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taexual · 9 months

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sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 7.5k

chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name

There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.

This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.

Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.

This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.

As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.

“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.

“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.

“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.

“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.

“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.

Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.

If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.

They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.

And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.

Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.

He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.

Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.

“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.

Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.

Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.

“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”

“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”

“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”

“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”

Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”

“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”

“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”

“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”

“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”

“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”

You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.

Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.

“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”

“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”

“Fine, I—”

“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.

“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.

In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.

There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.

“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”

You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.

“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”

Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”

“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.

“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”

“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.

Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.

It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”

It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.

You and Jungkook had been broken up for almost two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was over two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.

You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.

And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).

You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.

“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”

Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.

You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.

“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.

Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”

The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.

“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”

“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice—both Sid and Jude worked for their families, which really meant that they got paid to occasionally show up at the shareholders’ meetings on behalf of their parents. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”

“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”

He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”

“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”

“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”

“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And some nights in London, depending on our flight time,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”

None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.

Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.

You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).

Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.

“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”

“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”

You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.

“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”

Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.

You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.

Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.

When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.

He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.

The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.

He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.

“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”

Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.

The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.

It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.

Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”

He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.

He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.

Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.

Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.

“Look who—”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”

“I don’t hear running water.”

He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

“I can drive myself—”

“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”

He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”

“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”

“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”

“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”

“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”

“Hanging up now.”

Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.

Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.

His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.

He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.

“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”

Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.

As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.

He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.

He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.

“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”

“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”

“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.

“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”

Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”

You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.

By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.

And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.

Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.

Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.

Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.

However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.

And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.

You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.

Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.

“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.

“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”

You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.

“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.

His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.

“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”

His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”

“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”

He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”

You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”

“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”

“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”

You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.

Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.

“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”

He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”

“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.

“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”

He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.

You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.

Maybe he really would be fine tonight.

And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.

“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.

“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”

“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”

Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.

And there was nothing he’d tell them now.

It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.

“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”

Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.

“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”

Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.

“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.

“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”

Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.

Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”

“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”

Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.

“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”

“I don’t have a crush—”

Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”

Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation. “Why—why would I even—why—”

“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”

“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”

“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.

“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.

“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.

“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”

“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.

“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”

“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”

“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”

Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.

“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”

“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.

Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.

He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.

“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”

That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.

“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”

“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”

There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.

This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”

Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.

“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”

He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.

“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.

“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.

“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”

Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.

“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”

“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”

In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.

“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”

Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.

Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.

“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”

chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”

special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜

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lomlhwa · 4 months

Text

y'know what they say about guitarists (c.s)

pairing: guitarist!san x vocalist!reader

preview: san has watched you flirt with entire crowds. he just wants some of that attention too.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of drummer!mingi, bassist!yunho and stage manager!seonghwa, ONE BED TROPE WHO CHEERED, possessive san, spit play, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl), praise, pussy drunk san, dacryphilia, lots of hickeys, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, cockwarming

trigger warnings: n/a

w/c: 2.0k

song recs for this fic: any chase atlantic tbh (slow down, swim, heaven and back)

a/n: this lovely fic is dedicated to @kitten4sannie to celebrate my return to writing! i hope you like this ml!

as you’re onstage playing a gig for a couple thousand people, you feel like you’re in your element. nothing feels better than being onstage with your bandmates. your hips sway to the music coming from the musicians sharing the stage with you.

you give playful winks and body rolls to the fans in the front row. something that always catches your guitarists eye. though, his rhythm never falters.

jealousy always courses through him. he wants to receive those playful gestures from you. you even wink at mingi, your drummer from time to time. the beloved bassist, yunho, receives the most of your onstage affection. hugs, cheek kisses, etc. makes the male fans jealous. makes san’s blood boil.

your angelic voice rings through the in-ear monitors that each band member wears. it sends shivers down san’s spine. so talented and so incredibly beautiful.

as your gig ends, you giggle and thank the fans who attended. “thank you guys so much for coming! i love you! we’ll see you next time!” you bow and flounce your way backstage in your cute outfit. your band members follow suit, bowing and running backstage.

“thank was great guys! well done,” you stage manager says. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and smile. “thanks hwa.” you let go of him and turn to yunho. “yuyu, your guitar playing was extra good today!” you exclaim, smiling so brightly that the sun might have competition. you peck his cheek before running off to your stylist to get changed.

san’s shoulders slump, knowing that he won’t receive those small actions of affection from you. “feeling left out, sannie?” mingi asks, towering over the smaller guitarist. san nods, not bothering to look up at mingi.

“why don’t you just talk to her? there’s gotta be a reason she’s reserved around you,” yunho points out from across the room. his makeup artist is hunched over him, removing his makeup ever so carefully.

“talk to who about what?” you say, suddenly coming out of your dressing room. you’re beautiful even now; no makeup and in your pajamas. “no one. nothing,” san blurts out. fuck. he’s so stupid. “okay,” you smile, sipping your water through a straw.

“you guys ready to go back to the hotel?” you ask and the other three members nod in unison. you grab your bag and head for the door. “san’s rooming with you tonight, y/n.” you look back at yunho with wide eyes. “oh! um, okay.” you give san a confused look before heading out the door.

san flips yunho off before following you out the door. you all pile into the company van and sit in comfortable silence as you head to the hotel. you file out of the van when you pull up, security making sure no fans get to you. you scurry into the building and do your best to sneak into your hotel rooms. you sigh dramatically as you get the door shut.

you turn around to find san staring at your hotel room in horror. “what’s the probl-” you cut yourself off when you find that your room only has one queen sized bed. “shit,” you mutter. you drop your bag on the floor before you whip your phone out and dial seonghwa’s number.

“hwa, what the actual fuck? one bed?” san can hear seonghwa trying to explain. he picks up pieces of the conversation. something about this being all that was left when he was booking. something else about telling you to suck it up. you mutter some insults before hanging up on seonghwa.

“i can just sleep on the floor, it’s fine y/n,” san drops his bag on the floor and sits down on the ground next to the bed. “no, san, we can share the bed. we’re touring. i don’t want your limbs to ache,” you shake your head as you climb into the bed. you pat the space next to you and he clambers onto the mattress.

after a couple hours, you’re both laying on your backs in the dark, in silence. “hey y/n?” san says, finally breaking the silence. you give him a soft hum in response. “can i ask you about something that’s been bothering me?” he asks. you hum again.

“why don’t you give me the same attention you give mingi, yunho and seonghwa? no hugs, no pecks, nothing. you’ll skip over me just to give the ones beside me those things. why? did i do something to make you uncomfortable? or scared to do those things for me?” san can feel you tense up next to him. he wonders why that’s how you reacted.

“cause…” you trail off. san can see the outline of you sit up in the dark. “cause i have a crush on you. if i gave you that affection, i would never survive. if i gave you a single hug, i would never let go. if i kissed your cheek, i would never be able to keep it from turning into a real kiss,” the confession hangs in the air like a spiderweb. he sits up, like you did. “why didn’t you tell me?” san asks. you sigh and shrug, despite the fact that he can barely see you.

“i didn’t wanna ruin the band dynamic. i didn’t wanna risk you not reciprocating and making things awkward between us. i was just scared that-” san pulls your head back so he can meet your lips with his. it’s swift, but it’s enough to make you sputter in shock.

“i’ve liked you since we even started this band, sweet girl.” despite being in the dark, he maneuvers you onto your back and hovers over you. his cologne envelops you and you shiver.

“can i…. kiss you again?” san asks tentatively. he ghosts his fingers over your ribcage, making you squirm. “yes, please, san,” you respond. with your permission, he connects your lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. he lips melt with yours, finding a slow pace. his tongue drags over your bottom lip, asking for your plump lips to part.

your warm mouth welcomes san’s tongue as it pokes and prods at your inner cheek and fights with your own tongue. your hips grind up into his, searching for friction. he groans against your lips and it sounds more beautiful than any sound that’s ever come out of his guitar.

his hands gravitate towards your hips to hold them down, keeping you from grinding anymore. “we can’t…” san whispers. “they’ll hear us.” you shake your head and pull him back down to you, kissing him more feverishly. “fuck… you make it so hard to resist you.” you whine against his lips, fighting his weight holding your hips down. “please, i need you.”

you can feel a moment of hesitation from him before he just lets himself relax into you. his hands leave your hips and you immediately grind up. his jaw falls open and you shudder at the sound that comes out of him again.

you grab his hand and drag it under your shirt, wrapping his hand around your breast. your spine arches as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. “sannie-” your breath gets caught in your throat when his mouth moves to your neck and he nibbles on your skin lightly.

“fuck, i can’t wait. let me undress you, sweet girl,” san begs you, his voice low and desperate. you tangle your fingers in his hair and nod as well as you can. his hand leaves your breast and helps his other hand to lift your shirt off you. you lift your torso up to allow for it to come off you completely. he wastes no time in allowing his own shirt to follow suit. your hands run down his chest to his abs, pressing against the muscle lightly. his hands undo the drawstrings on your sleep shorts, sliding your shorts and underwear down together.

“off,” you mumble, clawing at his plaid pajama pants. he giggles and slides his pants down, discarding them with the rest of the clothes. he runs his hands over your bare thighs, spreading your legs gently. san’s hands run up and down your skin as he leans back down to kiss you. “condom?” he whispers and you shake your head. “no, wanna feel you.”

san continues to kiss you as one of his hands moves down to his cock, stroking it a few times. he lines the tip up with your hole and sucks in a deep breath. he presses your thighs apart as he shoves his cock inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. your hips stutter as your walls flutter around him.

your jaw falls slack and san finds purchase in kissing your jawline and your throat. he pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you and you slam your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

san lifts himself onto his palms to trap you between his arms. “you know what, sweet girl?” he says between thrusts, “you’re fucking mine. you hear me? mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, whispering these words into your brain. “you belong to me,” he grabs your face and forces you to face him.

“your lips? mine,” he kisses you roughly before pulling away again. “your pretty tits? mine,” he leans down to kiss your skin, leaving dark marks in the wake of his lips. “your pretty little pussy? it’s fucking mine,” san speeds up his thrusts to prove his point. your back arches and his tip jabs at the perfect gummy spot inside you.

“fuck, you’re such a good girl. your pussy is so fucking good. so wet, so warm. you take me so fucking perfectly. my pretty girl. open your mouth for me,” you open your mouth immediately and he leans down to spit in your mouth. “swallow.” your jaw snaps shut to swallow his saliva.

as your orgasm builds up, tears spring into your eyes. your chest heaves with tight sobs of just how fucking good it feels. “are you crying? does it feel that good, sweet girl?” you wipe your tears away messily, embarrassed that you’re even crying.

wiping your tears was pointless because when his thrusts speed up again, new tears fall immediately. “fuck, oh my god san that feels so fucking good,” you cry out, a little bit too loud. your thighs spasm as you try to close them, but san’s hips between your legs keep you wide open.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, please,” your hands claw as san’s biceps, your climax being right there. “me too. where do you want it, pretty girl?” he asks, his hips becoming more and more feverish. “inside, fuck, cum inside me.” san bites his bottom lip as his thrusts become sloppier.

you wrap your arms around his torso and bring him down to you so you can dig your nails into his back. he rests his body weight on his elbows and you clench around him. “cumming,” you whisper as your back arches for a final time before stuttering back down. the intensity of your walls gushing around him finally sends san over the edge.

the two of you just lay there completely still as ropes of cum fill up your abused hole. your legs wrap around his hips so that he won’t pull out before you want him to. “you’re so perfect. you’re so beautiful, so pretty when you cum,” he strokes your hair as he whispers in your ear again.

“let me pull out so you can go to the bathroom and then we can sleep, okay?” you shake your head. “no. no. stay. roll over so i’m on top. lemme sleep with you inside. please. please, sannie,” you begging goes right to his head and he does exactly as you asked. with you situated on top of him, cock still inside, he pulls the blanket over the two of you. “we have to get up early to shower though, okay?” you nod.

_____________

“good morning love bugs. your throat gonna be okay to sing tonight?” yunho smirks at you and you smack san. “hey! i was the one who said they were gonna hear us!” he cries out. “at least you finally fucked,” mingi comments.

“yeah, real fuckin good,” seonghwa comments, looking exhausted. he was in the room right next to yours. he shakes his head. “i’m sorry hwa.”

“get in the fucking van.”

#lomlhwa #ateez #atz #san #choi san #ateez smut #atz smut #san smut #choi san smut

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hwayangyeon · 11 months

Text

nsfw bassist!heeseung x drummer!reader // heeseung and you sabotage your metal band's practices by constant fighting so jay tells you to fuck each other // smut, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, hate sex kinda, reader has a vagina, i don't know anything about metal, not proofread // 1k words

your band's practices have never been worse ever since a new bassist joined you. you disliked him the second you saw him, but for your group's sake, you tried to hide your feelings as hard as possible.

as a percussionist you usually start the songs and set up the pace, heeseung follows you right after but you just can't seem to synchronize. whatever you play sounds off, even for metal.

"why the fuck are you so fast? slow down, jesus. i can't keep up," heeseung complained after the 4th time you had to start over the song.

"speed up then? what are you doing with those slow fingers? fingering your mom?" you talked back to him and got ready to practice again.

"what did you just say?" he put his guitar aside and started walking in your direction with the angriest look on his face.

"enough," jay, your vocalist and leader, stopped him and stared at both of you, "you two - go to the bathroom and fuck each other. i'm growing sick of you"

"wha-"

"NOW. if jake and sunghoon don't get the chorus right, they just punch each other in the face and go back to playing. i don't want any more blood on my basement floor, so just go and fuck the shit out of each other."

you couldn't believe what you just heard. but, to be fair, it sounded better than having to deal with a black eye for two weeks. heeseung and you followed jay's finger pointing to his obscure bathroom.

the room was so small that you two barely fit in. unfortunately the ceiling lamp was still working (barely too) so you were able to see the black-haired guy's face. just looking at him makes you heat up.

"show me your tits."

"what?"

"do you want me to get hard, or no? or should i fuck you with your drumsticks?"

"fine," you hissed and pulled up your shirt. you don't really wear bras to your concerts, so you don't bother putting one on to practices. he cupped your breast and the sudden touch sent a shiver down your spine. he's... bold. his finger brushed against your nipple, causing an even bigger pool in your panties.

he moved his hand to your other breast. it was pretty rough from the past 2 hours of playing the guitar, yet it felt like he was melting your skin.

"not bad."

"shut up," you pulled your shirt down and pushed his arm away. there's no way you'd let him do that in any other situation.

"bend over," he said and pointed at the sink behind you.

"you bend o-" you tried to say but he grabbed your hips, turned you around, and pinned you to the cabinet, trapping you with his hands on the counter.

you really couldn't help but push your butt back against him when you felt his bulge poking you as he pressed his whole body onto you. for two people hating each other's guts, your bodies felt like magnets.

he shoved your pants and panties down, then took out his dick and wasted no more time. you were so wet. he pushed his member between your thighs and you covered it completely in your juices. your folds were so slippery, he could barely put his cock in your pussy.

"fuck..." you sighed when he finally entered you after teasing your entrance.

he wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned over your shoulder. a gasp escaped his lips as he thrusts his whole length in.

he nibbled on your neck as his cold jewelry pressed on your back. his face was covered in his hair and a few strands of yours but you could see in the fogged mirror that he's furrowing his eyebrows.

his hand moved under your shirt from your waist to your breast and he squeezed it as he kept pounding into you.

your bodies moved in unison, both of you wanting to fuck the other.

the feeling of his dick stretching your walls apart became so overwhelming, you could barely keep your head up.

"come for me," he whispered into your ear, seeing your expression in the reflection.

"i'm not... coming for you," you struggled to say back.

"what are you going to tell jay then?" he continued kissing and licking your neck, extremely close to the sensitive spot under your ear.

you only gritted your teeth, wanting to stop the moans coming out of your mouth. thank god the guys started playing something the second you went into the bathroom, or else they'd be hearing all sorts of noises your bodies are making. with the guy you can't stand. fuck.

you brought your hand up to his still sweaty from the practice hair and pulled on it with the little power you had left. it was either the lack of oxygen in this small room or him fucking you brainless, but your vision became blurry and him pushing so much onto you didn't help either. you were so close. both to fainting and to your release.

he rode you off your orgasm so well, supporting your tired body with his hand on your chest and arm gripping the sink. he rested his head on your shoulder for a second to catch his breath with you before pulling away from you and brushing his hair away from his face.

even though you were still a little dizzy you quickly picked up your pants and left the bathroom. you both awkwardly walked back to your spots. you sat on your drum stool and he picked up his guitar.

as if nothing happened you resumed your practice and surprisingly, everything went well.

so now, whenever you and heeseung started jumping at each other's throats, jay just yells 'bathroom.' and you two obediently go there.

after hotel.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #after hotel.#heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung smut #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #heeseung x reader

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sorrowsofsilence · 7 months

Text

Louder • Sebastian

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x FemReader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected PnV (pls wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slight choking, fem fingering, eye contact. (even if you squint hard enough there is like, no plot, oops)

Prompt: You know what they say, vocalists do it louder.

Authors note: 1/4 of the prompt: “vocalists do it louder, bassists do it deeper, guitarists finger faster, drummers do it harder.” Which member do you want next? ;)

THIS IS A FIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SITUATIONS! I AM NOT IMPLYING THEY WOULD DO THIS / DID THIS / WOULD ACT LIKE THIS IRL. THIS FIC IS JUST FOR FUN, AND DOES NOT INTERPRET THE MEMBER IRL IN ANY WAY. ITS FICTION! THINK OF THEM LIKE AN ACTOR! lol

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d

Well, you know what they say, vocalists do it louder.

“I got the mirror so you can watch yourself while I’m fucking you.”

Noah whispered in your ear as you stood in front of your reflections. He stood behind you, his tall figure looming over you as his chest pressed into your back. You watched as Noah’s eyes traced every curve of your body, absorbing your image with so much desire. Noah’s hands trailed up and down your body delicately, the tips of his inked fingers grazing across the bare skin of your torso, goosebumps rising across your arms with every lingering moment.

Trailing down to your waistband Noah’s fingers tugged at your thong, running his finger suggestively between the hem, watching your body shudder with anticipation, and you felt your abdomen clench through the rush of lust he inflicted upon you. His lips found their way behind your ear. As he kissed his way down, Noah’s hand slid across your abdomen, his long fingers dipping into your lace panties.

You wore them just for him, hoping that when he came home from rehearsal he would notice how your oversized t-shirt would ride up, exposing your lower half that beckoned for his attention.

“You’re not wearing shorts underneath?” He had said, noticing how you sat suggestively on the couch, resting on your side, ass facing the doorway.

“It’s too warm,” you had shrugged, your lip finding its way between your teeth as you bit back a smile, watching Noah’s eyes flicker between your body and eyes. His hair was messy from exhaustion, but his eyes turned dark with admiration. You couldn’t help but notice the way his white t-shirt hung loosely on his perfect body, his short black shorts covering his already hardening self he held you in a chokehold, just by how good he looked.

“You’re so fucking wet, already?” Noah let out a low groan as he stiffened against you, pressing into your body as his free hand crossed over your body, holding your hips into him with his one arm. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

Noah’s fingers ran teasingly through your arousal, slipping the tip of his finger before pulling them back up, barely brushing over the spot you needed most. Your stomach clenched even more in hope, praying he would touch you where you wanted him most.

“Please Noah,” you whispered in desperation, it was almost embarrassing how much control he held over you. “I need you to touch me, please.”

Noah loved hearing you plead for him. He was such a whore for begging and praises from you that he couldn’t contain the moan that escaped his lips as you mumbled his name, soft exhales being taken from your mouth. Noah loved being wanted, he loved being desired, and he knew that he would get that by teasing you.

“What do you want from me?” Noah’s teeth grazed along your collarbone. Your hands travelled to push his further into you, desperate for any amount of friction.

“Your fingers, fucking me, please,” you began to squirm from the torment, his fingers once again teasing. “Noah please.”

His lips parted into a satisfied smile, his face resting between the crook of your neck as you leaned back into him, letting go. Noah finally pushed his fingers into you, curling them as his palm rubbed against your desire.

You closed your eyes in relief, your body becoming limp from the release of tension.

“Eyes open,” Noah said, and you obeyed, attempting to maintain eye contact with the deep brown eyes through the mirror in front of you.

His absolute favourite was when you watched him worship you. He loved as your eyes became lidded from ecstasy, but you tried your best to fight the urge to close them and succumb to his fingers. Noah loved the way your lips parted gently, eyebrows furrowing.

He played with your body, hands grazing over your stomach and chest, allowing himself to explore what was his; but his arousal got the best of him as he rolled his hips behind you, desperate for friction himself.

Noah rested on his knees, holding you down onto his lap. You knew both your thighs would burn from this position, but this was how he could hit the spot you needed. He slipped his fingers out from you, before pulling his shorts down, barely enough to expose himself.

He was so desperate to be inside your body he couldn’t take the three seconds to remove his clothes.

“Do you want me to take these off-“ you began, ready to pull your underwear down your hips but Noah’s hand pulled yours away.

“On,” he said hastily, tugging the lace to the side, holding it in place between his three fingers, before positioning himself below you.

“Noah I-“ but he was already thrusting into you, your arousal guiding him with ease.

Moans escaped Noah’s lips, his body shuddering underneath you as he began to pant.

You always thought you’d be the vocal one, considering how well Noah has always treated you; but the amount of lust Noah felt as he fucked you left him a complete vocal mess. Nothing turned you on more than Noah’s pornographic moans, knowing that it was your body wrapped around him that made him crumble beneath you.

Your knees and thighs ached as he pounded into you from behind, but the sexual desire of Noah’s body taking over your left you unable to comprehend what was going on.

“Oh fuck Noah,” you cried, and his free hand ran up your chest, wrapping around your throat, his fingers gently squeezing your skin. Noah’s other hand left your underwear, his forearm crossing your stomach as he held you firmly against his body, his pace never ceasing. You watched as he pounded into you, your eyes meeting his in the reflection. The sight was beautiful.

“Oh my god Y/N you feel so fucking good,” Noah’s deep groans vibrated against the back of your head as he caged your body onto his. Noah’s hips thrust upwards, causing your limbs to shake as your body began to warm, climbing towards your release.

“I- Noah,” words were barely able to leave your lips before a loud whale left you collapsing.

Noah grunted loudly with every thrust, pushing into you with his sounds as he released, allowing himself to freely control your body, “fuck Y/N, I love it when you moan. Let the entire neighbourhood know you’re mine.”

Noah’s voice rang through your ears as he rode out his high, gripping your hips, his hair cascading over his face.

You were both left panting, chests heaving as you watched each other in the mirror again, sharing a smile. You loved how even after giving himself completely to you, Noah’s soft side always shone through. He adored you, and everything you offered.

“I fucking love you.” Noah’s face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, face flushing as he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you.

You let your arm fall back and run your fingers through his hair, smiling, “I love how vocal you are.”

*********

1/4 ;) who’s next?

Ps. sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written since I Was Always Yours. Writers block is a bitch. BUT I have a mini story that was requested in the works (hoping it’ll work out!) but I thought these would be quick and easy, AND I could do one for each member! :p

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian hands #bad omens smut #smut #metalcore smut #singer

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irisintheafterglow · 9 days

Text

lights, camera, bitch, smile!

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "i can do it with a broken heart"

summary: it's your first time headlining the biggest music festival in the country, and your guitarist is nowhere to be found. good thing your other headliner-- and billboard chart rival-- can play guitar, right? right? (rockstar!gojo x popstar!reader)

wc: 2.73k

cw/tags: implied fem!reader but gn pronouns used, rivals to lovers, he falls first, mild angst (descriptions of a panic attack)/fluff with happy ending

note: this is another fic as a part of @ficsforgaza and a gift for @um-no-ok for donating and supporting palestinian families! interested in being a part of this initiative? check out my masterpost ! hope you enjoy this, i had a lot of fun writing it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“You’re sure the flight is still running late?” You plead, head in your hands as the tech lead, your publicist, and your manager sit apologetically on the other sofa in your trailer. “We can’t send out a car to go grab them from the airport as soon as they land?”

“Getting off festival grounds will be hard enough, not to mention battling the traffic of incoming guests,” the tech guy reminds you with a shake of his head, exhaling deeply as his radio crackles, another warning that you need to be on stage to sound check. In a matter of hours, you would be headlining the biggest music festival in the country, and both your guitarists were stranded hundreds of miles away. They should have known better than to take a gig right before the festival, but you let them do it anyway because it was only a 30 minute flight between the airports. But, after a stray bird flock nearly downed another passenger plane, the tarmac was backed up for the time being. “Can you try asking around to see if someone can fill in for them?”

“And maybe hire them instead,” your publicist mutters under her breath, seething. You shoot her a wry smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with the plug of your in-ear monitors.

“The band is out trying to find guitarists, but it’ll be hard to ask someone to fill in because of scheduling issues and the number of stages there are this year.” Your manager takes a peek at her watch and looks at you with regret. “You need to go soundcheck, guitarists or not.”

“We have a drummer, a bassist, two keyboardists, and a vocalist. You’re gonna make them go out there with a jazz band and expect them to sing the biggest pop songs on the planet?” Your publicist, bless her heart, voices what you’d been dreading since you got the call from your lead guitarist. It was the biggest test to your professionalism since your career took off and you silently wished you’d paid attention to those tour bus guitar lessons. “How bad would it be to push back the set, even thirty minutes?”

“Bad, very bad. There’ve already been more delays than anticipated that aren’t music related,” the tech lead replies with a grimace. Your publicist curses under her breath and gives you a look telling you to get on stage. “And, it’s too late to fly in guitar tracks, even if we had them.” Shit. You’d just have to trust your team to figure something out, you figure, grabbing your sunglasses from the coffee table and exiting the trailer.

The rest of your band is already plugged in by the time the golf cart drives you to the main stage where you’d be performing. The ruthless summer sun competed with barely any clouds, blazing anything in its sight and leaving you breaking a sweat, even in the shade. A stage hand slips a wireless pack onto the waistband of your shorts and the click of the volume knob brings you the dweedling sounds of your band. The audience lot is relatively empty, thankfully, save for a few brave souls who were taking care of sound. Steeling your nerves, you shoot the audio tent a thumbs up, pop in your in-ears, and wait for the click track to run.

CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

The synth intro of your walkout song rings concerningly quiet in your ears and you tap your in-ears a few times, signaling the sound tent with a thumbs-up until the rest of the keyboards are audible. Not a great start to sound check, but that’s what this time was for, right?

CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Drums and bass in. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

Nothing.

The click continues its monotonous beat and you vaguely make out bass at the bottom of your mix, but you and your drummer look at each other with the same confused expression. She taps her ears, shaking her head.

“W-Wait, wait, wait. Can we stop, please?” You speak your request into your mic, disheartened to not hear your own voice in your mix. The synths stop abruptly, as does bass, and a dozen tech people rush onstage to fix various audio problems. “This is a nightmare,” you mutter, wiping the beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead.

“It’s always mix issues, isn’t it?” As if your irritation couldn’t increase, your eye twitches on its own when you register the voice of the person standing at the bottom of the stage. All shining white hair and dark, round rimmed sunglasses, Gojo Satoru was the last person you wanted to be interacting with. To say he looked good would be an understatement and your eyes look for any place to focus on other than his chest under his unbuttoned shirt. “For what it’s worth, you sound pretty on the mic.”

“What do you want?” Your voice is tired already, as is your entire body. Figuring out who would replace both your guitarists had sapped your energy and doors weren’t even open yet. “I don’t have the time nor the energy to debate with you today–”

“Heard you were looking for guitarists,” he cuts in and you narrow your eyes. The last thing you needed was your Billboard chart rival mocking you and your current situation. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that. You and I both know you’re in a less-than-ideal spot right now.”

“Choose your next words very wisely, Gojo,” you seethe, using every ounce of your willpower to remain civil. “If you’re here to tease me, I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

“I wanna help you,” he says before you’ve stalked out of earshot. “I can fill in for your lead and Suguru can play rhythm. I’ve already talked to him about it and he’s down. We’ve got the chords alright, but if anything funky happens, we’ll just follow your bassist. We’re pros for a reason, aren’t we?”

“I don’t need your help, Gojo,” you lie, desperately looking around for anything to get you out of this conversation.

“Thought I told you to call me Satoru when we were at that awards show.” His voice was always velvet smooth, disarmingly charming, and you hated the way it drew you in like a moth to a candle.

“I don’t remember that; and, if you did, I still don’t care.” We’re back on, says a voice through your ears. Starting the click on your cue, lead.

“Seems like you don’t remember a lot about what happened that night. I wouldn’t mind recounting it for you since it seemed like you had so much fun,” he baits coolly and you fall for it, storming back to the front of the stage and looking him square in his pretty face. Memory remnants of dancing in colorful strobe lights and running your hands through his hair appear in your mind’s eye before you can stop them, and it must register on your face. “Ah, so maybe you do remember what happened if you’re this angry about it.”

“We’re rivals, Gojo,” you hiss, your vision close to going scarlet. “We’re not supposed to be buddy-buddy, and what happened at that afterparty was a slip of my better judgment.”

“We’re not supposed to be, or you’re scared to be?” His question hangs in the air and you have no choice but to glare at him, waiting for him to back down when you know he never will. After a long pause, he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know you’re in need of guitarists and I just wanna help. Consider it a favor.”

“Favors need to be paid back,” you counter skeptically, “and you’re the last person I want to owe.”

“Not my kind of favors,” he says, more genuinely than you’re used to him being. “Just…think about it, yeah?” You don’t have time to dwell on why he was being so nice to you, though, as you give the audio tent a thumbs-up again. CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

By the time you’ve suffered through soundcheck, changed into your stage outfit, and inhaled more setting spray than should be considered healthy, the sun has become a laser. Gojo is nowhere to be found, thankfully, and you spend the rest of the time before your set pacing your trailer like a caged animal. There wasn’t any room in your mind to think about the crowd, the heat, or the extensive team counting on you to make it a worthwhile show. All that you could focus on was your lack of guitarists and the proposition from your #1 enemy in the music industry. Before you could cross from the kitchen tile to the living area carpet for the umpteenth time, the door threw itself open to reveal your breathless manager.

“We found guitarists! Let’s go, before they change their mind,” she commands. You thank the music festival gods for whomever she found, even happier knowing that it couldn’t be Gojo and Geto because their band had just finished on the other largest stage. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you answer uneasily, still reeling from switching panic-mode into show-mode within minutes. “Let’s just hope they’re good.”

This next artist needs no introduction…

The golf cart parks sidestage.

Dominating the pop charts for twelve straight weeks, taking the industry by storm…

You wink at the handful of screaming fans that spot you before ducking backstage.

And nominated for the most prestigious awards in the music world…

The stagehand slips the pack onto the waistband of your pants and hands you a mic.

Performing live and streaming around the world… [CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Intro, 2-3-4. 1…2…1-2-3 and–] Make some noise for–

“Yo, Satoru. You got an extra pick?” Your synths come in at the same time you whirl around, heart dropping into your stomach when you see the two guitarists behind you. You recognize Geto with his signature black hair tied up in a bun and catching rays of sunlight reflecting off the turtle shell body of his electric guitar. The limited interactions you had with Geto were pleasant, but the same couldn’t be said about the other musician fishing a pick from his leather pants. “Thanks,” Geto says as he sticks the spare in his pocket, clocking your shocked expression and giving you an apologetic shrug. “Sorry we’re a little late, the set ran a little long because this dumbass wanted to do another encore. I made the golf cart guy race over here, though.” He motions in the direction of your temporary lead guitarist, who unsuccessfully tries to clean his sunglasses with his fishnet shirt. “Oi, hotshot. Get ready, we’re on soon.” CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Drums and bass in. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

“They’re smudged,” Gojo pouts and you act without thinking, snatching the glasses from his hands, wiping it on your own costume, and handing it back to him without meeting his gaze. “Oh. Thank you,” he mumbles, sticking them on his face and trying to catch your eye. There were too many things happening at once for you to worry about him.

“Mhmm. Thanks for filling in,” you choke out with no trace of malice, the pressure in your forehead and chest becoming suffocating. The gravity of your performance crashes down on you in one disorienting wave and you blink in an attempt to clear the sudden blurry spots in your vision. Hundreds of thousands of eyes, waiting on you, watching you, worshiping you. The biggest performance of your career thus far, and you were going onstage prepared with nothing but a terrible soundcheck and two rock stars that probably didn’t give a shit about pop music. It was too much, it was all too much–

“Hey.” It’s him, breaking through the static as the click fades into the background, any panic replaced by the feeling of your biggest rival lightly touching the side of your face. He wipes a stray bead of sweat from your forehead, and you’re close enough to see every shimmering fleck of turquoise in his eyes. The crowd noise is staggering, but all he sees is you. “You look beautiful.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, barely able to verbalize your panic. He understands anyway, confidence radiating from his body.

“I’m with you. I’ve gotcha,” he reassures you, letting you mirror him as he takes a deep breath. “You trust me?” CLICK! 2-3-4. CLICK! 2-3-4. Guitars in, vocals enter. 1…2…1-2-3 and–

“I-I do.”

“Great.” His grin is dazzling, heart-stopping. All of him, he’s yours. “Let’s have some fun, then.”

—

You sleepily blink open an eye as you register the ringtone for your publicist playing on the nightstand. Outstretching a tired arm, you find it a little hard to move with the other occupant of the bed securing you against his chest. You mutter Satoru’s name, unsure if he’s awake yet; he grunts with his eyes still closed and you figure it’s unconscious, the way his muscles tighten around your waist to pull you closer. You groan as the phone screen blinks off, then on again with another insistent call.

“Satoru, you need to let me go.”

“I already did that once,” he mumbles into the pillowcase, “and I’m not making that mistake again.”

“I need to pick up the phone, baby. It’s my publicist,” you counter gently and it’s his turn to groan, reluctantly peeling away to rub his eyes. “Thank you,” you say sweetly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before answering the phone.

There you are. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, says your publicist, her incredulity obvious.

“Mhmm, good morning to you too. Everything okay?” You squint against the morning sun breaking through the windows of Satoru’s loft, the city skyline casting rainbows on the walls.

Everything’s great, just wanted to let you know what’s been happening media-wise.

“They figure out where we are yet?”

Not yet, no. But, you know how these things go. They’ll find you eventually, so savor the time you have with him now. Right now, you have a lot of late-night outlets asking for interviews and a few charity ball performances lined up. It’s all stuff you can handle, don’t worry. Aside from the scheduling talk, her warnings were things you already knew. It was weeks before social media users finally settled down after Satoru and Suguru joined you on stage. Satoru had even convinced you to create a burner account so you could scroll through all the edits and fancams of you two. Now that you’d reconciled your feelings about Satoru and agreed to let you two make up for all the time you lost to your stubbornness, it was relatively peaceful. On another note, I did see a pretty cute reel counting all the times he looked at you during your festival set.

“Yeah? And how many times was it?”

More than you looked at him, which is saying something, she chuckles. I’m still reeling from how chaotic the crowd was when those two walked out with you. You’d think there was a fire breaking out, or something.

“They were pretty loud, weren’t they?” You smile softly at the memory of strutting out in your boots with Satoru and Suguru on either side of you. “I think they went crazier when Satoru started soloing, though.”

“I’m not called the best for nothing, sweetheart,” he murmurs from behind you with a smirk. “These hands are worth millions, and you get them for free–”

“Okay, that’s enough from you,” you cut in before he says anything more. “Please, ignore him.”

What’d he say?

“Nothing important.” Your cheeks heat and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, only to be met by a self-satisfied wink that makes your heart race.

I’ll take your word for it. What’s your plans for today?

“Breakfast, probably, and then maybe head down to the shopping district.”

That’s pretty public, no?

“I don’t mind. I’m ready for whatever they throw at us,” you shrug, honestly feeling like you couldn’t care less about being seen with Satoru. You look over at him again and find boyish, giddy excitement written all over his face. He was yours and you were his, mind, body, and soul. Let the cameras come, let the tabloids rave, let the fake fans criticize, you think to yourself.

As long as you two were together, you were untouchable.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo angst #rockstar!gojo au

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cumikering · 1 month

Text

Guitarist Gaz x reader

2k | fluff, teenage crush, late 90s You were in a band with Gaz

“You’re pulling my leg,” Kyle deadpanned.

“Really. My mum said I should be studying for my A-levels.” Jack hung his head as he tried to smear off the crusty mud from the side of his sole.

“But the gig is this weekend!”

“’m sorry, Gaz. She’s holding my guitar hostage. Said she’s going to sell it if I’m not home right away after classes.”

“You know we can’t do with only three members,” he said exasperatedly.

“There’s still a few days, I’ll help you find someone.”

After band practice sans Jack “mum-said-I-can’t” Wilshire, Kyle hopped onto the local forum with a grumble.

This was stupid. It would take a miracle for him to find a replacement for Jack in mere days. Regardless, he punched the words into his keyboard.

Sixth Form alt band looking for a stand-in guitarist for a birthday gig this Saturday

Later that night, his PC pinged with a notification.

Hiya, I’m interested in the gig. Where do you practice? I can meet tomorrow to see if I’m a good fit.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was still hope. He didn’t have to cancel and embarrass himself.

Sweet. Here’s my college. See ya at the bus stop at 2 mate

The next day after classes, Kyle and his two bandmates waited at the bus stop.

“Gaz, how do you know he’s not a no-show?” Tim sat on the bench, twirling his drumsticks.

With his foot, Owen toyed with the overgrown grass under the bus stop sign. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Come on, lads. We need him, yeah?” He turned to them, trying to cheer up his mates. ”Let’s just hope he’s decent.”

Across the street, a bus alighted with a screech and a loud hiss. A few seconds later, it departed, revealing you behind it. You wore your college’s uniform, hair lightly tousled from the weather, your gig bag on your back.

“It’s a she?” Owen straightened up.

“Well, I assumed-“

Tim stood up, slipping his drum sticks in his back pocket as he walked over with a smile.

“No,” Kyle stood in front of him, trying to bite down his smile. “She talked to me. I go.” He marched towards you, ignoring Owen’s ‘or we could wait for her to cross the street’.

“Kyle?”

“Hiya.” He smiled, the most charming one he could muster. “Thought you were a bloke.”

You cocked your brow. “I thought the handle was obvious.”

Was it? He was too focused on the fact that he got a candidate (the only one so far).

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, well let’s go meet the lads.”

You followed as he made his way towards his mates.

“This is Owen, our bassist.” He pointed at the tall bloke with the blond buzzcut. “And this is Tim, our drummer.”

He nodded at you, his dark fringe bobbing in the air.

“And me, I’m the vocalist and lead guitarist. You’re going to be Jack’s stand-in as the rhythm guitarist. Is it okay if you play us something here? Apparently, we’re not allowed to bring non-students onto the campus.”

“Yeah, no worries.” You sat on the bench and took your guitar out. “Anything specific?”

“Nope, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

The familiar intro of Wonderwall wafted in the air. You were a little quiet at first but encouraged by the approving nods and smiles of the lads, you opened up. Kyle watched the way you strummed, fingers expertly dancing across the fretboard, chords held precisely. Your clean notes did the classic justice. They all sang the last verse together.

“Wow, that was real sweet.” Owen said.

“Watch out, Gaz, you might be the stand-in by the end of this.”

He gave Tim the side eye before smiling at you. “Should we start practicing today?”

Practice was at Tim’s the days leading up to the gig, as it always was. His spacious room was cosy and soundproof, plus his mum baked the best cookies.

How obvious was it that Kyle always wanted to sit next to you on the bus? Or let his mates walk ahead of the both of you, so he could have a little moment with you to chat?

But it was the next day that he only dared to make his move.

“It’s getting late. Would you like me to walk you home?”

You looked up as you zipped your gig bag close.

“I live closer to you than her and you never offer to walk me home,” Owen chided, making Tim cackle from the other end of the room.

He pretended not hear anything, his eyebrow rose instead as he rapidly lost his cool.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay,” you said.

Kyle beamed, flipping Owen the bird before he shut the door on his way out. He left his guitar because ‘we’ll be back tomorrow anyway’ and helped you carry yours instead.

“You hungry? That chippy is good.” He pointed at a busy shop on your way to the bus stop.

“I am, actually.” Your steps slowed.

After a bit of queuing, the both of you sat in the cramped corner of the shop.

You took small bites of your piping hot chips. “What are you doing after Sixth Form?”

“I’m enlisting in the army,” he said with pride.

You smiled. “Your parents must be so proud.”

“They are. I’ve always wanted to do this and I’m glad they’re supportive.”

“I wish you the very best, Kyle. I think you’d be a wonderful soldier.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

The conversation continued to what you were going to study in uni, and how the both of you got into music. He told you all about his heroes and seeing how you lit up in recognition of the names made him gooey. You get me.

After the meal, you waited at the deserted bus stop, pedestrians passing occasionally.

“Can I play?” He gestured at your guitar.

You nodded and he took it out of the bag, skilfully picking the strings to Iris. You smiled in recognition of the song and couldn’t help singing along. Engrossed in the little concert, none of you registered the bus was approaching.

His hands slowed, and you turned behind you.

“Oh, need to go, need to go!” You laughed, grabbing the bag beside him, scrambling to the edge of the pavement.

He smiled behind you as you boarded. The bus had no empty seats left, and the both of you stood there facing each other as he held your guitar, resting it on his shoe.

You didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, but he found it cute. You had a sweet smile and an even sweeter laugh. He appreciated your openness to spontaneity, loving the twinkle in your eye as you sang with him just a minute ago. You were a breath of fresh air.

The next day, Kyle offered to walk you home after dinner again. You let him, even had his hand brush against yours a few times. The next, since he finished his classes early, he asked if he could pick you up in front of your college.

He waited at the bus stop, head on a swivel, worried that he’d miss you among the sea of students. But you soon approached with your friends who giggled as they eyed him.

He smiled at the refreshing sight of you, hands pulled out of his pockets. “Hiya,” he breathed, barely glancing at your friends.

You stood in front of him as you chewed on your lip, smiling but not meeting his eyes. “Hi,” you mumbled.

One of the girls nudged you with a teasing smile before walking along.

“Oh, uh, see you on Monday, babes!” you called out to them.

“Good luck for your gig!” the blonde said.

“I hope I’m up to par for tomorrow,” you said to yourself.

“You are, trust me. We don’t need Jack anymore.”

You laughed.

“Here, let me just…” he grabbed the strap of your gig bag.

“You’re the sweetest, Kyle.”

He smiled, pulling the straps over his shoulders. I’m trying! “I got you this.” He pulled out a packet of gummy bears from his pocket.

“Thank you so much!” You tore the packet open, popping a bear into your mouth, before offering him some.

At the bus stop, he sat next to you just a little closer than a friend would.

“Oh, one of my girls let me borrow Jagged Little Pill for the weekend.” You grabbed your Discman from your bag, handing an earphone to him. “I wanted to listen to it with you.”

How did you not expect him to melt at that? When each of you had an earphone on, you hit play and he wouldn’t be mad if the bus never came. With you, this was the perfect afternoon.

He should have got more gummy bears.

You and the band played through the setlist flawlessly as the party went on. It was the most fun Kyle had had at a gig that he didn’t realise the hour was up. When Owen and Tim went off to grab food, without missing a beat, he strummed More than Words.

Kyle barely took his eyes off you as you sat across him with your guitar throughout the gig, a sweet smile on your face. If he kept playing, this would never have to end, right?

Your arms paused in the air as you took your guitar off before setting the strap back and smiling in recognition. You sat back down, your foot tapping to the gentle rhythm before joining him in singing. The crowd gathered and sang together, and you both couldn’t help dueting a few more mellow songs as Owen and Tim cheered on.

By the end of the night, Kyle was holding your hand. It was nice to not be insecure of his calloused fingers. Yours were too, like a shared secret. As you neared home, his arm grew stiff. Was this his last time walking you home?

“We don’t have anything else coming up, but you’re always welcome to swing by anytime.” He handed you your guitar. He insisted to help you with it even when he had his too. “We can just jam together.”

“What’s going to happen to Jack?”

“Like I said, we don’t need him anymore.”

You laughed. “Yeah? I should probably study for my A-Levels too.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “We can always meet at your college if you want. Or somewhere else. Wherever you want really.” I just want to keep seeing you.

You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Since then, he picked you up after classes almost every day. If not to jam at Tim’s, it was to study at your dining table. He caught the teasing looks your mum shot you that made you look away with a shy smile. He didn’t mean to, but his grades were better than ever, baffling his mates, including Jack.

Thinking of the distance that was to stretch between you was like looking up a mountain too tall to see its peak. It was irresponsible of him to ask for more as he was leaving for the army. With a heavy heart, he allowed himself to enjoy the last weeks he had with you, forced to be content with the fleeting touches and bashful gazes before they, eventually, fizzled out with time.

At the park, he played Lovefool, one of your favourites. You sat facing him, knees pulled to your chest wearing his hat he plopped down on you when you squinted at the sun earlier.

“Love me, love me, say that you love me…” He looked up from the fretboard to your pretty smile as you hummed along, hair swaying in the wind-

His strumming screeched to a stop as his heart lodged in his throat. “D- do…”

Bloody hell, Gaz, why are you stuttering like that!

You blinked. “You alright?”

“Doyouwanttobemine?”

Your smile brightened.

Oh, he was going to serenade you every chance he got, even when he was a thousand miles away from you. He hoped you didn’t mind.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts

@rowanyaboats @mangoguy

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itsmealaiah · 6 months

Text

From a whisper to a scream

Summary: Bill gets clingy, toying with your jean shorts and hands, being clingy, and it gets more intense when you get home.

2008 Bill x Fem Reader

Tags/ warnings: eating out, unprotected intercourse, dom! Bill, and degrading.

German is italicized!

Your POV:

"Please welcome Tokio Hotel!" The interviewer shouted, looking at the crowd as we all stepped out. The crowd was cheering and screaming in pure joy.

We sat down on the couch, Bill taking a seat next to me. I smiled. "Can you all introduce yourselves to the fans once again, just for good measure?" The interviewer beamed, and the crowd cheered more.

"Bill Kaulitz, lead singer" "Tom Kaulitz, guitarist" "Gustav Schäfer, drummer" " Georg Listing, bassist" " And Y/n y/l/n, backup vocalist" We all smiled, as the crowd shrieked. I saw Bill glancing at me briefly before he looked away.

I furrowed my eyebrows, shrugging it off. "So, how did you guys all meet?" The interviewer asked, looking at a card. We thought for a moment. "I think it was in school, right?" I looked at the band, who was nodding. "Yeah, in school." I smiled.

"Next question" He spoke, pulling out another card. "Will you continue doing songs in German, English, or both?" Bill perked up at this. "I write the songs, we rehearse them in German, and then do another copy of an English version." The crowd cheered.

As the interview went on, Bill clung to me more and more. At first, it was just brushing his hand over my leg, which made my face turn a light shade of pink, to holding my hand in his, thumb gently caressing the back.

I didn't know what was wrong with him, he hadn't been this needy for my attention ever. We were best friends, but nothing more.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Tom nudging my side. "Hey you, we have to leave" I got up and followed him back to the taxi.

"Hey guys" I beamed at the band. I squeezed into the back with them, all of us mushed together. "I think we did great at the interview." I rubbed Bill's arm. "What was that for?" He questioned, making the rest look at me. I was flustered. "Oh n-no reason" I stuttered out.

We got back to the hotel, and I rushed to the elevators, grabbing one, hoping it would close before anyone could get in. It was almost shut when a hand covered in rings grabbed the sliding door. I sighed quietly.

"What are you doing in here all alone?" The person asked, I knew it was Bill. "Oh nothing, just needed a breather." I rolled on my heels back and forth. He drew closer to me, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Y'know, I really like you" He whispered huskily in his thick accent. I blushed. "You do?" He nodded. "Why don't you come to my room tonight pretty girl, I could show you a real good time."

He winked before stepping away and pressing the button for his floor, leaving me shocked. My mouth was hung open. "Do I have that much of an effect on you, doll?" I was about to speak but the door opened, and he walked away.

"Jesus" I gasped. I had been holding my breath. I got out before the door could close, shouting. "Hey wait!" I ran down the hall, trying to catch up with Bill. "Yes?" He turned to face me, I was slightly out of breath.

"Where's your room?" He smirked. "Right this way, only like a few more doors." I followed him like a lost animal, trailing a couple of feet behind him.

He led me to his room and opened the door quickly. "I have to use the bathroom, make yourself at home" I made my way to the bed, lying fully on it.

I heard a click and saw Bill, he was inching closer to me with each second. "Mind taking those pretty clothes off baby?" He groaned seductively. I began to slide my shirt off, leaving me in my bra. Bill's eyes devoured me as he gazed upon my soft skin.

"Let me do it, you're too slow" He growled, throwing himself at me. I gasped, as he rid me of the fabric once covering me.

His head dipped between my legs, as he looked at me for approval. I nodded. His tongue gently lapped at my folds, and I moaned in frustration.

"God" He whispers against my skin. "Taste so good love" He makes his way up my torso, kissing a line and grabbing my lips angrily. He undid his jeans, separating us for a brief moment. I moaned and reached for him. "Not now" He hissed, slapping my hands away.

He slid his jeans down his legs and shucked his boxers. "Watch me, I want to see your face," He said, pushing himself into me. I moaned loudly, beginning to squirm. "Stop it bitch, or you aren't allowed to come"

He pinned me down, thrusting in and out at an inhuman rate. Our skin was slapping, and the headboard was crashing against the wall. "That's good oh my God, please keep doing that"

I moaned out, he was grinning from ear to ear. "You're quite easy to please" He marked my neck, thrusting lowly. "Why are you being so gentle with me? It's not fun" I whined, tugging at the ends of his hair. He looked down at me, lust in his eyes, before bucking his hips into mine.

His frantic pace had me sweating. "Bill, gonna c-come" I whimpered out, lips parted as I moaned again. "Me too," He said, groaning. I released on him, thighs shaking, as I screamed. He also released in me and pulled out.

I heard a knock at the door, assuming it was nothing. "You okay?" He asked. I flashed him a weak smile. The knocking got louder.

"Bill, what the fuck are you doing in there? Answer the door!" It was Tom. "Shit" I muttered, running to the bathroom as Bill rushed to the door. I heard the door click and Tom walking inside.

"It smells like ass in here" Tom snapped. "Sorry I was in the bathroom" Bill tried to cover himself. "Well I'll help you spray it with air freshener or something" Tom opened the door, and I jumped.

"Hi," I said awkwardly. Tom began to laugh hysterically. Bill and I froze in our places. "Get dressed you two" He heaved, another chuckle spilling out. "We have to leave soon"

A/n: y'all all I'm so sorry, I was so busy these past few days and barely had any time to write, it seems I can only write a story in 2 days now. I'm terribly sorry if it's bad. better ones to come xx alaiah ❤️ 🥹

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x you #itsmealaiah

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discordantwritings · 3 months

Text

Rock Hard (Rock Band! Cross Guild x Reader)

Pt. 3 The Guitarist

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

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, semi-public sex, Buggy is a Problem, possessive Mihawk, fingering, oral sex, no Crocodile yet but soon

WC: 2.4k

Summary: So, you slept with the main singer of Cross Guild, who is also your boss. It’s fine. No one will know.

Except Mihawk, Mihawk finds out pretty fast.

Notes: I got distracted for (checks calendar) 2 months but I swear I’m not abandoning anything

Tagging: @keiva1000

“And then you have the meeting with possible collaborators at the end of your day.”

“And why am I doing that instead of Crocodile?” Mihawk asks from behind his desk.

“Because he is busy scouting concert venues.” You explain, clipboard held to your chest.

“And Buggy?”

“I think why we know Buggy isn’t doing it.”

He pauses, rolling his eyes. “We do. Fine. But make sure I have the recording studio booked for Friday and nothing interrupting it.”

“Of course. Any other schedule requests?” You ask, jotting down his demands.

“No just that.” He waves a dismissive hand and you politely nod and head to the door.

“Oh- one more question.” His words stop you and you turn on your heels back to him.

“Are you fucking the clown?”

You nearly drop your clipboard in shock, brain trying to process the absurd question before it quickly turns into a sharp embarrassment. There isn’t time to get out any words before Mihawk is speaking again.

“That answers that then.” His voice is flat but you can hear the slight edge of disappointment.

“It was only once and I swear it will never happen again.” It was the truth- since your moment with him in his office a few weeks ago nothing has happened. Sure he would grab your ass when no one was looking but there hasn’t been a spare moment where the two of you could do anything more.

“Look, I don’t care who you sleep with. As long as you don’t let it interfere with your work it’s fine.” You would feel relieved if you still weren’t drowning in embarrassment. “I’m just surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s unbecoming.”

You can only nod as you slip out of his office in shame.

The next few days everything is normal, and neither you nor Mihawk acknowledge the brief conversation that had happened. You felt the information prickling at the back of your brain every time you were in the vicinity of Mihawk though, knowing how much he was judging you for you indiscretion.

But true to his word he didn’t seem to care as long as it didn’t affect your work. You treated Buggy the same as everyone else, even if his hands and gaze wandered constantly. So, while you remained professional, Buggy didn’t. It wasn’t a surprise to you but an annoyance as he grew bolder and bolder with each passing day.

Like now right now, while you’re sitting down for a meeting with all of The Cross Guild and some investors. You and the band are all sitting on one side of a long table while three business men sit across from you. Today you’re a glorified note taker as Crocodile handles most of the business, sitting and writing between Buggy and Mihawk. You don’t mind it too much- at least until Buggy starts to fool around.

You wanted to stab him with your pencil the instant you felt his hand creep onto your thigh. Restraining yourself you instead shoot him a glare which falls painfully short of your intended effect. The clown just smiles at you as his hand creeps further up your leg. Your hand tightly clasps on top of his to stop his movements but he’s more nimble than you give him credit for, easily sliding out of your hold and darting to what he can manage to grab of your ass.

You’ve missed a minute or so of conversation so despite the hand on you, you try to focus back in on the conversation- only to find Mihawk staring at you. There’s a long moment of eye contact before his gaze darts down to where Buggy’s hand is and back up to you. You’re mortified and try your best to silently convey to Mihawk that you’re sorry and it’s all Buggy’s fault.

There must be something he understands because you feel him look slightly beyond you to where Buggy is sitting and glare- hard. The hand quickly retracts and you’re able to relax slightly and focus back in on your work. You manage to figure out most of what you missed and the meeting is quickly finished much to your relief. You need to go scream in an empty room.

After politely shaking hands with everyone and handing over your notes to Crocodile you dart out into the hallway to go back to your office- only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn around and see Buggy with a shit eating grin plastered on his painted face.

“We running off somewhere?” He uses his hold on you to pull you in close.

“Buggy I swear to god-“ You look around, making sure no one else has come out of the room yet. “If anyone sees us-“

“Then what?” He moves and you back up, your back hitting the wall. “You’re good at your job- you won’t get fired. Besides, everyone will blame me.”

It’s true- everyone will blame him- but that doesn’t stop you from distinctly remembering Mihawk’s words only a few days ago. He would kill both of you if-

“Clown.”

Suddenly Mihawk is looming over Buggy and you watch as his face pales to the same white shade as his makeup accents. He slowly releases his hold on your wrist before sliding out between you and Mihawk so he can turn and face him.

“Mihawk, buddy, great meeting today. I was just checking in with our manager on the- uh- the-“

“Don’t pretend you know what the meeting was about.” Mihawk then looks at you and you fight the urge to meld with the wall. “Come with me.”

You hang your head and follow Mihawk, not looking at Buggy as you pass him. You go down a few hallways, brain trying to find some kind of excuse to save you. Caught up in those thoughts you almost run into his back when he stops abruptly and flings open a door you’ve never seen before.

Mihawk’s hand pushes lightly against your back and you’re ushered into the newly opened room. It’s dark and small and you realize as he shuts the door behind him your in a storage closet. You’re not fired. Mihawk’s going to just kill you.

“What was the one thing I asked?” He asks, body pressing against you in the narrow space.

“That I didn’t let my relationship with Buggy affect my work.” You admit, pressing your back against the wall to try and not be as close to him.

“Is it a relationship?” He asks, voice low.

That wasn’t where you thought this discussion was going, but it was a fair ask. “I’m not sure. I don’t think anything is ever serious with Buggy.”

“No, nothing ever is.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close Mihawk is, how he’s bending over you slightly and caging you in. One of his arms is bracing against the wall next to you and his other brushes up against your hip. “He’s immature. Unfocused. Did he even make you cum?”

“He did.” You confess, fighting every urge to press against him.

“Surprising.” He hums, hand now fully gripping your waist. “Well if you’re not in a relationship with him you should have no problems seeing what other people could offer you. The pleasure other people could give you.”

“What other people?” You ask breathlessly, still searching for confirmation that this is somehow real.

“I think you know.” Deft fingers undo the clasps of your pants and slip past your waistband.

“Yeah- I think I do.” Your head falls back against the wall as Mihawk’s knees push your thighs apart.

His hand is slow as it moves down, pushing past fabric and gently skirting over your folds. Mihawk hums into your ear when he finds the wetness seeping out of you. “I wonder… is this for me or for him?”

“You!” You answer quickly, desperate as you fight the urge to move your hips down closer to his fingers. “Started when you dragged me away from him.”

“Really now?” That must have been a good answer as one of his fingers rubs along your clit.

His mouth moves to your neck and you tilt your head to give him better access. You whine as he sucks a bruise into your neck, determined to mark you. The possessive act has you melting even further into his touch, relying on his strength to keep you upright against the wall.

One long finger presses into your entrance as his thumb stays firmly on your clit. Your hands are balled in fists at your sides as you fight the urge to touch Mihawk- afraid of ruining the tense moment. That doesn’t stop you from moaning when a second finger quickly joins the first and skillfully curves inside you.

“So noisy… do you want someone to hear you?” His words make you suddenly very aware that you’re still just in a closet in a hallway anyone could be walking down right now.

One of your hands flies up and covers your mouth as his fingers curl again, muffling another moan. Mihawk chuckles as his fingers somehow find spots you could never hope to hit with your own digits. You resort to biting down on your hand when he finally hits that delicate spot deep inside you.

You had watched his fingers move over his guitar, effortlessly playing rhythms your mind couldn’t even keep up with, but you never let your mind think of the other uses those skilled fingers could have. He plays you just like his favored instrument, strumming inside you to get you to sing for him. Now you don’t think you can ever watch him play without these feelings washing over you again.

You’re so close to your orgasm as his fingers make a mess of you but right as you’re about to fly over the edge his fingers still completely and you almost scream. Your eyes find his in the dark and you can barely see any gold in them.

“Say you want me, not him.” He says, voice barely above a whisper.

So close to your edge, you probably would have said anything to get his fingers moving again.

“Mihawk- please I need you- I can’t even think about him when you’re- fuck your fingers are so good please Mihawk-“ You plead and beg, voice pathetic in the small space.

“That’s right.” His fingers move again and your knees give out as he massages the spot deep inside you while pressing against your clit.

If you were in your right mind you’d be embarrassed at the wetness soaking Mihawk’s fingers and your underwear but in the throws of your orgasm you couldn’t give a damn. His fingers work you gently through it, pulling out only when your own legs can hold you up.

“Open.” You obey his command without a second thought and fingers covered in your juices slip onto your tongue.

You leave your mouth hanging open as your tongue swirls around his fingers, making sure to clean every last drop of you off. He’s fixated on the way your tongue moves and you try not to let it get to your head that you have a man like Mihawk captivated. When you’re done you slowly pull away and stare into his eyes, patiently waiting for his next command. You don’t have to wait long.

“Knees.” You drop to the floor so fast you’re sure your knees are going to be bruised but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands quickly work at his belt and shove down his pants, letting his hard, red cock spring free. Bringing his tip to your mouth you let pooled spit drip down, coating his length. One of your hands moves to pump his length as your spit eases the way as your tongue swirls around his tip. You take him into your mouth and hear him groan above you.

Looking up you see him almost doubled over you, one arm holding him up against the wall as his head hangs down to look at you. When you finally catch his gaze his free hand runs through your hair, surprisingly delicate.

“Just like that love.” His hand holds your head but doesn’t force you down further, allowing you to keep your own pace.

You work slowly, forgetting the fact that at any point in time someone could walk in on the two of you. The feeling of him sitting on your tongue is intoxicating as you take him into your mouth inch by inch. Breathing in through your nose you push him into your throat, eventually getting his whole length inside.

You feel his hand grip you tighter as he moans above you. “Fuck you’re good. Can you- just hold right there-“

You listen and don’t move, swallowing around his length and feeling the way his cock throbs in response. You hold like this for what feels like forever until your throat starts to get tired and you slowly push back against Mihawk’s hand. He lets you pull off and you gasp for breath, thick lines of spit still connecting you.

Mihawk’s hand guides you to tilt your head back and he brings his other hand off the wall to furiously pump his own length. You let your mouth fall open as his guides his tip to your tongue. You make sure to look at him as hot ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, making sure not to swallow.

“Let me see.” He crouches down to your level, hand holding your jaw so he can find the perfect angle to see his cum pooling in your mouth. “That’s right- now swallow for me.”

You do so- glad to get the salty taste from your mouth and also glad to see how much Mihawk likes your obedience. He watches your face for a few seconds before pushing forward and capturing your mouth in a needy, sloppy kiss. Despite it only lasting a few seconds, you’re breathless when he pulls away and stands up.

He quickly tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up before reaching a hand down to you to help you up. He takes care of your pants as well, pressing one last kiss to your neck as he does so.

“See you tomorrow.” He says, a slight smile on his face as he slinks out the door of the closet, leaving you alone in the dark.

You’re seriously fucked.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #buggy x reader #cross guild x reader #the cross guild x reader

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binniebakery · 3 months

Text

Your Biggest Fan!

Rockstar!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader, Strangers to ?? (fwb? teehee) Slightly Suggestive! ♡ Summary: Your best friend forces you to attend a local rock group’s concert. You weren’t expecting much until said group’s lead guitarist catches your eye with a wink and a smile, now he’s all you can think about. Little do you know you’ve caught his attention too. ♡ Warnings: smoking, some drinking, n cursing, the sexual tension go crazy, yeonjun is kinda mean, almost burns reader with a cig, this is not proofread! ♡ A/N: finally! After so long i post this lmaoo tbh i had the biggest writer’s block for this fic (I cringed while every second writing this so I very much hate it but o well!) but as promised this was going to be my next one!! moawajunnies please enjoy!!

“Ah, shit– I spilled my drink!” Your friend groaned and you looked from your phone to see part of her outfit drenched in beer. It’s a good thing she was wearing all black. “You alright?” you ask, joining her in assessing the damage.

“Yeah, just clumsy..” She then excuses herself to search for something to wipe the beverage off, mumbling a ‘just as the concert was about to start’ as she squeezes through the crowd. There was probably a low chance she’d make it back to your spot in the very front.

You turn back to the screen, watching the timer tick down. Three minutes left and the crowd was starting to get more impatient by the second, internally cringing at the way you were getting shoved up against the barricade.

God, this was not your type of event at all, not with the amount of smelly drunk attendees. You were only here because you were dragged.

Time went by surprisingly quick as your subway surfer’s gameplay was cut quickly to an end. Music began to roar across the small outside garage and you felt the bass pump through your veins.

A group of five males walk up on stage, the tallest member, their leader, smiling and waving as he approaches his spot, dimples on display as he held his large keyboard guitar.

The drummer, your best friend's favorite, had blonde hair curled perfectly against his handsome features. Tapping his drumsticks with a grin as the crowd roared his name. “Kai! Kai! Kai!”

The group’s bassist and lead guitarist walk in, jumping and showing off their skills with nimble fingers, causing the crowd to get louder and louder. The lead guitarist’s brown wolf cut bouncing as he smirked and waved, black-haired bassist motioning his hands for the crowd to scream louder.

The perfect combination of charisma and attitude for a rock band.

Lastly, the lead vocalist runs on stage, microphone headset attached to his head as he stops front in center. His eyeliner smeared in just the right way, his soft orange hair a bright contrast to his torn and tattered outfit. Immediately you could tell he was the main attraction as fans roared.

Though you can’t say you could disagree, this man had an aura, and it was becoming more intense the longer you stared at him.

Said male lifts his chin to the crowd, a confident smile as fans swooned. “How are we doin’ tonight!?” The place shook and you felt the air grow thicker with every second. You felt the need to join in, feeling the energy shoot through your veins. At this point thoughts of where your best friend was had completely left your mind.

“Let’s fucking go then! This one’s called ‘Growing Pain’!” He kicks and the notes begin to blare through the speakers.

To say these guys weren’t talented would be the biggest understatement in history. The presence they served was beyond comprehensible and although you had never listened to their music prior, you felt immediately entranced by their stage presence.

Their lead singer especially. He had the attitude of a true rockstar, grabbing his water bottle and splashing the water on himself and the crowd after taking his sip. You were completely lost in the character portrayed in front of you, and you had the perfect view too.

As the concert went on, you came to learn the lead singer’s name was Yeonjun, and this Yeonjun was definitely eye candy.

‘Dreamer’ was one of their slower songs, but the crowd seemed to adore it. The sensual combination of the boy’s voices mixing together and harmonizing to create a sexy and attractive atmosphere and you felt practically high on the sound.

You still couldn’t take your eyes off Yeonjun. The way his body moved and the way he always seemed to linger in your part of the stage didn’t help either.

“Let me break it down for you..” Yeonjun’s gaze lands onto yours and you hold eye contact. You feel your body buzz at the interaction. The singer bites his lip as the leader of the group sings his verse, Yeonjun’s eyes never shifting from your position.

Damn, he was good at his job.

The rest of the concert proceeds like that, you and Yeonjun exchanging stares and at one point he winks at you, mouthing a ‘call me’ as his hand waves. You immediately flush at the boldness. He knew how to really interact with his audience.

The concert ends and you finally meet up with your friend, flusteredly attempting to explain the interactions you received and she groans. “Fuck– lucky! I’m so mad I wasn’t able to get back to the front, but at least we both enjoyed the concert..” She smiles weakly and you pat her back. Suddenly you feel a large hand tap your shoulder.

Why the hell was the band’s lead singer standing behind you?

“Hey.” Yeonjun smiles and he tilts his shades upwards, as if you wouldn’t have recognized him. Were the shades supposed to be some sort of disguise? He was literally still wearing the same outfit as earlier, sweat droplets still falling down the sides of his face and you can’t believe the fact that nobody has noticed him yet.

“Oh! Uh– well I gotta go– see you later y/n!” Your friend coughs and runs off to her car. You watch her leave with a confused look. I mean, you two did come to the concert in your designated cars, but what the hell was that about?

You turn back to Yeonjun embarrassed. “Ah, sorry… how can I help?”

Really? The hottest member of the band is talking to you and you're asking him how you can help like he’s a customer at a grocery store?

Yeonjun chuckles and stares you down, tongue in cheek, and you shiver from the attention.

“I wanted to get a better look at you, pretty face was starin’ at me the whole concert.”

You laugh nervously and place your hands on your hips. You decided that you’d entertain him. “Well, how could I not? Your performance really caught my attention.” You prayed to whatever God was out there that Yeonjun couldn’t sense the way your entire body tensed from his gaze.

“Mine or my band’s?” He smirks and you feel a lump in your throat. You wanted to just pass out then and there.

“Y- yours of course..” You mumble, toying with the hem of your outfit. Since when did a man make you so nervous?

“Is that so..?” He steps closer to you and offers his hand. “You wanna grab a drink or a cig?” He tilts his head and you stare at him with wide eyes. You felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh.. sure…? What about your bandmates though?” You were really trying to remain unfazed by his forwardness.

“They'll be doing their own thing, let's go yeah?” Yeonjun gently grabs your wrist and is pulling you along with him, fully oblivious to the stares you were receiving from the concert’s remaining attendees.

Yeonjun takes you backstage, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping throughout your ears as he opened the door to his changing room.

The room was dimly lit, with a crappy light flickering every few minutes. Yeonjun’s clothes were tossed around, makeup vanity in disarray, and gifts and flowers from fans were neatly placed in the corner on a table. You hold your breath as Yeonjun closes the door behind him, lock clicking

You had no idea what was going on or how you even got in this situation, you had simply just attended this concert for the sake of your friend not wanting to come alone. Now here you were, backstage in the lead singer’s dressing room and you had no idea what he wanted with you.. but the burning feeling inside your stomach begged you to stay and your curiosity grew.

“Make yourself comfy, or just stand there, I won’t rush you.” Yeonjun laughs as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket. He lights it and holds it out to you.

He places the end towards your mouth and you inhale, Yeonjun licks his lips as he watches the way your mouth wraps around it. “Darling.. you really know how to tease a guy huh?”

You stare at each other as you exhale the smoke and the burning in your throat is nothing compared to the burning heat throughout your body. This man had an effect on you in the same way you were affecting him.

You take this opportunity to stare up at Yeonjuns face, his features even more handsome now that you were this close. You take in the way his damp hair sat perfectly on his face, the smell of sweat and his cologne radiating off of him. The choker he wore called your attention to his neck and the way his sweat had dried mostly but you could still make out where the droplets had sat. You swallow and your eyes find their way back to Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun notices your tension and smirks. “Like what you see pretty girl?” God why was he so fucking attractive.

“Maybe I do.. Is there an issue with that?” You stare at Yeonjun and the look on your face is enough for him to know what you wanted. You really wanted to regain control of the situation, so you decided to tease him further. “Yeonjun, right?.. You sure you wanna be alone with me in this room right now?”

Yeonjun scoffs at your reply. “Why? You trynna be one of my girls tonight?” Yeonjun quirked an eyebrow at you with a smug look, casually leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitched.

You bite your lip at the suggestion, what was this man playing at? “And what if I do?”

Oh, you were playing with fire.

“You sure you want this? You know how many girls would kill for your position right now?” Yeonjun queries as he carries himself over to you. It finally dawns on you that you both really were alone in his dressing room and that his body was too close to yours, completely leaving you trapped between him and the wall behind you.

You could feel the way Yeonjun’s body heat begged to intertwine with yours, you felt your muscles weaken under him as he placed an arm on each side of your face on the wall. The room felt smaller and the scent of the cigarette in his mouth lingers around you as his breath alone practically envelops your senses.

Honestly, at this point, it didn’t matter how many girls he’s been with, hell you could care less if he even contacted you after this. You wanted him.

“I know well what I’m getting into.” You confidently stare up into Yeonjun’s intense gaze, feeling the way his eyes are scanning every curve of your body.

“Alright tough girl, can you handle this though?” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and pulls the cigarette from his mouth with the other hand, placing it near your skin just enough so you feel the slight burn.

“Ah– ah! Yeonjun–!” You choke and he cackles at the way you weakly attempt to pull away. You stare up at him, eyes slightly watery but the way your legs feel like jelly from the way he's treating you makes you slightly crave more.

“Relax darlin’, I wouldn’t hurt a single hair on you.” Yeonjun drops the cigarette to the floor and crushes it with his boot, still holding your wrist tightly.

He pulls your wrist over your head and he finally pushes his body up to yours. You inhale into his shoulder and Yeonjun’s beaming from the way you just lean into him. He relished in the way you let him do what he wanted to you.

“Stay for me, will you? Kinda like the way you looked up at me from the crowd with that pretty face.” The biggest grin spreads across Yeonjun’s handsome face and of course, who were you to say no? You were more than willing to let this man break you.

After all, you were now his biggest fan.

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x y/n #txt x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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jeffcbliss · 2 years

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(Left to right) Will Champlin, Roberta Freeman, Stephen Perkins, Miles Schon, Scott Page, Tony Franklin and Kenny Olson of Think: X, “Beyond the Wall, an Immersive 360 Xperience of Pink Floyd’s Music” - Wisdome LA; Los Angeles, CA (4-30-22). #ThinkX @pinkfloyd @Wisdome_LA

Photo: Jeff Bliss

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cobrakai-no-mercy · 2 years

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Manual de Assassinato Para Boas Garotas

Primeiro capítulo postado e o segundo contendo atualizações constantes.

#serial killer x writer #vocalist x drummer

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sl-vega · 3 months

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meet the bands!-introducing: 5WIRL

ꕥ scaramouche-part-time bassist and full time pain in the ass (according to you at least). He's the newest member of 5WIRL but already one of the most popular. Loved for his snarky personality and brutal honesty, he's gained quite the following. You don't know why he decided to join a band. He's some stuck-up rich kid who's already set for life, so why's he so into music all of a sudden? (you're totally not jealous about him being more successful than you)

♫ venti-5WIRL's vocalist and founder. Juggling his band and being part of the school band, what can't Venti do? He's the face of 5WIRL and the most popular member (scara is pretty close tho), Venti's a people person and a great friend (but not a reliable one). After hearing Scaramouche play for the first time, he basically hunted him down until he finally agreed to join. He may be multi-talented when it comes to instruments, but he'd much rather be playing with his friends than performing on his own.

🍁kazuha-the keyboardist and the songwriter for their original tracks. Kazuha's the sweetheart of the group, always being the peace maker whenever his bandmates (mainly scara) get into disputes. He's usually the one that has to break up you and Scaramouche's fighting, but he thinks the two of you could be really good friends if you just try. Hell, he thinks you guys could be even more than that.

⌕ heizou-5WIRL's guitarist and local detective. He joined the band 'cuz Kazuha wanted to, and he's been hooked since. He may have zero-interest in pursuing music as a career, but he takes the band seriously, and he's made some great friends because of it. He shares Kazuha's sentiment about you and Scaramouche. Except he's more vocal about the "more than friends" bit.

☁︎ xiao-the drummer and the "brooding, mysterious guy" of the group. He joined because he was impressed by Venti's skill, and because of Aether. The band doesn't hesitate to use Xiao's street-cred to their advantage (just ask 5WIRL and they'll tell you tons of stories about goth chicks tryna hit on him). He may seem distant and cold (well, he is) but he's a great listener and friend if you just give him the chance.

✧ aether-5WIRL's lovely manager and your ex (jury's still out on that though). He used to be the band's bassist before suffering from a serious injury due to his playing, he's recovered but he stepped down from the role and became the manager instead (because nobody is trusting Venti to book their gigs). As for the ex part, well that's a long and complicated story. But to summarize, the two of you are on good terms and you remain friends. Even though Lumine is convinced that he's still head-over-heels for you.

additional notes:

-MORE PROFILES DONE LET'S GO

-so proud of myself

-dropping a ton of lore in here

-y/n and aether being exes is a major plot point in this

-DRAMA

-but yeah i'm proud of these

masterlist

༘🎧⋆₊˚ෆ-MY HEART BEATS FOR YOU

Pairing: [BASSIST!] Scaramouche x [GUITARIST!] Reader

Genre: rivals/enemies to lovers, rivals to friends to lovers, fluff, crack (?), comedy, angst (?), slowburn, high school au, band au, modern au, social media au, smau

Synopsis: You're the lead guitarist for your band, C✧LESTIA and Scaramouche is the bassist of 5WIRL. The two of your bands have a friendly rivalry, but you and Scaramouche don't. On top of being academic rivals, you and him have never been on good terms. Always one-upping each other in grades and in music. Even your bandmates have grown tired of your constant bickering with each other. But when your usual practice hub gets flooded, you and the rest of C✧LESTIA are forced to find a new place to rehearse. So when 5WIRL offers to share their studio with you who are you to refuse? Of course, this forces you to spend time with your sworn rival whether you like it or not. But maybe the two of you can overcome your differences and actually be friends?

Or maybe even more?

(OPEN) TAGLIST: @featuredtofu, @levianamor, @danfelions, @thatoneswordgirl, @lolmeowing, @bananasquash, @xiaosantenna, @glxssmemories, @kaitfae, @mujiwuji , @peaceindreams, @peaceindreams, @freyao7, @rinquinq, @justpeachyteastea , @ladyninggs, @b2ne, @skyoverkill1, @scaradooche, @morallyrainyday, @adres-tia, @justadvena6, @agaygothicmushroom, @huanator, @seaofdata, @kyon-cherri, @aether-darling, @ukinya, @sketcheeee, @ibawa, @shutingstar, @eutopiastar, @kunimix, @wonderful-worlds, @ectomotive, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b4tm4nn, @h3xi2g0n3

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

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uh...hehe. no reason why i wrote this...no reason at all🙂in any case, writing this has also let me know i'm not that great at writing threesomes. oh well, ya live and you learn

Summary: You go to a concert of your favorite band and you manage to catch the attention of the vocalist, who invites you backstage for a more intimate meet and greet. In a not so surprising turn of events, the guitarist walks in on you two at just the right moment.

Warnings: Rockstar!Steve x Reader x Rockstar!Eddie, slight drug use, SMUT (MINORS DNI) threesome, fingering, light degradation and name calling (slut, whore), king of consent Steve, grinding, spitroast, oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, multiple creampies, and some Steddie implications and impossible situations

word count | 5.3k🤙🏻

You were finally going to a concert of one of your favorite bands ever, Corroded Coffin. Having enough money saved up to get the tickets, you almost cried tears of joy seeing the big bold letters of Ticketmaster read: You Got ‘Em. Let the Anticipation Begin.

And anticipate, you did.

The waiting was the hardest part. You had bought the ticket a few months in advance, purchasing the VIP meet and greet package as well. You did without thinking honestly, and as soon as you realized what you had done, you almost had a full blown panic attack. You knew this band were just people like everyone else, but these dudes practically saved your life and the realization that you were going to meet them? It felt like you were going to meet God, but like, ten times the nervousness of that. You had no idea how your mind and body was going to handle this. You’d never met your idols and inspirations before.

You just hoped to every deity out there that you wouldn’t pass out. That would’ve been fuckin’ embarrassing. But the nerves only got worse the day of, the drive to the venue not helping in the slightest, but talking to other fans about each other's shared nerves made you feel a little better knowing you weren’t the only one to feel this way. And before you knew it, it was time to head inside the building to meet and take a picture with the band before the show started. Time sure flies by talking to other people while waiting in line.

You tried to keep your hands from shaking as you waited your turn, seeing the fans in front of you return with wide smiles on their faces and even some with tears. Oh god, you really hoped you didn’t cry, that would be even more embarrassing than fainting somehow. You won’t cry, you won’t cry…

You tried your best to not freak out when you walked up to the band members, but you couldn’t stop the smile that decorated your face when they seemed just as happy to meet you. Okay, you weren’t crying or freaking out, you were behaving like a normal human, so far so good. You made small talk for a few seconds, introducing yourself, telling them how much their music meant to you, etc. You felt a little guilty about it, but you were most excited about meeting Steve and Eddie. They were by far your favorite members, everyone who’s met them always talks about how sweet and down to earth they are, which made you feel much more at ease when you first bought the meet and greet pass. And those comments proved to be right, if anything it was an understatement.

Steve was somewhat handsy, but not in a creepy way, you could tell that’s just how he interacted with people, but it didn’t stop your face from heating up. What made it worse was how Eddie was staring at you, a smirk on his face as he watched you and Steve talk excitedly. It almost distracted you from the conversation, but Steve’s hand on your shoulder quickly made your brain focus back on him.

For the picture, you were standing in between Steve and the drummer, with Eddie and the other member on the end. But that wasn’t okay with Eddie for some reason, you had to hold in a soft gasp as he pushed his way over to stand next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist with an innocent smile while Steve, after rolling his eyes, put his own arm over your shoulders.

While you all got in your picture poses, your eyes almost widened comically as you felt a wetness gathering in your underwear…right in front of them.

Why? Out of all the moments, your body had to pick exactly now to lube itself up. You hoped the band couldn’t tell how your face was. If your cheeks got any warmer, you would probably have steam rising from your skin. You really respected these dudes, you felt awful being so goddamn horny for them. But it seems luck was not on your side because when you lifted your arms to wrap them around Eddie and Steve at the same time, your shirt rode up just enough for Eddie’s hand to touch your skin. “Damn, you’re hot.” Eddie blurted out suddenly, making everyone stare at him in confusion, mostly embarrassment from Steve.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“No, no, no, not like that.” He winced but before you could get slightly offended, he corrected himself again. “No, fuck, I mean, you are hot but you also feel hot.” The long haired man stuttered, making you giggle.

Then Steve decided to put the back of his hand to your forehead, as if you couldn’t be anymore mortified. “Wow, you’re right, Eds. She does feel kinda hot. You okay?”

Not even having time to register how sweet Steve was for being concerned, you came up with the first excuse you could. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m always a bit warm. Plus, it’s August.” They seemed to be okay with that excuse enough for the photographer to finally take the fuckin’ picture, allowing you to escape the awkward situation without any more blows to your ego.

“Hope you enjoy the show!” Steve smiled at you before you had to leave. You knew you would.

It was by far the best night of your life so far. Meeting the people you looked up to, watching them perform your favorite songs up close. The barricade was so close to the stage you honestly thought you could probably reach out and they’d be able to reach back, but you were too busy ogling Steve and Eddie to even think about doing such a thing. They all sounded pitch perfect, just like they do on their albums. If you couldn’t hear the breaths Steve took before belting out another lyric, you’d think he was lip syncing because his vocals were perfect. And you didn’t even know Eddie could sing until you heard him doing backup vocals. You felt like you were in heaven. No matter how much your feet burned from being on your feet dancing around and how hoarse your voice was going to be in the morning from how loudly you were singing along, you felt like you could do this forever.

Watching Eddie play guitar was a privilege in its own right, seeing how fast his fingers moved across the fretboard shouldn't have made you as horny as you were. You were positive your underwear was going to be drenched by the time the night was over. Steve winking at you in the crowd didn’t make your situation any better. If you didn’t know any better, it’s like he knew. But he couldn’t, right? No way. You caught Eddie’s eye multiple times as well, you both smiling at each other before he looked back at his guitar. Yeah, this was the life.

All too soon, the show was over and people were starting to head home. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. But something happened and you had no idea how to react. About to head to the merch table, you heard your name called. Out of all the people that called out your name, you never expected it to be Steve. You saw some members of the opening bands out on the standing room floor and merch tables talking and taking pictures with fans, but you never expected to see members of the headlining band out and about. “Hey, did you enjoy the show?” He asked and you had to blink a few times before being able to reply.

“Yeah, yes, I did! It was the first time seeing you guys and you really knocked it out of the park, seriously. I doubt any concert I go to in the future will even come close to this one.”

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it.” He grinned, reaching up to gently grip onto your upper arm. “I mean, from the way a smile never left your face during the show, I figured you must’ve liked it a little.”

You felt your face heat up again, a wide eyed expression on your face. “You…you were watching me?”

He shrugged. “It was hard not to, you’re pretty adorable.” You giggled like a schoolgirl and immediately regretted it, hated being flustered so easily. But being called adorable by the vocalist of your favorite band was definitely not on your mind when you woke up this morning.

“T-Thanks.” You stuttered, unsure of what to do, but Steve already had a plan in mind.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you and if I make you uncomfortable at all then you have my permission to kick me in the nuts, I swear.” You chuckled in confusion, but motioned for him to continue. “I think you’re gorgeous, I’m pretty sure I kept looking for you in the crowd cause I don’t remember doing anything but that, besides singing of course. So, only if you’re a hundred percent comfortable with it, I’d like to take you back to my dressing room and…show you how much I appreciate you coming to see us.”

You blanched, your body freezing in shock at the sudden proposition. You were dreaming, you must’ve been. Unable to form words, Steve took your silence as offense and quickly started to apologize, calling himself stupid among other self deprecating words. “No, no, don’t be sorry! I just wasn’t expecting it, is all” You quickly explained.

Steve winced. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased it a bit better.”

You giggled. “Steve, stop saying sorry! It’s okay, really! I’d…I’d love to.”

Steve’s eyes lit up instantly, a shine coming to his puppy dog brown eyes. “Really?”

“I haven’t kicked you in the nuts, have I?” You joked with a light smile, eliciting a relieved chuckle from the man.

“Then please…follow me.”

You were all nerves as you followed Steve to the dressing room, wringing your hands and trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself. You obviously wanted this, so badly, but you couldn’t help but to be a bit intimidated alone with one of your heroes.

“You want a drink or weed or anything?” Steve asked politely as he escorted you into his dressing room.

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m good.” You replied, trying your best to keep the timbre in your voice from wavering.

Steve smiled, taking a few cautious steps closer to you, his eyes gazing over your form. “Okay.” You tried to even out your breathing as he gently pulled you to him by your jeans’ belt loops, his hand coming up to trail a finger along your jawline, the act making your core throb and causing goosebumps to raise along your arms.

Impatiently, you went to lean in, but Steve stopped you. “Just to make sure; you do want this, right? You don’t feel pressured? I don’t wanna force you to do anything. You can walk right outta here and I won’t judge you one bit. Hell, you can still kick me in the balls if you want.” Steve’s eyes portrayed genuine care, making your heart melt at his blatant kindness and consideration. It made you absolutely sure.

“I do, Steve. I want this. I want you…” You whispered, feeling your body already being consumed by lust. Your stomach churned at the boyish grin he gave you, gently grabbing a hold of your hips and leaning you against the vanity, tugging at the hem of your shirt before kissing you.

It was soft and slow at first, more of a peck. You could feel him testing the waters, giving you an out just in case you changed your mind at the last minute, but your heated body soon grew tired of his carefulness. Steve let out a quiet noise of surprise as you deepened the kiss, hungry for more of him already.

Your mind went fuzzy as you felt Steve’s hands traveling across every inch of you he could reach, each tentative squeeze and pinch growing more confident as the rougher he got the more mewls he elicited from you. You gasped into his mouth as he started to grind against you impatiently, keeping you securely pinned to the vanity behind you, the desk digging into the small of your back.

“Can I give you a hickey?” Honestly, he asked so sweetly that you had to say yes. So polite, so soft and innocent sounding, it almost made you forget he was grinding his erection against your clothed core.

His lips on your neck raised goosebumps all over your body, you were sure he could feel it. But he continued sucking and licking the soft skin of your neck until stung, making the friction of his pelvis against yours all the more pleasurable. Fuck, you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear as the minutes passed. The more Steve pressed his obvious erection against you, the more your sticky slick spread. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Steve, please…” You whined, craving more of his touch.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” Steve whispered, his lips coming up to gently nibble at your earlobe.

“I want you to fuck me…but I need you to stretch me out with your fingers first.”

Steve smirked. “As you wish.” And before you knew it, the man had expertly tugged down your jeans along with your damp underwear, then awkwardly tried to remove them over your shoes before you just kicked them off to make it easier. Steve let out a boyish chuckle that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter rapidly before pushing your legs apart to stand in between them. You shivered as Steve ran his fingers through your slick folds, a cheeky grin decorating his face at the feeling. “So wet already?” I’ve been wet ever since the meet and greet, you wanted to say but you were cut short by two of Steve’s fingers entering you without warning. “Still tight, though.” He chuckled, pressing further into you until he was knuckle deep, curling his digits and hitting that sensitive spot at the front of your walls.

Steve looked up at you with bright, wild eyes, a small smile playing at his lips as you stared back at him in a pleasured haze. “That feel okay?” He must’ve known it did, from the way you were breathing heavily, grabbing at his shoulders like a lifeline; but he sounded so genuine that you nodded with a soft whine. “Good. Let me know if it ever stops feeling that way, deal?”

God, he was so sweet and patient, it started to make yours run thin. You wanted him so badly, and after a few more minutes of Steve finger fucking you, you were sure you were ready to take his cock. You palmed him through his jeans, feeling his thickness, making your mouth water. “I need your cock, pretty boy.” Steve’s cheeks dusted a light shade of pink, making you grin.

You eagerly helped him shimmy down his jeans and briefs down to his ankles, too impatient to remove the articles of clothing. You were already so sensitive, so when Steve ran the head of his dick though your slick folds, you let out a pitiful whine. Steve gave you a once over before slowly pushing himself through your entrance, the two of you letting out gasps, groaning once he was fully sheathed. “Are you okay?”

“God, yes, Steve. Please, move…” You whimpered, trying to restrain yourself from canting your hips to get some more friction. You wanted it hard and fast, but Steve decided to take it slow…way too slow.

Steve thrusted in and out languidly, the feeling heavenly but not enough. You could feel how much he stretched you out, could feel every pulse in his veins, could hear how much your cunt was sucking him in deeper and deeper; all the while Steve never broke eye contact with you, he was every expression on your face, how your eyes subtly rolled to the back of your skull every time he brushed against your cervix, ate up every cute noise you made. You knew he was trying to draw this out for as long as possible, smiling every time you whined impatiently. He knew what you wanted, he was just being a fuckin’ tease. “Steve, please…I need it faster. Harder.”

He playfully raised a brow. “What? Trying to get it over with, huh?” He asked, pinching your side through your shirt.

“No-ah!” You yelped as he suddenly rammed into you, the force making you bounce, his grip on your waist the only reason you didn’t fall off the vanity. “Fuck.” You moaned loudly as Steve thrusted into you at a much faster rate, any objects on the vanity’s desk toppling over and falling to the dressing room floor. “Yes, yes, yes…” You cried, feeling his cock beat against your pleasure spot at the front of your walls, trying to keep in your embarrassing wails as he finally was giving you what you wanted.

“Goddamn, you feel so good, pretty girl. Fuck, I’ve been wanting to feel this gorgeous pussy for hours. I loved watching you in the crowd tonight, a smile never leaving your face, looking up at me like I was a god. You sure know how to make a man feel special, huh?” He rambled.

“You-fuck, you are special, Steve.” You tried to reply back, stuttering with every syllable.

“Yeah? Tell me again.”

“Y-You’re s-special, Steve…”

“Fuck, yes…” Steve’s lips attached to your neck once more, his teeth grazing against your sweet spot immediately, your walls pulsing around him as you were already so close to that peak.

You and Steve were so eager to take pleasure from one another, you both didn’t even hear the door to the dressing room open. “Well, well, well, now what do we have here?” You both gasped and turned to the intrusion, a sweltering heat coming to your cheeks as you saw the guitarist staring you both down with a small smirk playing at his lips.

Steve looked at you first, gauging your reaction before he replied to his bandmate, finding no shame or nervousness in your expression. “Caught myself a little groupie, Eds.” Steve chuckled, his thrusts halting to a stop, almost eliciting a whine of protest from you. Fuck, you were almost there. You could feel your almost orgasm dull and fade away. “Ain’t she a beaut’?”

You probably should’ve been mortified, but the way Eddie was staring down at you from his place at the door, you couldn’t help but want him as well. Both him and Steve seemed to pick up on your desires. But from the way you were looking at both of them, it didn’t take a genius to put it together.

Steve leaned down to peck the underside of your jaw, slightly jerking his head in the direction of his bandmate. “Want him to join? Though, I gotta warn ya, he’s a kinky little shit.” He teased.

You giggled, the idea already making your stomach churn with overwhelming excitement. “What, you like being called daddy or something?”

Eddie scoffs, his already dark eyes darkening further. “Anything that’s not missionary is kinky to Steve. What about you, hmm? Why don’t you tell me what kinks you enjoy and I’ll decide if you can handle me or not.”

His words went straight to your core, your walls pulsing around Steve’s dick, making the man grunt. “Big on impact play. Spanking, slapping. Choking is fun. Scratched, bit, hair pulled; love all that.”

Eddie smirked widely, allowing himself to step closer to the two of you. “Right up my alley. I think we’ll get along just fine, sweetheart.” Then he gave a look to Steve, he had stopped thrusting into you as soon as Eddie started to chat you up. “Take her to the couch and keep fucking her, Stevie.” He didn’t have to be told twice, as soon as the words left his mouth, the man above you switched you both over to the little loveseat in the green room, continuing the pistoning movements of his hips, making you cry out at the sudden pleasure. “And you don’t have to call me daddy, sweetheart. Just Eddie. What about you? What titles are you okay with?”

Steve’s cockhead rocking into that sweet spot inside you made your mind go blank once more. You knew what you loved, but nothing came to mind. “Any. All. Whatever you want to call me, Eddie. I’m fine with anything.” You whined, reaching out to palm the growing bulge in his ripped jeans.

“Whatever I want, huh? What if I called you my little whore, hm?”

You blushed. “Or slut…”

“My pretty little slut…” Eddie tested, interrupted by Steve’s groan.

“Fuck, she squeezed down so hard on me when you called her that.” He mumbled out shakily.

Eddie’s eyes lightened up at the conformation. “You liked being degraded, huh?” You squeaked when he wrapped one of his large hands around your throat, squeezing roughly and cutting off your oxygen supply. “You like being called a dumb little slut, don’t ya? Such a greedy little fucktoy.”

“Woah…” Steve laughed in shock. “I was gonna say that’s a little far, but she pulsed around me again. Felt so good…I think you can make her come with those words alone, dude.”

“I could see it on her, man.” He chuckled darkly, removing his hand from your neck, allowing you to take a gasping breath. “Flip her over, Steve.” Taking instruction obediently, Steve flipped you over onto your front, forcing you to slightly lean over the pleated arm of the sofa, making your face level with Eddie’s crotch. “I could just tell she’d love being degraded like the whore she is. Now, go on and take out my cock for me, pretty slut.” You cried out as Steve reentered you from behind, the new angle making stars obscure your vision. A harsh slap to your cheek forced you to come back to reality, Eddie’s expression morphing into impatience “Already too cock drunk to listen to simple commands?” He cooed condescendingly.

Trying to ignore the immense pleasure your body was feeling, you reached up with shaky hands to undo the fly on Eddie’s jeans, feverishly shimmying them down along with his boxer briefs. You gasped as his hard cock sprung from its confines, gently smacking you in the face before you got a hold on it. The tip angry and red, feeling the blood pulsing through the veins on his shaft from underneath your fingertips, your mouth watered in anticipation. You looked up at Eddie with a grin before wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, a relieved sigh escaping his mouth. “That’s a good girl…” Eddie moaned as you tried taking him deeper, your own moans adding a vibration around his cock.

“She caught your eye too, didn’t she?” Steve’s voice echoed from behind you, not stopping his thrusts into you, inadvertently forcing you to take Eddie deeper.

“How could I not? That cute little nervous expression when she met all of us. Plus, she was at the barricade, practically drooling.” The admission made your face flush with heat, but you were too preoccupied to care.

“I could see her eyeing your fingers during all your solos.”

You took a big gasping breath as Eddie pulled out of your mouth, getting on his knees to be level with you, a smirk playing at his lips. “That true, gorgeous? You liked watching my fingers play along my fretboard?” He chuckled condescendingly when you nodded. “Pretty girl’s so cock hungry, hm?”

“Fuck…” You whined as you felt your orgasm build and build, faster than before, feeling edged way too long.

“Oh.” Eddie hummed in amusement. “Steve, I think she’s gonna come. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah, she’s squeezing around me so fuckin’ hard.” He groaned loudly.

You moaned as Eddie’s hand returned to your throat, gripping tightly enough that you felt lightheaded. Sharp pricks of pain shot through your entire body as you felt the pressure on your trachea, but it only careened you forward to your release, eliciting a loud strained moan from your lips. “Fuck, are you gonna come for Stevie, hm?” You nodded, babbling nonsense you were sure Eddie couldn’t understand. “Good slut, go on, come on his dick.” You heard Steve moan beautifully as you pulsed around him, your velvety walls holding him in a vice grip as you shook and jolted from the intensity of your climax. You barely registered the dark chuckle that escaped Eddie as he watched you writhe and sob, almost hyperventilating as you came down.

“Oh, fuck…” Steve whispered, leaning down to place gentle kisses on the nape of your neck. “So good, so good, pretty girl. Doin’ so well for us.” You purred at the praise, the hodgepodge of both Steve’s praise and Eddie’s degradation throwing you for a loop. You barely had time to recover before the two men started to thrust into you at both ends, moaning in overstimulation and gagging on Eddie’s dick as Steve’s continued its relentless pace, desperate to get to his end too.

“Look up at me, sweetheart.” Eddie spoke and your eyes widened when you noticed his phone’s camera pointed down at you. “Such a pretty thing, sucking my cock so good.” He growled, keeping a tight hold on your hair. The fact that he was filming you sucking his dick probably should’ve concerned you, but honestly, it was kind of hot and you were too fucked out to care.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Steve announced, his dick pistoning into you like his life depended on it.

“Yeah?” Eddie grinned, putting his phone away. “You gonna come in her tight little pussy, pretty boy?”

Steve grunted as his thrusts became more sloppy and erratic, using you for his pleasure wildly. “Shit, I’m coming…” He moaned, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy as ropes of his warm cum filled you to the brim. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chuckled in exhaustion, pulling out and watched as your pussy clenched around nothing, how it slowly pushed his release out and dripped into a little puddle on the loveseat beneath you.

You took deep breaths as Eddie finally pulled out of your mouth, gently wiping drool off your chin before pushing a fucked out Steve out of the way so he could position himself behind you. “My turn, Stevie. Her mouth is fuckin’ phenomenal, but I wanna feel her tight little pussy myself.”

You gasped as Eddie flipped you over, making you face him. He looked fuckin’ angelic with him above you, much like how he looked performing on stage earlier. “Let’s take this shit off.” He growled, all but ripping your shirt and bra off your body, rendering you completely naked while he and Steve were practically still fully clothed. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits, baby.” He groped them roughly, pinching your nipples until they stung. Eddie was much more comfortable being rough with you than Steve was. You were a hundred percent sure you’d have a multitude of bruises just from Eddie alone.

Again, unlike Steve, Eddie started with a much more rough pace. He wasted no time fully sheathing himself inside you with a hard cant of his hips, your slick and Steve’s leftover cum making his cock slid right in, the force making you cry out. “So tight still, baby girl. I wanna feel you come on my cock too. Think you can do that for me?”

“Maybe. Can try…” You stuttered, your brain practically melting from oversensitivity.

“Aw, she’s so eager.” Steve cooed, running his thumb along the sweat that was formed on the crease of your brow. “A people pleaser, this one, huh?”

Eddie smiled down at you. “That true, sweetheart? You wanna come on my cock just to please me?”

“Y-Yes…want you to feel it too.”

“Then let’s see if we can get you there one more time, okay?” Eddie’s cock was thicker and longer than Steve’s, the stretch a bit more painful but no less delicious. You couldn’t keep in your moans even if you tried. “Yeah, babygirl, let it out for me. Get fuckin’ loud. Let this whole building know how good my cock is making you feel.” You glanced over to see Steve lighting up a joint, his hair tousled and jeans pulled back up to his hips but left them unbuttoned. He looked properly beautiful. “Hey, eyes on me, slut.” Eddie growled, lightly slapping your face to get you focused. “Give me a hit of that, Stevie.”

Steve grinned as he placed the joint at Eddie’s lips, holding it for him as he took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out onto your face. The smell of the drug mixing with sex made for a delightful combo you wouldn’t have expected, the secondhand making into your lungs and making you dazed. With Eddie’s ruthless thrusts and the contact high, you felt yourself building and building up to your second orgasm, wailing and holding onto Eddie’s wrists where his hands were holding onto your love handles with a bruising grip. Your stomach ached with how rough and deep Eddie was inside you, but you never wanted him to stop, not when you were so close to another climax.

“Oh my god…” You sobbed, unable to hold back your loud moans even if you tried, the pleasure all too consuming and intense, you feared you’d black out.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” Eddie mocked as he saw your body start to shake, chuckling darkly when you nodded hastily. “Steve, play with her clit for me, would ya?” You almost sobbed as Steve’s deft fingers came back for round two, finding your throbbing nub immediately and rubbing in a swift circular motion, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Paired with Eddie’s long, thick cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, you were barrelling towards your orgasm at speeds that made you lightheaded. The room almost spinning and you couldn’t focus on anything besides the intense, blinding pleasure that was surging through you. “Yeah, good fuckin’ girl, come on this dick.” Eddie groaned, fucking you through your orgasm until your were crying in overstimulation once again.

“S’okay, pretty girl, you can take it.” Steve encouraged, coming to sit next to you to slot his lips against his and wipe away your tears. You couldn’t stop moaning into his mouth as Eddie sped up even more, chasing his release.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Eddie moaned. “You want my cum, slut?”

Steve grabbed your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on Eddie. You only nodded, all words escaping you for how fucked out you were, but Steve gripped tightly and making you wince. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

“Yes, E-Eddie, I want your c-cum.” You squeaked. “Come in me, please, Eds.” Eddie grinned at the whiny cadence of your voice, barely able to form the words. Steve started to suck and lick at your nipples as Eddie’s cum painted your inner walls, the man letting out downright beautiful whimpery moans as he finally finished, pulling out of you with a sharp exhale.

Finally able to fill your lungs properly, Steve and Eddie both peppered your face with gentle kisses before they helped clean you up, though not before admiring their handiwork. Hickeys and bruises galore, it looked like you were hit by a truck, you definitely felt like you had been due to the endurance of these two boys. You started to wonder how you were going to be able to walk to your car, let alone drive home with how wobbly your legs were.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asked softly as he and his bandmate helped you dress.

You beamed giddily. “More than okay. That was…amazing.” You giggled, causing both men to grin proudly. It was like a dream come true…

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, we sure did.” Eddie teased.

“And be sure to let us know whenever you’re coming to another show. We’ll let you have a backstage pass so we can do this all over again, pretty girl.” Steve winked.

“Oh, don’t worry. I definitely will.”

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