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#and i got a signed cd too
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Suede were amazing last night (Electric Brixton, 17 December)
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merp-blerp · 3 months
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I bought the TTPD fountain pen through the UK store yesterday... as an American... and I feel like I just cheated at life.
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swallowedabug · 18 days
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We Are Lady Parts : Music From Seasons 1 & 2 (2024)
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zibanejad · 1 year
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”cashman traded jordan montgomery because he didn’t think he’d help in the postseason” “cashman didn’t even bother talking to bryce harper in free agency” ”cashman traded jordan montgomery because-
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born-to-lose · 1 year
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Pro tip for cheap merch at concerts: flirt with the merch guy
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hopeofitalll · 2 months
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Fantastic swiftie mail day my little sister randomly sent me an I can do it with a broken heart sweatshirt
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livelikealucid · 5 months
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speakintosilence · 6 months
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today in the middle of talking with my directors about a dancer with double pink eye, I went to text our group mom assigned to that dancers group with instructions on how to handle it. when I opened my messaging app, I see a text from my friend that read, “SOGNED CDS LIMIT 1 PER”
I instead navigated to taylorswift.com where I promptly added to cart, fought with a finicky captcha, and managed to secure said signed cd.
Friend knew I had swan lake this weekend and had offered to get me a copy if anything dropped. I had zero hope of acquiring this on my own. the fact I wasn’t on stage or changing costumes or something else when she text is miraculous.
my director asked me if I was texting the group mom, to which I replied, “one second, taylor swift” and she said, “okay” and waited for me to finish before I text the group mom like this was completely normal because let’s be real it is.
I think I like this little life.
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boy-armageddon · 6 months
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Oh BOY I got 80 dollars you know what this means!!!!!! (blow most of it on blood brothers stuff)
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strang3lov3 · 4 months
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Click Here
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You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.
Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)
Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described Fic Help - @joeloverture, @joelsgreys, and @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect. A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷
masterlist
You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆
It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage. 
Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right. 
He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself. 
He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.
 Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination. 
Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him. 
His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from [email protected] interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup. 
here’s this for your spank bank pervert 
No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game. 
From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight,  and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.
The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video. 
CLICK HERE TO WATCH.
She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–
Windows System Alert
Error Code: 0x80070070
Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.
Please take the following actions immediately:
Save all work in progress.
Disconnect from the internet.
Run a full system scan with your security software.
For further assistance, contact technical support.
“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.
Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house. 
-
You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad. 
You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people. 
You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”
“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe. 
“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”
It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”
Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?” 
“You already mow my lawn.” 
“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?” 
“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone. 
You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.
Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”
Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips. 
Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”
“I’m diagnosing.”
Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety. 
You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”
Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”
“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.
“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”
 Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.
 “When did you say this problem started again?”
“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”
“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”
Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.
“Anything else?”
Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.” 
You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?” 
“Yes.”
“Clicking on chainmail?” 
“I am not.”
“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?
-
Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from [email protected], you decided to confront him. 
Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.
“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”
Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”
You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.
Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”
“Go right ahead, hon.”
You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him. 
Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”
“I have.”
The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”
It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”
 “Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”
“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”
“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”
You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.” 
Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”
You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone. 
“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…
 …Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.
 …Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”
From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, s’all good.”
Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”
“Figured. I need it.” 
“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”
“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”
“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.  
“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password.  ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.” 
From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.
-
“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”
Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”
“What kind of links?”
“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists. 
“What’s on these websites?”
Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.
“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.” 
“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”
“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”
“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.
Which…tracks. 
Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003
5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie
4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style
4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs
4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home
His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so… 
“What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”
Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”
“Mhm.”
“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.
“Yeah, lady parts.”
Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”
Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.
“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part. 
You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.  
You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind. 
After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”
Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.
“Wipe it, then.”
And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone. 
“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”
“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now. 
The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.
Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”
“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”
“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect.  “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.
“What picture?” you ask innocently. 
“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?” 
You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”
“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is. 
“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate. 
But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”
“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”
“You’re–”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”
“Yeah, so you say, princess.”
You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be. 
“I am.”
“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.
You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so. 
Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,
“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block [email protected]
“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer. 
“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”
Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”
You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.
Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”
  Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”
You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?” 
He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.
And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm. 
He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”
“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”
You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”
“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”
You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own. 
He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours. 
“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”
“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”
“Make me come, please.”
“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you. 
“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”
You nod, sniffling quietly. 
“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”
“How?”
“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”
“I’m sorry, Joel.”
“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”
“F-for teasing you and stuff.”
“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”
You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still. 
“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”
Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.
“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”
“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower. 
You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit. 
“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry. 
“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”
“Joel–” 
You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”
Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all. 
When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say. 
“Hm?”
“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”
Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.” 
“It’s no problem,” you reply. 
“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”
You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.
Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”
If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.
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munson-blurbs · 2 years
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Thinking about Rockstar!Eddie meeting you at an autograph signing and getting off to the thought of you after his show...
“Here ya go,” Eddie says, forcing a tired smile as he hands a freshly-autographed CD to a beaming fan. Pre-show merch signings were part of the deal, and they certainly brought in the extra cash, but after five months on the road, the members of Corroded Coffin are tired. Eddie scratches at the five o’clock shadow dotting his face, glancing at his watch. Just another ten minutes until they can wrap this up and start soundcheck. Then they’ll be back on the bus, shipping off to whatever city’s up next.
The security guard lets the next two people up to the table. Eddie reaches over to the pile of CDs, giving an exasperated sigh as he asks, “Name?”
That’s when he hears your voice.
His head snaps up, and he relaxes as he takes in your shy demeanor. You’re holding the hand of your friend–girlfriend?--hey, it’s the ‘90s; anything is possible. Your eyes sparkle as you say and spell your first name, biting your lower lip and averting your gaze from the gorgeous rockstar in front of you. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, writing a short message and swirling the Sharpie over the CD cover to make his exaggerated signature. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, yeah?”
You just giggle, and the girl next to you squeezes your hand. “She’s, like, completely in love with you,” she blabbers. “Every damn day since we got these tickets, it’s been, ‘What should I wear? Do you think Eddie will notice me?’”
You free your hand to elbow her, a little harsher than you’d intended. “Dianna!” you hiss, burying your face in your palms in a feeble attempt to hide your humiliation.
But Eddie just cocks his head, checking you out from head to toe. “Oh, he definitely noticed you,” he muses, handing you the CD with two lanyards. “You ladies wanna watch backstage? ‘Course you do; Charlie will bring you where you gotta go and, uh,” he looks directly at you, sending an excited shiver down your spine, “maybe we can notice each other a bit more later.”
You and Dianna nod vigorously as the beefy security guard leads you to the backstage VIP suite. A waiter comes around and takes your drink orders. You ask for a vodka soda, and Dianna gets a Long Island iced tea.
“You sure about that?” you whisper as the waiter walks away. “Those are really strong.”
Dianna shrugs. “It’s not every day we get free drinks. Might as well drink as much as we can.”
Meanwhile, Eddie’s fumbling his way through soundcheck, thinking about the way your breasts peeked out the top of your Corroded Coffin tank top, how your denim shorts perfectly cupped your ass, the shiny gloss that emphasized your lips. God, he wants those lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing–
“Munson? You wanna get your head out of your ass so we can put on a show?” Jeff’s voice booms through his mic. 
“He’s thinking about that hot chick he gave backstage passes to,” Gareth teases, and Simon makes kissy noises at their lead singer.
Eddie launches his guitar pick in Gareth’s direction, narrowly missing his head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he grumbles, but he knows that they’re right. Just get through the show and she’s all yours. He palms himself over his pants discreetly. He’s never been more grateful for his guitar, since his tight leather pants do nothing to hide his burgeoning erection.
Corroded Coffin puts on a hell of a show, as usual. They close with “Rock Hard,” their hit single about hooking up with a groupie after a concert, and Eddie thanks every celestial being that it’s the last song of the night. As soon as the band thanks the audience and says their goodbyes, Eddie dashes offstage. He bolts into your suite, all sweat and smiles. “How’d you like the–” He stops, frowning when he sees an empty room, save for Charlie, who’s smoking a cigarette in a lounge chair. “Where is she?”
“Sorry, Casanova,” Charlie drawls. “Her little friend drank too much, got sick all over the bathroom. Had to get them outta here before she ruined anything else.”
Eddie groans, throwing his head back as his bandmates laugh at his misfortune. “Goddammit,” he hisses, pushing his perspiration-soaked hair from his eyes.
“C’mon, man,” Simon claps a hand on Eddie’s back. “There’s a bar down the street; plenty of the girls from the show will be there…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Nah, I’m just gonna head back to the bus. ‘M pretty beat.”
“Oh, something’s getting beat tonight,” Gareth jokes. Eddie flips him off, but once again, he’s right.
He’s barely closed the curtain to his makeshift bedroom before he’s hastily unbuttoning his leather pants, shoving his ringed hand into his boxer briefs. Just the sensation of his own touch has him bucking his hips. He runs his thumb over the bead of pre-cum pearling at his tip, using it to lubricate his palm. He uses his free hand to tug his pants down to his knees, sitting on the bed. He imagines you on your knees in front of him.
“S’big, isn’t it, baby?” Eddie coos. He leans over, letting a trail of saliva drip from his mouth to his shaft. “Thas’ right, spit on it. Such a dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grips the bedsheet with his left hand, dragging his right from base to tip. 
“What’s that? You want it in your mouth? Oh, pretty girl; you don’t have to ask twice.”
He fucks into his fist harder, feeling himself grow in his own grasp. “Mmm, let me make a mess of that face. Ruin that fuckin’ makeup you worked so hard on. Wanted me to notice you; well, I sure fuckin’ did. Knew I had to have you, sweet thing.” If you were actually here, you’d be gagging on his dick as your nose grazes the thatch of curls on his pevlis, tears reflexively gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your mascara would start to run; the telltale sign of a good blowjob.
He loosens his hold on the sheet, cupping his balls. “If you do that, ‘m gonna bust in that sinful mouth of yours, fuckin’ swear.” A harsh chuckle escapes his throat. “Bet you’d like that. Bet you’d take my whole load down your throat, swallow it all, yeah?”
Eddie brings himself right to the edge before forcing himself to slow down. “I know, baby. I know you wanna keep sucking me off. But I wanna–no, I gotta be in that perfect little pussy. Now, come sit on my cock. Nice and slow–thassit.” He tightens his grip on his length, keeping a slow rhythm to mimic the feeling of gradually filling you up. “You can take it, don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby girl.”
He bites his lower lip so hard that he swears it might bleed. “Oh, angel. Y’feel even better than I ever imagined, holy fuck.” He increases his pace, choking out a pathetic moan. “What’s that? You want me to come inside you? So desperate f’me, aren’t you?” He whimpers at the mental image of you bouncing on his cock, tits pressed up against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Come with me, fuck, wanna make you come. Want you to cream my cock while I fuckin’ fill you up.” Eddie lets out one last pornographic moan as thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his thick fingers. He pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.
Cleaning himself up, Eddie grumbles to himself about your stupid drunk friend and how he’s so tired of fucking his own hand. He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the combination of the concert and his own post-show escapades.
The next morning, Eddie wakes up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. The bus driver has already set out for their next destination, somewhere in Bumblefuck. Eddie doesn’t care, he just wants you. Real you, not the fantasy he’d conjured up last night.
“Hey, boss,” Charlie says when Eddie pads out to the bus’s common space. “Forgot to give this to you after the show.” He hands him a folded piece of paper, which reads:
Eddie:
Had to get Dianna home before she puked on the carpet. I was not paying for that to be replaced–the tickets for your autograph already bankrupted me…
But if you wanna stop by my hotel room later, just give me a call. I don’t think you were done noticing me. I certainly wasn’t done noticing you. 
xo
You signed your name with a glossy lip print and your hotel room extension.
“Charlie,” Eddie starts through gritted teeth, “if you can convince the driver to turn this bus around, I won’t fire you.”
--
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milsirils · 5 months
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i have a vision of himejoshi mithrun..just trust.
one of the canaries walking into his office like here captain your new gl came in the mail today.
oomf and i agreed he was a certified old school yuri & baihe fan.
unfortunately the dungeon got rid of his desire to keep up with his gls, so when he’s getting his desires back post canon he decides to pick it all up again as a hobby.
i also lowkey think pattadol is a himejoshi and when she finds out her coworker is also a fellow yuri enjoyer she starts getting all excited and kinda into a ramble as she tries to ask mithrun who are his favs and tells him all her recommendations. & then quickly remembers shes on the clock and has to lock in. sorry pattie..
but also marcille too. somehow both her and pattadol stumble onto his old yuri collection filled with rare vintage figures, signed volumes, drama cds, etc etc. and they’re like “HOW DO YOU HAVE THIS?” and mithrun being the 100 yr old yuri fan he is, is like “i was there when it was written..”
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tomssexdoll · 3 months
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I'll be your paparazzi
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PAIRINGS: Tom 2009 x Female reader
CONTENT: SMUT
SYPNOSIS: When Y/N meets Tom at a meet and greet she slips him a piece of paper, when he opens it he finds her number with a red kiss stain. Later on when Y/N gets home she suddenly gets a call...
A/N: yes thats toms signature on her chest
WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader,
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Tom was a famous rockstar, he was the guitarist in his band Tokio Hotel. I had been a fan for years, going to all their concerts and buying every single item they released, cds, merch, dvds, you name it, I had it.
The only thing I'd never done was meet them, they were holding a meet and greet at one of the venues nearby my house, as soon as I checked their website, since I did it 5 times a day, and saw those tickets being sold I was quick to buy one.
As I waited in line my heart raced each time I got closer to Tom, he was first, the other guys standing beside him, signing multiple different things at once. When it finally came to my turn I couldn't help but smile like an idiot, a huge grin planted on my face.
"Hi Tom!" I squealed, I held out the new album they had produced, Humanoid. He chuckled at my excitement, quickly signing the album. "Oh before I go, could you do me a favour and sign my chest?" I smirked, unbuttoning the top part of my blouse and flaunting the skin.
He raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Ah, of course," he moved the sharpie to my skin, signing my chest with a flourish, his hand lingering on my chest for a moment, "there you go, sweetheart," he said, I slid him a small note, winking at him as I walked off to Gustav.
I watched as he opened the note, a grin forming on his face as he pocketed the note, returning to sign fans items. As the meet and greet ended I walked back home, the nights breeze cool against my skin. I couldn't believe I actually had a chance with the one and only Tom Kaulitz, even if I was just a quick fuck to him I'd be happy.
I quickly slipped inside my house, locking the door behind me and taking my coat off, smirking down at my signed chest. I bit my lip in anticipation, the thought of Tom actually calling me making my heart race.
Then, my phone suddenly started to ring, buzzing in my jean pocket. I quickly grabbed my phone, struggling to get it open with my shaky hands, an unknown number was calling and I knew it had to be him, I instantly picked up, "hello?" I said innocently, "Hey, its Tom. We met at the meet and greet, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink sometime," his voice low and sultry.
I smirked, "oh yeah? How about you come to my place now, I have loads of drinks," I giggled, "that's the kind of invitation I cant resist, I'll be there soon, sweetheart," he chuckled lowly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I quickly scrambled around my house, finding the sexiest outfit I could find. I settled on a cute cherry red dress with a leather jacket and long black boots. As soon as he arrived I practically ran to the door, greeting him with a smile.
"You look amazing," he shot me a wink, reaching out and grabbing my hand, planting a soft kiss. "What a gentlemen you are, hm?" I rolled my eyes playfully and invited him in, he was wearing a black leather jacket with some dark blue jeans, his cologne intoxicating.
"Come sit, I'll make you something to drink," I smiled, guiding him to the couch, "what would you like?" I looked over my shoulder, "just a whiskey and coke baby, nothing too complicated," he huffed, getting comfortable.
I grabbed the heavy bottle of jack daniels, pouring a generous amount and topping it off with cola, I moved to the wine cabinet and poured a glass for me before sitting next to him.
"You are gorgeous," he leaned in, brushing a stray hair from my face. "O..oh.." I stumbled over my words, his presence making me nervous. "Don't be nervous baby, it's just me..I won't bite.." he smirked, placing his drink down and kissing me gently, tasting the whiskey left over on his lips.
"God, you taste amazing," I smirked, deepening the kiss, his hands exploring my body. I slowly shifted into his lap, feeling his hands snake down to my ass, giving it a soft squeeze.
He forced his tongue in my mouth, grinding his hard cock against me, "god..you're driving me crazy.." he muttered, reaching up and tangling his fingers in my hair as he dominated the kiss. He broke away for a moment, panting heavily as he gazed into my eyes, "take everything off...I need you liebe.." he grunted, his voice rough with desire.
I instantly obeyed, taking my jacket off and teasingly slipping my dress straps slowly, watching as his hunger grew at the sight of my bare skin, the signature still on my chest above my boob.
I slid the dress off, leaving me in my lacey black bra and matching black thong, "fuck..you really wanted to impress me huh?" he chuckled, laying back and taking in all of my features.
"You're more beautiful than I imagined.." his breath hitched as he caressed my skin, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I reached behind me and cliped my bra off, my tits spilling out.
"Oh fuck.." I felt his erect cock press into my thigh, he reached out to touch me, his fingers gently caressing my nipples as he leans in to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting softly. I rolled my eyes back, the sensation of his tongue swirling around my sensitive buds addicting, my hands wrapped around his head, tugging at his braids.
"You like that, baby?" he smirked, I nodded slowly, throwing my head back as he grazed his teeth over my nipple. "How about you get on your knees and suck my cock, hm?" he whispered, his breath hot against my neck.
My eyes widened at his request, I'd never done that, the only experience I had was one guy fucking me, this was so embarassing..Being with a rockstar who was beyond experienced, yet having barely any experience myself.
"Uh...Tom.." I looked back at him, "hm? Having doubts?" he chuckled, caressing my ass, "no...it's just, I've never sucked cock before..." I bit my lip, waiting for him to make fun of me, but his eyes just softened, "oh..it's ok schatzi, I'll teach you," he said gently, "just get on your knees and I'll guide you," he instructed.
I nodded, sliding off his lap and onto the floor on my knees, I sat in between his thighs, looking up at him for guidance. "Okay, now take my pants off for me baby," he smiled gently. I unbuckled his belt, placing it to the side before sliding his jeans down, his cock straining against his grey boxers.
"Keep going.." he muttered, I sighed and slid his boxers down, his cock sprang out and slapped against his abdomen, my eyes widened at his size, how the fuck was I going to fit that in my mouth?
He chuckles and took my hand, guiding it to his cock, showing me how to stroke it, "now wrap your lips around the tip.." he groaned, pushing my head down. I hesitated but obliged, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock, softly sucking, "ohhh baby.." he moaned lowly, murmuring words of encouragement and praise as I lowered my head onto his cock, "good girl..just like that," he groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair once again.
He helps guide me as I take him deeper, showing me how to bob my head and use my hand to stroke the parts of his cock that didn't fit in my mouth. "Can you do it on your own now baby?" he mumbled, "yeah..I think so.." I muttered, trying to speak despite my mouth full of cock.
"Go ahead.." he smirked, watching as I lowered my head on his cock again, flattening my tongue on his cock, feeling the buldging veins. He lets out a low groan of pleasure as he watches me suck his cock, feeling my mouth move against him, he runs his fingers over my cheek, a signal for me to keep going.
I swirled my tongue around his tip everything I came up, his grip tightening every time on my hair, "mmm.." he moaned, his balls tightening. Without warning Tom suddenly pushed my head down deeper onto his cock, filling my mouth completely as he begins to fuck my face in earnest. He thrusts in and out of my mouth, holding onto the back of my head as he takes his pleasure from me.
"You like that, don't you schlampe..." he growled, continuing to fuck my mouth as he watches me writhe and squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the power he holds over me.
I nodded, humming in response, saliva building around my mouth. He pushes his cock even deeper until he's almost to the point of making me gag, "mmmh! Can't take anymore!" I whined, holding onto his thigh.
"Shut up...take it.." he grunted, his grip on the back fo my head tightening as he thrusts harder into my mouth, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he fucks my face mercilessly, pulling at my hair.
"Gonna cum!" he yelped, slamming his cock into my throat, his balls slapping against my chin, beads of saliva dripping down my chin. "Ohhh fuck!" he gasped, shooting a load into my mouth, letting it seep down my throat.
He smirked, pulling his dick from my mouth, watching as a bit of his cum drips from my lips down to my chin, "swallow it all, now," he commanded, a satified sigh came out of his mouth as he saw my throat bob up and down.
"I'm not done with you.." he growled, flipping me onto my stomach and yanking my pants down, along with my panties, around my ankles. I arched my back, flaunting my wet pussy to him.
"Oh fuck..wet already?" he chuckled, his fingers dug into my hips as he spreads my legs wider, his eyes locked on my dripping cunt. "I'll destroy this pussy before you know it..." I felt the couch dip behind me as he aligned his tip at my entrance, slowly pushing every inch in.
"Tom!" I gasped, his thick cock stretching me out, "take it...take it all.." he grunted, grabbing hold of my hips and thrusting into me harshly, his hips slamming against my ass over and over as he fucks me with wild abandon.
Hr grunted, his cock throbbing inside of me as he fucks me hard and faster, his tip stabbing into my g spot and sending shockwaves throughout my entire body. "Ohhh fuck!" I gasped, desperatly gripping onto the couch
He chuckled, raising his hand and smacking my ass roughly, "you like that don't you? Being fucked rough and hard like this.." he whispered in my ear, pounding his cock into my needy cunt.
"Mm, yes I love it!" I cried out, rolling my eyes back as the pleasure rose, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets lost in the moment, completely drunk off of my pussy, "fuck, you're so fucking good.." he growled, enjoying the way I reponded to his rough treatment.
I felt tension begin to form in my stomach, signalling my impending release, his fingers dug deep into my hips, leaving bruises behind. "You're gonna cum on this fucking cock..." he groaned, moving his hand down to my breast, fiddling with my nipples with his fingers, rubbing them in between his thumb and index finger.
"Ohhh fuck!" I whined, feeling myself get closer and closer, his thrusts never faltering, only getting harder. His hips slapping against my ass with a loud smack, his other hand reaching down to my clit as he starts to furiously rub rough circles on it.
"Cum baby..let go for me.." he growled, his fingers moving in quick tight circles, bringing me closer to my orgasm. "Fuck!" I squealed, my walls clenching around his cock, he started to rub my clit faster, savouring the feeling of my cunt tightly wrapped around his shaft.
With one last hard thrust I came, my orgasm coming in shock waves as my juices spilled down his cock, "shit!" he quickly pulled out, spilling his cum onto my ass, watching it in awe.
"Fuck..." I panted, Tom grabbed a tissue and wiped us both down, laying behind me as I collapsed on the couch, he gently caressed my curves, looking down at me, "I think I should bring you on our tours, I can't get enough of you," he chuckled, leaning down and kissing me softly.
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tags: @itsmealaiah @itsmealaiah @kaulitzsbabyy
tags: @ballhair @kaulitzswhxre @cosmicck
tags: @bkaulitzlover @ge-billsgf @tomsonlyslut
tags: @20doozers @ella1289 @miyukafujii
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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months
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Chapter 7 - Family Dinner
Pray for Christian. He’s just realizing that he now has two kids, who race every weekend in dangerous cars, only for them to have no life outside said cars. Max might be a little OOC, but ya know – who cares. I know I said that I would post tomorrow but free practice doesn't even start until midnight where I am. So it's going to be pushed back to Friday night at the latest and then a definite post on Sunday. Anyway, enjoy and don’t forget to comment if you want to be added to the tag list.
The entire way to the restaurant, you were almost shaking with anxiety. You knew you would get there 15 minutes early, but would that be too much? Would you be the last one to show up? Vito had texted you that so far, it was only him, Christian and Geri, with Riggs and Lacy. But that couldn’t stop your brain with coming up with worst case scenarios. But, you couldn’t help it. You took a couple of deep breaths as the car pulled up to the restaurant. 
Around the entrance, there seemed to be thousands of reporters and photographers. That made you panic as well. You shot a quick text to Vito, letting him know that you had arrived. You waited in the car until he came out to get you. You noticed that Riggs had decided to come out as well. You only now notice the size difference between him and Vito. The man was massive. PR agent and personal body guard? You were set for life. 
Vito opened the door for you and helped you get out of the car. The moment you were two feet on the concrete, the flashes of the cameras started going off. You tried your best to smile, but it was difficult when you were being blinded by the lights. You mentally laughed at yourself at the Weekend joke. Thankfully, no one grabbed you or anything. It was probably because Riggs had placed his hand on your back and carefully led you inside. No one would get passed that man. 
The ambiance of the restaurant was a stark contrast to that of outside. The lights were dim and there was a live orchestra in the corner. Vito was able to catch up to you before you got to the table. 
“Quite a show that was,” you mentioned as you spotted Christian at a table in the corner. 
“Well, you are trending everywhere on social media kid,” Vito replied as Christian stood up to greet you. 
“Nice to see you again sir,” you said as you shook his hand. 
“And you as well kid. That was sure some entrance.” You let out a small laugh. 
“All I did was walk it. I think I might be blind for the rest of the night. I can still see all the flashes.” A woman, who you recognized as Geri, let out a laugh. You turned to her. 
You obviously wanted to shake her hands for the rest of your life. It wasn’t every day you got to meet Ginger Spice. But you forewent all of that, and settled on a light hug. “It’s an honor to meet you ma’am. I asked Vito if I could have brought something for you to sign, but he said I probably shouldn’t.” You heard a smack of a hand against a forehead. You continued, “But now seeing you in person, I should have brought my entire CD set.” 
Geri and Christian both laughed out loud at your statement. Geri was able to calm you down as she promised that the next time she attended a race, you could bring something. You were able to sit next to her at the table. 
You were definitely fan-girling the entire time. But who cared. Geri was a nice person to keep a conversation with. You were relieved to see some familiar faces already at the table. Mitch was seated across from you with Lacy at her right. Riggs had sat next to his wife while Vito found a seat on the other side of you. The rest of the table was left empty for Max, Checo, and whoever they were going to bring. 
One waiter came to the table and asked for everyone’s drink orders. Because you were only 20 and the drinking age in America is 21, you asked for a water. 
Vito had joked around with the waiter, “Can you bring that in a sippy cup for her? She tends to spill.” A slap to the arm had him shut up as the rest of the table fell into small laughs. 
You argued back, “It’s not my fault that you’re so old. Did you remember to drink your prune juice this morning? I know how grumpy you get if you don’t.” You flashed a wicked smile at him as you took a sip of your drink. 
The adults started to laugh a bit harder. 
The laughter only died down when Christian suddenly stood up and rounded the table. Your eyes followed him and landed on two figures. Your heart picked up as you came to the conclusion that they were Checo and Max. You didn’t know what to do. Should you stand to greet them? Or would that be weird? 
You got your answer when they both just decided to sit down. However, Max was seated directly across from you. There was nowhere for you to hide from his sight. As he got situated, you quickly looked down at your dress and pretended to wipe something from the fabric. But, when you looked up, you made direct eye contact with him. Not wanting to wait for him to do something and come off as rude, you leaned a bit forward and put out your hand. 
“Uh, it’s nice to meet you,” you shyly said as he took your hand in his to return the gesture. 
His accent was a little heavy, “Nice to meet you too. It’s Y/n right?” 
“Yes sir,” you responded, almost a little too quickly. But Max had a questioning look before huffing and waving his hands. 
“There’s no need for that, kid.” He picked up his drink and took a sip. “You shouldn’t be much younger than me, no?” 
“Uh, six years younger,” you muttered. A choked sound came from across the table, which got everyone’s attention. Your cheeks heated as everyone looked at the two of you. 
“Is everything all right Max?” Christian asked, a look of concern on his face. 
Max points at you, “Where’d you find this – this..” you thought he was about to insult you. You winced at the thought. Except he finally finished sputtering, “literal child. She called me sir.” He all but whined the last sentence. 
Christian spoke up, “Well that child beat your 7 year time record for the practice track.” He took a sip of his drink as everyone’s eyes fell on you. 
“Uh, I didn’t mean to?” You wanted to die, but you continued, “I think I could have done better but there’s was something off on Turn five, but we said it was the…”
“Balance,” Max finished your sentence, nodding his head. “I’ve been trying to tell them to fix that.” 
You shrugged, “It wasn’t bad though.” 
“Did you slow down on the curve?” 
“Yep, and accelerated coming out of the apex.” Max gave you a giant smile. Cars and racing he could talk about.
“How did you feel about the steering?” he questioned, hands coming above the table. You soon found yourself doing that as well. 
“Eh, it was ok, but it was a bit understeery?” you didn’t want to go insulting his car, but you had a preference. 
“Oh my gosh, I know. I had that problem the entire season.”   
Everyone around you two knew that the moment the hands went above the table and were being flung everywhere, there was no stopping the two of you. They practically had to tell you both to shut up so that the table could start talking of other things and order the food. Your cheeks heated up when they pointed out your rambling. 
“Sorry,” you muttered, going back to your drink. 
“It’s fine kid. I’ve had to deal with Max for years. I think I can deal with it again,” Christian said as the waiters brought out the food. The Dutchman across from you rolled his eyes at the statement, which caused you to laugh. 
He was actually a joy to talk to. You were able to finally greet Checo a little bit into the actual dinner. You didn’t know whether to say you were sorry he was retiring or to congratulate him. So you kind of did both. 
Oh well. 
Throughout the meal, discussions of next season came up along with the car. Christian was pleased to know that the both of you preferred an oversteer car. Yes, the car would still be more towards Max’s preferences, but you could work with it. You knew that you would be second driver. But you honestly didn’t care. 
“I know how to play the teammate. I’m not looking for a championship right now. I’m just glad to be here,” you told Max and Christian. “Of course, I’m going to fight for a win, because that’s what I know to do. But I’m not going to block if Max is going to be faster than me.” 
The two men nodded, thankful for a person like you. There weren’t many people who would willingly give up wanting to be first driver. But you understood this. 
As long as Max Verstappen was in a Red Bull, he will be driver number one. The rest of the dinner went smoothly. As everyone was standing to leave, Christian announced that everyone was welcome to join them at a club. All the adults seemed to cheer as if they forgot that you technically couldn’t go. 
You didn’t mean to show disappointment, but Max picked up on it. The math was mathing as he put two and two together. 
“I think I’m going to skip out tonight. Not really feeling it.” His accent was heavy as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. 
You and Max somehow found yourself at the back of the group. He leaned down and semi-whispered to you. 
“Do you want to go get some ice cream?” 
You face must have lit up as he mirrored you with a smile. Max offered to drive you to the place. You quickly said goodbye to Vito, before promising that you’d text him when you got back to the hotel. You followed behind Max, trying to keep up with his long strides. The heels and long dress were making it difficult, but you managed.
When you got to his car, he popped the door open for you because you weren’t able to figure out the handle. You weren’t used to the expensive super-cars. Yes, the cars you drove were nice, but not millions of dollars nice. 
“You can play some music if you’d like to,” Max mentioned as he began to drive out of the parking garage. 
“Famous last words Max,” you said as you scrolled through your playlist. A familiar 33 caught you attention. You bit your lip trying not to smile. “I really like the thought and meaning behind this one. Super nice vibes. Very rememberable.” 
“Oh? Well then play it.” 
You snorted at his innocence. The moment the familiar beats came on, he looked at you with a face of betrayal. 
“You did not.” 
“I did too. It’s a very catchy tune Max.” He reached out and pressed the off button. 
“I’m revoking your DJ privileges.” Now it was your turn to look at him with a face of betrayal. 
“You did not.”  
“I did too. If you can’t play something nice, you won’t play anything at all.” 
“What would you play? Some oldie from 1953?” 
He snorted before putting his eyes back on the road. “I am not that old.” 
“Sure.” 
“We’re in the same generation Y/n.”
You argued back, “You’re on the fine line of millennial and gen z. You probably post memes on Facebook like an old lady.” 
The two of you fell in silence, before you busted out laughing. Max started to wheeze, which made you laugh even harder and clap your hands like a seal. By the end of the drive, you were wiping tears from your eyes. 
A bright ice cream cone lit up the sky at the car approached the store. You were able to get out of the car since the handle was much easier to figure out than the outside one. Max held the door of the shop for you and waited. He got curious when you didn’t directly come in. 
He found his answer when he saw you kneel next to a cat to pet it. He was surprised that it let you touch it. After you were done, you stood up and flashed a sheepish smile at him, muttering an apology for keeping him waiting. 
“I just love cats,” you sighed, looking at the kitty outside with heart eyes. 
Max fished his phone from his pocket. He quickly put in the password. His fingers quickly found the giant album just for his cats on the photos app. He handed his phone to you. 
“This is Jimmy and this is Sassy. What do you want and I’ll get it for you. You can keep looking.” You barely muttered a response, too enthralled with the gorgeous creatures on the screen. Max chucked as he went to get the ice cream. 
You were too busy swiping through all of the pictures. They were both so pretty. Max had to nudge you to hand you your cone. 
“Thank you for letting me see these,” you traded the phone for the cone. 
“No problem. If you ever find yourself in Monaco, you can come over to see them.” Your eyes seemed to twinkle at the thought of meeting his cats. “Do you have any?” 
You seemed to deflate at the topic of you being cat-less. “No, I’m away most of the year and I live by myself. My apartment is in Nice, but I think I’m going to move somewhere else.” 
Max’s eyebrows creased, “Does your family not live close?” 
You deflated even more. “No. To be honest, I don’t talk to my family. Like ever. I’m an only child as well so no siblings.” You kind of just shut up after that. Max felt awful. He knows that you probably know a lot about him. But he never thought to look up anything about you. 
He wanted to talk, but you continued, “But it’s fine. Racing is my life and takes up 100% of my time.” Max knew that it wasn’t fine. Racing was his life too, but he had friends and family to keep him company. He had Kelly and P, Christian, Lando, (maybe) Charles. He could try to convince you to find a small apartment in Monaco so he could keep an eye on you. 
He takes a moment to really see you. Right now, you weren’t a piece of art of you were almost face deep in your ice cream. This made you look younger than you were. And that hurt Max’s heart. His dad might be awful, but he still talked to him. 
He must have zone out because your talking brought him out of it. 
“Are you excited to race in Vegas?” you ice cream was almost gone.
Max shrugged, “It’s going to be difficult, since it’s cold. I’m worried about the grip of the tires.” 
You thought for a moment, “Well, if you get far enough ahead, you could always swerve to warm them up further. I know that would cut down on speed, but you’d be able to take the corners a bit better.” 
“How are you feeling about free practice one tomorrow.” Your eyes were now lit up once again, and Max is glad to see you perked up. 
“I am so excited. Did you hear that they’re going to do the walk up announcements again?” Max shook his head, (he actually did but wanted to hear you explain). “Well, they’re doing it and I have the perfect song, if I get announced.” You pouted. “Do ‘reserve drivers’ get announced?” 
“I don’t know. But I will make sure that you get one.” He put a hand on you shoulder. 
You squealed and thanked him. “I am a bit nervous about the lap times though.” 
Max suddenly hunched as to tell you a secret. “What you have to do is before you go into the flying lap, heat your tires to the max.” 
“Max, max, max, super max.” He deadpanned. “Sorry, continue.” 
“You have to push the throttle a couple of times right before you go to get the wheels spinning. The more they spin, the more friction they’ll have on the track, and the more they will heat.” (a.n. guys I don’t know if this is correct. I’m a writing major not engineering. But, more friction, more heat – I took one physics class so call me professor). 
“Aaahhhhh,” you had a far out look, contemplating the precious information you’ve been given. You wanted to talk about something other than racing. “How’s your family?” 
It was now Max’s turn for his eyes to light up. He brought out his cellphone again to show you more pictures. Some were of him and Kelly. Others of him and P. It was when he got to the drivers, you started to panic. 
“Do you think they’ll like me?” you mutter, suddenly finding you dress more interesting. Max looked at you with a confused face. 
“Kid, I’ve known you for,” he looked at his watch, “three hours now and I think I want you as my teammate for the rest of my carrier. Don’t worry, they will love you.” 
You let out a sigh of relief. 
“I just, don’t want to make a fool out of myself.” 
“You won’t, kid. You won’t.” 
After the topic passed, and Max finally finished his mess of the remainders of his ice cream, the two of you made you way back to his car. He made sure that you had texted Vito that you were back at the hotel when he dropped you off. Thankfully, his hotel wasn’t that far away. 
“Good night Max. I will see you tomorrow teammate.” You winked. 
“See you tomorrow, teammate.” You started to walk away before you remembered something. 
You rushed back over to the car and knocked on the window. Max quickly rolled it down and leaned over the dash. “Is something wrong?” 
“Which song are you picking? For the announcements? Because I think you should totally go with Max 33 or Super Max, or to annoy more people, the Dutch anthem.” 
Max only chuckled and rolled the window up. Not giving you an answer. He could see you in the mirror flailing your arms as he left. He would see you tomorrow. 
The first thing Max did when he got to his hotel was get changed. After that, he needed to make a quick phone call. 
He clicked on the contact and waited for the person to pick up. The phone didn’t even ring twice before the sound of the call being accepted filled the quiet room. 
Kelly’s face filled the tiny screen. 
She was the first one to speak, “Hi baby.” Max gave her a sleepy smile. “How was dinner.” 
“Oh it was great. I got to meet the rookie.” Kelly leaned her head on her hand. 
“How did it go?” 
“It was great Kels. I see myself so much in this kid.” 
“Is that a good thing?” 
“Yep. How do you think Penelope will feel about getting a sister? I’m already looking at how to adopt a teenager.” 
Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @lilypadlover
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wumblr · 1 year
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the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)
not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)
anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear
it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced
so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry
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ozzgin · 8 months
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I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--
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in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)
but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔
That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.
Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.
What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).
And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.
First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.
On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.
Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”
“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.
Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”
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