#and it was a drum play through without any vocals

[emphasisonthehomo]

Popstar!au snippet.

For context, Buck and his social media manager Amanda are filming AMA questions in the green room.

•

“Does Tommy’s different drumming style change anything live?” Amanda asks.

At the sound of his name, Tommy’s head snaps up from where he was looking down at his cellphone.

“They’re asking about me?” Tommy asks in surprise. He looks so genuinely flattered that it makes Buck grin.

“Got a lot of questions about you, actually,” Amanda says, shooting him an impatient look, “Now hush, we’re on a time crunch.”

Tommy mimes zipping his lips, but his mouth is twitching into a smile. It’s a question Buck has been thinking about, because he rarely actually gets any about playing styles or performing itself. And the answer is boring, because it’s a ‘no’ but Buck still wants to do it justice.

Amanda starts to record.

“Not really,” Buck says, hyper aware that Tommy’s watching him closely now, “Tommy’s playing style is pretty different from Lucy’s, but he’s good about playing on genre, you know? Obviously if he played for me the way he plays for his band that would change things, but everything has been smooth sailing.”

“Nice,” Amanda says with a happy nod.

“Smooth sailing, huh?” Tommy asks, sounding pleased, “I’ll take that.”

“There’s another question about if you’ve listened to any more of his music, and if so, what’s your favorite song?” Amanda says next.

Buck feels his face get hot.

“Say Aortic F–” Tommy starts.

“I can’t say Aortic Fuck, Tommy,” Buck says, unable to stop himself from laughing, “Kids watch these.”

Besides. He hasn't listened to Aortic Fuck.

“Kids these days know the word ‘fuck’,” Tommy’s got that wide smile of his, “Anyway, it’s a deep cut. The internet will respect that answer.”

“You don’t have to answer at all,” Amanda points out, and Buck can tell from her frown that she wishes the two of them would hurry up and let her finish.  

“I should though,” Buck says earnestly, before looking at Tommy, “When you got asked you had a really great answer, and then I just sounded like a dumbass that didn’t care, because I could only think of that song about miscarriages.”

“Evan,” Tommy says, looking like he can’t decide if Buck’s being funny or not, and sounding very amused, “That’s really sweet, but you don’t listen to death metal. There’s no reason for you to pretend like you do.”

[meanderingwistera]

Loser

Masterlist

Summary - On the first night of your band’s new tour everyone is excited for what the new tour will bring. After an incident on opening night you and Suguru get pulled into Satoru’s orbit but how will the three of you handle this new relationship?

And the scandal just around the corner.

Pairing - Guitarist!Suguru Geto x Singer!Reader x Fanboy! Satoru Gojo

Content - Fluff, humour, SMUT, oral (m & f receiving), exhibitionism, fem implied reader, secret relationship, Geto and reader call Gojo pretty boy because they don’t know his name yet lol

Word count - 3.3k

A/N. - Walk into random rooms at your own risk

Art credits - (Geto) @-to_Ofu, (Gojo) @-su2kuna on X

Divider credit- @enchanthings

Satoru is not a very sociable person. 

He much prefers the safety of his house. In there he can let the masks drop and be himself without any prying eyes. Sure, he can play the smooth business man like a pro but he isn’t like that in reality. 

And reality is often disappointing. 

Satoru’s drive to climb high in the company he works for and his ability to flirt his way into deals has gotten him very far.

But as soon as he is in his house he drops the act that is his outside life. He switches his contacts for more comfortable glasses and lets his unruly white hair do its own thing. Satoru is a nerd to his very bones; Digimon, anime and music are all very important to his lifestyle.

Music is a big cornerstone of Satoru’s life, he needs it to do almost anything. Most of the time his music taste shifts and is composed of all songs with good beats or lyrics. He never really had one band he followed.

That was until he came across your band. 

It had been a clear autumn day when one of his friends had shared an earbud with him and one of your songs came on. Your voice was clear and loud in his ears. He had been almost mesmerised by the riffs on the guitar that accompanied it. 

Satoru has all of the albums that your band has ever released. Even a few additions that were rare. They were his babies, he even has a few signed. He had bought your new album and the tickets for the tour the day it was announced. 

When Megumi’s band had been announced as your opener he was ecstatic. He had practically yelled that his son was famous from the rooftops. Satoru told everyone about it and how he was going to support his son. He is ecstatic to have the opportunity to not only watch you perform in person and also meet you.

He fusses over his appearance for hours in the mirror to make himself not as recognizable as usual. It works for the most part and he will also be in the crowd so he lets it be for now.

It’s insanely crowded as he enters the venue. People push and shove to get a better spot. He feels a bit thrown around as he walks, like a ragdoll being tossed back and forth. But he gets a good spot in the crowd to wait for Megumi’s band to make their debut.

He has his camera ready to film his son and to send a video to Tsumiki who couldn’t make it because of work. She had been so upset that she couldn’t make it and Satoru had promised to film the entire thing. He doesn’t plan on letting her down.

Satoru cheers the loudest when the band begins to play. Yuji’s voice and energy gets the crowd clapping and cheering. He was always the best one with the crowd, his sunny demeanour has always drawn people in.

Megumi looks slightly less grumpy than usual. His frown upturned more than normal as he plays his guitar with practiced ease. He looks a bit miffed when he finds Satoru in the crowd with his phone recording but he can’t say anything about it now.

Nobara matches Yuji’s energy well and sings backup vocals. She jumps around the stage almost as much as Yuji does. Junpei looks nervous behind the drums as if they hadn’t practiced it a million times but halfway through their set he gains his confidence.

It was fun to see them evolving from the teens who practiced in Satoru’s basement.

“Thank you Tokyo!” Yuji yells into the crowd with his trademark grin as they end their set. The crowd cheers back in return to his words. 

After they exit the stage there is a period of about twenty minutes until the lights dim and the main band enters the stage. Satoru feels his heart beat out of his chest as you walk up to the mic and begin your set.

He can never go back to just listening to the recorded version of your songs after this.

The first show of a tour is always the best.

Everything is new; new songs, new choreography and the screaming fans. It’s electrifying to experience, all those people and all that noise. Like a drug that you want injected into your veins.

When Yuki, Nanami, You and Suguru had first started the band that is now selling out stadiums you would never have guessed how popular it would get. It started in the basement of Suguru’s parents house when all four of you were only teenagers. Now you hear every person in this sold out stadium sing the lyrics to your songs. 

“Come on! You guys can sing louder than that!” You exclaim with a wide grin and hold out your microphone to the crowd.

The best thing about being a singer is interacting with the crowd. You know how to make the crowd laugh, go wild and enjoy their experience. It’s arguably the best job ever.

You have long left your previous stage fright behind in the early days of your guys’ fame. For the longest time you could not handle the crowds but now you can’t get enough of them.

“Do you think we could reward the crowd for being so kind to us Yuki?” You cozy up to your bassist, an arm around her shoulders and point the microphone at her.

Yuki laughs brightly, “I think we could make that happen! What about you Suguru?”

The man in question gives you a smirk and a wink before obliging the two of you. His guitar playing the opening to one of your older songs. You cheer with the crowd and get them jumping again.

As you sing your eyes roll over the crowd. For a moment your eyes catch on a tall white haired man. He is watching you move around the stage like you have him in a trance. All too happy to give him something to look at you send a wink his way before moving on.

When that song is over your set is over. 

You guys say goodbye to the crowd and go backstage.

“Who wants to go drinking after the meet and greet?” Yuki asks with a grin.

You hum in contemplation as she takes off her base to put it in its case. She stretches her arms above her head lazily. 

“I will have to decline-” Kento replies quickly.

“Come on!” Yuki pouts at him, “Have fun for once in your life!”

“You should let loose Kento.” Suguru says with a grin.

Hopping up onto one of the gear cases you swing your feet lightly as they pack their stuff up.

“I have to agree! Remember that night in Vegas-” You are cut off by a sharp glare from him and hold up your hands in surrender. “Fine! I was just saying that you could have a bit more fun Kento.”

“Besides you Yuki will be by herself.” Suguru says and you giggle as he stands behind the case you are sitting on to put his arms around your waist.

Kento rolls his eyes at the both of you. Yuki just chuckles and continues to pester Kento to go out drinking.

“My tongue ring should be healed now.” He practically purrs in your ear.

Your relationship with Suguru has never been official in the public light. 

You have been in a relationship since you were twenty. Even before that there was a magnetism to him that drew you in. Kento, Yuki and both your inner circles knew but outside that it was private. 

Suguru preferred a more private relationship and you didn’t want to deal with the constant questions about your relationship that would come with it being out in the open. And it being a secret made it all the more fun.

You clench your thighs as you remember what he could do with tongue before the piercing and think of all the thing he can do now. He is doing this on purpose to make you all hot and bothered before the meet and greet. This is to get back at you for this morning but this is purely sadistic.

“You're so mean!” You whine as he chuckles and lets go of your waist.

“Come on let’s go.” Suguru nods his head toward the door that Kento and Yuki have already begun to walk out of.

You huff and get off the case to join them. 

The lines are long for the event and you can’t even see to the end of the line. You shake so many hands and take at least a hundred pictures. It is surprising that you don’t feel too worn out after it.

There are only a few people left in the line. A group of four teenagers and a man behind them. The teenagers walk up and you recognize them instantly.

“You guys are the openers right!” You ask excitedly as the approach.

Yuki looks interested and leans in closer to have a better look at the group. 

“You remember us?!” A girl with a brown bob exclaims and points to herself. 

You throw your head back with a laugh.

“Of course! We try to know every one of our openers and their music.” Yuki says and holds out a hand to her. 

She squeals and takes it. You smile fondly at them then turn to the other kids. The one closest to you has spiked black hair and a frown on his face. He is talking with Suguru about something, a light in his bored eyes.

The lead singer, you think his name is Yuji, walks up to you and you hold out a hand.

“Yuji right?” You ask and watch his face light up.

“Yes! I am a huge fan of your work!” He exclaims with a wide grin.

“I’m a fan of yours,” You shake his hand with a smile, “that crowd work is good.”

He blushes a bit at your complement, “Oh that’s nothing!”

What a humble kid. You will have to keep contact with them even after the tour because they are on a good track to be on the same level with your band. 

“Crowd work is important, don’t discount yourself like that. And your vocals are amazing too.” You continue.

After that you talk with the girl, Nobara, the boy, Megumi and their drummer, Junpei. All four of them are sweet and you can’t help but feel that the next generation will be in good hands with them around.

The last guy is the man you winked at in the crowd. He is cute up close, his walk is a bit awkward considering his height. He is tall, about as tall as Suguru if not taller. His glasses fall down his nose to reveal the bluest eyes you have ever seen.

Looking him up and down you grin and hold out your hand.

“Hi~” You greet him sweetly and watch as his cheeks grow red. 

“Hello,” He shakes your hand, “nice to meet you.”

“Do you want something signed,” You lean forward to get closer to his personal space and to push your chest against him, “or a photo.”

The poor man looks down at your chest then back up to your eyes with an expression close to fear in his blue eyes.

“Both!” He practically squeaks out and you want to continue to tease him, how far can you push until you break him?

“I can do that, Suguru!” You call out to Suguru who has been staring at him too.

He saunters over to you with a smirk on his face, “I heard you wanted a photo?”

The man nods sheepishly and you want to coo at his expression. He is so shy and you can’t help but want to play with him. Suguru raises an eyebrow but he seems to catch on to your game and smirks

“Come on then pretty boy.” Suguru says and the three of you take a photo.

The man’s cheeks are red the entire rest of your interaction. He hurries off soon after and you pout at his skittishness. You would have loved to taste him but guess not.

Realizing that there is no one in the line you grin and pull Suguru behind you by his collar. He doesn’t fight you on it, just follows behind you with a smug expression. Suguru has long since told you about his possessive streak when it comes to you.

So you two started to fuck after every show, it was your little tradition. 

You must have fucked in every venue in Japan by now. The idea of getting caught with him turns you on like nothing else. It wasn’t really big news to the rest of your inner circles who have known about your relationship for years now but someone else catching you is hot.

Now Suguru has teased you enough, he can put his money where his mouth is. And you are going to put his mouth to very good use.

Satoru almost had a heart attack seeing you in person. 

His exit had been so swift because you and Suguru Geto almost made his brain shut down. His brain keeps repeating ‘pretty boy’ like a mantra.

He walks down the halls of the venue looking for Megumi. Satoru wanted to say goodbye to him before he went back home and he doesn’t want the night to end yet.

A faint noise from one of the rooms catches his ear. He can’t really hear it but it sounds like a laugh or a sigh. Maybe Megumi was with the rest of his band in this room. He knocks on the door once, twice, then decides to just open the door.

What he sees in that room is straight out of a wet dream. You are leaned back on one of the plush black couches, your head thrown back. His eyes trace the column of your neck as a low moan is drawn out by Geto who is in between your thighs.

“Like that- good boy.” You say and run your hands through his thick black hair.

That goes straight to his dick. He wants you to praise him that way. Satoru doesn’t want to push Geto out of the way, no, he wants to join him in between your legs. His mouth waters at the sight of your exposed pussy. 

Your eyes slide over to him. 

He expects you to get angry or embarrassed because he caught the two of you. But you don’t do that, instead a smirk forms on your red lips as you look at him. One hand gestures for him to come closer while the other pulls Geto closer to your cunt.

“We have company Sugu-” You say to him in a teasing tone, “hmm- pretty boy walked in on us.”

Geto pulls back to stare at his face then his eyes look down at the obvious tent in his pants, a smirk on his lips. “Shut the door pretty boy, unless you want others to see us.”

Satoru feels like he may not make it out of this room alive.

One thing you learn about the guy who walked in on you is that he is so sensitive. A small touch from you or Suguru has his dick twitching in his pants. It is so cute.

“You are doing so good, baby.” You coo at him as you continue sucking on his neck.

“Too- much!” He whines and bucks his hips into Suguru’s hand.

A little giggle escapes your lips as tears prick his pretty blue eyes. He looks so ruined like this and you are very into that. His glasses are esque and his cheeks are a shade of red you have never seen before.

“Just wait until he gets his mouth on your dick, he has a talented tongue.” You whisper in his ear.

As if on cue Suguru licks up the length of his cock before taking it into his mouth. His lips stretch around it and you can’t deny how hot that is. 

You both had talked about inviting others into both your bed and relationship. Suguru had said that he wouldn’t mind it but nothing had ever come of it. Until pretty boy came along. You can already see all the fun you could have with him.

His moans get even louder and you can’t have anyone finding you in here, not that it wouldn’t be hot but you don’t want him to get tangled up in your fame unless he wants to.

“Here,” You tap two fingers on his bottom lip, “suck on these so we keep the noise down.”

He gives a shaky nod before he begins to suck on your fingers. His lips look so pretty wrapped around your fingers. He must like it because his hips buck into Suguru’s mouth.

“We should take him with us on tour,” You muse out loud with a grin, “he would be so good for us.”

Suguru releases his dick with a slick pop, “He is being good so far, besides walking in on us.”

“Fuck-” He curses around your fingers but it trails off in a high whine as Suguru continues sucking.

Your free hand trails under his hoodie to play with his chest. His breath hitches as you pinch one of his nipples between your fingers. You roll it and he squeezes his eyes shut, his whines growing more desperate.

He must be close.

“You can cum pretty boy-” You coax him softly.

He snaps his hips up and cums. You take your fingers out of his mouth to hear his soft moans as he cums hard. Suguru keeps going through his orgasm and you watch his eyes well with tears as he is overstimulated.

You wonder if you could ride him to tears-

A loud ringing interrupts your thoughts. 

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you. Groaning you reach over to grab it to see Kento’s contact on it. With a pout you answer the phone.

“What’s up Kento?” You ask in the nicest tone you have right now.

There is loud music and yelling voices in the background of the phone call before he begins to speak.

“Yuki is drunk and I need you two to come help me with her.” He explains and you hear Yuki’s laughter in the background.

Suguru, who has long since swallowed, stands up and looks at you with an interested expression. You huff and roll your eyes. He gets the message that you two probably won’t be staying much longer.

“Can’t you handle her? She can’t be that drunk this early.” You grouse.

“Imma’ call my ex!” You hear Yuki slur in the background and stand up.

Damn it.

“We will be there soon, take her phone. I don’t want to deal with her getting back with her ex for the millionth time this year.” You tell him and hang up.

Pretty boy is just coming down from his high as you wipe the tears from his eyes and readjust his glasses. He looks between the two of you with a confused expression.

“Will you be okay to get home?” Suguru asks him gently.

“Yeah- I should be fine.” He says still a little out of it.

“Here-” You grab his phone and put your number in it, “If you want to continue this text this number and I will text you the address and room number of where we are staying, we fly out the day after tomorrow.”

He looks at you in disbelief, like he never thought that you would offer him more. You laugh at his expression and press a kiss to his red cheek.

“Hopefully we will see you tomorrow pretty boy!” Suguru says over his shoulder as you two exit the room, careful to shut it behind you to give him privacy.

You really hope he shows up because you haven’t gotten to ride him yet.

Tags <3 - @linny-bloggs

[thisthatpinkvenom]

GIVE HER A LITTLE POW-POW ON HER BABYMAKER

BUSINESSMAN!SAN / HOUSEWIFE!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: What Bibi said in "Automatic" but make it domestic.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, smut smut smuttity smut but I think it's kinda cute(?) 😗

⤏ Content: rich married couple!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au, housewife!fem reader who knows how to cook (sorry to anyone who's not a MasterChef)

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): just straight up fucking, unprotected, breeding kink but it's more than a kink, creampie, light choking, light dirty talk, soft dom!San (my knees are weak), lots of swearing left and right, lots of yearning and pet names and it's kinda lovey-dovey but hey, what else do you expect from me at this point

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

"Ngh...l-let me make you feel g-good."

"Trust me; you already are..."

Earlier that evening, the familiar jingling of keys as the elevator doors opened and signaled San's arrival. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud before he stripped himself of his coat and undid his tie with a grimace on his face. He looked irritable, though the lines on his forehead ceased to be visible when he'd heard your feet padding across the floor to carry you into his embrace. A sequence of small and innocent pecks progressed into longing kisses and relieved sighs. And before you knew it, you were in the nude and on your bed, getting the pounding you'd been daydreaming of all day.

The bed never ceased its squeaking as your husband fucked you from behind. With your hand's iron grip on the headboard—that further continued to dig the dent in the wall deeper—your thighs trembled under all the weight you stressed onto your knees. Your back was flush against his abdomen, skin sticking with his through sheens of sweat. You were fortunate to live in a penthouse that offered you more privacy and freedom to fuck like rabbits, or else you would've received a very heated complaint for the incessant banging on your wall alone.

"This bed's f-fucking annoying," he grunted, frustration communicated through his hand which squeezed your breast in its clutch. "Need a new one, for fuck's s-sake."

You'd never voiced your complaints about the bed frame before, its sensitivity to any movement you made becoming a nuisance to your ears. You wanted to discuss going out and buying a new one but the right time hadn't come yet. Frankly, San had too much packed into his schedule, and you didn't want to pile any more things on his to-do list.

"I-I've been—ah—wanting t-to talk to you about t-that…"

Gradually, his thrusts became tamer until he stopped. The hand on your breast fell to your hip as he sat back on his heels, pulling you with him in the process. Your heart's drumming in your ears and you're trying to catch up with your own breath.

You didn't need to see to know the frown that made its way to his face. "Sannie—"

"And why am I only hearing this now?"

"You're so busy, and I didn't want to bother you. It wasn't a big deal, anyway," you reasoned.

His nose brushed the nape of your neck before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. "Mm, that's silly. Your concerns are my concerns. You should know that already, Baby."

Thank God, you were sitting. Otherwise, you would've melted to your knees if he kept this up. Fuck.

"I'll always try to make room for you," he continued, "no matter how hard it may be." His words melted under the soft sucks his lips made on your neck, his fingers having found your clit to toy with. "How about we go get a new one, this weekend? Then I can fuck you without all the noise."

Your walls clenched around his cock, earning a hiss and a chuckle vibrating on your skin.

"Ride me."

You set a steady pace when you began to work yourself on his lap, the squeaking commencing once again with every bounce you made on his cock. Despite the very vocal bed frame, the squelching from between your thighs couldn't be ignored either—the wet, little mess that your husband liked to play around with so much.

His other hand made its way up to your neck, his thumb and fingers gently pressing themselves into either side. The pressure had your eyes seeing black while your hands searched for his wrists, nimble fingers enclosing around them for any sense of stability. You really needed release, the flesh of your ass and thighs rippling with each hard smack against him.

"One day, I'll make time to put a baby in you. My baby," he rasped, the grip on your neck stiffening for a brief moment. "Ah, fuck…how does that s-sound, Honey?"

You clenched your teeth, eyes squeezed shut at the mention of being knocked up. And when you thought you couldn't be any more wetter, he'd proven you wrong.

"Oh, my God…d-don't say things you don't mean, Baby," you whined.

The pads of his fingers pressed deeper on your clit as they continued to draw circles on the nub.

"I fucking mean it. I always keep my promises."

Everything was just too much for you, your senses were stimulated to oblivion and you couldn't handle it any longer. The inevitable tension of your aroused pussy gave his cock a vice-like grip as you began to see speckles of noise behind your heavy eyes.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum—Sannie, I-I'm gonna fucking cum," you cried. Salt laid on your tongue from the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks, while the hand on your neck moved to your jaw.

He turned your face to his and shoved his tongue between your lips, pausing briefly to murmur, "I know, Baby. I know."

A trembling, soaked pile of mush was all you were at that moment. Putty under his touch, while you let him fuck your sensitive walls until he spurted a warm, white mess inside you. Your hips rocked slower until they settled to a halt, and your wet kisses had become tender. Nothing about this was funny, but you couldn't help but giggle, your teeth knocking against San's while the bliss was still clouding your mind.

"Lunch was really delicious as usual, by the way. Thank you, Honey."

Your thumbs declared a half-hearted war with each other, fiddling with no serious direction. You faced him, lying on your sides with lopsided smiles shared just between the two of you. The soft whirring of the air conditioner filled the room. Otherwise, you were undisturbed.

"You're welcome," you responded dreamily.

He shuffled closer to you, the bed squeaking once again.

"So, what's for tomorrow?"

You grinned, a playful glint in your narrowed eyes. "It's a secret. You can't open it until lunchtime. And don't even try, I know everything."

"Didn't I say your concerns were mine?"

"This one's an exception."

He smirked. "What if I gave you that baby in exchange for knowing what's for lunch tomorrow? Starting right now."

Your cheeks grew warm when the tip of his nose kissed yours.

"You play a really hard bargain."

[timbit-robin-art]

I saw your Mio doodle and now I wonder about a Light Music Club X-Men Edition.. Scott can be on drums he'd be so good at keeping time... whatever Ororo is on (because she'd slay at every instrument) she has to ALSO be on vocals because I believe that's just canon..

maybe Logan can be their roadie

Ah, K-On. My one weakness. I went a little overboard when picturing this, so whoops.

I imagine this being in a universe where there’s still mutants, but Xavier isn’t making them use their powers to fight. Instead, the institute is for learning how to control their powers/providing refuge for mutants who have nowhere else to go, and they go to a mutant/normal human mixed private school for normal education.

Here’s some of my ideas for the club members so far:

Ororo is the bass player and lead vocalist. She’s been inspired to be in a band ever since she lived on the streets as a little kid, where she saw a bass player performing live. Freshmen year of high school, she hears someone absolutely going ham on the drums, and finds Scott playing on his own. It took a while, but she finally convinced Scott to join her. She’s the heart and soul of the group, and main character along with Scott. I don’t see her living at the institute, though Xavier keeps the offer open. Instead, she may live with a 19/20 year old Gambit, who’s living off of the Guild’s money and trying to lay low.

Scott is the drum player. After Xavier picked him off of the streets, he got a bit lost in the mansion and discovered a drum set in the music room (I imagine it used to belong to Erik/Magnus). Xavier sees that the boy has natural rhythm, and decides to find him a teacher. Scott forms a middle school band with the O5, but they had a falling out, causing everyone to go their separate ways. However, Scott is still very passionate about the drums, which is why he eventually joins Ororo. He may be more pessimistic, but his passion for the drums is more than enough to keep him going.

Kurt is the pianist. He’s a transfer student from Germany and has always wanted to be a part of a band like Ororo. It was him that suggested the idea of forming an actual club, and he’s the big idealist/optimist of the group. I can see him not knowing too much on how to play piano, minus the basics he learned from his mother (she taught him how to play despite his three fingers), so when he moves into the institute, Xavier teaches him how to play better. Even though there are some people at school who treat him just as bad as the mobs from his home, he’s still willing to get out there and play with the group.

Hank is the guitarist. He used to be a part of the same group as Scott, but after everyone split a part, he stopped playing entirely. I can see him being intrigued by the talk of a “light music club,” but after seeing Scott was there, he wants nothing to do with it. Eventually, he joins a practice session after Ororo gets through to him, and he realizes just how much he misses playing. Scott and him have the friends-turned-hostile-turned-back-into-friends relationship. Unlike the other three O5 members, his love for music trumps any hostile feelings after the falling out, and he’s willing to give it another go.

Ah, but you can’t have a club without a faculty member as your sponsor;

Mr. Logan was the only available candidate for this. After a lot of begging (and promises that they’d wash his motorcycle every weekend), they eventually get him on board. He pretends to hate it, but it slowly becomes obvious that he has a soft spot for the group. He sees the passion they all have, and it reminds him of when he was younger (hmm… what if Logan was the bass player Ororo saw when she was younger…).

Of course, if we follow K-On, we must have a 5th member that joins later on. I have no idea who that could be. I think there’s a lot of fun ideas depending on who.

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Ten

masterlist

chapter warnings: none!! kinda a filler chapter? :)

okay so i've been slacking with my writing recently lmao, i only have a few more pre-written chapters left before i run out so i want to lock in this weekend and write!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was the second day of the festival, and the first time that Bad Omens were headlining. To say Noah was stressed would be a massive understatement.

He’d tried to play it cool that morning, acting like the pressure wasn’t getting to him, but it was obvious. You could see it in the way his jaw stayed tight, how he barely touched his tea, how he hadn’t even made a single sarcastic comment all day.

Matt wasn’t much better. He was pacing the gravel outside the trailer like it was a treadmill, muttering to himself about setlists, lighting cues, and potential tech disasters. Meanwhile, Folio and Jolly were lounging in fold-out chairs with ice creams in hand, soaking up the sun like it was just another day.

You sat nearby, drumming your fingers against your knee as the faint sound of Catch Your Breath’s set drifted over from the main stage, but the sound was drowned out by Matt's stressing.

“Matt, chill.” Nick said without looking up from his ice cream, “You’re gonna wear a hole into the ground.”

“Seriously,” Jolly added, stretching his legs out. “You’re making me anxious.”

Matt shot them a glare.

“I’m making you anxious? Good. You're acting like this is nothing, don't you guys realise how serious this is?”

The guys just shrugged and you smothered a laugh behind your hand and glanced toward the trailer. From inside, you could hear Noah running through vocal warm-ups. Even through the walls, his voice was sharp, clear, and too beautiful.

“You sure he’s okay?” You asked, tilting your head toward the door.

Folio shrugged.

“It’s Noah. He’ll be fine once he’s on stage.”

But you weren’t so sure. Whatever had happened between you two the other night hadn’t just vanished, but you could already feel the old walls starting to creep back up. You’d thought about checking on him, just to ease your own nerves, but you knew better. If he wanted space, he meant it.

The trailer door swung open a few minutes later, and there he was, hair messy from his hands, a flush on his cheeks like he’d been pacing, too. His eyes scanned past you like you weren’t even there. He grabbed a water bottle from the cooler beside Jolly’s chair and twisted the cap off with a sharp flick of his wrist.

“You good?” Folio asked.

“Yeah,” Noah muttered, taking a long drink. “Sounds bad but I'm just ready to get it over with.”

…

A few hours later, the guys were getting ready to go on. The energy was like nothing else, a mixture of anxiety and excitement made them buzz, except for Noah. 

He stood off to the side, head down, lost in his own world, toying with a loose thread on his mask. You wanted to say something, but what could you even say? Was there anything you could say that wouldn't make it any worse?

And then, like he could feel your eyes on him, Noah glanced over.

For a split second, everything slowed.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. But he didn't look away, he just held your gaze.

So you walked over.

“No pressure,” you said softly, voice barely above the rumble of the crowd on the other side of the stage. “This is only like, a super big deal.”

He huffed a dry laugh, but didn’t look away.

“Really?” he murmured, “Never would’ve thought.”

You stepped closer, the noise around you fading. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

Noah swallowed, jaw tight. 

“I will be. Once I’m out there.”

“You’re gonna kill it, y’know. Always fucking do…”

“Yeah... I know.” 

“And if you suck, I can always take over.” You smirked.

“Thanks.” He chuckled.

You nodded slowly. Then, without really thinking, you reached for his gloved hand, the one still clenched around the mask, and gently wrapped your fingers around his.

And he didn’t pull away.

For a moment, you both stood in silence, his eyes fixed on the way your thumb rubbed the back of his hand. And when he finally looked up again, there was something different in his eyes. His expression was softer.

“Stay by the stage?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Just for the first song.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to bite back the emotion that rose too quickly in your throat. You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steady. “Of course.”

A voice crackled through someone’s headset: One minute.

Noah let go, stepped back, rolling his shoulders before he pulled his mask on, and you made him bend down so you could adjust it for him. 

The rest of the guys had already left, and Noah adjusted his in-ears as he waited for his cue. 

Then it was finally time. The crowd screamed. He gave you one last smile, a genuine smile, beneath his mask before picking up his mic.

And then Noah Sebastian walked on stage like he owned the world, like he was the fucking king.

And good lord did they put on a hell of a show. 

Noah’s stage presence tonight was like nothing you’d seen before, and his voice… He in fact did not suck. You had never seen them play with this much enthusiasm before, like this wasn’t just their job, this was their passion, their purpose. 

This is what they lived for.

You couldn’t help but feel a little emotional knowing this was their last show for this album cycle, but you were glad you were here to watch. Their energy tonight was just unmatched, you truly had no words to describe it. 

As Noah spoke to the crowd, thanking them for coming out, telling them this was their first ever festival they were headliners for, you knew what song was about to come next, which one they were going to finish off with, and a part of you braced yourself to hear Just Pretend again. 

The lyrics had an extra meaning to you tonight, after what he had told you the other night. 

You chuckled to yourself for a moment, I guess love really is the death of peace of mind. 

You’d save that one for later. 

…

“Y/n, I have something to tell you, and I need you to promise you won’t get mad.” Folio turned around in the passenger seat, looking suspiciously guilty.

You, wedged between Noah and Jolly in the back of the van, immediately narrowed your eyes. The guys had come off stage sweaty and full of adrenaline, but after showering and eating, they were all winding down, except for Folio, who was still way too energetic for this time of night.

And now a part of you was curious. A part of you was panicking. 

“…What is it?”

“I might’ve told the guys we could have a hot tub party at our place next week, for finishing the album-”

“We don’t even have a hot tub!”

Folio winced. 

“Okay. This is where I need you to not get mad…”

Your stomach dropped. 

“Nick. What did you do?”

He hesitated. 

“…I may have bought a hot tub..."

“Where the fuck are we putting a hot tub?!” You laughed at how ridiculous this was. “What about my vegetable patch!”

“Hey, you promised not to get mad!”

“Did not!”

Noah, who had been silent the entire ride, cracked an eye open from where he was slumped against the window. 

“In her defence, she never said she would.”

Folio huffed, turning back to you. 

“Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first, but just think about it… imagine all the sick parties we could throw! Or even just coming home from a stressful day and getting in the tub!”

“…I guess it’s not a bad idea.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. 

Folio grinned, triumphant. 

“See! I knew you’d be down for a hot tub party. It’s gonna be sick, just wait.”

…

By the time you got back to the hotel, exhaustion had finally caught up to you. Between running around all day, the rush of the festival, and the chaos that was Folio impulsively buying a hot tub, you were ready to pass out.

You didn’t say much as you followed Noah into the hotel room. Neither did he.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. It was… something else.

Noah tossed his bag onto the chair in the corner and immediately pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing the tank top underneath. His tattoos stretched with the motion, and you had to force yourself not to look.

You cleared your throat, walking over to your bag to grab some pyjamas. 

“Dibs on the bathroom!” You called. 

Noah let out a breath of amusement as he flopped down onto the bed. 

“Okay.” 

You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes just for a second. 

“Wow, you didn’t even fight me for it, you must be tired.” You chuckled.

His head sank into the pillow, his voice quieter now. 

“Yeah. A little.”

You hesitated.

Something about him felt off. Maybe it was the way he had been so quiet on the ride back, or maybe it was the way his shoulders still looked tense, like he was carrying something he couldn’t put down. Maybe it was just the comedown from the show, but maybe it was something else...

You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed your things and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

When you came out, fresh-faced and in an oversized t-shirt, Noah was still awake, sitting up in bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

You climbed into your side of the bed, pulling the covers over yourself, but sleep didn’t come as easily as you thought it would. For a while the glow of Noah’s phone screen was the only light in the room, casting a faint blue hue against the walls, until he had set it down with a sigh. 

But still neither of you could sleep. 

You heard him sigh after a while, so you sat back up. 

“You’re thinking too loud." You murmured, turning to face him.

Noah let out a quiet laugh, the first real one of the night. 

“Didn’t realise that was a thing.”

“Well, it is. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, then sighed. 

“Nothing.”

You didn’t believe him, but you didn’t push.

He picked his phone back up, and there was another beat of silence. Then he spoke again.

“You were right, by the way.”

You blinked sleepily. 

“About what?”

“Earlier. When you said I’d kill it. I really didn’t think I had it in me tonight, but we really fucked it up out there. I'm glad you were here for it.”

That caught you off guard.

Noah wasn’t the type to accept compliments easily, let alone bring them up himself.

Your lips curled into a small smile. 

“Thanks... I always know what I’m talking about. You should listen to me more.”

He set his phone back down on the nightstand. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He glanced over at you, the room too dark to read his expression. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, concrete boy.”

You closed your eyes with a little smirk.

Neither of you said anything else. Neither of you fell asleep right away, either.

…

The soft creak of the bathroom door opening stirred you from sleep. You blinked against the morning light filtering through the hotel curtains.

Then, you saw him.

Noah stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around him from the lingering heat of his shower. A towel hung dangerouslt low on his hips, droplets of water still clinging to his tattooed skin. His damp hair fell messily over his face as he gently shook his head, stretching slightly before rolling his neck and shoulders.

Yeah. You’ve woken up in your own personal hell. 

You didn’t mean to stare. You really didn’t.

But how could you not when he looked like that?

Then, just as you were about to snap yourself out of it, he flexed.

It was subtle- just a stretch, and a slow roll of his shoulders as he reached into his bag- but you knew. The way his biceps tensed just enough, the way his abs clenched slightly as he shifted. It was intentional.

Your thighs pressed together, fingers curling into the sheets. 

Asshole.

You swallowed, dragging your gaze upward before he could-

Too late.

Noah smirked. Just slightly, just enough to let you know he definitely caught you.

“Morning.” He said, voice a little rough from sleep.

You forced yourself to play it cool, clearing your throat as you sat up. 

“Morning.”

He didn’t move right away, just stood there, towel still in place, so dangerously low, watching you with that amused little glint in his eyes. Like he knew what you were thinking. Like he was waiting for you to crack.

Instead, you huffed and looked away, reaching for your phone. 

He chuckled, finally turning back to his bag, rummaging for clothes. 

“Sleep okay?” He asked casually, as if he hadn’t just been showing off in front of you on purpose.

“Yeah. You?” You exhaled, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. 

He hummed in response, pulling a shirt over his head. You weren’t sure if it was an answer or if he just didn’t feel like talking about it.

You hated how you felt fuzzy inside, it was clear he was doing it on purpose, the playful glint in his eye gave it away. 

But you knew just how you’d get him back, you were planning it already. 

You knew exactly what you would do. 

“Excited for Folio’s hot tub party next week?” You asked, an innocent smile on your face, not letting on that what you were plotting in your mind was far from innocent.

-------------------------------

@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone @superpiratecriminalchef @lukeevangelista @lunabuna991 @ami--gami @bluehairpunklol @darknightstarryeyes @xxkittenkissesxx @renegadebirch

[chokchokk]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄) | choi san x fem!reader

a requested drummer boyfriend!san one-shot

“How do I feel like, Sannie?”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : With your eyes on his playing, San feels like a superstar. 

You, on the other side, feel super horny. Mamma Mia…

“You feel like you're mine."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.8k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, a bit cocky but very sweet drummer!san, shy but not inexperienced girlfriend!femreader, sensory overload & deprivation, slight dry-humping (f), light-hearted teasing, pet-names (sun, sunshine, sunny, baby), explicit consent, verbal & physical reassurance, blindfolding, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, love-making, passionate sex, unprotected sex (not sorry), cussing; banging against the wall and mattresses squeaking used as a narrative and poetic device, barely plot just good fuck and tuck (aftercare)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wrote this in 4 long sessions while i had a very horny long distance relationship with drummer!san due to all the business i experienced while working on this lol. i missed him any time i couldn't write for him, which, over the course of almost 2 months (i'm sorry)... is long.... i promise it is sweet and love-making but uh. horny. i was drunk for a big chunk (like a half) of writing this (took care of obvious errors but tell me if you find anything please omg.) anyway lmao hope you have fun reading it <33 always appreciate reblogs, likes and comments/feedback xoxo

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : @ateezstanforever : @sanwhalvr : @itsvxlentine : @jeonride : @r1kitti : @sanniesbunnie : @northerngalxy (thank you!!!)

masterlist link | join my taglist

[ what he’s playing : MAMMAMIA / FEEL / FOR YOUR LOVE ▸ Måneskin | playlist ]

OH, OH, OH, AUGH!

There he goes again, your boyfriend, his black earphone plugged deep into one ear, drum sticks held firmly in his hands, hammering down on the drums he's been abusing for the past, uh — gosh, how long has it been? An hour? A lifetime? 

You love your Sannie, you really do, but when you signed up to be the girlfriend of infamous drummer “Sun Set”, you were expecting heated, secret glances from the stage to the audience, feverish making out-sessions post-concert, and while you do get those things in an overdose, listening to drum covers (without the vocals, mind you) on repeat until your ears actually fall off–? No, that one was not on the initial contract.

And, come on, it's finally the weekend after one long, exhausting week, which San and you usually spend trying to de-stress, relax and relieve yourself. So yes, if it was as usual, you would be spending your sweet time with your boyfriend right now— if it wasn't for his upcoming competition with his band.

Alright. It’s not to say that you are being forced to stay here in between these soundproof walls, covered by graffiti San's bandmates left to immortalize their jam-sessions, and don’t forget the pungent smell of tobacco that will without a doubt stick to the hoodie you fetched after he took it off— you do want to be a supportive girlfriend that’s worth winning those 1K for.

So, you’ll still give him a thumbs up and applause every time he finishes with a song, tilts up his head triumphantly, fingers running through his incredibly disheveled red hair that has formed singular spikes of sweaty strands, while the drum sticks still rest in his hands with his breath all messed up. He gives it his all, but what you understand is that San gives even more when you are there to watch him: At least that’s what you’re seeing right now, when he doesn't give himself more than five seconds to transition to the next track.

Lower lip bitten deep by his teeth, face pulled together to a concentrated frown, head rocking up and down, side to side, with his red locks waving around in the wind of his energy and feet aggressively stomping down the bass drum, your boyfriend feels his music, always, with his whole body, his mind drowns and explodes with the help of his loud instrument, and as you sit there, on the couch, a pillow clenched in between your legs– you try to balance out the overbearing noise by digging your nails into the cushion, and you deal with the “awe” you feel for your boyfriend being so immersed by his artistry, god, so astonishingly burning and afire— by pressing your thighs together so the beats of his drum can finally stop pulsating between them.

San doesn’t smile when he plays, you noticed it a while ago, makes an almost disgusted-looking face by scrunching his face together, especially when he really hammers down the cymbals and throws his head to the back, drilling holes into the ceiling with his eyes as if he’s challenging the gods to come stop him, his thick neck glistening in his sweat, his pulse pumping through the vein that is bulging out. 

Oh, mamma…

You hope those gods do have mercy with you, because San looking like this does things to you that go beyond just feeling fear that he’s going to throw his shit to the floor. It makes you go into a craze that he’s also wearing a very drenched black tank top and pair of ripped jeans, his black bandana he had on his head is now tied around his thigh, and his arms are flexing with each time he’s thwacking down on his tom-toms and smashing the cymbals— fuck, where does your boyfriend get the time to go to the gym? Is it getting hot in here? You can’t possibly be enduring overheating on top of a headache, you’ll actually pass out or have to rip off your clothes in its entirety. But, shit, look at him— your boyfriend looks absolutely carnal right now and you can’t even slightly touch him, you’re going to melt. Like actually melt into mush.

… mia.

San is going through his usual cathartic euphoria, the snaring sounds of his drums and cymbals penetrate your ear cut and clean, but while you usually can bop your head to it, listening to him does slightly differ, when your brain clenches after each sound that follows the other. 

It’s 1 AM. The weekend has just started. It’s been two hours of his practice now, with a small ‘make-out break’ that is already more than thirty minutes ago. San promised you, ‘just one last song and I’ll be there for you, yeah?’, but there goes he, your boyfriend, Choi San, Sun Set, drumming along to his tenth or something song, overflowing in intense passion.

You could have been lying in bed with him, San in your arms or you in his, smothered by his love or something, anything; Please, just… No more beating the skin. No more rudiments, diddles– you don’t want to hear none of it, and you know you’re being an immodest glutton for your boyfriend thinking of him like this, but there’s nothing else on your mind except him and how bad you want him to stop playing. Of course you can’t say that out loud, at least not that he could hear it over the sounds of his drums, especially over how loud the music in his earbuds is set, the vocals screech through the plastic so even you can hear the shouts.

San values his musical time with his drum, needs it to feel secure for the competition, it would be cruel to interrupt him just because you have a headache and an even more so aching cunt, right?

No, you dummy.

San is your boyfriend. Or no, you, dear, are his beloved girlfriend. He’s not going to let you sit here and suffer, even if you mean well for him and watch Sun Set be hot. Being his scarily attentive self, he catches the strain in your face and immediately stops stepping into the bass drum with his sneakers. A very acute quietude interrupts his playing and washes all of your boiled up headache away.

Silence.

It can sound so sweet, can’t it? Can feel so sweet, too…

“Hey, are you okay, sunshine?”, San asks, and after your ears get used to the lack of sound, you see his sweat drop from his forehead, hear his voice soft and molten, which starkly contrasts the overwhelming volume of the instrument he’s been playing.

“No, it’s nothing,” you murmur, failing at hiding your discomfort, as the pillow still rests in your hands, nail marks as visible as visible can be on the velvety surface. You’ve obviously been scratching that, don't even try to hide it.

“Oh, sunshine,” San sighs with a sorrowful smile that understands immediately, and after he swings his legs from the stool, he makes his way to you with open arms to slide them under your armpits.

You liquefy in his hug, the pillow tumbling out your groin, body going lax immediately as you wrap yourself around his neck, sinking into him. The couch squeaks a bit upon the impact of San falling into it, but the shrill noise is nothing compared to the beat of his drums. His embrace engulfs you, makes you feel sunken in remedy, reverie and warmth– and the slippery surface of his back only adds to the experience of having your lover in your arms. All that was a buzzing chaos— San makes it golden, melting your tense body, lifting it up to gently sit down on the couch side-ways with you on top, your ear listening to how his heart knocks against his ribcage, slowly, loudly, steadily.

“It’s past midnight already!”, he gasps silently, looking at the clock, “Why didn’t you tell me, sunny?”

“You had that look on again,” you whine, face planted into his breast, god, his pillowy, sweaty chest— and look up to him, as he strokes over your back.

“I have something like that?”, San hums, voice is kept low so he doesn’t irritate you in any way, though there’s a slight suggestive swing in the repetition of your words, “A look?”

His eyebrow twitches up and his lips are curled into a smirk, wanting you to tell him in detail what’s gotten you to fidget around with the pillow and whine in impatience, clearly bleeding in confidence that comes from having not missed even the slightest beat of the songs.

You didn’t think drummers were that sexy, since the usual limelight was kept on the flirtatious vocalists, powerful guitarists or the red-blooded bassists, but after San had invited you to one of his jam-sessions on the third date, your life had been tilted upside-down, rocked, and your fate settled. (It was really rough to not fall around his neck after his drum-solo, peculiarly when Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept making jokes about your red cheeks, but you still remember the way San asked you whether you were alright with his heavy breath, and, oh god, does it still turn you on to this day.)

If it’s not the look he has on his face every time he pounds into his instrument, the one which you can feel flutter in between your legs, it’s most certainly the look in his eyes he has on right now, the sultry, slightly taunting gaze that’s trying to make you sweat, and as if the room isn’t heated up enough, his dark irises spark in between his eyelashes, kindling a fire in you that definitely needs extinguishing— so best believe he should know it.

“Your fans tell you every day, Sannie,” you groan, embarrassment croaking your voice while you snuggle yourself deeper into his comfortable body, his thigh parked between your legs. You can feel the knot of his bandana stroke your core and you shudder a little bit, a cracked breath escaping out your nose. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows– doesn’t seem to acknowledge how you inhale deeply– and San exhales out a chuckle, answering, with glittery puppy eyes that make you unable to say no any further, “I’d like to hear it from you though, sunshine…”

You slump deeper into his flesh and as his bandana grazes the thin layer of your booty- shorts again, you savor how slow he’s breathing and how warm he feels under you, sighing, “Sannie, when you play the drums… It’s like… W- wow, what do I say, you know…”

“Aww, don’t be shy now,” San croons and doesn’t acknowledge how he’s encouraging you to keep grinding needily on his thigh, hands skidding to your ass to cup them delicately, drifting and pushing you over slowly. “I don’t know, Sannie… You–,” you whirr and you have to inhale sharply after your sensitive bud tingles, “You… make my head hurt, Sann- n- nie.”

Alright, let’s be honest here. You’re lying through your teeth, and San chuckling is confirmation that he doesn’t believe the lie one single bit.

Yes, your head hurts, but that was his music, not San as the only man who could take care of all the feelings that have been jamming up like crazy. Feelings being a gut-wrenching mix of longing, craving, lusting for San as hard as you do. Even now, you can count the drops of sweat on his face dripping down his freckled neck you’ve already previously admired, but seeing it up close makes you quite greedier, especially when you can still make out his flavor on your tastebuds from having had your tongue down his throat a (too long) while ago. Not to forget his fingers groping into your plump butt right now, and it’s confusing how your boyfriend’s visage can stay as innocuous as it looks while he’s obviously supporting you on chasing your thrill.

After the silence that follows San’s chuckle, your boyfriend speaks up again, and despite the air being undeniably thick, his voice vibrates comfortably in his ribcage, lulling in the side of your head; “I’m so sorry for making your pretty head hurt, Y/N.” 

You click with your tongue, pouting, gathering a bit of your energy that’s slowly coming back, and grab San by his shoulders. You turn your head so your chin is poking into his sternum, looking right to where he’s eyeing you down. You stop grinding and he looks with a smile.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?”, your boyfriend snickers softly, hands disappearing under his hoodie to trail you down your back and waist with his fingers. You feel fuzzy and velvety under his touch, and him gently breathing out “sunny” melts in your ears like a restorative, refreshing breeze after the endless knocks of his drums intimidating you and tying your throat shut.

“My ears were seriously killing me, I think,” you admit, but the cute pout remains formed on your lips.

“Ohh, Y/N, I’m– I’m really sorry to hear that. I really didn’t want to make you hurt, sunny, I promise,” San sniffles and mirrors your pout; you get the hunch he does feel very, very sorry this time, yet his hands are very guilty of slithering up your back and— clip! Open up your bra.

Ignoring that you flutter, feel light and feel the relief already, you uncontrollably giggle in surprise and push yourself up, getting to see more of your boyfriend’s handsome face. He has stopped pouting now, using his tongue to wet his red-tinted lips with a friendly, yet very ferocious smile. “You know the songs I was playing right now, sunshine?”

“No, I don’t,” you answer with continuing honesty.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “hm, maybe it’s better that way,” voice dripping like honey, but the sweet innocence is feigned, making you curious of what he’s hiding from you, deflecting from the very evident scene he’s painting.

His caramel skin proves it; for the particularized taste, heat must be added for sugar to win aroma, and your boyfriend is testing the theory to its limits.

Gliding his hands to your hips, San gets your cheeks burning, and when he hooks his fingers into his hoodie and drives it off your body, you lick over your lips asking yourself if you need any clarity to know where this is going; With your arms raised, your boiling skin meets fresh air through your drenched shirt and you shudder for a short moment, before your boyfriend gets his hands on the bra, fetches it, and slithers it out your arms.

After it drops to the ground and San sees your nipples poke through your shirt, he shifts his weight to the front to make you trip on your back, and takes off his tank top with both of his hands. His lats spread frighteningly wide and you let out a gasp. You’ll never not be surprised about how beefy your boyfriend is; San’s sweaty body expands in front of your eyes, and his collarbones are perfectly in your sight, as he hovers over you with his hand propped next to your head. There’s a wave of heat hitting your face and you aren’t sure whether you’re blushing or if his body is just genuinely that thermal.

Adopting the rather playful tone of your lover, you sulkily murmur, “It’s unfair if you don’t tell me about those things now, Sannie,” letting your finger trail along his slippery chin with softness, aware that you will only semi-attentively listen to his words from how distracted you are from his fallen eyes that are slowly flaming up. There’s only two things on your mind and while one of them includes going home, the other one can be perfectly executed on the couch.

“Oh, so naughty things, sunny, I don’t know if you want to hear about them, actually.” 

San chuckles, his words contradicting how eagerly he kisses your hand, piercing through you with his eyes, making you melt. He gets his upper body up, his knees caging you in and you murmur “tell me about them”, as your boyfriend grabs you by wrist to help you move it down his chest that is still perceivably sleek, down to his abs that are just as lubricious and then, with a heavy sigh he definitely forms into a clear “ha~” leaving his mouth which makes your insides wobble.

Your boyfriend is such a tease. On stage, he doesn’t get to be as interactive as his band-counterparts do, like getting their sweat-drenched heads dangle down to the crowd and be ruffled through their hair, but Sun Set surely takes off his top oftentimes enough so every fan of his can admire his build. Your boyfriend’s amazing build. 

He lets go of your hand to go through his red hair with a smirk, peeking down at his belt, clearly driving you into a wall here which is going to feel feathery light, but still so scary to brush against your skin— you have to make a choice here, one that makes your voice come out stuttered, one that proves to San that he's on the right track, cooking you up deliciously.

San might be a tease, but ohh, Y/N. You’re just so fun to tease, aren't you?

“P.. Please, Sannie,” you murmur, shyly, voice whispery because the headache fizzles inside your head, rather cripplingly slowing down your thoughts. He knows he likes it a bit too much, you being shy, but there’s something twitching inside his pants, when San thinks about the things he can do to you tonight to make you react even more, a smirk hurrying onto his face.

“Mmmm,” he hums, and you watch him collectively gather the bits and tits of his vivid, loud, rocking mind, silence remaining strikingly strong between you two, your head beaming everytime he doesn’t say anything to take his time to think. 

“Things you were doing with that pillow for example,” San hushes. Your hands move by themselves to unbuckle his belt, and while you do blush a little bit, both your hands get the black leather strip out the clip with hurried motions. “Or the things you were doing to my thigh just a second ago, sweet sunshine.”

Your boyfriend snickers and once his belt is on the floor too, he shuffles a bit to the back and wraps his fingers around your ankles, pulling you so you lay straight on the couch, while he’s kneeling between your legs, cowered as small as his big frame allows it.

“I- I don’t think I understand yet, Sannie,” you droop, wanting San to get more explicit with you so you can swim in his vulgarity that he oozes, and also make him finally confirm you don’t have any reason to be embarrassed about being the only one whose guts are demanding to be stirred. He’s getting more bricked up, and since his baggy jeans are hanging loose now, you can see his cockhead bulge out his boxershorts. “I think you need to explain it more…”

You gulp at the wet patch and flutter with your eyelids, and with San’s thumbs caressing your love handles and leaning towards over your torso, his heat radiates to your face again. You were feeling a bit more bold, but no, you could never get used to how intensely San looks at you. His eyes speak a thousand words, sing a million songs, and they’re all about getting a bite of the red on your cheeks and taste how it will melt into his tongue. There’s a droning buzz which thumps into your eardrums and it’s blood rushing to your head at the incalescence of your boyfriend, who doesn’t let a second pass where he’s not touching you, even when he’s pulling off your t-shirt from your body.

“Hmmm, maybe you’re just not able to listen correctly, my love,” San sneers, almost paradoxically sweet, and arousal boils in your guts, while your sweated body gets used to the new temperature, your boyfriend’s hands cupping your breasts once, just to have finally get a touch. “Because of the headache, right? Mmm, right,” he murmurs to himself, and San unravels the bandana on his thigh.

You look at how he straightens the fabric in front of you, and how his hands slowly approach your head. “Will you let me fix that, sunshine?”

“Wh.. What are you going to do, Sannie?”

“Show,” and San instantaneously corrects himself, after he lets the slightly warmed up fabric drape over your forehead, ”hmm, make you hear,” to then let it fall over your eyes, getting very close to your ear, so his warm lips line your earlobe, his raspy voice reverberating in your ear. “Make you hear yourself, Y/N.”

“Yeah..?”, you whisper, and look at San for a last time– his eyes sparkle in excitement that can’t be heard through the droopiness of his voice:

“Listen to how my love makes you feel, baby.”

Ayayay…

“How is this, Y/N?”

“Lemme see,” you joke and you blink a few times, after the bandana has been tightened behind your head. It is pitch-black dark in front of you. Quickly, you feel how you’re getting more aware of San’s breath coming through and leaving his mouth– you following his slow pace soon enough– and feel especially how his rough fingers are tucking in your hair so he gets to see all of how your face muscles pull together in pleasure, sending your cheeks and nose into a ticklish wave of sensation.

“It’s,” you say, but what was once a steady voice turns– after getting goosebumps all around after San courses down your neck to your sternum with the tips of his fingers– into a whimper: “A- amazing, Sannie.”

You hear San sigh, and you’re sure it’s a sigh of awe, him watching your hand search for his so you can hold it. He intertwines the fingers immediately, and when he’s at your shorts with his other hand, fingers delving to where your hip fits perfectly into his hold, San begins peppering kisses on your abdomen, you falling apart into a tense, sensitive mess at the cause of his touch.

“Can you feel how my fingers and lips feel against your skin?” 

You weakly nod, his thumb chafing over your skin, as San gets his hand out and touches you everywhere.

“Words, sun. Your pretty voice, I need it to continue, alright?”

“Yes, Sann–”, you answer, but you shudder, when San lets his digits dangle over your breast, ghost-like little grazes spreading over your torso, shoulders tucking in by themselves, as you feel it run over your back like your wings are expanding, “nngh-nie…”

“So soft, aren’t you, sun? So soft for me,” your boyfriend murmurs against your fuzzy tummy, and hooks his fingers into your waistband. You were intending to hum a forlorn ‘mhm’ to answer him again, but it comes out whimpered, after San lets his thumb, which is still anchored to your hand, slither over your cunt, his thumb tickling over your now even more sensitive nub.

“Can you feel how warm you are?”, he whispers, becoming a bit greedier with the kisses he’s spreading down your pelvis-bone, accompanying how carefully he’s sliding your clothing off, your skin being more and more revealed to his eye, while you live with the uncertainty of darkness in front of yours. “How do I feel like, Sannie?”, you ask him, hearing your own voice ricochet in your throat, your ears have become more conscious of sound.

“You feel like,” he whispers, and then, when the shorts have reached your knees, and San breathes against where your cunt is soaked in your panties, he purrs, “you’re mine.” 

His voice condenses warmly there, like a sweat, and you clench just by how raw your boyfriend speaks. The thought of him seeing your soaked cunt also just makes you run hot, and if it wasn’t for his elbow keeping you open, you would’ve closed down on him.

“Y- yeah?”, you shudder, as it seems that San is breathing in the lust-sodden heat from between your legs.

“Would you like to say it for me, sun? I would love to hear it…”

“I’m.. I’m y-yours, Sannie,” you choke out, and you are really not meaning to be as shaky as you are, but just when you thought you knew what you were about to get touched at your erogenous area, San has somehow managed to hover over your body and has bit into your lip, the darkness in front of you feeling even more blurry in front of your eyes due to the sudden gesture. “Hmmn–!”

San chuckles. “Aww, relax, sunshine. Trust me, Y/N, okay? I won’t hurt you, but if I do, just tell me. I’ll stop immediately,” he reassures the safety you find yourself in, despite not seeing anything in front of you. As you nod and let out a confident “Yes, Sannie,” with a deep breath in, San hums and pinches your nipples.

“Sannie!”, you whine out, and your voice cracks, when you feel his tongue circle your bud and his eyelashes flutter against your eye-collar, seemingly soothing the little surprise with his warm saliva. “Yes, sunny? Do you want me to stop?”, San asks, his cocky grin unmissable in his voice, his other thumb tickling your nipple.

“N- no, I-I mean–”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

His voice is slightly lispy from how your nipples are stuck between his lips, San softly sucking them in, pecking your flesh around with cottony kisses. 

“Yes, good… v-very.” 

“More?”

“Yes, yes, more.”

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” San laughs throatily, and then traces your silhouette, making you even woolier than before, a little squirm leaving your mouth, when his thumb meets your feverish crotch. “Your sounds,” San sighs, and presses his lips against your neck, his upper body slightly weighing into yours, as it seems that he’s holding himself up by grabbing into the backrest of the couch, “are my drug, baby.”

“Mmm-hm,” you answer, trying to keep your mind where his voice leads you, but you’re too busy feeling how San’s fingers sift slowly through your folds, softly, carefully, feeling every inch of slick squelch warmly around his digit. “Fuuuck,” San grunts into your ear, circling his fingertip around your clit, causing you to grab his wrist that has wandered to the top of your head. You have to gulp, and your boyfriend takes it as a sign to go a bit slower on you, but it doesn’t stop San whispering things to make you spiral into a hypnosis. “Fuck, sunshine, you’re so fucking sexy…”

A whimper leaves your opened mouth, as San chuckles in awe and coats his fingers with more of your arousal. “Is this what happens when you watch me play, sun? Getting all wet for Sun Set?”

It feels like your head is going to fall off your neck, when you softly nod up and down, San’s finger continuing to make you clench by stroking over your clit. “Th- this is what happens when,” you murmur, pushing down on his wrist as your lower abdomen continues to flutter and his lips nibble at your neck, his tongue working around a sensitive spot, “wh- when my boyfriend kisses me and then ignores me for an hour…”

“Aww, ignoring you?”, San whispers, easing his fingertip at your entrance, your hot hole immediately tightening around him, “I could never ignore you, my love…”

“Hngh, I don’t think so, Sannie… You were so concentrated on your drums…”

San whispers out, “I’m sorry”, as he curves his finger a little, caressing your inner skin fondly. You feel how thick his digit is and your glutes tense up. It doesn’t stop you from speaking your truths though.

“It’s okay, Sannie… It looked so… fucking… hot.”

“Really?” Your boyfriend gasps, always loving how you sneak in some brass into your words, and sucks lovesomely at your neck, his humming vibrating against your pulse, his finger pushing in through your arousal that gives him an easy entrance. “So say again, I made your head hurt because I’m so ‘fucking hot’, sunny?”

“Mhm,” you answer, and after San’s whole finger curls inside, you mewl out, “you’re the hottest man there is, Sannie– you’re– you’re so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. Only you can make me feel like this…”

“Fuuck…”

Your words seem to rile your boyfriend up very much, it is getting very difficult for San to not immediately run his fingers in and out, maintaining a slow pace that you feel expanding your tightness. “S- Sannie, you… you make me so crazy,” you whine out, his fingertip grazing over your sweet-spot, making you clench, “You make me feel so amazing, y- you are amazing, such a good musician and boyfriend, baby, you’re– nmmmh~!”

San couldn’t help himself and had to finally kiss you, his plump lips encasing your mouth, tongue running over yours the second he’s able to find contact. The warmth of his sweet saliva floods your mouth and you have to moan in some air.

“‘mmmsorry, sunny,” San mumbles, and you’re so sure that there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips, when he knocks his head back. “Couldn’t wait. Hehe.” 

His lips peck yours, as he’s working his finger inside you, rotating it around your deepest spot. Sighs leave your mouth every chance you get, as you try to not be overflowed by the pleasure that’s stirring your guts and cutting off your breath. 

“You feel so good,” you breathe out, “Can you feel it too, Sannie?”

“Hmm?” San is more than a bit out of breath now, warming up the fabric over your eyes with the loud exhaling through his nose. 

“Can you feel how… Can you feel how much I love you?”, you ask, but before San can answer you, you grip into his wrist again, gathering your confidence through your pleasure, “How fucking aroused I am because of you?”

“God, Y/N, I can feel it,” San huffs, and then pants with his cock twitching at your unforeseen blunt courage, “You’re so wet for me… Only for me… Oh, sunshine, I love you so much.” 

Though you can’t see how he’s biting his lip in excitement, San is moving his finger in and out of your hole while shuffling to your lower body, gripping your ankles with his free hand to gently place them over his shoulders.

“Sun, can I eat you out first?”, San asks, his voice running warmly over your abdomen, as he licks his fingers clean, “You can wait for me, can’t you, Y/N?”

“Wait for you–?”, you whirr, feeling exactly how thick and calloused San’s finger is inside you, lubed up by his spit, not being able to feel anything else, “Wait for wh- what?”

“Wait for me to fuck you, because right now, sunshine, I want to, god no, I need to eat you out, please, baby.”

Overwhelmed by his sudden lust-soaked rambling, you’re left with no other chance than to search for San’s neck, trail up his head and grab your boyfriend by his hair, let it tangle between your fingers, as San breathes against your dripping pussy. “Mnhh, do whatever you want tonight, Sannie. I want you to.”

“I want you, Y/N. ‘Want you so fucking much, sun… God, I don’t know how I waited, either.”

You chuckle and feel how the couch brushes against your back, leaving some phantom scratching there, after San pulls you closer by your hips, his forearms stationed around your pelvic bone.

“... So worth though, fuck.”

A sigh escapes your opened mouth, as San licks up your cunt one time, his hot tongue gliding up the wetness with ease. “Hngh,” you grunt, pulling San’s hair, and since your boyfriend hasn’t re-entered his finger, you clench around nothing, needing to be stuffed again, preferably by his cock. 

“You taste so fucking good,” San grunts back, already sounding like he’s drunk and delirious, lapping over your clit with his tongue while panting like a dog, “so so fucking delicious, sunny.”

“S- Sannie, oh my god,” you react to how your boyfriend sprints over your sensitive nub, your heightened senses drowning you in your own slick, as you hear how San’s tongue creates squelching, wet sounds.

“Hmmm? Feels good, huh?”

“Sannie, s-so good, god– you’re so– fuck fuck fuck–”

“What am I?”, San asks tauntingly. It seems he’s found some fun in the manner you’re tripping over your own words at the cause of his tongue. You don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning, you can feel that he’s enjoying himself by how his chuckle heats up your cunt even more. “Tell me, sunny, what am I?”

“You’re so– good! Sannie! Fuck, Sannie, you’re gonna make me–”

“Make you cum? Already?”, San grins, his fingers working you a beat that could only be described as irregular, him pumping in and out and licking you up and down so fast, he leaves you no time to recover from the last thunderous pleasure. “God, I love you so much, ‘m gonna make you cum so fucking often, all the time,” San murmurs, letting his mind roam free, your arousal coating his lips and tongue, while you tug his hair to keep yourself from choking on your own breath, as it becomes more stagnated and needier, filling out your lungs with helpless pleas. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, oh my god,” you whimper, eyes rolling back that you are seeing bliss and bliss only.

“Gonna cum?”, San husks and thrums against your sweet spot until your thighs tense up, “are you cumming, sunny?”, his fingers continuing to ram into you, “cumming for me?”

“Yes, uh- oh my god, yes, yes, yes–”, it splurts out of you, “yes, yes, yes, YES!”

“Thaaaat’s it…”

You push your legs together, San’s head clutched between your thighs, as his tongue runs over your clit that little stars begin to form in front of your unseeing eyes, your first orgasm resonating through your body, his voice vibrating on your cunt.

“Good girl…”

“F- f- fuck,” you whimper, your stomach crunching together, and you feel San’s thumb caress your abdomen, as he places wet kisses all across your pussy.

“Sannie,” you breathe out, falling to the back in exhaustion, as your boyfriend pulls away and kisses all of your legs down to the calves, folding you together even more.

“Yes, sun?”, he asks, and massages your hips. 

“I wanna see you, Sannie...”

“Oh yeah?”, San chuckles. 

You nod and tug at the bandana around your eyes, but it’s too tight. “Please, Sannie, I wanna see you so bad… I wanna see my handsome boyfriend,” you murmur, your cunt still pulsating between your legs, barely recovered from your orgasm.

“Yeah?”, San hums and leans forward, his jeans pressed against your wetness, as he gets his hands behind your head and loosens up the knot. “Careful, sun,” he whispers, kissing your temple, as he slowly removes the fabric from your eyelids, the dimmed lights flickering into your vision.

“There you go,” San hums and slides the bandana away, letting it sit behind your head, as he looks down at you. Your eyes struggle to see immediately and you have to strain your eyebrows, but your boyfriend patiently just watches your pretty face get used to seeing again. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer and blink with some force. San slithers his hand against your neck, his thumb sitting at your jaw, as your eyesight assuredly returns. 

There he is, grinning, just like you expected him to, but what you didn’t expect is how absolutely messy you’ve made him. His red, fiery hair is disheveled, ruffled, sticking out to all kinds of directions, his lips are puffy and still wet from kissing you and eating you out, his thin breath leaving his mouth. 

“Felt good, huh?”, San asks, rather rhetorically,  as you subconsciously lean your face into his handhold, in awe of how handsome your boyfriend is and how lucky you are he’s yours, as his lips peck yours.

“Mhm,” you chuckle, a bit weakly, but with your hands skidding along his sweaty silhouette, it should become quite clear that you’re not finished. “I want more, Sannie, please.”

“Aww, can’t get enough of me?”, your boyfriend croons and lets another hand slide behind your waist to– “I’ll get you all you want, my love,” make you sit on his lap, or rather on his abs, after he tilts his body to the back with you in his arms and scuffs his baggy pants from his legs. 

“Speaking of which, I thought we might wait until we’re home,” San admits and kicks his jeans away, “so I got no condoms on me, sunshine.”

“Mmm, Sannie, you know we’re okay,” you smile and kiss him. “Your bandmates don’t care about stuff like this…”

“Sorry for caring about you?”, San grins and pinches the tip of your nose. “So you’re fine with me just pulling out, yeah?”, he asks, as if you haven’t talked about this over and over again, but you keep on that smile and caress his cheek.

“Yes, Sannie. It’s all okay, and I want you so bad right now, please.”

“Alright,” San smirks and kisses you back, propping up his legs, so you slide onto his crotch.

“How do you want it?”, he asks, and you can feel how hard and throbbing hot he is in his boxer shorts, as you grind on his length. “I-I don’t know, Sannie, I want it all,” you laugh, airily, your slick adding to the wet patch that has been created by his pre-cum.

“You wanna watch me how I fuck into you?”, San prompts, and kisses your collarbones. “Uh-huh,” you sigh and throw your head to the back. “Please fuck me so you can see what a mess you make me, Sannie.”

San laughs. “I already saw that, sun,” he says, playfully teasing you, and gently grabs your legs, so he can lift you up and get his legs away from the couch and his feet on the floor. 

You sit on the couch how a couch is supposed to be used, your back leaning into the cushion, San now standing in front of you, cups his own erection through his boxer shorts, grunting into his hand.

“This is your fault,” he says, snickering, pulling off his underwear, his cock bolting out, after it passes his waistband. “God, Y/N, how could I ever concentrate on my drums when I have my perfect girlfriend sitting in front of me, huh?”

You press your lips together, ignoring the fact that Sun Set can, in fact, concentrate on his drums, but San is merely explaining to you that with every song he plays passionately, uses his all of his body to accompany the music with energy, you, Y/N, live in his mind to excite him. 

San gets your legs between his arms, anchoring your inner knees at his bicep, and your hand works automatically to grab his erection and pump it. 

Realizing you haven’t given him an answer because you were just too amazed by his body, you inhale to speak, but San leans down and kisses you solicitously. 

“Sunshine,” he breathes out, looking you deep in the eye, as his forehead is almost pressed against yours, “can you put it in by yourself?”

You lick your lips, the last kiss lingering ardently on the flesh and lead San’s cockhead to where your cunt is waiting, ready for his girth.

“Sunny,” San grunts, and as your hole stretches out with his pelvis driving inwards, he kisses you on your neckline repeatedly. “I love you so much, I love how you sound, feel and look like, how good you are to me,” he rambles, immediately sinking into a place of pleasure. “I love everything about you, Y/N.”

He may not be a singer, not even a background vocal, but off-stage, San always makes sure you know what a great girlfriend you are by moaning, whimpering and groaning it, sometimes just to himself– mindlessly thrusting into you, or directly into your ear, so his voice buzzes through your head.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you whine, head falling to the back and bouncing against the backrest after his whole length is inside you, “So good, Sannie, please don’t stop.”

San confirms your comfort and hauls his hips backwards to snap inside again with a slight smack against your hamstrings. You both moan and once San has found a steady pace, the room fills with your voices and sounds of your skin meeting in a clap.

“Harder,” you grunt, and this is San’s command he will never not listen to, even when he’s still working his hips in and out of you, figuring out a way to comply immediately. He grins wide and goes through his hair, before he leans deeper into your body, taking a step closer as he does so– repeating your words by chuckling, “harder?”, folding your knees together and pushing them over to the side. 

“Y- yes, please.”

“Harder,” San repeats again, and exhales the word out his mouth, his hand gripping into your hip. “As,” he grunts, thrusting into your cunt with all he’s got, “you,” again, while fixating you in place, “wish,” and again, “my love.”

You both inhale some air, but out of your mouth, it comes out a distorted moan, when San picks up in speed and rams himself into you with no mercy, barely any opportunities to secure yourself on the cushion beneath you. The couch begins to squeak with San’s rough movement, your body being rocked over, and your head becomes light, the expanding tickle in your abdomen binding itself together into a knot of pure pleasure that’s preparing to release. 

Silence is sweet, but clamor can be so savory; the sounds of the springs under the cushions mix up with his stagnated gasping, and with San’s absolute undefeatable sense for rhythm makes it sound like he’s creating a drumbeat with his body, the couch bangs against the wall, increasingly sending your brain into overdrive. San’s cockhead hits the deepest spot in your cunt repeatedly, over and over again, pushing your buttons that makes you feel like your thoughts are leaving your head within your whiny moans.

“Oh, fuuu-uuuck,” you gutter, voicing out your pleasure through all of the rutting, your eyes disappearing behind your head, and San’s neck shimmers in sweat, his Adam’s apple glistening, as he unfalteringly shoves forward and outward, grunts and groans reverberating in his throat. His face is tightened together, mouth remaining open, as he watches you slowly lose it, the prettiest of sounds entering his ear which boost his stamina.

“Fuck, sun, I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers and rams himself through you, his hips working desperately for his release, ignoring how the couch is being unsettled and broken with each of his hard thrusts, and his hand is dug so deep in your hip, the skin has turned slightly red. “Are you cumming?”, he grunts, and despite how much your head is bobbing anyway, you nod and whine out, “yes, yes, yes, Sannie, I’m cumming–!”

Your eyelids feel heavy, and your body floats in orchestral pleasure as you cum on San’s relentless cock, gripping into the couch with your fingernails, as your back arches, cunt tightening around San.

“God, baby, I love you so much, I love you so so much, Y/N, my sunshine, my–”

San pistons his cock into your puffy pussy with an unmeasurable speed, the shrill squeaking of the springs overtoning his needy whines, the banging against the wall being resemblant of his rough body-movement, and droplets of sweat drop of your body, as your boyfriend pulls your over by your hip. His hot cum spurts out and lands on his own abs, as well on your stomach, and you heave in exhaustion, laughing weakly.

His hand pumps out the last drops of ejaculation out his cock, and even if his cock remains hard and twitching, San falls to the front and hugs your sweaty body, kissing your cheek and lip alternately. 

“That was,” you chuckle, watching how San has to brush his drenched mane to the back, “amazing, Sannie.”

“Yeah?”, your boyfriend asks and strokes your shoulder. “You forgive me?”

“Hm?”

“For the headaches, sun. Do you feel better now?”

You snicker and share a short, but very gentle kiss with San. “I feel so good, Sannie, thank  you.”

His dimples pop out and San fetches your clothes, whilst rubbing his head against yours, nuzzling his temple into your scalp. “I’m glad I could relieve you, sunshine.”

San turns his head around and searches for something to clean up the cum with, and all he finds is his bandana on the couch. “Hey, I’ll wash this, alright?”, he laughs, when you send him a judgmental look, and to calm you down he pecks your forehead.

“Help me get my clothes on, please,” you murmur, and as you feel your body going lax, San immediately grabs your underwear, shorts and his hoodie so you don’t feel cold again. “Mm, I should get you more of my stuff,” he smiles, after he’s put the oversized clothing on you, “you look so cute in my hoodie, sunny.”

“Really?”, you answer, voice guttural, feeling a bit sheepish under San’s affectionate gaze, you being the only one that’s clothed, while he remains pretty much naked, skin sweaty and steaming.

“Yes, love, but honestly, you always look amazing, Y/N...” 

Your eyes were drooping down, but you couldn’t have missed how San’s voice was deeper and huskier than it should have been. 

“Baby… Please… I’m exhausted…”

When you squint, San is licking and biting his lower lip and because he is so exposed, you can see how his cock is glistening again, while you can only leave out a sigh. Your boyfriend’s stamina and energy should be studied…

“Sorry, you’re just so hot,” San chuckles out and gets his boxer shorts on. “Body and mind do what they want sometimes.”

“... And you want me, I get it, okay… God, Sannie.”

“Yeah. I want you so much.”

You, sat on the couch, watch him again, Sun Set, how he’s scratching his neck, his impassioned pulse beating in his muscular chest, beating for your gaze, you, his girlfriend’s voice, your words, your entrancing existence, the melody that guides him through his life.

A playful chuckle whirs in the silent practice room, and your eyes meet his, as you look up to San.

“I guess we’ve got to take a shower at home.”

Give me a command, and I'll do what you ask 'Cause my favorite music's your "Uh, uh"

related hard thought "for you(r) love" : read it here

[discordantwritings]

Rock Hard (Rock Band!Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1. Prelude

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist // The Drummer

Warnings: Slightly suggestive but that’s it for this first part!

WC: 2.6k

Summary: The Cross Guild is the newest rock band to hit the music scene and it’s three controversial members need a manager. That’s where you come in.

Notes: Part 1/5 of the rock band cross guild au is here. Nothing spicy in this part this is all just getting to know The Boys but do not fret, everything else will be just so much smut. This part has some similarities to my other cross guild fic but after this it’ll be a whole lot different trust me!

When The Cross Guild dropped their first single the music industry got turned upside down. A band consisting of three musicians who had been kicked out of the music label giant- Marines.

The lead singer was Buggy. Labeled an ICP wannabe by haters and the best clown ever by fans the flashy vocalist aimed to get a strong reaction- good or bad. Even if his wild style wasn’t for you no one could deny he was talented, which is what kept him with Marines for so long despite his many many controversies. Wild parties, fraternizing with fans, throwing knives at haters- if there was something crazy you could come up with Buggy probably did it. But somehow he always came out on top. You thought his string of diving consequences was over once he got kicked from Marines for good and had his band taken away but clearly you were wrong.

The second member was the world renowned guitarist, Dracule Mihawk. If you ask anyone who the best guitarist in the world was chances are the answer will be this man. Years of skill and talent pour through his long pale fingers every time he is on stage. But he’s not on stage very often. Coming in and out of retirement at the pestering of Marines- some remnants of a contract made long long ago- he graces the stage maybe once a year, shows everyone he hasn’t lost any of his skill, and retreats to his remote mansion. No one is sure why he got fired from Marines, but it was the same time that Buggy (and, significantly less importantly, you) got let go.

The last member was someone no one even knew played an instrument- Crocodile. Crocodile was infamous in the music industry. He produced the hit band Baroque Works under the Marines label until it all came crumbling down. There are thousands of rumors about what happened but all of them say that Crocodile was, in some form, stealing money out from under the label for himself. Baroque Works was broken up and Crocodile was fired but no charges were ever pressed against him. No one had thought about him for years until he appeared suddenly as the drummer for The Cross Guild.

All three of them were large personalities and with a history of not being team players the fact that their first song was actually really damn good was surprising. You didn’t consider yourself a huge rock fan but you couldn’t help but play the song on repeat. The drum beat was hypnotizing, the guitar melody filled you with energy, and Buggy’s vocals had you humming along and dancing in your room.

It helped your enjoyment of their music that The Cross Guild’s mission statement of sorts was to stick it to Marines. All three had some sort of grudge with that label and you did to. Of course you hadn’t been high up at all- just an assistant manager to one of the smaller bands- but you got fired in the same massive wave that had gotten Buggy and Mihawk. You never did anything wrong and were dumped without any warning. Living on cheap ramen for months as you scraped by on savings until you found another job filled you with an anger that gurgled up every time you heard one of Marine’s bands on the radio. But now you were given some counter to that and for that you were grateful.

All that is to say, you were a fan. So when an email pops into your inbox from Daz Bonez, the assistant to Crocodile, you nearly dropped your phone. Then as you read you’re sure you’re having some sort of vivid hallucination because it is an offer to interview for the position of manager for The Cross Guild. You never worked with any of the members when you all worked at the same label so how people like them heard of you is beyond you. After checking a dozen times that no it was not some sort of scam email you replied.

A week later you were taking an elevator up a sleek high rise to meet with The Cross Guild. It took you the whole week to pick out an outfit and the entire morning you have been willing yourself not to throw up from sheer anxiety. When the elevator doors opened you took a deep breath and centered yourself. You could do this.

You walk up to a large desk with a man you recognize- Daz, Crocodiles assistant- sitting behind it. When you walk over he stands up and greets you.

“Glad you could make it. They’re waiting for you in here.” He goes over to a door to the right of his desk and you follow a few paces behind, watching the broad man open the door and gesture for you to enter. You slide past him with a polite smile and do your best not to look star struck when you see three rock stars waiting for you.

Crocodile sits behind a large sleek desk, lit cigar in one hand while his other prosthetic hand taps on the desk. He’s dressed in the kind of outfits you always saw him wearing at the office, layers of fine fabric underneath a large fur lined coat. You wonder if he would wear the same thing on stage, or if he would strip down a few layers but you quickly cut off that line of thinking before it went too far. Three chairs are lined up across from him, two of which are occupied by his band mates. Sitting is a loose term to describe what Buggy is doing in the leftmost chair- perched would be a better term. He’s the first to acknowledge you, waving a gloved hand as you approach. He’s wearing a slightly toned down version of his stage costume, you know he always is in some sort of clown get up but it’s one thing to know and another to see a man dressed as a clown in an office building. As you approach the middle you look to your right and see Dracule Mihawk. He has on his signature long leather coat and a float white shirt underneath. You try not to stare at his slender fingers interlaced with each other in his lap as you hover behind the middle chair, slightly afraid to make eye contact with any of them.

“You can sit.” Crocodile says less as a question and more as a demand. You immediately slipped into the seat, doing your best not to shrink under his gaze.

“You worked for a few years as an assistant talent manager at Marines, yes?” Crocodile looks over a folder as he speaks to you.

“Yes I worked with The Vices for three years and floated around between bands for two years before that.” You answer, finding your rhythm and sitting up a bit straighter.

“Everyone said you did good work but you were fired. Why is that?” Crocodile finally looks you in the eyes and you feel your heart rise up to your throat.

You have a prepared answer. Creative differences, life choices, and any other neutral excuse that anyone gives as to why they got fired. But in this room, with these men, something else ends up coming out. The truth.

“I got no respect, and when I demanded it I was let go in a large wave of lay offs that they did to get rid of anyone that ever disagreed with them, even if that person was right.” You say in one breath, scared that if you stopped you’d lose your will. One of Crocodile’s eyebrows raises slightly and you can see out of the corner of your eye Mihawk sit up a bit more.

“Seems you have some opinions on Marines that we agree with.” There’s a slight tilt to his voice now, one that sheers off some of the gruffness of his tone. “I can’t say I really expected you to be so upfront but it’s a welcome surprise.”

“Did I come off as quiet?” You ask genuinely.

“A bit. But mostly people are afraid to speak ill of such a powerful company.”

“Well, I figured among the three of you with the history you all have that I didn’t have to hold back.” You’ve hit your stride now, sitting up tall and keeping eye contact with Crocodile.

“We do hate those fuckers.” Comments Buggy from your left. When you turn your head to look at him he’s staring at you, head resting on a hand propped up on the armrest. You almost lose your nerve but there’s a certain sparkle in his eye that makes you less intimidated- like you can read his temperament so readily that you would know if this was going downhill.

“Well it’s experience like yours paired with a dislike of a certain label that would make you perfect for the job.” Crocodile’s words drag your attention back to him.

“And the job being your manager.” You can’t help but confirm, a voice in the back of your head still gnawing away at your confidence.

“Yes the manager for the band. I know you don’t have direct managerial experience but you worked for a rather large band so this shouldn’t be too far of a leap outside of your knowledge.”

“And- I’m sorry can I just ask- why me? I know we all have a shared work experience but like you said, I don’t have experience managing a band on my own. I have no doubts I can do this it’s just- with star power like yours I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something here.” You certainly don’t want to end up as just a stepping stone or a fall guy, no matter how good it would look on a resume.

“To be quite honest-“ Mihawk speaks up for the first time- “Its because no high profile manager wants to work with all three of us.”

Well.

That makes sense. Considering the strong personalities and countless scandals between the three of them it’s no wonder no one wants to try and wrangle one of them- let alone all of them. You should be feeling a sense of dread over all this information, over being offered an impossible task. But instead you feel a fire inside you. You’ve been told over and over again by others (and yourself) that you couldn’t make it in the music industry and now, faced with three men who could destroy what’s left of your career or skyrocket you to the top. You’re going to take the risk.

“Alright, what are the hours and pay?” You ask with a smile. Buggy claps beside you and Crocodile gives you a wicked smile. Suddenly you get this feeling of being sized up like prey by him and while it should fill you with nervousness you can’t deny the heat that forms in your stomach at his gaze.

What follows is a few hours of paperwork and negotiation that all accumulates in more hours of work than you wanted but more pay than you could have dreamed of. A fair trade in the end, you decide as you sign off the last bits of paper making you an official employee. Trying not to feel like you just signed your soul away to the devil himself you smile wide and promise to be in bright and early the next day.

The next few weeks of your life were pure chaos. A whirlwind of learning by failing as you wrangled the three biggest personalities you had ever worked with. All of them were demanding and arrogant and frustrating that within a few days you were on the verge of quitting. But you didn’t. You buckled down, learned how each of them worked, and after a while got into a rhythm.

Make sure Buggy has enough attention and things to do so he doesn’t go searching for trouble. Make sure the music is up to Mihawk’s difficulty standards and keep the press away. And as long as all of the paperwork was turned into Crocodile on time you wouldn’t have any issues with him. It was hard work. You’d go home at crazy hours exhausted and get up way too early to start it all over again but you have to admit the work fulfilled you. You’ve been making decisions and leading in a way no job has ever let you before and you were doing a damn good job at it. And after a while those demanding, arrogant, frustrating men began to grow on you.

Buggy was fun to be around when he wasn’t whining. He helped you with press and made statements whenever you asked. Once you all got on a schedule he even stopped getting into drama, surprising everyone. Well, most drama. You didn’t miss the way his eyes would trail down your body or the way his hands would linger on you for a bit too long. A glare or two would shut him down for the moment but you found yourself not really hating it- and Buggy could probably tell. It wasn’t something you let yourself dwell on though. Buggy had quite the reputation for sleeping around so it wasn’t like you were something special.

Mihawk had been a difficult man to crack. It was hard to give him any direction at first, the man was surprisingly lazy when he wanted to be. But then you realized it was because there wasn’t anything interesting to him most days. He was a man at the top of his field so you worked hard to get producers who would give him music that at least engaged him and then he began to open up. You found out his love for old wine and even older books. You saw his soft spot for his personal assistant and wardrobe specialist, Perona. You found yourself having long, thoughtful conversations about the music industry late into the night. There was a sense of pride that you had for how close you’ve been able to get with the man- but not too close. You were a professional.

Crocodile was the most interesting one. He was the least into the music, you learned early on being a part of the band was a means to an end for him. But that didn’t stop him from being talented. You would catch him drumming on his desk while he worked, complicated rhythms mindlessly and effortlessly played. You made sure every bit of paperwork was always in order and ran every big picture idea through him. Buggy may be the vocalist- but Crocodile was the leader. It wasn’t often you got any sort of praise or even acknowledgment from the man but when you did you couldn’t help the way your stomached tumbled over itself. You’d have to stamp down those stupid feelings every once in a while, because when you’d let them linger they’d follow you home and into bed.

It was fine though, to indulge occasionally. When it was just you alone in your apartment you could fantasize that one of those men would pull you aside and take you home with them. Imagining Buggy’s mouth on you- Mihawk’s long fingers in you- or how Crocodile’s large body would feel caging you in.

It was fine because it was never going to happen. They were rockstars and you were just their manager. You would never sleep with any of them.

That is until you ended up sleeping with all of them.

[aangelinakii]

WHAT MUSIC THEY WOULD LISTEN TO.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne, barbara gordon, duke thomas, stephanie brown, cassandra cain

not proofread !

note : if you actually went and read through all of this i will actually smooch you

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce isn't an average music enjoyer, so he doesn't really have many preferences to what he listens to. all i know is that he doesn't like music that is too upbeat, like many pop songs.

perhaps in his angsty emo the batman 2022 phase, he would listen to metal, heavy guitars and drums, similar to jason. but as he develops as a philanthropist and vigilante, he would sway towards classical music without words. it helps him concentrate in many situations, and different artists or albums can convey so many different emotions in their music.

this music often plays within his office at wayne enterprises, the batcave whilst he's researching on the computer, or even just throughout the manor whilst he's doing bruce wayne shit.

songs i think he would like :

jazz suite no. 2: vi. waltz 2, dmitri shostakovich

12 études op.25: no. 11 in a minor "winter wind", frédéric chopin

vi. lacrimosa dies illa, slovak philharmonic

tango - bof "kuduz", goran bregović

le cygne (arr. for harp and cello), camille saint-saëns

le nozze di figaro k.492: overture, wolfgang amadeus mozart

DICK GRAYSON

i can see dick as someone who incorporates music a lot into his every day life; playing something on his alexa as he cooks dinner, listening to something in airpods as he walks around gotham during the day, hums or whistles a tune as he surveys the streets of blüdhaven at night. i don't think he would have taken up learning any instruments, but he's a very musical person, knows how to hold a rhythm as well.

he's into more modern music, very much frank ocean. he likes chill music with a good beat and maybe some good vocals. as long as the song overall sounds good, he doesn't really pay attention to lyrics. if a song he likes has weird lyrics, he'll only notice it one random day as he's singing along, and begin to overthink them in the shower and wonder why they were written in the first place.

songs i think he would like :

swim good, frank ocean

she, tyler the creator & frank ocean

novacane, frank ocean

dance now, joey valence & brae

wet dreamz, j cole

mysëlf, yeat

JASON TODD

i actually have a jason playlist here !

i think jason enjoys darker sounding music, but it can go one of two ways; either loud guitar, or absolutely gut wrenching vocals. i'm talking lyrics mixed with the perfect pleading voice to make you feel just numb inside.

jason has experienced a lot of loss and trauma in his life, so sometimes he may feel numb and just need to amp it up with a loud deftones song, or he is feeling too much, and needs a mellow, yet depressing mitski song to bring him back down. granted, neither are the happiest options, but it's what works for him.

songs i think he would like :

xerces, deftones

danger, south arcade

i don't smoke, mitski

come home to god, amaarae

smoke sprite, so!yoon!

dagger, slowdive

TIM DRAKE

LMAO i think this guy would be such a closeted theatre kid. he's watched all the heathers slime videos and watched hamilton and newsies on disney plus. he loves it, it just evokes an entirely different feeling. he would never tell anybody about this side though, which is why these playlists are kept privateee on his spotify.

so when he's with other people he shows that he listens to more mainstream artists, but likes an experimental sound, so maybe some tyler here and some carti there, but they aren't his go-to artists.

songs i think he would like :

boyfriend, tyler the creator

flex, playboi carti

non-stop, broadway cast of hamilton

once upon a december, broadway cast of anastasia

meet the plastics, broadway cast of mean girls

miso, edv & bigbabygucci

DAMIAN WAYNE

this little shit only exclusively listens to either classical music (aww look at him taking after his own papa) or the heaviest, scariest rock metal you've ever heard. bonus points if it's metal with classical undertones !!! he loves that shit, not that he would show it.

when he does his homework or falls asleep, he listens to heavyyy heavy metal. when he's eating a sandwich in the kitchen, or training in the batcave he'll be listening to classical music. see? it's not exactly linear.

songs i think he would like :

carnival of the animals: aquarium, camille saint-saëns

romeo and juliet op.64 - act 1: balcony scene - romeo's variation - love dance, sergei prokofiev

the isle of the dead op.29, sergei rachmaninoff

immortal rites, morbid angel

them bones, alice in chains

BARBARA GORDON

barbara is a woman on the quieter side, despite herself. i feel towards others she is more outgoing and reliable, but when she's with herself, she likes to wind down and just sit with her thoughts. she likes jazz, slow and soft, and the type of music you would find in movies from the 50s and 60s. there's something wistful about it that she just loves.

this type of music can help her concentrate. she listens to music whilst reading, or whilst sitting behind the computer as oracle during less high-tension moments.

songs i think she would like :

the shadows of paris, elsie bianchi trio

piano and strings, henry mancini

a night to remember, beabadoobee & laufey

la javanaise, serge gainsbourg

jane b, jane birkin

my favourite game, the cardigans

DUKE THOMAS

we can all agree that duke is one of the more positive members in the family, trying his best to keep his optimistic outlook despite the rest of the world, and the rest of gotham especially. he likes songs with meaning, although hidden behind a happy instrumental and youthful vocals, but he also enjoys just plain old happy-go-lucky sounding songs.

i also think he's a very musical person, always got headphones on. he probably gets that one notification at least once a week telling him his volume is too high in his ears.

he loves to dance, so songs that he can get lost in and have a little jam sesh in his bedroom are a must!!!

songs i think he would like :

useless, omar apollo

the magic number, de la soul

batshit, dominic fike

breadwinner, floyd fuji & topaz jones

the violence, childish gambino

smokin out the window, silk sonic

STEPHANIE BROWN

as for stephanie, this girl listens to EVERYTHING. she listens to kpop, shoegaze, indie, rnb, 2010s pop, jazz likeeeee she will literally listen to anything. she doesn't have playlists she just fr adds every song she likes to "liked songs" and listens to it on shuffle, and whatever comes up she listens to without an issue. almost never skips songs because she's so open to anything and everything.

like one minute she could be listening to her fav red velvet album, and then the next min she's on the verge of tears listening to phillipa soo sing burn on the hamilton soundtrack.

songs i think she would like :

so good, red velvet

cola head, willow kayne

if you want to, beabadoobee

call me maybe, carly rae jepsen

xxl, young posse

unchained memory, cafuné

CASSANDRA CAIN

following her quieter nature, i can't see cass listening to anything too upbeat or loud. she'll like a softer instrumental but with an emotional vocal line, almost as if getting to express the things she may not be fully able to towards her family and friends.

may enjoy a good old shoegaze or indie song here and there, especially if she's feeling more emotional, as she feels the sound of the song encapsulates her emotions.

songs i think she would like :

only, lee hi

chocolate and mint, duster

slow burn, infinity song

gaia, lexie liu

emo song, beabadoobee

chaos angel, maya hawke

[franabz]

★ Task Force 141 Band AU (PILOT)

(my asks are open for whoever has questions or is interested in the concept!! feel free to slide in)

Soap would be the drummer, and a damn wild one at that. He was never really good at singing and has a tendency to hide away in his garage to slam away on his drum set like the gates of hell were opening up. He usually performs without a shirt due to how sweaty and overheated he gets while performing, simply personal preference. Like Price, he is also a massive enjoyer of mosh pits and sometimes begins playing even harder as he watches the crowd dance around and head-bang like a pile of fish. He loved it.

Gaz would be the bassist/background vocalist, always keeping on rhythm and adding that extra flair to each song that it just needed. He has a very nice singing voice, but is way too stage shy to be the lead vocalist, though many fans wonder how he could be so scared with the sultry voice of a godsend. Despite his shy demeanor on stage he is very upbeat and enthusiastic with each note played, whether it be head bobbing or full on hopping around stage like a lunatic when he is in the zone.

Price would be the manager and rhythm guitarist, easily the most experienced of the bunch. He is the one that organized the idea of a band and gets the group gigs and whatnot. On stage he is pretty laid back and reserved, though he does get very into the music. He also isn't very good of a singer due to constant voice cracks or flat notes because of his smoker lungs, something he refuses to quit despite best efforts. Despite his reserved demeanor, he absolutely loves it when mosh pits start, often tossing guitar picks into the crowd and watching the audience roar in shouting and cheers.

Ghost would be the lead guitarist and vocalist, though not very interactive with the fans. He has a deep and gruff baritone voice, one that makes the ladies swoon at just the mere thought, though he quickly learned to not pay any mind to it. When in the zone, he's an absolute beast. Fingers flying across the fretboard like it was the last song on earth, sometimes so hard his fingers would start bleeding all over his guitar; though he doesn't seem to care. Nobody had ever seen his face, which furthermore adds to the mystery of the masked guitarist.

The group was going through a dry spot in their gigs and decided it was time to find a new addition to the band; you.

Price decided to take the band to a local bar that was currently hosting a bands night, the perfect opportunity to find potential candidates to fill the secondary background vocals position. Everyone was on board with the idea of a new member, being enthusiastic about it if anything. But not Ghost.

"They'll all be shite." He'd repeat like a broken record, as if that would do anything to change Price's mind.

Now here they are, seated in a secluded part of the bar and scoping out the crowds like hawks, the soft intermission instrumentals and the dimmed yellow lights mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling the musky air.

Soap came back from the bar with four shots, setting the glasses onto the sticky wooden table and sliding into the booth beside Ghost, a small smirk across his lips.

"Figured ye needed some liquid courage b'fore tae bands c'me out." The Scotsman chuckled over the overlapping noise of crowded patrons, raising a hand to give Ghost a firm pat on the shoulder, one of which caused him to grumble something inaudible under his balaclava.

"Ts' all useless." Ghost grunted, raising the edge of his balaclava briefly to take a sip of his lukewarm bourbon, curling his lip in disgust. "You ever stop complainin', Si?" Price huffed, placing a cigar between his lips and lighting the other end with a cheep lighter, the thick smoke pooling from his lips and wafting into the air. "Jus' being realistic." He jeered, watching as the lights of the pub began to dim and the stage-lights brightened, illuminating the stage. A stage manager emerged from behind the wings and gently tapped the top of the microphone before clearing his throat and addressing the audience.

"Good 'fternoon everyone! I hope you are all havin' a good night!" The man spoke, his voice quickly followed by an uproar of applause and cheering. Gaz laughed lightly at the enthusiasm; mainly from the piss drunk bar patrons. "To start off this night, let's all give a warm welcome to the first band of the night, Woodland!" As he added that final segment, the audience roared even louder as the stage manager handed off the microphone to the lead vocalist of the band, a girl by the stage name Vixen.

As the band started loading on stage, Price was vigilantly scanning each member for potential candidates, already mentally rehearsing what he would say as a proposition to whoever he deemed fit for an invite. Ghost sat in his booth with a quiet scowl across his face, though it was mostly hidden by his balaclava. Everyone seemed the same as the rest; too cocky for their own damn good. He scoffed and leaned back in his seat, folding strong arms over his broad chest and reached for his shot glass, before pausing briefly, a flicker of interest crossing over his gaze as one member in specific crossed the stage and grabbed their microphone; you.

This was about to get interesting.

[daecheonsa]

여긴 지옥이야 (yeogin jiogiya (lit. 'this is hell' ; 'YOU'RE IN HELL') is a special single released by the South Korean boyband DAM.NATION, as the fourth and final overall single to spawn from their debut album, GOING DOWN. 여긴 지옥이야 was released on February 14th, 2025, two months after the release of the album in December 2024. Despite being met with some suspicion that OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT were drawing out the album promotions out of desperation to increase it's so-far unimpressive sales, the song actually performed relatively well for the small-time group. 여긴 지옥이야 would become the group's first entry into the top 100, reaching a peak of 98 on BUGS. The song attracted minor attention due to it's melodramatic, almost orchestral production and elegant choreography, around which the accompanying music video primarily focused. This video became the highest viewed music video released by DAM.NATION, though it should be noted that this wasn't a massively difficult record to break. The vocal performance was also praised, showcasing SHOGO, HWIHUN and SASUNG's abilities most prominently. The bridge and final chorus were seen to have particularly highlighted the capabilities of all the members. The fact that the boys' singing abilities was spreading word of mouth seemed to reach OHJANG's ears; as shortly after the release of 여긴 지옥이야, a live clip was uploaded to the label's YouTube channel, where normally any content outside of music videos would be hosted on the group's own channel. The live clip quickly outnumbered the music video in views- though, to once again note, in the grand ocean of K-pop, this accomplishment was still just a ripple among waves. Still, it's popularity was enough to finally boost the boys onto a chart. The song also received some positive critical reception, though the string-accompanied, Valentine's Day break-up ballad was a little too angsty for everyone to follow. However, Jang Kitae's production was resoundingly well-received, particularly for his incorporation of drums, bass and guitar in the song's chorus, managing to take a left in sound without totally divorcing the group's usual rock-influenced sound. It was also noted that, where the styling of the track 소년만화 (Boy Comics) resembled an anime opening, 여긴 지옥이야, as the album's closing single, seems to take similar inspiration from anime ending themes. Alongside clips of the boys dancing in the snow, the video was cut with several scenes of the members through television screens. Amongst quick flashes, one can see the boys smoking cigarettes in school uniforms, drinking alcohol, trashing a noraebang room, getting into fights on the street, as well as sweeter moments such as cleaning each other's (street-fight inflicted) wounds, falling asleep on one another's shoulder in the back of a taxi, and playing in the snow. As the video ends on a television flickering off; a subtitle instructs the viewer: 'DO NOT QUESTION YOUR TELEVISION SCREEN,' which some fans have taken to be a hint towards the group's first comeback.

001. 여긴 지옥이야. (You're In Hell) © OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT.

[sssapplebottomjeans]

modern varian hcs varian got pulled out of school because of being one of those troubled kids that they never could handle. also he kept giving everyone lice cuz he was one of those kids that let people borrow his goggles when they forgot/broke theirs he wears just regular farm clothes. overalls, work gloves, some banged up shoes, but he has like two emo band shirts he got from a thrift store (they were four sizes too big for him and he ended up having to patch most of the surface area but he still treasures them. in a s3 ish timeline he'd wear something more akin to dark academia. he got a scholarship at some fancy college so he barely wears his farm clothes anymore southern (maybe texan since jerjor is texan but really any state would do). gets really into studying religious texts for his church but he doesn't even believe in it, he just finds it interesting. he'd be the annoying kid in sunday school asking questions no one can answer and they kick him out to have TalksTM. he still ends up staying though cuz quirin goes, and he likes having that time with his dad

varian pretty much lives off of burger king unless quirin cooks. quirin's a pretty good cook considering. he can make cornbread and pancakes n shit (they never were quite as good as his mom's but he has to make do now) the saporian arc would just be him joining some unheard of gang or something i picture him as a 90s/2000s kid if anything. milennial varian >>> greasy hair. unwashed, smells like gasoline, dirt and half a can of axe (you'd think it'd get better once he went to college but no he's still disgusting just with a better wardrobe) (speaking of which, his room is a fucking biohazard) started a shitty band during a vague v7k era. he played electric guitar and sometimes did vocals for a punk/rock-ish vibe (maybe some bad scream vocals) (hugo did bass/whiny midwest emo vocals, yong did drums and nuru played piano (varian did too but he never was as good at it as her) and sometimes violin cuz she and varian both agreed they wanted classical elements in their music. nuru requested she try opera in one of the songs but hugo threatened to unstitch her whole closet if she did). they had seven concerts and quit cuz like four people came and two of those were raps and eugene

he also had a youtube channel that flopped just as hard. it started out with science facts filmed in 120p with audio that sounded like it was recorded with an electric fan, then random vent stuff (one of those videos blew up a fair amount and the comments showed him no mercy) and then he tried going back to science stuff for a few videos after his mandatory youtuber apology but ended up deleting the channel out of embarrassment he made some kandi back when he was around fourteen. he never got into it much but it's still there in a drawer and he breaks some out of the dust every few years he's adhd, probably autistic and is developing bpd traits like i hc him to have in canon but even in more modern times, he still never gets diagnosed with anything, he's just a problem child so he suffers through it his entire childhood until one day while he's in that gang someone offers him meth. he liked it for about two weeks but then thought "hey what if i took more this is great lol", accidentally overdosed and swore off of it for life. he still tries making homemade remedies but the only thing they ever accomplish is getting him high he had alcohol twice at a family reunion. tried buying some once he reached legal age but he had such a baby face that they all thought his ID was fake and declined him

when he was fourteen he wore a couple of his mom's old dresses a few times out of curiosity (they were too big for him but not by much) and got bullied out of them within the week at sixteen he starts wearing eyeliner idfc insomniac so he tried listening to asmr to fall asleep but he couldn't go more than thirty seconds without turning it off. sensory overload yeah but also he thought maybe he just couldn't sleep with noises on so he tried sleeping in silence and of course that didn't work. goes to bed around 5 am, wakes up at noon groggy and downing six cups of coffee to try and feel alive big fan of the lego movie and sonic. also spiderman but not as much

[galatially]

❝𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫&𝐛 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — through rain or through shine, our love transcends; dick surprises you on tour 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 1.9K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, mostly fluff MOSTLY, friends to lovers, smidge of jealous!dick, heavy makeup session,

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i might go back and change the ending later but for now, enjoy!

as always, lovely banners and dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

“How are y’all feeling tonight?”

The crowd erupted into raucous applause and screams. All of their love, all of their devotion, you felt it in the air. Like electricity running along your skin. 

Ever since you were a little girl, you wanted to sing. You sang in the church and school choirs, took vocal lessons, and taught yourself to play the piano, guitar, and the drums. By the time you were in college, you took a few music production classes and had started up a YouTube channel. 

It took almost three years before your channel got any traction but you were no stranger to hard work. By the fourth year anniversary of your channel, your songs had been used in two major television shows and you were nominated for three Grammys. 

But you’d be nowhere without your fans. You could remember when you went on your first headlining tour with Paloma Wagner, a former Gothamite that you had posters of on your childhood bedroom wall, and you’d spent all night at your merch table talking to the kids and signing autographs. All of your hard work staring back at you, in the eyes of people who believed in you just as much as you believed in yourself. 

You brought the mic back up to your lips, a hand on your chest. “I cannot thank y’all enough for supporting me and my dreams these past four years. From sitting in my room making videos to playing small local shows to y’all selling out stadiums.” 

“We love you!”

“Now, I know that this is the last show,” the crowd groaned and you smiled, “but this is my home sweet home of Metropolis! How about we play an oldie? The song that started it all, yeah?”

The crowd roared again and you smiled. Your band started playing behind you. “This song is called, ‘Love Letters’.”

“Great show tonight, y’all.”

“Did you want to celebrate with us?” one of your dancers, Alisha, asked.

Another dancer, Mila, came up behind you, smirking. “Nah, she’s probably going to wait for that boyfriend of hers to call.”

“Bruce Wayne’s kid, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s barely a friend.”

Mila snorted. “Didn’t he leave you that bouquet of tiger lilies a few weeks ago in Texas?” 

Alisha’s eyes widened. “That was him?”

You smirked at them through the reflection of the glass. “Didn’t y’all want to go out with the others? They’re probably halfway to the parking garage by now.”

“Tell your boyfriend that we say hello, at least.” You playfully waved them off and bid them goodbye. Mila and Alisha made kissy noises as they left your dressing room. 

You turned back to your mirror, your smile still on your lips. As you took off your makeup, your mind dwelled on the aforementioned billionaire’s son. He was far from your boyfriend but a little more than a friend. You can’t really recall how you met Dick other than the fact that he appeared almost instantly in a coffeeshop in a Gotham during one of your first visits. You sat and talked at a window facing table for three hours before he had to get back to work. Then, a few weeks later, he found you on Instagram and you started talking more frequently. 

That was two years ago now. 

While touring has limited how much you got to visit Gotham, you still kept in contact through Instagram and Snapchat. Dick even congratulated you on finishing your newest album a few days ago. 

You wondered if he listened to your music at all. If he would be able to decipher which songs were about him, hear the words that always seemed to get stuck in your throat when he was near. 

A sharp knock came up on your door. 

“Come in.”

Your manager, Lawrence, poked his head in. “You almost ready? The car’s waiting outside.”

“Let me just grab my bags and change really quick.” 

He nodded and ducked back out of the room. As you packed up the last of your makeup and threw your hoodie on, your phone chimed with a text.

Great job on the sold out tour ;) ;)

You were flipping through titles on Netflix when you heard the balcony doors open. You grabbed the lamp from the bedside table and tiptoed towards the sound, your cellphone in hand. As you got closer, you saw the figure, half-hidden behind the curtains. You raised the lamp higher and lunged. 

Everything happened so fast; hands went to your wrist and torso, holding you against them, and you were crowded up against the wall. Bright blue eyes stared back into yours. 

“Hey, sweetness.”

“Dick!” You pouted up at him. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“‘M sorry. Wanted to surprise you.�� The corners of his mouth lifted. “Heard the show was a hit.”

You smiled. “My manager said that tonight’s show was the best show of the tour. Hometown heroes and all that.”

Dick pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl.”

Your lips cut into the biggest smile. “How’s your family doing? I thought I saw Jason in Metropolis for some reason but forgot to text you about it.”

Something passed in his eyes before another smile came upon his lips. “Really? I’ll have to text him later. He’s been avoiding me the past few weeks.”

You frowned. “We were texting last night and he didn’t say anything.”

“Since when do you and Jason text?” 

A small part of your brain thought that his words sounded sharper than norma but you shook it off, lifting your shoulder as best you could. “He was in Metropolis a few months ago during one of my press tours, we got to talking, and exchanged numbers. We have a streak going on TikTok at the moment.”

Dick pouted. “You follow each other on TikTok? You don’t follow me on TikTok!”

“Do you want me to follow you on TikTok, Ricky?” you teased, chuckling. 

He cleared his throat, hugging you closer. “‘M just saying that it’s odd that you’re closer to my brother when I’m your best friend.”

Your smile fell some. “Why can’t I be both?”

“No offense, babe, but I’ve had to share most of my life with my siblings. I want to keep you to myself as long as I can.”

For a moment, you could pretend that the words were a heavy as you wanted them to be. That this would be the catalyst to one of the greatest love story ever to be told. But you knew better.

“So…we’ve been standing here for, like, ten minutes and I’m starving.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re as bad as Jay is, Jesus.” He pinched your side and you swatted at him. “I’m just saying what Alfred is too polite to say! Don’t pinch me!”

His laugh rumbled through you as he led you back to the bedroom. 

“The Gotham City Opera House was one of my favorites to perform at.”

Dick was sat on the hotel floor, four pizza boxes beside him as he looked up at you on the bed. It reminded you of the first few months of meeting each other; staying up late to answer FaceTimes, talking on the phone for hours. You used to be damn near glued to your phone awaiting texts from him. 

It was insultingly easy to fall in love with Dick Grayson. 

“Did you go full orchestra like you wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “You remember that?”

He snorted. “Of course I do! You’ve been practically dreaming about singing with an orchestra ever since you told me about that concert you saw in Rome.” He smiled warmly. “You wouldn’t shut up about it for months. Alfred got you that vinyl recording of Carmen, remember?”

You nodded. “I still listen to it every once in a while. I have to remember to thank him again.”

“Speaking of music,” he leaned up against the edge of the bed, his forearm against your bare knees,”you should make me a playlist.” The last time you made me one was, what, eight months ago?”

“Something like that,” you offered. “What’s your vibe these days? More Tamaranian folk songs? Ooh! Maybe shoe-gaze since you live in Bludhaven now and want to get grungy?”

Dick wrinkled his nose. “Since when did you start listening to shoegaze?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Jay’s been getting me into Cocteau Twins and Pale Saints lately.”

“First TikTok streaks, now you guys are sharing playlists?”

Your brows pulled down at his tone. “Why are you being so weird about me and Jason hanging out right now?”

“You’ve been talking about him all night! If you wanted Jason so bad, why didn’t you text him?” You sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit. Sweetness, I’m —”

“I’m allowed other friends, Dick. I’m sorry that it’s your brother but you don’t get to judge me for that. We like the same music and movies and we just clicked.” You sat up on your legs, your brown eyes hard. “I don’t get upset when you talk about Barbara and I didn’t get upset when you were dating Kory and constantly telling me how beautiful and smart and kind and amazing she was. So why do you get to shame me for sharing some things about Jason?”

“I’m not shaming you,” he argued. “I just — you’re not attracted to him, are you?”

An exhale, or maybe it was a scoff, left your mouth. “You’re not serious.”

He moved to his feet, suddenly reminding you just how big Richard Grayson was; big, broad shoulders, large  hands moving to rest beside both of your thighs., effectively caging you in agains his strong, broad chest. His blue eyes that normally regarded you with warm were now leveling you with a gaze alien to his features.

Desperation. 

“Tell me.”

Your heart was pounding, blood rushing in your ears. Your face was burning hot. He was so close, his pants of breath fanning against your face. 

“Please, sweetness,” he rasped, “I need you to tell me that you have feelings for my brother. Because if you don’t, I’m going to kiss you and I can’t come back from that. Not with you.”

Dreaming. You had to be dreaming. 

“I don’t have feelings for your brother.” You let out a surprised squeal as your back hit the mattress, Dick’s lips against yours. He kissed you hard and slow, as if he were committing the taste of you to memory. He moved a thigh between your leg and you sucked in a breath. One of his large hands moved to cup your breast. 

“Dick, hold on.” You gripped his wrist, your chest rising and falling in heavy pants. “Just… give me a second.”

He helped sit you up, his hands hovering instead of touching you. “I’m sorry.”

“I just want to be clear that this,” you motioned between the two of you, “isn’t just some flash in the pan and you didn’t just kiss me out of some weird territorial shit with your brother.”

“I can assure you that I didn’t kiss you out of spite to Jason,” he said, a half smile on his lips. 

“So you like me. Romantically.”

“I do.”

Your face warmed. “Good. Because I like you, too.”

Dick gave you a brilliant smile. “Good.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — like, yeah, jason todd is my bestest boy but dick and i are ✨synonyms✨ you know?

[itsallmouthwashing]

Tulpar Band AU- Character descriptions/some lore PART 2

Uh okay fellas- I had to use piccrew since I'm bad at art (good thing @living-stain is keeping me fed WOOF) and I'll include some more facts about them! This is part 2 of the Tulpar Band AU character descriptions! (Part 1)

(MAYBE I NEED TO CLARIFY MAYBE NOT BUT THE ART IS DONE MY @living-stain!!!!!!! Please show him some love!!)

JIMMY ZARE- Scream Vocals and Guitar

Learned guitar pretty early in life. His parents would often drop him at the local YMCA and he took an instant interest to making music. One of the instructors there also taught him how to write songs and write music!

That instructor also listened to a lot of metal music! Little Jimmy was fascinated with it and demanded the instructor teach him how to do the monster voice thing. (Instructor learned how, just for him) (Jimmy ate up every bit and even made notes in his journal!)

Has perfect pitch! It drives him crazy sometimes when he hears a sound- any sound- and can immediately know what note it is. Although, sometimes the crew will 'test' him. They'll make random noises and ask to identify it

Music was a great outlet for him, so all of his songwriting is very personal to him and exposing himself was something he had to come to terms with if he wanted to start a band and use his songs

he starts a journal of songs and notes about making music and carries it with him almost everywhere. It's where all of his lyrics are stored, where all of his feelings are stored. They have no place in his heart, so they must be put somewhere else

Started smoking cigarettes at age 9 when he snuck one out of his parent's stash. They caught him, but just gave him his own pack and lighter in response (shitty Jimmy parents that I created, when I get you- Jimmy's parents when I get you-)

Becomes a dealer at the high school but low-key only sells to people he trusts (aka people he knows for sure are stoners and don't want to ruin the one plug that will sell to them)

Curly gets him to stop when they form Tulpar, but Jimmy still gets supplies for the two of them (he doesn't know WHERE Daisuke heard about him still selling, but it leads to Tulpar's full formation so whatever)

Smashed some motherfucker's guitar on their first day of high school. Yes, Jimmy was bragging about having perfect pitch, but he didn't expect so many goddamn kids to want him to tune their guitars for class. So when this kid with too blond hair and a grating fucking accent, he finally had enough, and all the annoyance and impatience came out in a violent swing to the ground with that kid's guitar in hand

GRANT CURLY- Main Vocals and Guitar

Picked up guitar the summer before he moved to America. His freshman year of high school is when he was able to commit the most of his time to practice and learned how to play through school

First day of school had his guitar smashed. He brought his own from home not knowing there would be instruments provided, and the kid who smashed it had to pay Curly and his family himself to replace it (Curly parents could replace it no problem, it wasn't a financial thing. And Curly feels bad about this fact for 0.2 seconds before he's searching for new guitars on the internet)

Always had a knack for singing. His dad was actually in a band when Curly was growing up, and while his dad played drums he loved to sit in on practice and sing along.

Karaoke? What was that blond blur just now? That was Curly getting first in line

Develops an alt style thanks to Jimmy, molds it to a more 'classy' look by wearing button-downs and suit pieces (someone said he looked great in a button-down and he decided it was the only thing he would wear ever)

Jimmy got him hooked on cigarettes during their freshman year of high school. He literally cannot got thirty minuets without a cigarette. He's insecure about the smell that lingers on him, so he also carries a bottle of cologne with him almost everywhere

DAISUKE JUAREZ - Drums and Synth/Keyboard

Had an interest in piano when he was younger and kept up with it as he learned drums at 12

Between piano lessons and school, he played baseball at his after-school care program. He really enjoyed it, playing baseball through middle and high school and eventually getting a scholarship based on his skill! he has to juggle Tulpar and his college baseball career, so sometimes they need to schedule around Daisuke

His parents are stupid rich and have lots of connections in production. Both parents work in Hollywood (as what? Beats me him!)

Daisuke is sent to a new high school when he turns 18 (which is junior year. his parents let him finish the year but send him to a state of his choosing to finish high school and experience life on his own) (yes they spy on him through Swansea)

Clicks with Anya instantly when he find out they both just moved to the state the same year. Quickly finds out she's a little bit of a goody-two-shoes (he changes his)

ANYA MUSUME

Picked up bass when she was 13 when she started listening to music. Honestly, she felt bass was a super underrated instrument (and that it was harder to pick up than other instruments). Her dad bought her first bass!

It's been Anya and her father for as long as she could remember. Her mom stayed behind in their home country (I'll figure it out) as they all planned to move to America, but she never made it to them. She suddenly became ill and passed away. This all happened when Anya was very young, so she has little memory of it. But her father does break down when she names her bass after her mom :)

Her and her father moved to a different state during her senior year of high school for reasons unknown to her. Sometimes she overheard hushed phone calls in the kitchen, or notices his shifting eyes in public spaces.

She meets Daisuke in a business studies class and the two take on the first few weeks of school together! It's not until Daisuke tells her that there's someone on campus that sells the good shit and they agree to meet at the dealer's spot that they meet Jimmy and Curly!

Curly and Daisuke have Gym at the same time, so that interaction was nice ("Word?" "Word." "I didn't know you were chill like that.")

The four of them hang out plenty after that!

SWANSEA (LASTNAME?)- Manager (I COULDNT FIND A GOOD PICCREW IM SORRY :(

Part of Pony Express Record's staff of managers. They refuse to hire more, so usually managers are looking after two or more bands at a time. This is also true for Swansea!

Daisuke's parents call in a favor he's owed them for some time, and of course it's for their precious baby boy. And of course he can't say no

He oversee's Tulpar's progress as a unit, coaches them individually on what industry standards are for musicians and then as a group for synergy, blending, and other factors that could risk their signing.

No matter how many times Swansea tells Jimmy his shit wont fly at P.E Records, Jimmy writes what he wants anyways. And the band rallies behind him. And somehow it fucking works

On top of being Tulpar's manager, he also kinda becomes Daisuke's babysitter (on his parents wishes. "Well, you're going to be over there anyways! I don't see the big deal in reporting back to us about what he's- how he's doing :)")

[starstruckzine]

Fifteen minutes remained until showtime. Kaminari paced back and forth across the band's dressing room while Jiro hung up on Shindo's voicemail message for the tenth time.

"When I get my hands on him..." She muttered under her breath.

All of the biggest names in Japan's music industry considered Murasaki no Kyū as the hot spot in Musutafu. More than one band found fame while performing there, including legendary rock group The Vigilantes. Her parents had called in quite a few favors to get them this gig. It'd be a disaster if Shake Down couldn't perform. They'd be better off bombing than leaving the venue without an opening act at the last second.

"He's becoming more unreliable." Tokoyami crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "He was late for our last practice, and he missed the one before that."

The silence that followed was palpable as the trio looked at one another and tried to figure out what to do. Seconds gave way to minutes as the clock counted down to certain humiliation and the potential ruin of their future music career.

"We're down to five minutes." Jiro tugged on one of her ear jacks as she stood. She hoped her parents wouldn't be disappointed after all the effort they expended to get Shake Down this chance, and she hoped her friends wouldn't give up on the dream they shared. They'd come too far to let one hurdle trip them up, even if blowing their chance at Murasaki no Kyū was a hell of a stumble for any group in their position. "I'll let Mr. Nakaoji know we won't be able to perform tonight."

The door to the dressing room slammed open, and Bakugou barreled through it. He scanned the room, eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "The loser didn't show up, did he?" His smirk indicated he already knew the answer.

"I was just going to let Mr. Nakaoji know-"

"Hey. Kirishima!" Kaminari interrupted as the familiar redhead strolled through the door behind Bakugou. "I thought you had practice tonight with that new band that asked you to fill in for them."

"I'd never miss out on a chance to support you guys on your big night. That'd be totally unmanly." Kirishima scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin."Besides, the band broke up this morning. I'm out of a job again."

"Kiri is gonna be our drummer tonight."

"No worries, guys. I know all your songs."

Tokoyami and the others shared a confused look. "Then what are you-?"

"I'm replacing that lousy extra on vocals from now on, and he better not show his face again. Let's go."

Bakugou didn't wait to see if anyone wanted to argue about his announcement, confident in the decision he'd been contemplating for weeks. As soon as he noticed how unreliable Shindo was getting, Bakugou began to devise a contingency plan. They'd put too much work into their music to let one idiot ruin everything. Kirishima already knew how to play Shake Down's songs, and Bakugou had spent countless hours honing his vocal skills in addition to providing backup on a few of their current tracks.

Kirishima grinned, whipped the drumsticks out of his back pocket - he never went anywhere without them - and followed Bakugou towards the stage. There was only a moment of stunned silence before the other three band members followed suit.

🌟🌟🌟

Tension hung in the air as the band members waited for the curtain to rise. Jiro had covered for Shindo during sound check, but sound check wasn't the same kind of pressure as actually performing at the most exclusive club in the city.

Bakugou fidgeted with the microphone while Jiro confirmed the new set list with Tokoyami because Bakugou changed it as they were walking down the hall. Kaminari patted down his pockets in search of his spare guitar picks because the one he had earlier somehow vanished between the dressing room and the stage, and Kirishima adjusted the height of the cymbols on Bakugou's signature black and orange "Explosion 2.0" drum kit. (The first one was accidentally damaged in the midst of a disagreement that happened during practice one day.)

The new lineup felt foreign but not uncomfortable. There were a few times when Shindo had been late for practice or didn't show up at all, and Bakugou filled in on vocals. Once or twice, he introduced a new song. None of them realized it was his way of preparing for what he saw as inevitable, but that night, they were all grateful for his suspicions.

"Give it up for tonight's opening act! Shake Down!"

The curtain began to rise as the stage manager introduced the band. Applause erupted. Familiar faces lined the edge of the stage. Friends. Family. Fans. Shake Down had amassed a decent following around the city during their years of playing birthday parties and school events, and many of their supporters made it a point to show for the occasion.

There was a moment of hesitation, a slight lull in the cheering as members of the crowd shared looks of confusion. Bakugou smirked. Their reaction didn't faze him. He wouldn't let it. He knew this was the best chance for their success.

"We! Will! Not! Fall!"

Bakugou belted out the opening lyrics to "No Surrender", the band's most popular song. They usually played it for the finale, but tonight, he intended to make a pledge with those four words.

The music swelled. In an instant, a wave of sound filled the club and whipped the crowd into frenzy. People shouted. They cheered. Those in the back of the room rushed for spots closer to the stage.

And, unknown to the band members, one particular individual was sending out a text that would change their lives forever.

*They're definitely worth following. I'll swing by the office tomorrow to discuss.*

[doublelp]

ayo why do you like dropdead so much?

A few reasons.

I think they really pushed powerviolence in a great new direction. A lot of stuff at the time was mostly guys doing thrashcore stuff while experimenting with sludgy parts, which is great, don't get me wrong. I like Eric Wood's stuff like Crossed Out and Neanderthal, but with Man is the Bastard i kinda got the vibe he was mostly fucking around trying different things to see what would stick. Plus when you have a genre that's primarily a single scene (stuff out of the Bay Area like 625 Thrashcore and Slap-a-Ham), you tend to get a lot of bands that sounds similar. Meanwhile, Dropdead was on the east coast doing their own thing and making powerviolence with a crusty edge. Bob Otis was into bands like Crass and Swans too so he ended up picking up the best parts of his influences and incorporating them into Dropdead's incredible, unyielding aggression. It's so raw but honed at the same time, and I'm a sucker for good thrashcore anyway so it really resonated with me.

There's also the production on the 1993 and 1998 LPs. Those albums sound so fucking crisp, literally the ideal tone for every instrument. Bass is just muddy enough, drums pack an incredible punch, and the guitar cuts through nicely while synthesizing with the rest of the band. Meanwhile Bob Otis, in my genuine opinion, has the best vocals out of any hardcore band I've heard. It's a shame he can't quite shout like he used to because otherwise I would totally fuck with their 2020 album. If you listen to his vocals on Chosen Path, he's really giving it 110% and it makes all the difference imo. His passion comes through and it resonates with me, even though I'm not vegan lol.

On a different note, I try to get push Dropdead at every chance I can in the punk sharing community because there's an unfortunate trend where a lot of people are eager to claim punk subculture without substantially engaging with it. I think the issue is two-pronged, though I'd reckon they're connected: 1. Most of the people in the community like the aesthetics and political values of punk subculture (which are flimsy imo but that's another issue) without liking a lot of the noise, so they end up either listening to more "pleasant" punk music (pop punk, folk punk, riot grrrl) or simply don't listen to the music at all. This creates a weird trend where a lot of people who post their crust pants don't have any band patches on them (let alone crust punk bands). So, you know, listen to Dropdead. At least say someone put you on to them and that you tried it. 2. These people are not engaging with their local scenes, which is likely because they don't like the music to begin with. Some people have an excuse because they live in buttfuck nowhere and there is no scene in their town, but I would encourage people to expand their search to the nearest city and do some research about what punk or hardcore bands are playing shows there. If you're really About this shit then you'll put in the legwork to seek out local punk bands. Y'know, that's the thing that the subculture revolves around. The scene is so important man you get to meet cool people and be a part of something fun, but it's not on your computer screen or in the way you dress, it's at dive bars and church basements or wherever they could book an all-ages show.

So listen to Dropdead, figure out what's going on near you, and go to a show for once.

[haunted-plush]

Cars Music Headcanons Because why the Fuck not

Lightning

Got a red electric guitar because he thought it was cool

Tried to learn to play but stopped after a week because he wasn't immediately good at it [adhd curse...]

After he crashed into Radiator Springs and finished his big race he got lessons

Average singer, passable enough to sing while he plays

His favorite band is System of a Down

Mater

Doesn't own a banjo but knows how to play

*Does* own a fiddle but rarely takes it out because it's actually one of the more expensive things he owns, the only object he took with him when he left home actually, and he keeps it in the case most of the time

REALLY good at playing it, he could play just about anything and can improv at any moment

Yes he actually knows how to do proper scream vocals

His normal singing voice is very deep and rich

Great whistler

Sally

Good singer, she's shy about singing in front of people but when she's by herself she has a really pretty voice

Knows enough about piano to claim that she can play it

Not shy about dancing, if a song comes up she likes she will get up and dance without getting embarrassed

Favorite song is I Wanna Dance with Somebody, close second is Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

She said she wished she could get better at piano, which she can't do because she doesn't have one, so Lightning got her one for the lobby of the Cozy Cone as a gift

After a few months of practice she invited everyone to come down one evening for a little concert, and she played a few really beautiful songs for them, everyone thought it was lovely

Doc

Likes to have the radio on while he works in his garage

Sometimes he has it on when he sits outside with a cigar by the little firepit, but just as often he'll just listen to the fire cracking and enjoy the quiet

One time Lightning asked him why he doesn't like to have it on all the time when he sits out there and he said "the best music is the sounds of mother nature" which Lightning thought was the cheesiest thing he'd ever heard

He likes the sounds of the crickets and the coyotes at night

He secretly used to be in a band when he was young, Lightning found photos of him playing drums one time [he never told anyone about it though]

Generally likes dad rock with no specific bands or musicians

Flo and Ramone

Flo picks the music at her cafe and Ramone picks the music at his tattoo shop

Flo's favorite is Dolly Parton, she got into her music through her more pop focused songs, but she learned to branch out to her country also

Ramone's taste overlap with Lightning, and when he knows Lightning will visit his shop he'll put on some metal for the background

Sarge and Fillmore

Obviously they have very different opinions on basically everything, but surprisingly there are a few songs out there they both like

Sarge isn't big on music in general, he would listen to tornado sirens if he had the choice

Fillmore can play basically any stringed or woodwind instrument

Over time Sarge learns to live with Fillmore's Beatles vinyls he's always playing

Luigi and Guido

They both listen to music basically exclusively in Italian

They love singing the songs they play in the shop while they clean as loudly as possible

Sometimes they get weird looks from the customers when they do that but they ignore them

One time Luigi tried to take Guido to the opera but Guido kept falling asleep so they just left early and Luigi took him to get something to eat

If this gets notes I'll make a part 2 ig