#backstage passes

[r5h]

Diana Cavendish is a rising star in the music world, in danger of burning out. Amanda O'Neill is an underground indie performer who won't settle for less than complete authenticity. Akko Kagari is just trying to have fun and be herself. Tonight, they've just performed as separate acts at the same concert. Tonight, they'll perform again, going head-to-head-to-head in the name of sex, love, and rock and roll. For now, three musicians walk into a bar....

Merry Christmas, @em0ticonz! I'm your Secret Santa for the @lwasanta 2023 event, and this is my story! I hope you enjoy the Little Witch Academia Musician AU I've put together! (And I hope everyone else enjoys it too!)

[a-moment-captured]

BTS of Backstage Passes video

Details

[usunezukoinezu]

“What you said is the truth, and you should be able to tell the truth whenever you want. You shouldn’t have to be like Ken Pitt and his friends, sneaking around hiding yourself, keeping it in the closet. If Tony (Defries) thinks that way too, then he’s not going to be able to market you effectively, and we’ll get rid of him and get someone else. But he’ll be okay, I bet you. He sees you as an industry, or a building, and he knows a building can’t have false foundations.”

-Angie Bowie (1972)

[glassofpumpkinjuice]

this is so funny. arrested for being too generic looking

[fionaapplerocks]

Fiona Apple in 1997

[harlowgifs]

[luxeavenger]

Shark

Kinktober prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage pass!Natasha x reader

Warnings: Overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral sex, top Natasha

Words: 1055

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

The redhead’s muscular shoulders block the light when she hovers over you. Her wide, lipstick-smeared grin is intimidating the way a shark's grin is intimidating.

And apprehension curls through your gut, just as it would if it were a shark grinning back at you right now.

You whimper as her fingers ease out of your pussy, just to be pushed into your mouth. You tongue the taste of you off her digits. They’re pruny, because they’ve been inside of your dripping cunt for the better part of the evening.

“Be a good girl, and clean ‘em for me, sugar,” she commands in her rough, sultry voice.

Each time she praises you, chills scatter over your too-hot flesh. It makes you eager to please her, and you know you’d do anything she asked of you just to receive more of it.

Natasha’s naked skin is so pale it nearly glows everywhere it peeks from behind the tattoos cluttering her naked body. She’s singularly the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, and you felt unbelievably lucky when she picked you up after your bartending shift ended.

Now? You’re pretty sure if it were possible to die from being overwhelmed by orgasms, this is the woman they’d send to do the job.

Her chin is shiny with your juices when she looks down at you. Hoping for a break, time for your body to relax for a bit, you ask, “May I please eat your pussy now, ma’am?” Her fingers are still in your mouth, so the words come out garbled.

She pulls them out and you repeat your question.

She grins again, and you’re foolish enough to think she’s going to let you do what you asked.

Instead, she takes the fingers still slick with your spit and pushes them back inside of you. The squelch when she pushes into your cunt is obscene, and you blush, heat rushing over your body like slow-spreading flames.

With a low chuckle she says, “Oh, sugar. I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Her fingers rub against your g-spot, and you mewl. “When you’ve come so much—once you’re so sensitive you can’t even stand the touch of fresh fucking air on your needy little clit—that’s when I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Then, just to tease you, she curls her middle and ring finger into her cunt—the cunt you’re dying for a taste of—with a moan, and you whine pitifully.

She leans over to whisper in your ear, “Seeing you squirm and cry for me has got me so fucking wet, sugar. I can’t wait to sit on this pretty little face.” She wraps the hand she was just using to toy with herself around your jaw to gently shake your head back and forth. Her fingers are sticky with her slick, and it leaves a streak of her arousal across your cheek.

“Ma’am, please. I can’t anymore. It hurts.” You know you’re whining, but you have no idea how to stop. She’s made you come more times than you can count. And, well, you know she’s not going to stop, so you might as well beg anyway.

“Now, now, sugar,” Natasha purrs, “we both know you fucking can, and I promise you that you absolutely fucking will come again, if I have to use my fucking fist to yank an orgasm out of you.”

“Ma’am–” you try to make another appeal to her. You try to come up with something coherent. Some words to tell her you’re too sore, too tired, too something, but instead, “–oh, fuck.”

Making you feel like you don’t even know your own body anymore, your traitorous pussy gushes slick over Natasha’s fingers, and your muscles strain as your back bows. The gorgeous woman purrs silky praise at you, that sends butterflies swarming through your stomach.

“Look at you sugar,” she beams at you, her angel bites glitter in the light when she licks her lips like a cat. “So beautiful when you come for me. I knew you could do it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you sigh deliriously, drunk off her attention.

She slowly descends your body, nibbling her way down, her perfect mouth leaving a trail of bruises in her wake. Her green eyes stay trained on your face when she slurps at your clit. Your hips rise off of the mattress, and she throws a deceptively strong arm over you to keep you in place. Your body already feels like one raw nerve ending, and she keeps plucking at that tight, strained feeling inside of you like it’s a guitar string she intends to play until it breaks.

Her persistent fingers on your g-spot pull a messy, squirting orgasm out of you, soaking Natasha’s chin and hand again. She laps at you like she’s starving, and you’re her only source of sustenance.

Your thighs are visibly trembling, and Nat smooths a hand down your flank. She coos, “Such a good girl for me. So fucking good. You came so fucking hard for me. It was fucking beautiful.”

Her tattooed fingertips make swirling patterns over your sides until your thighs are done shaking. She runs a knuckle up your slit, smiling lazily when your hips jerk reflexively at the lightest graze of your clit.

“Mmm, baby girl,” she hums, “look at you. So sensitive. I think you’re there. I think you’re right fucking there, sugar.”

She blows gently at your mound to cool your heated skin, then spreads you open with her thumbs. Then a quick puff of air hits your clit, and a bolt of electricity zings up your body. Your entire body jerks, and you mewl pitifully, “Please, no more, ma’am. No more. I can’t. I can’t. I really, really can’t. Don’t make me.”

She abandons the space between your thighs, and straddles your body. Silver tear tracks on your cheeks are wiped away by her thumbs, and you hiccup a sob at the gentle gesture.

Her voice is rough, and syrupy sweet when she soothes, “Shh. That part’s all done for now, sweet girl. You were so good for me.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sigh dreamily.

The too-sharp grin is back now. “You’re not nearly done, sugar. So don’t thank me yet,” she wryly remarks, grabbing a handful of your hair as she lowers herself over your face.

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

[hauntground]

the craziest, amazing-est pop duo ever!

[brookbee]

David Bowie on keyboards during Iggy Pop's 1977 tour in London, England photographer: Ian Dickson

[shimmerclaws]

I MISS THEM RHRHRGHRRH

[r5h]

Diana Cavendish is a rising star in the music world, in danger of burning out. Amanda O'Neill is an underground indie performer who won't settle for less than complete authenticity. Akko Kagari is just trying to have fun and be herself. Tonight, they've just performed as separate acts at the same concert. Tonight, they'll perform again, going head-to-head-to-head in the name of sex, love, and rock and roll. For now, three musicians walk into a bar....

Patch notes! I've just made some revisions to Backstage Passes's first chapter! I'm still working on the second chapter, but after receiving some very helpful feedback about the first one, I found it necessary to make some tweaks.

The short version is, these changes are meant to help increase the agency of all three characters, and to clarify some of Amanda's actions that were coming across in an unintended way. I hope the changes have succeeded.

Thanks again to all my readers and commenters, and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing!

[thatsnotfriendship]

[usunezukoinezu]

''I learned, for one thing, about some of the grimmer aspects of the gay underworld, about the realities of sex on the street, sex for money, sex and drugs, sex and violence. I learned that if you’re a boy who’s making his living selling blow jobs to strangers, or you’re a girl taking it up the ass from whoever, it helps your denial mechanisms if the drugs you’re on are strong. I learned too that that kind of work breeds a powerful rage in almost everyone who does it, and you’d better duck fast when a hustler’s anger breaks loose among lovers and friends (as, freed by booze and drugs, it often does).

The rent boys and call girls at the Sombrero had a fiery energy that could be appealing, but frightening, and I felt thankful that I personally didn’t have to live with it, or cope with the odds of survival they faced. I also saw, among the gays who worked “normal” jobs, an awful lot of people who could and should have been beautiful, both within themselves and in society, but who were turned ugly by their own paranoia, and society’s.

This was heartbreaking, for these were my brothers and sisters, people among whom I knew I was destined to spend my life. For what was true for David in a creative/commercial sense—that he had found his natural constituency—was true for me emotionally: I’d found a very personal sense of belonging at the Sombrero. So there was a distinct hint of poison in the wine. All the same, though, it was wine, good wine, and it was intoxicating.''

-Angie Bowie, Backstage Passes

[littlemagicalstardust]

Blessing the timeline with more Chuckie T <3

[kapitein-oranghien-29]

"And what do you think your doing here punk?"

[fionaapplerocks]

Fiona Apple photos by Stephane Sednaoui, 1997