

Main Area: Valley House

Members (as of Season of Moments): Timbre, Marcato, Treble, Pianissimo, Melody, Harmony, Capo, Coda, Clef, Fortissimo, Purple (Crescendo)

[hyperfix-wip]

Webbed Together

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Author's Note: Credit goes to @the-kr8tor for their original characters Ramona and Billie as well as their recurring character Ned. I'd also like to credit ❄️ anon from @the-kr8tor 's blog for their idea of Pom-Pom the rabbit!

Tags: Parent Trap!AU, Dad!Hobie AU, Twin!AU, Billie and Ramona!AU, Older!Hobie, Mom!Reader, Older!Reader

Chapter 2: Billie

<<< Chapter 1 Chapter 3>>>

The moment Billie steps foot into the bustling Camp Feast in her father’s lucky red vest, she knows she’s right at home.

Dark eager eyes roam around the campgrounds, lighting up at the sight of kids around her age running around with their own luggage and instruments. The clashing of different sounds send shivers down her spine while her lips curl up into a cat-like grin. With her fingers fidgeting with the Union Jack patch on the vest, itching to take out and play her violin, Billie sets her small leather case down on the hood of the car, the metal edges of the case clanking against the metal, before her thumbs unlatch the bronze hinges on the sides.

“Oi, Billie!”

A deep British timbre of a voice breaks Billie out of her reverie as her uncle Ned pops his head out from the side of the open trunk, his pierced eyebrow raised in feigned annoyance while he lugs out a large suitcase. “Be careful, yeah? This car’s a rental, damn it.”

Billie rolls her eyes in amusement as she innocently grins back at him. “Oh c’mon, Uncle Ned,” she chirps with her own British accent breaking through the background noise as she pulls her violin out of the case, “you’re not the one paying for it. Dad said to relax and let him take care of–”

“Silly Billie, I love you, but I refuse to take what your dad says at face value,” Ned snorts while he sets Billie’s suitcase down on the ground before slamming the trunk shut. “Besides I’m the one who handles the expenses for the band, not your dad, so I do haveto worry.”

Billie’s bottom lip juts out into a small pout, making Ned snort before walking over to her and ruffling her hair. “Oh c’mon, put that away. You’re a big girl now, yeah? You’re already ten—“

“Eleven!” Billie huffs out with an annoyed glare, “I just turned eleven, Uncle Ned—“

“Yes, yes, you’re eleven,” Ned snickers again with a teasing glint in his eye, ruffling her wild curls some more. “You’re already growing up so fast, you little beanstalk.”

Billie huffs out again as she swats Ned’s hand away, but he only laughs it off before pulling her into a hug.

“You really are growing up so fast, mac…”

Billie’s face drops as Ned’s voice trails off into a sentimental hush before she wraps her arms around his waist with a soft sniffle.

“…I’ll make sure to write,” Billie mumbles into Ned’s shirt, earning another quiet snort from Ned.

“Hm, that’d be nice,” he replies with a teasing huff. “You already have the address for the airbnb?”

“Yeah.”

“And your stamps?”

“Yeah.”

“And your notebook and envelopes?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And your pencils and rubbers—“

“Uncle Ned.”

Ned chuckles again as Billie looks up at him with a deadpan before rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Alright, alright. When your camp thing is over, either your Aunt Yuri or Uncle James’ll pick you up, okay? Your dad and I’ll hafta deal with the venue before our concert in New York at the end of the summer.”

Billie nods along as she looks up at Ned with a broad smile. “And I’ll be backstage this time, right?”

“Of course, little beanstalk,” Ned ruffles her hair one more time before gently pulling away. “Now go on, get your stuff put away before I change my mind and drag you back into the car.”

Billie’s eyes widen at his faux-threat before quickly grabbing her open violin case, eliciting a squawk from Ned as the metal edges nearly scratch the rental car, and her suitcase before she runs off towards the crowd of kids and counselors. “Bye, Uncle Ned!”

“You damn brat!” Ned huffs out while he watches Billie stumble and waddle away with her luggage.  Despite the annoyed rumble in his voice and the narrowing of his eyes, a tender smile curls up on his lips as she slowly disappears into the crowd before he reluctantly walks around and heads back into the car.

——

A loud grunt forces its way out of Billie’s mouth as she tosses her suitcase on top of her assigned bunk, her violin on top of her pillow. She puffs a breath to blow a loose curl out of her face before it flutters back down, resulting in her face scrunching up and her pushing her curls away with an annoyed pout. Her eyes warily glance down at her suitcase, with its latches barely clutching each other and holding in the contents bulging within. With her head turned away and with only one eye cracked open, her thumbs inch closer to the bottoms of the silver clasps in slight apprehension. As soon as her thumbs gently push the latches up, her suitcase instantly erupts into an explosion of clothes and trinkets flying around her.

“Oh bloody hell!”

Billie groans at the mess before she kneels down to grab her things, oblivious to the sound of door hinges squeaking behind her as she tosses her belongings on her bunk. Crawling on the hardwood floor with her hair fluttering down over her scrunched up face, she continues to mutter more expletives under her breath before a pair of off-white sneakers peek through her curtain of curls and enter her line of vision. Her head snaps up as she pushes her hair out of her face again, revealing a bespectacled girl with confused amusement behind her thick frames.

“Uh…is this yours?”

The girl holds out an old stuffed white rabbit to Billie. The plush animal has a pink stitched nose on its protruding muzzle, as well as a missing button eye and mismatched patches scattered across its body. Billie’s eyes light up before she grabs the toy from the girl.

“Pom-Pom!”

Billie hugs the stuffed bunny against her chest before she looks up at her newly-decided friend. “Thanks by the way,” she laughs before pushing herself up from the floor, her height almost towering over the short girl by a few inches as she holds her hand out with a cat-like grin. “Billie Jean Brown, nice ta meetcha. But you can call me Billie.”

The girl lets out a small laugh of her own as she pushes her glasses up before grabbing Billie’s hand with a shake. “I’m Annie.”

Billie’s smile grows even more as Annie puts her duffle bag and a small skinny case down on the bed next to Billie’s bunk. Annie then flops down onto the mattress with an ‘oof’ before she unzips her duffle bag.

“So you’re, like, from England, right?” Annie casually asks while carefully pulling out some pictures and other trinkets. “Do you live next to the Royal Family or have you seen them? Do you guys really drink a lot of tea and have those fancy tea parties over there?”

A snort slips through Billie’s nostrils before she barks out a hearty laugh, flopping down on her own bedding as she hugs Pom-Pom against her chest. She pushes her curls out of her face again, revealing small glints of silver lining along her ears.“I mean, yeah, I live in London, but not near Buckingham Palace. More up north if anything, further into Camden.”

Billie then leans back and gestures to her outfit with a flick of her wrists- her dad’s red leather vest, lined with silver studs and countless colorful pins, over an old punk band shirt tailored to her size, denim jeans with handmade patches over her knees, and scuffed converses. “And do I really look like I go to fancy tea times?”

Annie rolls her eyes with a cheeky smile before she props her hands behind her, the metal springs in her bed quietly groaning under the weight. “But you do drinktea?”

“...yeah.”

A snicker slips through Annie’s lips before she pushes herself off her bed and holds her hand out to Billie. “Well either way, you’re definitely not in London anymore, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like it here.”

A mischievous smirk curls up on Billie’s lips before she grabs Annie’s hand, setting her Pom-Pom down on her bed before following Annie out of the cabin.

“By the way, Annie, you know how to play poker?”

Annie laughs a little more as she shakes her head, and Billie lets out a feigned disappointed sigh.

“What a shame,” Billie shrugs before her smirk curls up more. “Off topic, but how much money did you bring for this trip?”

The cabin door then slams shut while Billie continues to lure her new friend-turned- potential victim into a sense of security.

[thepermanentrainpress]

Gallery: G FLIP @ Hollywood Theatre - Vancouver, BC Date: October 22, 2023 Photographed by: Bailey Morgan

[jules-has-notes]

Sixteen Tons — Geoff Castellucci music video

There have been many versions of this song over the past century, each singer adding their own distinctive sound. For Geoff, that meant leaning into his strengths of impressive low notes and an ear for multi-part harmonies. Mix in some simple, evocative visuals and a bit of subtle humor, and you've got a recipe for a tune that holds up to being played on repeat. Give it at least one listen now.

Details:

title: Sixteen Tons (low bass singer cover)

original performers: Merle Travis; popularized by Tennessee Ernie Ford

written by: Merle Travis

arranged by: Geoff Castellucci

release date: 30 January 2021

My favorite bits:

jumping right in with that rich, deep timbre and just a touch of vibrato

the clones slowly raising their heads as they ease in with those soft hummed harmonies

using the mining tools to create diagetic percussion

bouncing the lyrics between the clones and the lead

the subtle instrumental bass line helping to fill out the rhythm when primary Geoff resumes the melody

the different iterations of Geoff glancing "at" each other as though they're actually in the same space

the character voice he puts on ♫ "Well, bless my soul. 💪." ♫

his relaxed, playful rhythm for ♫ "drizzlin' rain" ♫ 🌧

that yodel he puts into ♫ "no high toned woman" ♫

leftmost Geoff taking the tenor lead for a couple lines

the lovely bell chord on the ♫ "sooooul" ♫ key change

that intimidatingly bassy "Step asiiide." Yes, sir. 😰

passing the tool thumping down the line, and the delicate falsetto on ♫ "what do you get" ♫ from the clones

adding the little hitch of ♫ "the company sto-ooore" ♫ in the backing vocals

the captions letting the notation commenters know he does a "super dramatic bend to a low F# 😉" (and the clones on either side silently smirking over it)

that nice clean ending with all four Geoffs looking into the camera

Trivia:

Geoff has expressed surprise that this song was so well received, but a catchy tune about labor rights seems extremely resonant for the multiple stressful situations we were facing in early 2021.

He had sung it a fair bit in his younger days, but hadn't considered recording his own version until he received a number of requests from fans.

As a stylistic choice, he didn't include any subharmonic vocals in this recording, opting to sing everything in his chest voice.

The video was filmed at the PattyCake studio with just Kathy running the camera and audio playback. Layne had helped with setup, but then had to leave for another obligation.

The thematically appropriate wardrobe received some aesthetic appreciation from a couple pals up north.

The YouTube description includes an admonition for the viewers: "Don't bother teasing me about it in the comments, I'm already busy in the gym working on my spaghetti arms." Which I hope is mostly just protective self-deprecation. Geoff's arms are nicely toned. But he'd spent the previous twenty-five years with Earl, who's a freaking tank, which could lead to unfair comparisons, even from himself.

Geoff also notes that he first heard the more bluesy Eric Burdon version in Joe vs. the Volcano.

This video reached 10 million YouTube views the following summer on the same day as his "Misty Mountains" cover, which he released in July.

His arrangement was performed by The Chessmen men's a cappella group from Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, PA at their winter concert in December 2024.

[south-of-heaven]

Poly! Judgement Day with a singer/piano player! reader?

Concert || The Judgement Day x Reader

Summary: You're a very good singer and piano player. Sometimes your partners beg you for a little home concert.

As the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow through the windows, you find yourself seated at the piano in your cozy living room. The gentle hum of anticipation fills the air, and your partners – Finn, Damian, Rhea, and Dominik – are gathered around, their eyes fixed on you with eager smiles.

"Come on, love, give us a little concert," Finn urges playfully, his voice laced with excitement.

You grin at their enthusiasm, fingers poised over the keys. With a soft nod, you begin to play a simple melody, the notes cascading like a gentle stream. The room is soon filled with the soothing sounds of the piano, and you can't help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you.

As the music flows from your fingertips, your partners are completely captivated. Damian leans against the piano, his eyes fixed on your hands as they dance across the keys. Rhea rests her head against Dominik's shoulder, her gaze soft as she listens intently.

The melody transitions into a heartfelt ballad, and your voice joins in, filling the room with its rich timbre. Your partners exchange glances, clearly enchanted by the performance. The song's lyrics resonate deeply, and as your voice soars, you can feel the emotions pouring into each note.

Finn's eyes glisten as he watches you, his expression one of genuine adoration. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, a silent connection formed through the music. Damian's smile is tender, his appreciation evident in the way he gazes at you. Rhea's hand finds Dominik's, and they share a knowing look that speaks volumes about the beauty of this moment.

The last note lingers in the air, gradually fading away. The room is filled with a reverent silence before applause erupts from your partners. Their smiles are bright, their faces lit up by the magic of your music.

"That was incredible," Rhea says, her voice soft yet filled with admiration.

"Truly," Damian adds, his eyes still fixed on you.

"You never cease to amaze us," Dominik chimes in, a fond smile on his lips.

Finn's applause is accompanied by a whistle, his enthusiasm infectious. "You've got such an amazing gift, love."

Blushing slightly at their praise, you take a moment to soak in their appreciation. The connection you share with them is deep and profound, and moments like these only strengthen it. With a grateful smile, you rise from the piano bench and join them, finding yourself surrounded by their warm embrace.

"Thank you," you murmur, your heart full.

Finn presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you. "Anytime you want to serenade us, just say the word."

Rhea chuckles, her fingers lacing with yours. "Definitely. We'll be your biggest fans."

Damian's gaze is unwavering as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Your music fills our lives with beauty."

Dominik completes the circle of love, his arms encircling all of you. "You're the melody to our harmony."

In this moment, surrounded by the ones you hold most dear, you realize how truly lucky you are. With their love and support, your music resonates even more deeply, creating a melody that binds you all together in a symphony of affection and devotion.

[irkimatsu]

I hope The con is still going well for you! You can answer this when you get back if that's easiest for you (Go have your fun!!) I'm back with another albeit much less horny request. Maybe it's that I need Keith David to lull me to sleep, maybe it's that I know deep in my heart of hearts that Husk had a Frank Sinatra Vinyl collection in his life, who knows. But I wanna see something cute and fluffy with Husk and music, maybe like Dancing around his room to My Funny Valentine, or Somethin' Stupid. Just cheesy fluff for his❤️

I'm so sorry for how long this took, but I want you to know that this prompt has been consuming my brain ever since I first saw it. I've never heard "Somethin' Stupid" before, so I went and looked it up, and oh my god I love that song for Husk. I just had to write something! Here's some fluff with Husk singing to Reader, there's dancing and confessions and god he's so cute I love him so much~

(If you've never heard the song before, I recommend you listen along once Husk starts singing it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_t2gNCXYbY)

You may not be sure of the specifics of Husk’s feelings for you, but however deep they go, you’re grateful for the time he spends with you.

On this evening, the two of you retreated to his bedroom after dinner, to have a drink and some conversation before it’s time for him to open the bar again. You don’t often join him here, but you’ve never for an instant suspected his intentions whenever he invites you. You’re sure that he simply enjoys having one-on-one time with someone without having to worry about others asking him to serve them drinks, and that’s all.

Would you mind if his intentions ever went further than that? You try not to think about that too hard, for fear that your hopes won’t align with his.

For now, you’re happy to sit and chat with him, sipping the sweetly sour red wine he’s poured and listening to the record he’s chosen to play. He seems to have a story for every song on the record, from concerts he’s attended all over the world, to the inspirations for his own performances, to unrelated memories he just happens to associate with the playing songs for reasons even he’s not sure of.

You love every story he has to tell, but your interest is most piqued whenever he speaks of his days in various bands. You may not know what he looked like when he was alive, but you can still see him so clearly on a brightly lit Vegas stage, fingers gliding over the saxophone that he describes with just as much wistful passion that he would use for a past lover. You can see him lowering the saxophone from his lips to start singing, all irritated gravel drained from his voice as it flows through the air, warm like honey, deep timbre filling an emptiness in your gut that you didn’t realize was there before now.

“I’d love to hear you sing more,” you say as he finishes another story about his life as a performer, clearly fond of the days he spent on a stage. “You’ve got a great voice.”

“More?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow. “When have you ever heard me singing at all?”

“You sing all the time when you’re working behind the bar,” you say. “I don’t even think you notice it.”

Husk coughs slightly on the sip he was taking of his wine, but manages to swallow it down with no further incident. “Shit… you’re right, half the time I don’t notice. Cleaning glasses is just so damn tedious, you know? I gotta pass time somehow, and if I’ve got a song stuck in my head I just-”

“You don’t need to explain,” you interrupt. “With a voice like yours, you can sing any time you want. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to hear it… I know I like hearing it.”

Husk hums thoughtfully as he takes another sip of wine. Is it just you, or are his cheeks faintly flushing from your compliment? Maybe you’re hoping for too much.

After draining his glass and gently setting it back on the table, he lifts himself up from his chair with a grunt. Without explaining himself, he heads to the box of records by the record player and starts flipping through them.

“I could… sing right now, if you want,” he offers, not looking up from the box. “I don’t get to perform much for other people anymore.”

“I’d like that,” you say as you try not to read too much into the gesture. Husk singing to you… for you… you’re sure it doesn’t mean anything and that he’s just showing off, and yet…

“Ah, here we go,” he says as he lifts a sleeve from the box. With great care, he removes the currently playing record and slips it into its own sleeve, then withdraws the new record and settles it in place. After he lowers the needle, gentle guitar strings begin emanating from the player. A few seconds into the song, he begins to sing, and you realize that there are no vocals on the record; the only voice you hear is his.

“I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend the evening with me…”

As he sings, he approaches you, feet stepping and tail swishing in rhythm with the song. He stops in front of you, and as the next line begins, he holds his paw out to you with a small smile.

“And if we go some place to dance, I know that there’s a chance you won’t be leaving with me…”

“Who says that I wouldn’t?” you say as you take his hand. He chuckles softly as he pulls you to your feet and resumes singing.

“Then afterwards, we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two…”

As he sings, he takes your other hand and holds both of them at chest level, his palms pressed against yours, firm claws and silky fur holding your hands in place.

“And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’...”

Your heart gives a single heavy beat at those words. You can’t read too much into it, shouldn’t read too much into it- it’s not his song, he’s singing it but he didn’t write it-

But then why did he choose this song to sing for you-

Before you can spend too much time worrying about it, his claws begin skimming down your bare arms.

“I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before…”

They trail up to where your shirt sleeves begin, then take their rest on your shoulders.

“And though it’s just a line to you, for me, it’s true, and never seemed so right before…”

Where are you supposed to put your own hands now? You end up settling them on his hips, and his wings lightly flutter in response, his expression glowing at your touch.

“I practice every day to find some clever lines to say, to make the meaning come true…”

Either one of you could pull the other closer and close the agonizing inches-wide gap between you, but you, at least, can’t find the nerve to make that move. You settle for swaying with him, allowing him to set the pace as he sings.

“But then I think I’ll wait until the evening gets late and I’m alone with you…”

Has he always been this handsome? You may have acknowledged your attraction to him months ago, but in that moment, you see him in an even brighter light than you ever have before. His golden irises shimmer as he stares at you with lidded eyes, his pupils blown wide; he hasn’t taken his gaze off you since the moment he took your hand. His mouth is curved into a small smile, and his sharp fangs do nothing to demean just how soft his expression is as he sings to you.

“The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and oh, the night’s so blue…”

He shifts his arms so that they’re under your own, palms rested on your back, and finally takes the chance to pull you closer, your chest flush with his.

“And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’...”

You slide your hands from his hips to the small of his back so you can pull him closer in turn, your waists now touching.. He gasps slightly, his smile gone in favor of a look of surprise, and he stops singing. Did you distract him?

“Sorry, I-”

“Shh,” he says simply before returning to silence, swaying you in time with the music. Has the room always been this warm? No, it’s not the room- it’s him, now pressed closer to you than you ever thought possible. The smile’s returned to his features now, his gaze boring so deeply into you that no force in Hell could draw it away. He’s wearing the same cologne he always does, a woody scent that blends so right with the scents of whiskey and tobacco that always cling to his fur. You’ve always associated that scent with Husk, and standing here surrounded by that fragrance is where you’ve belonged for such a long time but never had a chance to be before now.

“The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and oh, the night’s so blue…”

He’s finally started singing again, his voice wavering more than it had the last time he sang that line. You probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t busy tuning every one of your senses into him to the exclusion of all else.

“And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like ‘I love you’...”

His breathing is slightly heavier, and you could swear you see a tear beginning to form in the corner of his eye.

“I love you… I love you…”

“I love you,” you respond in tandem with him, and before you can think, you’re pressing your mouth to his. The kiss is so fleeting, giving you barely enough time to savor the softness of his lips or the taste of wine on his breath. His eyes are wide open as you withdraw, still unable to pull away from you.

“I love you,” he sings one more time as the music fades, and follows it with a kiss of his own. His mouth is so gentle against yours as he turns his head to slot your lips together. He doesn’t move his mouth, content enough with the simple contact, though his claws do slightly grip at your shirt. His hot breaths ease into your mouth in a steady rhythm, neither of you moving an inch. Another instrumental has begun to play from the gramophone, but Husk shows no interest in singing along to it. You’re okay with that; as much as you love his voice, him continuing to sing would mean him breaking the kiss.

He makes a surprised, cattish noise as you comb your fingers through the fur on his cheeks and pull him in more firmly, but makes no move to break away from you. Warmth, scent, softness, taste; every one of your senses pleads so desperately for this moment to never end, to be permitted to indulge in him for the rest of your afterlife.

But eventually, he finally withdraws, much too soon for your heart’s liking but at a great relief to your lungs. He laughs nervously as he jerks back out of your grasp, lifting his paws off of you and drawing them closer to himself, out of your reach.

“Sorry,” he says, still trying to laugh. “Got carried away-”

You silence him by grabbing his cheeks and kissing him again, this one much more brief.

“Don’t apologize,” you say before kissing him once more. He still keeps his hands to himself, but he allows himself to enjoy the kiss for as long as you’re willing to give it.

“...I picked that song for a reason,” he admits when you finally break the kiss. “I’ve been… wanting to say something for a while.” He lifts a paw and gently caresses your cheek. “It’s just… been so long, you know? Since I’ve been with somebody. And usually when I’m with somebody, it…” He averts his eyes from you, his ears slightly drooped in shame. “...I’m not easy to handle. Never was, and I’m especially not now.” He laughs derisively. “So it really is stupid of me to think I should say I… well…” He trails off, apparently unable to get the words out when he can’t hide them in a performance.

“You should say stupid things more often,” you assure him as you wrap your arms around his neck and peck him on the nose. “I said it back, didn’t I?”

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?” Husk asks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughs. The energy between the two of you is electrifying, you’re so sure he’s about to kiss you again-

Instead, he yelps in pain and jerks away from you.

“Husk?! Are you okay?!”

“It wasn’t you,” he assures you as he gently rubs at his throat. Despite the gentle tone he’s trying to use with you, you can tell by the way his ears have flattened that he’s pissed. “Just time for me to reopen the bar, that’s all.” His volume lowers as he grumbles to himself. “Someone’s gonna throw a fit if he doesn’t get his fuckin’ rye…”

“I wish we could have spent more time together,” you say. “You could have sang more… and we never finished the wine…”

“How about we pick this up later, after the bar’s closed for the night?” he says. “I wouldn’t mind having you up here more often.” He’s smiling again; it’s not a large one, but it seems you’re able to get his mind off his stressors, if only for a moment.

“It’s a date,” you say, returning his smile. You share a final kiss, much too short for your liking, and let him get back to his work.

You wonder what other “stupid” things he’ll have to tell you later.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 11

Photo of Alan Licht by Stu Lax

One of the oddest, most disturbing developments in recent years is the devaluation of expertise. If a souped up auto complete program can write a screenplay, who needs writers? If scientific guidelines about how to stave off a plague make us angry or confused, who wants them? Anybody can be anything, given enough cash in their pockets, thought, evidence and fact be damned. So, it is somewhat unfashionable that Dusted continues to seek out artists who are good at what they do, whether they are conservatory trained or DIY, steeped in historical tradition or trying something new. Our monthly Dust highlights another batch of them. Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers and Bryon Hayes contributed.

John Butcher / Florian Stoffner / Chris Corsano — The Glass Changes Shape (Relative Pitch)

This autumn, English saxophonist John Butcher celebrated his 70th birthday. For the occasion his fellow musicians donned t-shirts proclaiming, “You can only trust yourself and the first ∞ John Butcher albums.” Yes, he puts out quite a few, and no, I’m not up to date. The completist’s task is even more daunting when one considers just how much music is packed into each of the nine improvisations on this concert recording, his second with guitarist Florian Stoffner and percussionist Chris Corsano. Timbres, volumes and modes of attack change from second to second, living up the album’s title; not even the music’s form I fixed. No one’s resting on laurels here. Corsano plays with rare spaciousness, and Butcher often seems to be playing up the contrasts between his horns’ tonal fluidity and the jagged edges of Stoffner’s contribution. Pardon the paradox, but each track is a subdivision of ∞, and there’s no end to the time you could spend getting profitably lost in one.

Bill Meyer

Cybotron — Parallel Shift (Tresor)

in 2019, legendary Detroit producer Juan Atkins rebooted his 1980s electro project Cybotron with Laurens van Oswald (nephew of Basic Channel founder Moritz) and Tameko Williams (Detroit In Effect). Atkins takes the technological matrices of his hometown’s now largely defunct manufacturing plants and Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn” and twists them through an afro-futurist wormhole. The trio’s latest 12” single “Parallel Shift” sets Atkins’ robotic vocals and lockstep machine beats against melodic synths and warm bass tones. As Atkins insists on a “parallel shift”, smuggled elements of Clintonesque funk and drifting reverie suggest subversion of strictly linear time. The B-side “Earth” is a more straightforward piece of electro with the emphasis on syncopation. The track flickers with sci-fi synths as Atkins posits human rhythms as a form of cosmic consciousness. Volume up and eyes closed, you will be transported.

Andrew Forell

Dean Drouillard — Mirrors and Ghosts (self-released)

This instrumental solo album by Canadian guitarist Dean Drouillard is a series of hazy noir scenes. At its brightest and most melodic, as in “Portland” and “Gorgasuke,” it’s reminiscent of the vivid, playful miniatures of Opsvik & Jennings’s A Dream I Used to Remember. Elsewhere, the album is decidedly more atmospheric and ambient, akin to the widescreen explorations of Daniel Lanois’s Flesh and Machine. The album’s largely introspective nature is no surprise when you learn Drouillard played and recorded all the instruments himself. His guitar playing in particular is evocative and tastefully restrained. At once intimate and widescreen, Mirrors and Ghosts feels both eerily melancholic and gently uplifting.

Tim Clarke

Fievel Is Glauque — Rong Weicknes (Fat Possum)

Though Fievel Is Glauque are technically a duo — songwriters Zach Phillips (Blanche Blanche Blanche) and Ma Clements on keys and vocals, respectively — for new album Rong Weickes they assembled a crack team of six other players. Musicians on drums, bass, electric guitar, woodwinds and brass flesh out a dizzyingly complex and gratifyingly daft soundworld. Think 1970s prog-folk; think Napoleon Murphy Brock–era Frank Zappa; think Julia Holter spiraling down a jazz-fusion black hole. Rong Weicknes is a LOT. Tellingly, many of the album’s most accessible songs, including singles “As Above So Below” and “Love Weapon,” plus the beautiful and relatively calm “Toute Suite,” arrive early in the track list. Opener “Hover” is perhaps the best example of the band’s bonkers “live in triplicate” working method, in which multiple takes are stacked one on top of another, then chiseled down to reach a final mix. It’s chaotic, like multiple candy-colored Escher staircases spiraling off in different directions at once. In this realm of music-making, too much is never enough, and the line between virtuosic brilliance and over-the-top absurdity bends and blurs. Given the chaos is cumulative, listening to the album from front to back tends to result in ear fatigue during the second half, no matter how many brave attempts it takes to tackle it all in one go.

Tim Clarke

Helena Hauff — Multiplying My Absurdities (Tresor)

Hamburg DJ and producer Helena Hauff’s debut EP for Tresor is three tracks of full-on throwback acid trance. Expertly structured over 22 minutes of build, crescendo and release, Hauff combines thumping beats and bass tones with a detached darkwave cool and a healthy smear of analogue soot. Think Roland drum machines & 303 bass, squelching synths, arpeggio runs and all nature of odd grimy ghosts grumbling in the machines. Hauff reaches her apotheosis on “Punks in the Gym”, named for an Australian rock climb known as the hardest in the world (and now closed as an Indigenous Heritage site). It starts hard, with the bass in the red zone and the drums not far behind, and arpeggiated synths screaming like a drill sergeant. The plateaus, when they come, are mere toeholds for the next ascent. It’s a relentless, punishing piece. And when, near the end, Hauff drops everything but the kickdrum, it’s like watching the sun rise at an outdoor rave to, hearing nothing but your beating heart.

Andrew Forell

Rafael Anton Irisarri — Façadisms

Rafael Anton Irisarri creates music with the grandeur of a vast, wasted landscape. He brings his experience as a mastering engineer to bear on all his recordings, rendering them dense and immersive, stacked high with thick waves of guitar and synthesizer tone. Façadisms is no exception and features two highlights. “Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom” features searing cello from Julia Kent and angelic vocals by Hannah Elizabeth Cox, and “Forever Ago is Now” features string arrangements from T.R. Jordan, which carry the album’s most anthemic chord progression. Façadisms’ blasted textures are never less than compelling, but these tracks are twin peaks within the record’s glowering sonic geography.

Tim Clarke

Charlotte Jacobs — Atlas (New Amsterdam)

Charlotte Jacobs’s songs are a little shy. They lurk in corners and grow up from cracks. They venture fluidly out of empty space, eddying and cascading through echoing caverns, with just a little glitch beat or a surge of synth tones to ground them. Jacobs is a conservatory Belgian composer and singer here making her first solo album. Her voice comes in breathy flutters, a little like Mirah at her most acoustic and spare, but she hedges that fragile bloom in masses of digital sound. A devotee of Ableton, she makes the synth sound like all kinds of instruments, a quacking oboe in “Celeste,” a ghostly choir in CYTMH.” Records seldom sound simultaneously this bare and this layered. There are many elements in play, but all scrubbed clean and hemmed in by silence.

Jennifer Kelly

Alan Licht — Havens (VDSQ)

With Havens, Alan Licht flips the attack-decay-sustain-release envelope of the guitar on its head, folding notes and chords over each other in waves. He does this with a heft to his tone, so that chord progressions become waterfalls and melodies emerge like vine-like shoots, growing in many directions simultaneously. Licht’s songs mesmerize with repetition, but the tones resonate such that they fold back on themselves, creating entirely new patterns for us to discern. The cover art reflects his steel string sorcery, as a dull-colored house surrounded by twilit swirling clouds emits beams of red, yellow, and orange light from its many orifices. A variety of energy levels and frequencies are represented here, and they reveal themselves in surprising ways. Throughout his career, Licht has straddled the worlds of indie rock and the avant-garde, and Havens tugs at both sides, creating a new universe entirely: one where resonance rules over everything else.

Bryon Hayes

Longobardi + Cecchitelli — Maloviento (LINE)

Italian sound artists Ernesto Longobardi and Demetrio Cecchitelli create minimalist environmental works built from droning sub-oscillations that emerge from a haze of white noise. The four pieces on Maloviento, titled by duration, are arctic. Slow, evocative of shifting ice and wind swirling across bleak landscapes.. 14’24” is frigid amalgam of staticky cracks and sheets of white noise that rise and fall with increasing intensity. The duo intersperses these with sounds of dripping stalactites and pings of some distant beacon signaling into the abyss. It immerses the listener in an alien and alienating environment in which you find yourself clinging to these noises as the only way to get your bearing. 21’18” is slightly kinder. More recognizably human sounds emerge. Breath labored by cold, a trudge of footsteps and a muttering voice culminating in the introduction of a flute. Tentative at first, it gathers strength and warmth before being absorbed into the ice. Riveting stuff.

Andrew Forell

Man/Woman/Chainsaw — Eazy Peazy (Fat Possum)

Young London sextet Man/Woman/Chainsaw emerged from the scene that includes bands like Black Midi and Black Country, New Road with whom they share a similar omnivorous musical DNA. Vocalists, bassist Vera Leppanen and guitarist Billy Ward have been playing together since they were 14. Now approaching 20, and joined by contemporaries Emmie-Mae Avery on keys, violinist, Clio Harwood violin, Ben Holmes on guitar and drummer Lola Waterworth, M/W/C play punk infused theatrical rock, not quite as knotty as their near contemporaries, but fully embracing the chaotic energy of musicians pushing themselves to fit all their ideas into songs that dance delicate and furious. The acutely observed kitchen sink dramas of “The Boss” and “Sports Day” burst from the speakers, withering in word, and balanced by Harwood’s sawing violin and Avery’s delicate keys. Leppanen a powerhouse on the former, Ward all snarling self-deprecation on the latter. In contrast “Grow A Tongue In Time” is almost dainty with its curlicue of violin, bass, and keys tempered by Leppanen’s rasp that speaks of a desperate frustration echoed in the washes of cymbals that swarm towards the end. A band with space to grow and one to watch out for.

Andrew Forell

The Modern Folk — Primitive Future III (Practice)

This expansive collection spans 20 songs and nearly as many years for the folk centric but ambi-curious guitarist Joshua Moss (who, full disclosure, recently started writing for Dusted). His music here takes many forms, from the blues rock chug of “Shiver Shaker,” which could pass for an alternate universe outtake from Jon Spencer’s Heavy Trash to the cosmic twang of “Hippy Sandwich,” running closer to Ripley Johnson’s Rose City Band or the Heavy Lidders or whatever Matt Valentine is doing this week. There’s room, too, for lucid, radiant blues-folk picking, twined with bowing in “Braided Channels” or abetted in shimmery gossamer by Jen Powers on dulcimer on “You’ll Have That,” or left to strike out unadorned on luminous (and aptly titled) “Subdued.” Some artists try something different to prove they can. Moss lets the change grow out of old roots, supple, green and lovely. One other item of note: all proceeds are earmarked for hurricane relief.

Jennifer Kelly

Paprika — S/T (Iron Lung)

Paprika had already released the excellent, caustic Let’s Kill Punk LP this year, so this new EP is an unexpected November surprise. Are you thankful? It’s pungent and nasty stuff — Paprika sounds like the grittiest elements of NYC punk rawk, c 1976, partying with the hepped-up hardcore of Government Issue or Dirty Rotten EP-period DRI. If that sounds like fun, it sort of is, if you can listen past the nihilistic sentiments expressed in tunes like “Catatonic Pisser” and “Wasting Time.” This reviewer especially likes the self-lacerating qualities of “Supply Chain Wallet,” which explores the ways in which even filthy, greasy punks have a variety of fashion sense, implicating them in capital’s machinery. The band is more direct: “I’m chained to my wallet / Don’t you fuckers know? / Money is dirt.” Word.

Jonathan Shaw

Rock Candy — Swimming In (Carbon)

Rock Candy is Krysi Battalene (Mountain Movers, Headroom) and Emily Robb. Both are guitarists of just renown who, if they decided to open up an optical shop, would specialize in third-eyewear. Together, they refrain from six-string calisthenics in order to focus on nuanced expressions of motion. “Swimming In” is all about drift, albeit with enough surface tension for a stuttering guitar figure to loom over the undulating organ-scape. “Across A Mirage” sets slide vs. reverb, each fighting for footage on a mechanical Clydesdale beat. The cost of vinyl being what it is, some folks might question the point of picking up singles. This year, Rock Candy is the angle that dispels such faithless notions.

Bill Meyer

Sif — Aegis of the Hollowed King (self released)

If you were going to make solo instrumental doom metal about video games, Dark Souls is certainly one of the few that feels like it actually fits. What makes the second LP from New Orleans-based Sif work as well as it does, though, is how much Aegis of the Hollowed King engages with what’s actually compelling about the FromSoftware series beyond any surface level trappings of swords, monsters and boss fights. Here focusing on what even they admit is an “understandably maligned masterpiece,” Dark Souls II, these four tracks don’t try to overwrite the game’s fantastic actual soundtrack (by Motoi Sakuraba and Yuka Kitamura). Instead they invoke how much of the experience of painstakingly making your way across Drangleic is suffused with melancholy horror (yes, occasionally leavened with moments of brutally-won success). That atmosphere has been translated into a doom metal idiom, but that just means even the most elegiac elements here continue to crush.

Ian Mathers

Sulida — Utos (Clean Feed)

The phrase “good old-fashioned free jazz” could be applied to this Norwegian trio’s album, no disrespect intended and none dealt. Marthe Lea’s gruff tenor sax balances the unbridled emotion and considered poise of Ayler and Tchicai, and Jon Rune Strøm and Dag Erik Knedal Anderson negotiate points of structure vs. flow in ways that would do Hopkins and McCall proud. There are also moments that bring to mind Don Cherry if he had given full allegiance to the Swedish woods instead of the world. And yet, the character of each musician shines through, so that this music feels alive rather than merely reanimated. Ready to rumble by unfailingly lyrical, Utos is a friend in unfriendly times.

Bill Meyer

[maryasmorevna]

Ehy Val! How was the return from Milan? Any interesting anecdotes to tell about the experience of Les Miserables?

oh hi, love!!

yes, milan was amazing! obviously i already visited it last year for phantom (..... i still can't elaborate that i've actually seen it. and with THEE ramin karimloo too!), but this trip was also special.

1. i met @mircallaruthven - first time i've ever met a mutual irl in over ten years on tumblr lmao. she was as smart and lovely as i'd expected, of course - can't wait to see each other again ❤️

2. les mis was great! soooo, these are my impressions of the show:

the cast was VERY solid! unfortunately it was the staged concert, and i was far away enough from the stage so i could see perfectly the scenography (bare as it was. the lighting was great tho!) but very little of the actors' faces lol. the acoustic was flawless tho.

daniel koek was a very classic, somewhat old-school jean valjean, with beautiful singing and a strong, operatic voice. i enjoyed him very, very much.

my brother and i were absolutely floored by bradley jaden's javert (our favorite character, to no one's surprise). great voice, and a heartbreaking javert's soliloquy. on a more shallow note, he's also very handsome sjdjhdhf (#hotjavert agenda keeps winning!)

channah hewitt was such an emotional fantine - all the feelings poured down from her body, from her voice, like water. i couldn't see it that well from the gallery (thanks astigmatism i guess lol) but her wig (and cosette's) was glorious.

i think enjolras was harry grant smith - and he sounded and acted exactly as i imagine enjolras would. powerful baritone voice, but still with a boyish, youthful note. commanding, "charming but capable of being terrible", charismatic but also somehow an introvert. he was really good.

the thénardiers (gavin lee & linzi hateley) were a highlight of the show! they were hilarious. it helped that the italian audience didn't laugh at inappropriate times (when madame is verbally abusing little cosette, for example) like the english-speaking audiences usually do for... some reason i guess. we all laughed at their funny antics and ad-libs - like, when he said "i should have married her sister" and madame replied "i wish you had" lmao.

but the real star of the show (besides the leading man and javert, of course) was nathania ong's éponine. such a pure timbre, vaguely reminiscent of frances ruffelle, and sheer power - i wasn't the only one to think she was mind-blowingly good: my dad (and considering the audience's reaction to her on my own, probably everyone else too) thought the same. she also had a childish quality to her acting that i found very interesting. you could see her éponine was only a young girl, after all.

it was a staged concert so there's not much to say about the scenography, but imo they compensated for the absence of the barricade with... some kind of huge barricade-looking contraption, red-colored and illuminated, that came down from the ceiling during the second act. it was really cool to see, tho i imagine not as much as the real deal from the staged show.

the cast added some new, interesting touches and details here and there that would delight every long-time fan. the first that comes to mind are little gavroche hugging grantaire in drink with me, after the latter's pessimistic outburst. in the epilogue - for the joy of my fellow enjonine fans - i noticed enjolras and éponine standing side by side, stroking each other's arm in a really cute, friendly but surprisingly ic (at least for musical-verse!e&e) gesture. that melt my heart ngl

as it was expected, i cried and sobbed like a baby throughout all the epilogue scene, as per usual lmao. it was a miracle my painstakingly applied make-up didn't melt all over my face and turn me into a scary clown lol

tl;dr: it was really good! unfortunately for personal reasons i was a bit distracted during the show (i had some kind of minor relapse... nothing worrying, it was more annoying than anything else) but in the end it was worth the whole trip. if you want to ask me for more details you can also dm me, don't worry!! ❤️

[zishiyao]

Let Game Avallac'h and Book Avallac'h play a concert. Their flutes have different timbre. Time has swiftly passed, and I have been acquainted with the sage for nearly a year.