#It's been so long since he's attended any industry event like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberrysturniolo · 2 months

Text

never grow up part three

summary: following chris and sunny's fight, he escapes to LA and falls into his bad habits as he tries to cope with his loss. smut, high chris, drunk chris part two part four

Chris’ POV

My life has been somewhat like a blur over the past few days.

I left my best friend’s house after she demanded we start a relationship, which clearly threw me for a loop. I probably looked at her like I had five heads, but in reality, I just didn’t think she had really thought that all out.

Then she accused me of just wanting sex with her, which is not true, and even when I told her I did want her, she shut me out and left me in the dark. To which, I got up and left.

I remember coming back to Boston so excited. I was on my way back to my roots after months of my absence. I couldn’t wait to see my family, my friends. But her? I felt sick and she was the antidote. I had been needing her for months.

I left that night, and we haven’t spoken since.

I flew back to LA, still not a word exchanged between us. It’s crazy that I was going to Boston on such a high, knowing I was surprising her, and now I’m back in LA, trying to wipe her from my brain. Not entirely, just everything after us kissing.

I’ve been kind of quiet towards everyone. I had a meeting when I got back, almost immediately after. Luckily, Nick excused my silence as me being tired from the long day of traveling, which was partially true. I was mostly just mentally exhausted after fighting with her and continuing to fight with myself.

It’s stupid, really. We both want each other. We just can’t get over the idea of us being anything more than friends, even if we both want it. We haven’t known a life without the other person there, and maybe that’s what makes it so scary. There hasn’t been a risk until now.

The risk scares me more than any idea of hope that we would be okay. I can’t bring myself to feel nothing but this anger and desire for her. I keep going back and forth. I keep thinking about what the right decision is. But every time I pick up my phone to call her, I remember how she let me leave. She didn’t fight for me. She didn’t argue her truth. She didn’t call or text or say she needed me.

She let me go.

The days rolled by and I found myself back in my old routine, late nights spent making content as I slept the day away. I’ve managed to stay off my phone though. Seeing constant reminders of her was the last thing I wanted.

Seeing her name under posts she had liked, seeing things she shared to her story. These were all things I used to see and smile to myself, knowing she was still there. Now, I’m trying to pin the blame on someone.

Who kissed who first?

She kissed my cheek, that stupid goodnight kiss she’s done since we were kids that led us to fall.

This is her fault.

I started drowning myself in work to counteract my drowning in her. It worked as a distraction that I could count on. Not to mention that I could actually find ways to get shit done in the process.

When I got word of an event we had to attend, at the last minute, if I may add, I was pissed. The last thing I wanted was to go out. I had been so exhausted and just wanting to be alone, and now I have to present myself in a certain way so I don’t look like a dick in this industry.

I threw on a black t-shirt and a zip up hoodie, along with a pair of baggy jeans. I clearly can’t be bothered to dress up.

As the night rolls on, I find myself leaning on my brothers to do the work for us. All the talking, socializing, mingling is handled by them. I stand at their sides and fake a smile so I can get out of sharing my own thoughts other than the simple thanks of gratitude for being invited to the event I couldn’t give less a shit about. I don’t even know what this is for.

My head turns at the sound of a girl’s voice. I manage to stay focused enough on what she’s saying, and somehow, I’m inviting her over to my house.

Everything else is a blur.

She brought weed and alcohol with her, clearly anticipating spending more time here than I did. I didn’t care about that at the moment. I just needed to put my mind on someone else. Someone who wasn’t going to expect more or less from me. I needed someone who I could be on the same page with.

Her hands tugged through my hair in ways I’ve never felt as I laid her on my bed. Her legs wrapped around me and created the slightest friction, making me groan.

Everything about this girl is so different. She’s the complete opposite of Sunny in every way.

My lips find hers in a kiss full of nothing. I don’t even know her name.

I sit myself between her legs, kissing down her chest as she lifts her hips enough for me to grip the back of her leather pants and peel the tight material off her skin.

They find a home on my floor, along with the rest of her clothes and my own.

She takes my dick in her mouth before we do anything else. Her lips wrap around my shaft as she messily bobs her head, smothering my cock in spit as she tries to take as much as she can.

I hold her hair back in a makeshift ponytail, trying to help her out.

Once my dick is slobbered in her saliva and I can use it as lube, I lay her down on the edge of the bed, letting her head hang upside down, looking up at me. I hold her neck, lining myself up at her lips.

I let out a loud groan as I push myself deeper, fucking her throat. She continues to gag, but we agreed that she’d smack my thigh if it got to be too much, so despite the gagging, I know she’s fine.

Her hands hold my balls, trying to rub them as I dominate her. Her legs are open, and from this angle, I can see how wet she is. I dip my fingers into her dripping cunt, then smack my hand over her clit. She gasps, smacking my thigh. I pull out of her mouth, and watch as she catches her breath before taking me again.

I fuck her mouth as I lean over her, rubbing her clit and watching her squirm. It gives me a sense of control back. When it feels like I’ve lost everything else that matters to me, at least I have this. This isn’t confusing at all.

We stay in this position until she cums in my hand. I suck my fingers clean and let her regroup before climbing on top of her, grinding my still throbbing cock against her.

I tease my tip at her entrance as I dig around for a condom.

“I’m on the pill,” she tells me.

“And I don’t give a fuck,” I snap back.

No way in hell am I doing this with someone I just met without a condom.

“I’m clean–”

“Can you stop?” I interrupt her, my tone making her face drop. “I said I don’t care. If you want me to fuck you at all, keep your mouth shut. I’m not fucking you raw.”

She nods, laying her head back on the pillow as she opens her legs for me. I put the condom on and push into her without a warning, listening to her cry out beneath me.

We settle for missionary until she’s used to my length, taking me whole as I press her knees into her shoulders.

This girl might have a mouth, but she’s pretty hot.

Eventually, we switch so she’s on top. She rides me like a goddess, nothing I’ve ever had before. Her ass is moving in ways that has my vision blurring. Her tits bounce in my face, and I keep my mouth open and tongue out in front of her nipple, letting it hit my mouth as she rides me.

When Sunny and I had sex, I kept her in missionary. We held each other the entire time. We didn’t want to let go. We stared in each other’s eyes as the love we held for each other all these years in every conceivable way came out of us. She looked beautiful underneath me. Her big eyes staring at me as those lips of hers moved when she begged me to touch her.

What the fuck am I doing?

“Chris, I’m gonna cum!” she screams, snapping me back to reality.

I try to keep myself from going soft, as if I hadn’t been daydreaming about sex with someone else while I’m fucking a different girl.

I slap my hand to her ass harshly.

Would Sunny let me do that?

Get out of my fucking head.

Her cum drips around my dick, pouring out onto my pelvis as she pulls herself off of me.

“Did you finish?” she asks awkwardly.

“Mhm,” I hum, ripping the condom off and tossing it in the trash as she tries to cuddle with me. “What are you doing?”

“Cuddling,” she replies simply.

“Yeah,” I nod, pushing her off. “I’m not that kind of guy.” She looks up at me with a blank expression. “Listen, you came here to fuck. We did. You brought weed and alcohol, so do you want to cuddle or get high?”

She pulls her underwear back on, tugging a shirt back on as I let myself get dressed.

I would say I excused myself to the bathroom, but I didn’t. I got up and left and didn’t say a word.

Luckily, when I came back, the joint was already rolled.

We smoked together, passing some drinks back and forth as music played. We didn’t talk much, but when she tries to start getting personal and intimate with me, I’ve had enough.

“You should go,” I say. “I’ll call you an Uber. Just… you need to go.”

She doesn’t argue with me. I think she’s embarrassed. She just gets her shit then leaves.

I lay in my bed, my thoughts foggy. It doesn’t help that I’m now crossed.

The bright shades of my LEDs are blinding, so I stumble up the steps to my brother’s room.

I don’t bother knocking on his door to let him know I’m there. I opened the door and fell to his bed.

“Hey, guys– I gotta go,” he tells whoever he’s gaming with. He takes off his headset and stands in front of his bed. “You good?”

I nod.

Lie.

“Did you drink?”

“Mhm.”

“You smell like weed.”

“Mmm.”

“Dude,” he sighs. He sits next to me. “What’s going on?”

Everything’s fucked up, but I can’t get the words out.

I settle on, “I’m in love with her.”

His eyes go wide, thinking I’m talking about the girl that came over.

“Sunny,” I clarify.

“Oh,” he says, clearly shocked. I never told him about what happened in Boston. He doesn’t know any of it. “I always just thought–”

“We had sex,” I interrupt him. His eyes go wide. “Then we cuddled all night and every time we told each other we love the other person it obviously meant something else. I can’t give her what she wants right now, and she got scared, and I got mad, so now I’m here, we aren’t talking, I had sex and thought of her the whole time, got high, then drunk, now I feel sick in every conceivable way and I hate myself for doing this.”

Matt stays with me as he digests my word vomit. He nods as he listens, and when I’m done, he puts a hand on my back.

“I always knew you liked her,” he mumbles.

I nod at him, tears welling in my eyes. “I fucked up so bad. I feel awful. I left. I didn’t tell her anything–”

“You were overwhelmed,” he reminds me. “Yes, you shouldn’t have left her in the dark like that, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed without a conversation. Just talk to her, Chris.”

Just talk to her.

Yeah.

We’re in love.

This is going to be fine.

“You guys are meant to be together,” Matt adds.

Fuck yeah we are.

And I’m not living another day without my best girl.

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilolo @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld @sturniolovoid @aerunn @sturniolosmind @oliviasturniolo21 @carolsturns1 @scarssturniolo @stuniolobbg @sturniolowhore @christurniolomyman

#Spotify #sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #strawberrysturniolo

352 notes · View notes

usedpidemo · 2 years

Text

Awards after-party affair (Itzy Yuna)

Like a ringing bell at the top of the hour, the signal is loud, instant, and right on time. One eager attendee catches the first van roll onto the red carpet entrance. He makes the call like it’s routine, alerting everyone else for an invasion—a visual attack is about to happen.

“They’re here!”

You’re no different from the rest of this eager crowd. You stop whatever you’re doing—in this case, fiddling with your handheld camera—to redirect your gaze in the same direction as everyone else. Despite how little in common you share with these people, you’re all in perfect sync, like this has all been practiced and choreographed a thousand times. From the front seats come out two imposing men: one serving as driver and the other as manager/bodyguard. The driver slides open the door. Though they’re only silhouettes, shadows that are unassuming, it’s enough to make the masses scream their lungs out.

See, you’re not a fan. To you, you’re only doing a job. It pays remarkably well and creates jealousy to anyone whenever you bring it up in conversation. At this point though, you’re completely callous to the experience and share the same amount of displeasure as an average joe working a 9-to-5. The ordeal of covering numerous award shows, red carpets, and press junkets from week to week—sometimes two events in a single day—serve as more of an endless assault on your senses and test of patience with everyone, and this is no different. Sure, it’s a rare privilege to meet all kinds of larger than life stars, but dealing with their bitchy PR managers is a whole other affair.

It’s late in the afternoon, the sun at its apex right before descent, without a single cloud in sight, and you’re fucking dying of dehydration. It doesn’t help that there's cafes perched on nearly every corner you look, and an iced drink never looked so mouthwatering. Even if you wanted a teeny-tiny sip, you can’t. You have no power to, because as trivial as it is compared to other events you’ve attended, everything’s on the line. Your editors need the scoop to regurgitate the same old content produced by almost every other media outlet patiently waiting in line, too.

The truth is: it’s always been the same old same old since day one. Really, there’s little that crosses the line from both the interviewer and interviewee. It’s always the safest option, the cleanest question. Nothing goes beyond that; no one’s willing to step beyond that arbitrary boundary, even if it’s to spice up the headlines once in a while. No wonder your publication, along with many others, resorts to shady gossip and misleading articles with poor, if not any supporting evidence.

Still, you’re already there, and there’s nothing to lose in the long term—except a few hours of your time.

One by one, both actors and idols alike hop off their black vans, wave to the crowd, speak to a few junkets in line, then head inside. Extra time willing, they take a couple of pictures with the screaming audience or some lucky fan. The entire process moves by in a robotic and formulaic way, it reinforces the negative stereotypes critics have about the industry—and you’re quietly one of those detractors. Nevertheless, you put aside your personal judgment, and follow along, the several dozens of photos you’ve taken of every star on the carpet as proof of your professionalism.

The endless stream of appearances from both small and big names continue for at least another hour. Celebrity vans line up bumper-to-bumper to continue dropping more off; it might as well be a delivery store of people’s dreams. Out comes the next anticipated set of stars, another indistinguishable five-member girl group, all dressed in black. Your trigger fingers take as much as they can, as fast they can. The end result is several individual and group shots added to your camera roll, probably some of your best so far, as they are conveniently positioned right in front of you—at the center of your lens—compared to almost everyone else. Take another look at a few of the pictures you took, and you notice they’re staring right at you.

Even as the red carpet wraps up, you don’t really think much of it. Inside, you’re called backstage, along with your fellow media representatives, where it’s basically a rinse and repeat of what happened outside, with longer, more forgiving intervals. At least you can finally rest your tired legs, and unlike the red carpet, where it’s a nonstop barrage of action, commercials actually give you, and the other journalists by extension, more room to breathe—the only positive ads will ever have for humanity.

Similarly, winners line up backstage after claiming their trophy and giving their typical, routine speech. Arriving at a room filled with nothing but media, they answer a different but familiar set of sanitary questions, then go back to their seats. The pacing difference between awards proper and red carpet is night and day, like hitting traffic at rush hour. Most of the time, everyone’s eyes are glued to the widescreen television while the show plays out, and it’s no different from a viewer watching at home. The energy inside the cramped room is laid back and relaxed; at times you forget you’re at an awards ceremony and not your local bar.

Really, it’s only the celebrities themselves who are in a hurry, speaking to the press like they’re rapping, tapping their feet like they haven’t stopped dancing, clear in their intention to leave in a hurry, which is the most relatable they can be with their audience. Most winners appear only once, with a few exceptions. The seven boys you see almost everywhere in Korea, even more so globally—make the most frequent returns, even closing out as the recipient of the grand prize, and their exit means everyone in the media is done for the night, too.

You should be going home by now. It’s getting late, and you’re practically done, except not really. As is tradition, there’s always a few afterparties being thrown around in celebration, and to your annoyance, you have to attend one. To make things worse, you’re not there to have fun and get wasted—not in the slightest. You’re there to take some more photos and get additional quotes, according to your superiors’ orders. There’s no added incentive or bonus in return for a few more hours of your time that could have been spent in more productive activities or resting for the next day, but you still power on because your job is never truly stable. One missed opportunity, one stolen scoop, and next thing you know, you’re being shown the door.

The lounge you end up going to might as well be a goddamn rave. Flashing lights, bodies crowding up the dance floor, deafening bass-boosted music blasting through the many speakers—it’s the most torturous parts of the job crammed into one colorful, insufferable hellhole. It’s less of a place where celebrities hang out and more of a grimy hangout where needy, desperate mad men and women look to get fucked. Before entering, you check the address and location on your phone. Perhaps there’s been a mistake, and you were given incorrect information. Nope. The text you receive from your supervisor reconfirms the location. Inside, you also find a few other journalists suffocating under the same toxic air like you.

Squeezing between drunk bodies, mindlessly dancing like there’s no tomorrow, you sneak to the spacious bar, a temporary reprieve from the ear-splitting, soul-crushing madness. Whipping out several paper bills from your pocket, you slide them forward on the counter, mumbling to the barista your desired drink. At this point, you’d take anything, as long as it makes the rest of the night bearable.

“I’ll take two of what he’s having.” A feminine voice interjects, more bills than yours twirled between her fingertips, and the barista accepts her payment instead, overturning yours and sliding your money back.

From the blurred reflection on the counter, you swing your gaze to the right. A cute, young woman in a black, slinky dress takes the unoccupied seat beside you, flashes you an eye smile and cheeky grin back.

“Sup,” she says, casually, like you’re two friends hanging out together. “Didn’t expect you to show up here as well.”

“Wait.” With furrowed brows, you point a finger at her. She looks awfully familiar, but you can’t really tell her apart from the countless well dressed people you’ve been seeing for hours on end. “Aren’t you from—”

“Oh? You interviewed me earlier!”

Her answer doesn’t provide a single hint or narrows down who. You’ve taken countless pictures of different girl groups, and your lack of investment towards any of them means they’re basically indistinguishable in your eyes. Still, she looks young enough to be a member from one of the more junior groups.

“Yeah, none of this is adding up.”

“Yuna? Shin Yuna? Does that name ring a bell to you?”

“Oh, of course it does!” Her name rings a few bells, but still, you’re not confident enough to confirm, and it shows in your tone. “Itzy, right?”

She nods positively, brimming with joy at the mention of her group’s name. “Yep yep!”

“Well, congrats on the award again,” you reply, reaching out your hand as a friendly gesture. You don’t really remember what award her group won or how many trophies they won, nor do you have the willpower to care, but a little kindness goes a long way. “You had a great performance as well.”

“Thanks!” Smiling toothily, Yuna bows while reciprocating your motion, meeting halfway for a respectful handshake. Her grip tightens for a brief moment before quickly pulling back. “I appreciate your comment.”

Timely. The barista returns to you with two drinks you forgot you ordered. She takes them both, hands you one, and you both raise your glasses to the sky before clinking them together.

“Cheers.”

With hearty spirits, you take a little sip from your drink, while Yuna downs a quarter of her beverage. The sweet taste elicits a cheery, wide smile on her lips, compels her to down more. After only the second swig, half of her drink is gone. Both of you can’t be more different when it comes to enjoying alcohol; you’re one to ease into it slowly, while she rushes into the feeling. Then you take note of the fact that she looks quite young—she’s the youngest of her group, in fact—having just come of age, and drinking appears to be a fresh concept to her. No wonder she looks so enthusiastic and pumped about indulging liquor.

“So,” Yuna places her glass on the counter with an audible thud and peeps you with comically wide, childlike eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Not much,” you say, casually, as you stare at the stainless glass and the yellow liquid contained within. Its bubbliness fascinates you, captures your scrutiny like it’s the most interesting thing around, like a work of art in an exhibit. “I should be the one interviewing you, and to get some more information.”

“Information about what?”

“I don’t know. Something to fill up the paper, I guess.” You inch the drink closer to you, inspecting it from top to bottom like some type of rare artifact—something to occupy your idle, bored mind.

“You make it sound like you’re spying on us,” retorts Yuna, playfully resting her chin against her clenched fist leaning on the table. Her eyes take a cursory look, examining you from head-to-toe, finding something around your chest that intrigues her. “I mean, good try though.”

“It’s not that kind of information,” you reply, aware that it’s spoken with hyperbole, but still, there’s a difference between safe, journalistic reporting and straight-up criminal stalking.

“You’re really terrible at this tabloid job, you know?” mocks Yuna, poking her finger at the camera partially hidden behind your coat. On her lips is a cocky, teasing smirk, with the clear intent to toy with you. She’s leaning closer, eager to watch your expressions crumble little by little. “It’s like you’re begging for information.”

If only she weren’t so cute and innocent in how she goes about it, you’d probably wave the white flag, give up halfway, and profess—or straight up leave.

“And is that supposed to dissuade me?” says you, flatly, completely unbothered. Your eyes make contact with hers, staring at her with a piercing leer. Instead of being intimidated, her smile widens, and her shiny teeth are blinding; she knows she’s caught you under her trap, slowly pulling on your most sensitive strings, and her words have a subtle effect on you.

“If it could, yes,” replies Yuna, peering through your gaze with widening eyes, looking at you with heightened intrigue, unfazed by your shallow threat. “But since you’re so determined and stubborn to get some information for that shitty paper of yours, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Do tell.”

Suddenly, she tears her gape away from you, turns her head left and right for any crossing sign, then back at you with a wider, suspicious smirk. “Not here.”

—————

You expected her to take you to a peaceful location, like the back rooms or one of the many uninhabited private booths. For someone like her, a K-pop idol, surely there’s a van waiting for her outside, ready to depart on call.

A bathroom stall was far from it.

The moment she stood up, walked away, then looked back with a different, expressive glance, that was an open invitation for you. Forget about the fact that she’s an idol and a celebrity first; in those caramel eyes was a glance that was forbidding and scandalous, but alluring enough to draw you in without a moment of hesitation. Not once you questioned where she was leading you. You trailed closely behind, drinking in the young starlet’s hourglass figure, perfectly shaped for a skintight dress that made her stand out from everyone in the crowd. With such dreamlike beauty walking in a sea of commoners, you thought all eyes would be on her, as usual, but the opposite happened—it was you who became hypnotized by her.

Eventually, you both sneak past everyone, which proves to be relatively trivial, locking yourselves together inside an empty bathroom secluded on the club’s second floor. Yuna looks around the spacious restroom for possible occupants, only to find every one of the five available stalls completely unoccupied. Despite how hidden you are from the rest of the party, the music echoes loud enough to pass through the walls.

“Perfect,” she says, taking another scope then to the widescreen mirror, possibly referring to the setting, and to herself. She looks at her reflection with a confident, proud grin, and your suspicion is proven correct. “I’m pretty sure you know where this is going, right?”

“Mhmm,” you reply, nodding. Two people, alone in a bathroom. You know damn well what’s about to happen.

This isn’t the first time a star has offered themselves to you behind closed doors. It’s an industry secret, but open news shared among most publications and certain names that get around. It’s these private affairs where most of the money comes from. Each incident generates revenue in exchange for keeping such filthy secrets classified and hidden. Can’t say you’re clean or innocent in the issue; you’ve had a few experiences with some of Korea’s biggest film stars in exchange for money too, but this is your first time with a K-pop idol, and they say they’re the ones who are deepest in the circle.

“Good, I guess I don’t have to tell you how fucking horny I am,” says Yuna, casual in her delivery of such shocking filth. “And the rumors are true,” she continues, flashing you a flirtatious wink. Her fingers play with the straps holding her dress together, dragging them along her shoulders.

“That you’re a slut?”

“We’re all sluts, baby,” she replies, approaching you with a seductive gaze that can render anyone paralyzed, and you’re no exception. With a cute, fresh face like hers, It’s unbelievable and quite frankly dumbfounding how leisurely she says it, like it’s the norm for everyone in her profession—and it’s sufficient evidence to prove that case. Then again, she’s still a teen, and you’re on the edge of a really dangerous line. Sure, having sexual favors with anyone in the entertaiment industry is already a line crossed, but this is a whole layer below with far more grave implications, and here she comes, forcefully dragging you far beyond the point of no return. Really, with your line of work, this was bound to happen eventually, but you never expected it to come from such an unexpected person—a Korean idol, your least favorite kind of celebrity.

But this is the moment where all of that changes.

“Still have some battery left in that camera, right?” Yuna points at the handheld camera dangling freely on your chest again. “Go and take some.”

You incorrectly predicted her to jump right into the action, but you’re not bothered in the slightest. You were already taking a gallery’s worth of mental pictures of her sexy body, made hotter by her deliberate, seductive teasing, but having a physical reference for future personal use is helpful too.

So you pull the camera from its strap to take photos of the frisky maknae while she does many poses for you. Even behind a lens, her beauty is so ethereal, it doesn’t compare in the slightest to looking at her with the naked eye. She exudes a perfect balance of cute and sultry, a trait you’ve rarely seen among the many actors and actresses you’ve met before. Perhaps this is the greatest strength of an idol, and you’re left wanting more.

Yuna then approaches you, occupied taking as many pictures you can of the idol, running your remaining memory dry. She drops to her knees, looks at you with those wide, inviting eyes, and her fingers wrap around the edges of your pants.

“Don’t stop,” she says, pouting her lips upward, in the direction of your camera to emphasize her command, and you know you can’t do otherwise. Photography isn’t in your skill set, yet she trusts you with her life—her career—and there’s pressure beginning to amount in your head. Surely she’s not that desperate to the point where she’s asking a random journalist to get her quick fill of excitement.

The spark in her eyes, the determination on her brows, and the carefree smile on her lips—this isn’t her first rodeo, and it certainly won’t be her last.

Yuna turns her attention away from your curious, troubled gaze to your pants, unzipping the hindering garment down while you continue capturing every still, every frame of the young woman in such a vulnerable, lewd position. These photos would spell disaster should they ever leak out of this room, and it’s even more dangerous when it’s a young group, a rising name who has a stake on the global stage. Even so, you continue snapping photos at her request, fingers pretty much playing a single repeating key on the trigger, you might as well have glued your index to the button.

“I knew it,” she murmurs, the erect tent on your groin area poking into view. Seconds later, your boxers join your pants on the floor, springs your cock free from its clothed prison. “I’m gonna have a lot of fun tonight. I don’t know what the other girls are doing, but they’ll regret not being here. It’s fine, I don’t feel like sharing this.”

With your hard cock next to the pretty, demure idol, your involvement can’t be any more obvious. Yuna immediately notices the sudden quietness of the camera, so she looks up at you again, notes your flushed cheeks, the little beads of sweat forming on your head, and giggles.

“Really now?” she says, lifting a puzzled eyebrow, fingers slowly gripping around your shaft. You try to resist, show a little opposition, but it’s superficial; before long, you can’t hold in the jolt of pleasure coursing through your nerves and utter a low, muffled moan. “You’re perfectly fine with taking sensitive pictures of me, but you’ll say no to this? You’ve said it yourself. I’m a slut—a slut for good cock.”

Her soft, dainty tongue latches onto your tip, rendering you more speechless. Can’t say she’s wrong, and telling her otherwise would make you look worse. Bodily ecstasy makes your senses go haywire; your hands struggle to hold the camera, but you manage to save all that important material with one hand and let the other wander down to caress and stroke her long, auburn hair. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to take in the sight of Yuna kissing and pumping your cock, and the knot in your tongue loosens, releasing delicate, breathy moan after moan.

It’s clear that Yuna’s done this before, experienced with the art of sexual pleasure, like it’s her primary line of profession, and she knows all the tricks and weaknesses to get to the core of any man or woman. At this point, you’ve practically neglected her demand, but the soft, intimate kissing sounds she makes as she revels in your cock give you a solid reference point to take more mental pictures of her. The camera in your grasp has been set aside on the sink. Both of your hands grip on the young woman’s brown locks, straddling a line between gentle and assertive as she gradually takes your length into her mouth.

“F-fuck, Yuna—” you mutter, having difficulty to formulate words, forcing your brain to resort to moans and grunts like a baby.

She doesn’t react or budge in the slightest; she only works harder and harder. The idol remains steadfast, filling her mouth up to your base, generously coating your shaft with her saliva. Her fingers dig into your thighs, pressing you harshly against the sink as your moan turns into an echoed groan. The quick burst of pain you feel is overtaken by the continuous pleasure flowing throughout your veins, like sexual indulgence is the only thing your body understands.

You try to fight your overwhelmed senses, hoping to catch even a tiny glimpse of the beautiful woman giving you the best blowjob in the world, and it proves to be an intense struggle. Not once are you cognizant about tossing the idol’s head back and forth, even with the audible, echoey plop plop sounds raising several warning flags saying you’re too aggressive. Eventually, you manage to lift one eye open to see Yuna, completely immersed in her own pleasure, diligently sucking your cock while mixes of drool and precum splatter on her chin, her collarbones, and down to her black dress, leaving even more apparent hints for everyone to see.

In the end, it’s only you who gets to look at the different, ruined side of Yuna. Here’s a popular star, larger than life in the eyes of many, down on her knees, subservient to the most human and primal urges, just like anyone else. A wave of cum gushes into her mouth right as she releases your cock like spilled milk. Your burst of seed waterfalls, filling her chin and her dress with a dirty, sticky coat of white. Her eyes pop open, surprised at how filthy she looks, and how early she made you cum.

“Oh God,” says Yuna, pressing a hand on her glistening chin, then to her dress top. Gooey strings connect her fingers and the expensive, messed up fabric. “I made you cum early didn’t I?”

You’re catching heavy breaths, looking up at the ceiling, staring at the blinding lights like you’re seeing heaven. You might as well be; she ripped your soul out of your body with only her tongue.

“Shit, Yuna, I—”

Returning to her mischievous ways, her laughter echoes throughout the bathroom, poking fun at your overwhelmed state, like it’s the first time you’ve had sex. She’s proud of herself for making you cum with a mere blowjob, and she flicks her digits to coat them with more of your seed as her reward. Lapping them up into a sizable sample, she takes her fingers into her mouth for a taste.

“Yeah.” She rises to your level, licks her fingers clean, decorates her pink lips with your seed with a wide, charming, cheeky grin. Your marks are prominent on the grooves of her lips. “You’re so yummy.”

Lowering your gaze back down to earth, you finally see the ravaged mess you’ve done to Yuna. Spurts of white on her face, neck, and many puddles that have stained her dress. Seeing the utter disbelief in your expressions, she plays into the naughtiness by pressing her cum stained fingers on her inviting, visible cleavage.

With a free hand snaking down to your crotch, she pumps you back to hardness, holding a steady gaze of lust with you, the fire in her loins freshly renewed. “I know you want more. I want more.” Her other hand reaches to one strap, pulls it further down her arm, then does the same with the remaining cord, freely exposing her sizable breasts, drawing your eyes toward her chest. It’s difficult to look away, especially when someone like her knows how to captivate with a face like hers, natural with how expressive she is, only because she allowed you to stare elsewhere.

You gasp and sigh under the tight duress Yuna puts on your groin, giving her more confidence and a stronger hold on you. Grasp her bare shoulder with one hand, wander around her waist with the other, carefully crossing the lines of fabric and skin until you reach her surprisingly round ass. Her features slowly melt and eyes widen as she leans her face close, breath tensing up in anticipation, lips repressing her groan, practically whispering to you, “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Yuna’s eyes pop out, caught unawares as you take her body and flip your positions around. She's now pressed against the bathroom sink with you assuming control. Her hands hold onto your shoulders, still fixated to your eyes like she sees stars within them. With the strength of your hand gripped to her ass, you lift her up partially so that her feet no longer touch the ground, and her legs slowly part, giving you an opening. Your other hand ruffles through her short skirt, digs into her tunnel, and she winces.

“Oh, fuck—” Her nails dig into the fabric of your shirt as you feel a slick, wet sensation on your fingers. Her features are so expressive, they’re best actress worthy. She shudders, teeth gritting intensely as you withdraw your digits. In an instant, her calm, confident attitude fades at your slightest touch, and she grows impatient and desperate. “Give me your cock now! I need you to fill me—”

You capture her lips in a passionate, fervid kiss, shutting her up as a distraction while you line your erect cock between her sopping cunt. She whines into the smooch, tries to break away, but you pull her in, let your tip run up and down around her wet entrance, and she hums musically. In turn, she pushes you as close to her as humanly possible; you might as well be practically inside her. Her lips curl into a frown as she pushes her dress further down, bunching it with the bottom of her skirt, her now naked, sweaty midriff pressed against your shirt.

Drawing your face away from hers, you take a second to admire the spry starlet, once dolled up to near perfection, now as filthy and human as the typical clubgoer. She doesn’t reciprocate your adoring gaze, annoyed at the small amount of time wasted, when that time could have been spent already impaling yourself deep inside her. It’s not like you’ve spent the whole day salivating and taking pictures of her.

“Wait.” Avert your eyes from the idol to the camera you’ve forgotten for a moment. She kisses you madly, showering your cheeks with wet, soppy marks filled with lipstick and sticky cum, but it doesn’t faze you in the slightest. You know simple distractions don't bother you by now.

Camera pointed at you both, you return your attention to her, finally giving her what she wants without any further delay. With a single smooth stroke, you plunge your cock into her wet pussy, and it flexes right back in a brief move of resistance, but you push deeper into her heat and it takes the breath right out of your lungs.

“F-f-fuck, Yuna, you’re—tight.”

The spry woman lifts her head back, exposes her smooth, flawless neck, uttering a long, breathy sigh before it turns into a pitched whine. Her nails poke into your nape, clutches deep into your skin, body sliding up and down along with your cock as you acclimate to the suffocating tightness of her cunt. There’s no sense of rhythm or pace in the manner you pound her, only focused on chasing that sensual high, using her model figure as canvas for your pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s—” Yuna whines with each slam of your hips, slack jawed and drooling, eyes completely shut, enveloped under the gripping force of your cock spearing her tight, sensitive hole. “Your cock feels so—”

Her sentence fades into another series of whimpers and cries of bliss. Seeing her tits bounce and ripple with each rock of her body arouses you, and they draw you in, more than any other part of her. Yuna’s body was an open invitation for you to take, which you gladly do.

Bury your face between her chest, cupping her soft, creamy flesh within your grasp, then take her taut nipples into your mouth, going back and forth between both breasts, giving them the equal amount of attention they rightfully deserve.

You continue to fuck the maknae into submission, giving the camera a good show, already more entertaining and exciting after only a few minutes than a four-hour-long awards ceremony. The artist is treated way better, and so is the cameraman by being an active participant in the action, dictating the pace the way he sees fit. As it goes, you push yourself quicker and quicker, trying to wrap up the show, plunging deep into her constricting walls, drenching your cock with more of her wet juices.

The many expressions she makes as you touch her and ruin her are award worthy; they can belong in a fancam reel and it wouldn’t be any more different. Hell, she’s more provocative and intense than her typical routine music performance. Her features curl into almost every emotion a human can experience, from pain and pleasure, evoking a strong, unforgettable image, another mental picture to save in your memories, more detailed than any photograph.

Then there’s the sound—the music is as loud as ever, blocking out the endless stream of cries she makes. Yuna’s tone is high-pitched, moaning out a blissful song as you stretch her pussy out, with the little flap of wet skin against skin backing her up, and it tickles your ears in all the right spots.

You slide a finger from her breast to her crotch, feel the surging wetness coat your digit, then lower her to the floor—but only for a moment. While Yuna remains staggered in ecstasy, you turn the woman around, facing the mirror, before you reacquaint your cock inside her drenched cunt, and it’s like you never stopped fucking her. She moans, and moans—and moans.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuna,” you whisper in her ear. Her back arches as you wreck her from behind. Staring at your reflection, you note your smug expression. For once, you look really good in the mirror, especially with the woman in front of you.

Her expressions say it all: she likes being fucked. The way her smile briefly flashes before melting between thrusts, she knows her body is built for sex—perfect for a slut like her. Even she can’t help but look proud at how drop dead gorgeous she is, especially in that lewd, erotic position.

Using her expressive, satisfied face as motivation, you piston quicker and quicker, glancing at the young idol flaunting her many charms off like she’s in front of the cameras, like the bright lights are on her, like an audience is watching her. Your mind is centered on her too; in fact, she’s the only one in your thoughts, with each thrust intended to make her sing, make her perform, make her act.

“Gonna—gonna—” she cries, hoarsely, barely able to muster up the strength to formulate coherent speech.

“Cum on my cock Yuna,” you say, whispering in her ear again, pulling on her triggers. “Cum on my cock.”

The words are more than enough to set her off. Yuna’s mouth goes wide, forming an ‘O’ shape, her body going rigid and quaking as she loses control of herself to her bliss. She orgasms; it’s powerful and lengthy, dragging you further into her inescapable whirlpool, and really, it only accelerates your own forthcoming climax, and you fuck her as she rides out her peak, savoring the remaining time you have left before you drown in your own high as well.

“I can feel you throbbing hard for me,” she says, completely washed over by her own dwindling orgasm. “Cum in me. Cum for this slut. Don’t ever think about pulling out of this wet pussy meant for you!”

Gripping your hands between her dirty chestnut locks, you try to resist a little more, show that you can last longer than she initially thought, but ultimately give in for a second time. On a deep, violent stroke, you make a lengthy, incomprehensible sound that might as well be the relief you feel after holding in that burning sensation in your loins. You release hot spurt after spurt into her pussy, her name dripping from your lips like you’re thanking God for release, and you feel a sticky, gooey tingling on your thighs.

Eventually, your hips wind down along with your orgasm, until they come to a full stop. You rest your head forward, laying on the sink beside her, still embedded inside her. The moans that filled the room fade in the background of the club’s thunderous music, but both of you are oblivious and tired to hear anything except for deep, heavy breaths.

After an uncertain period of time—could have been a few minutes or a few hours, you have a timely day off tomorrow, so it’s the least of importance—you come to your senses first and check on the camera you’ve set on the side. Yuna follows shortly after, washing her hands clean, but it doesn’t cleanse her of her filth.

“So?” she says, trying in vain to look neat. She looks at the camera in your hand while you scan through the reel. “How do I look?”

You present the gallery to her, showing her every single ilicit and raunchy photo you’ve taken of her, until you get to the part where you reveal that you’ve recorded yourselves having sex. It’s crude, it’s pornographic, it’s perfect.

She pouts her lips, gives an approving nod. “We look so good together. I need you to send me these via email.”

“Of course,” you say, nonchalantly—like this is a completely regular exchange—like she’s not an idol and you’re a journalist with an integrity to uphold, but all that’s thrown out the window now. “When I get on my computer tomorrow.”

After you both clean up to the best of your abilities, Yuna gestures at you to wait as she unlocks the bathroom door, then slowly turns the knob. Not once has it knocked and distracted you. Maybe you’ve missed a few, but still, it was probably drowned out by the music and the moaning. As a result, you were left unbothered the entire time, so perhaps Yuna’s plan was foolproof right from the start—

“Hey!”

Yuna’s eyes grow wide in shock, followed by yours. On the other side of the door are four women waiting, well dressed as she is, who look just as surprised as both of you.

“Who’s that guy you’re with?” asks the woman with dragon-like eyes, tone expressing disappointment at her member. Her gaze is similar to Yuna’s, studying you from head to toe like she did.

Then they all say in unison, “And why weren’t you sharing him with us?”

(A/N: Yuna looked incredible in that dress she wore for The Fact Music Awards, and the fact she's sharing so many pics makes it even better. Surprised there's nothing based on this material, but I understand why. Boys Like You is really good, go stream it! Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #itzy #yuna

1K notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 9 months

Note

Hi! I feel like in a lot of fics Crowley will casually flirt with Aziraphale (before they're together) making him flustered and i wondered if you knew of any fics where it's the opposite? Like where Aziraphale will casually just flirt with Crowley? I'd just like some confident Aziraphale and some flustered Crowley tbh. It could be any rating ^_^

Thanks in advance!!!

Hello. We have a plentiful #flustered crowley tag that you should check out for more fics like this. Here are some more to add to the collection...

Strawberry Meringues by heldtogetherwithstring (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley finally have their picnic, during which they discuss the invention of meringues and the discovery of honey. The St James Park duck population watches in approval, but neither they nor Crowley could have predicted what Aziraphale's next move would be. OR Aziraphale and Crowley have been pining for so long and Azirphale decides enough is enough.

Sunk On You by Ambra_Sue (T)

When Crowley had to bring his nephew Adam to swimming lessons, he didn't expect to sink quite so fast for the hot, blond swim teacher.

The Burning of Sulphur (Reminds me I'm Home) by Fizzy25 (T)

Crowley wonders if this is what he was made for. If he was made to only admire Aziraphale. If every moment in his life, the stars, the fall, the apple, was only a prelude to this singular moment. He wonders if there will never be anymore to them. Crowley hopes that he will be content with this. In which Crowley is a lovesick, touched-starved occult being who is too in love with Aziraphale to do anything but stare.

Ice to Meet You (Dutch Waltz Into My Heart) by BooknerdMiss (G)

Crowley takes (read: is dragged by) his nephew Warlock to a professional sporting event that he's less-than-thrilled about. Lucky for him, he gets to sit by an angel.

Extraordinary Amounts of Alcohol by AppleSeeds (T)

Crowley gets extremely drunk and stumbles into Aziraphale's bedroom, mistaking it for the bathroom. Crowley doesn't remember much of what happened or anything about his drunken confessions, but Aziraphale does... He just needs to work out whether Crowley really meant what he said or whether it was just alcohol-induced rambling, and what better way to find out than to see how Crowley responds to a bit of subtle, and slightly less than subtle, flirting?

at the airport terminal by bearwonder (E)

Crowley has worked the same soulless job for two decades, and he hasn't had anyone to talk to since his pet snake died a couple years ago. When Industrial Holdings (Holdings) PLC sends him to their annual conference in the US, he expects a week of mind-numbing boredom bookended by two torturous half-days spent in airplanes. But as fate would have it, an embarrassing mishap leads him to meet an unrelentingly positive flight attendant who smiles at him like he's a real human being, and makes him think that maybe, if he plays this right, he won’t have to die alone.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #flustered crowley #flirting #mod d

347 notes · View notes

little-svt · 4 months

Text

Makeup wearing | Angst + Comfort

Wc: 2.2k+

Taglist: @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

Celebrity

It felt like the two of you had been waiting for this event for longer than you’d been together. That wasn’t the case of course, but there was nothing more important to Jihoon. More than his career and his relationship with you, than the critical decision to finally go public with you. The announcement of your attendance to the biggest awards show in the Korean entertainment industry had been released to the public just a month before and each day since had passed incredibly slow, anticipation flipping back and forth from excitement to nauseating anxiety and back again. He’d shield your eyes and ears from those spreading hate so you would only be surrounded with the rosy glow of all his fans and friends who supported the two of you wholeheartedly. Anything to lessen the pressure.

It had helped, he had helped. But with the day finally upon you, honestly it hadn’t felt real. A good morning kiss from Jihoon and another before he left for work as usual. But it wasn’t as usual, you both had a big day ahead of you. The pressure still monumental.

“Today’s the day. Still sleepy, baby?” He’d shared a thoughtful smile with you when he stopped by for his final goodbye kiss for the day, your eyes still closed, not quite awake yet.

He’d let you sleep in a little longer, knowing you had a million alarms and the two of you had planned everything down to your eye makeup for this event. It would be okay… everything would be fine. As he collected the rest of his things, closing the door quietly so he wouldn’t wake you, Jihoon’s mind wandered, thinking unwillingly, dolefully of all the support they’d lost. It was worth it, without a doubt. But still, he hadn’t taken even a second to mourn, looking away, scrolling past, putting down his phone as to not expose you or make you any more anxious than you already were. So you’d never have to worry that he might regret his choice for a single second. Jihoon wanted this, to share his world with you, and you with the world. It was time.

Waking up without him was more common than you liked but at the same time, both you and Jihoon liked your ‘You time’. You took your time getting up, stretching and basking in the sun a moment as you open the curtains in your room on your way to the bathroom. Then onto the most important meal of the day, you chopped fruit for your cereal and took your place in front of the television and put on your latest favorite show.

When you finally opened your eyes for the morning, the curtains were shut, leaving the rooms comfortable, dim darkness. Perfect for sleeping until noon, you learned as you picked up your phone, rolling over to find the bedside next to you, made up neatly as usual. Jihoon was a little too good at sneaking out without waking you. But you appreciated it. Sleeping in when you could wasn’t rare, but it was always a treat.

Taking your time, a little before noon you finally rolled out of bed, opening your curtains and standing in the warmth of the rising sun just a little longer before starting your morning routine; brushing your teeth, breakfast, getting dressed for the day. You skipped the last part, settling for a bowl of cereal in front of the television, comfortable in your pajamas.

A few hours later you realized you overestimated how long you would be able to sit in front of the tv and do nothing, finding yourself pulling your hair back and scanning your apartment. Seeing your abandoned bowl on the counter you got to washing dishes first, moving around your kitchen, wiping counters until light clutter here and there lead you through each of the rooms in your home. All tucker out, you crashed again on the sofa, still in your pjs and only an hour and a half burned, 3 to go. A ding from your phone caught your attention.

‘Good morning, beautiful. Did you eat yet?? I’m getting lunch with some of the guys now’ - 🍚 my rice boy 🍚

Smiling to yourself you pushed down the urge to reply snarkily that it was in fact; no longer morning.

‘I had breakfast a few hours ago! Just got done cleaning the entire house 🙈😝 send help I’m actually bored out of my mind’

Pushing send you glanced around again, maybe you’d missed something, but apparently your mind was hellbent not to relax during your only downtime. Not long after, your phone dinged again.

‘Maybe watch a few episodes of that show you’ve been trying to get to? I’ll see you later 🫰’ - 🍚 my rice boy 🍚

You found yourself smiling again at his sign off. Jihoon had come far from his dry texting days, with your help of course. To others it didn’t seem like much but they weren’t there to see the frequent ‘👍’ and ‘yes/no’ to questions that definitely needed elaboration. He always insisted he was more of a phone call type of guy. Somehow this same man was writing and producing award winning albums for an internationally famous KPOP group.

Setting your phone down on the glass coffee table, you swapped it out for the remote again, and began scrolling through Netflix. If you watched the new drama you’d been wanting to finish, you wouldn’t be able to relax or pull yourself away. You mumbled mindlessly to yourself, settling on a show you’d watched more than a couple times now, possibly more than you could count on two hands. It was comforting and while it wasn’t around when you were growing up, it gave you the same nostalgic feeling. While the intro played, you stood to fetch yourself a drink, grabbing your favorite plush before you headed back to the living room to plop on the sofa, baby blue mug in hand just in time for the intro to end.

Curling around your plush, you found yourself stretching out, resting your head on a throw pillow as the second and third episodes rolled around. It was too late when you became conscious of your heavy eyelids and tired body, your eyes already fluttering shut.

Some time later a warm hand shifted on your tummy, big, strong arms squeezing you slightly, just enough to pull you to his body, a safe cocoon around you. When your eyes blinked open, your vision, the room - no - the world was hazy. When had you moved to your bed? And when had Jihoon come home. Thoughts didn’t stick in your mind long, brushed away by the fuzzy, warm feelings surrounding you, coating every touch, sound, even his smell.

“You think too much.” He muttered, lips against your ear, still half asleep. He always seemed to know when you were awake, even if you were completely still.

Your cheeks tingled, your lips stretching into a sleepy smile as you shimmied and twisted to face him.

“Aah, no.”, he complained, eyebrows creasing as he closed his eyes even tighter, feeling quite noncompliant to your decision to wake up, “I can’t even cuddle you??”

“Ehehe.. You can…”, you giggled when he allowed you, even welcomed you rubbing your nose against his, “But you’re gonna be mad..”

Jihoon opened his eyes, looking at you quizzically. His silly expression only making you laugh more.

“I gotta pee!!” you squealed, squirming out of his hold.

Still groggy, he grasped what he could of you, your warmth quickly leaving the moment you shifted from his chest. A series of desperate, complaining ‘no’s repeating as he fought with you and the blankets to keep you in his arms a little longer.

Something so simple..

The front door slammed as Jihoon strode urgently through your apartment, not stopping to remove his shoes as he threw his bag to the floor. His mind hardly registered you rousing from your sleep on the sofa as he passed you to tear through your room, his clothes, and anything in his way so uncharacteristically. Each harsh clatter of clothes hangers or thud of a shoe made your heart jump a little as you rubbed the sleepy from your eyes, anxious and confused. Your hands tightened almost painfully around the soft fabric of your blanket, squeezing and pulling it to your chest as you listened. You still hadn’t collect your thoughts, only anxiously wondering what could have made him so mad.

Not long later he was trudge back to the living room, his stylists could take care of the rest. Just when he thought he couldn’t lose his head anymore, you were still sitting on the sofa, your hair a mess, in your Saturday pajamas.

“Y/n-“, he held his head, turning away from you to take a breath but a quick glance at his watch and he was boiling.

“Why are you..?” Your words wouldn’t come out, your voice trapped in your lungs as your eyes flittered over his composure, nearly trembling with an anger that frightened you, silenced you.

“What do you mean why am I-“, how you could ask that was baffling to him, “Where is your head? We don’t have time.”

Your eyes stung with tears as he stepped toward you, and you could only try not to cry pathetically as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t. He repeated that over and over in his head. There was just no time. Small and insignificant couldn’t begin to describe the feeling you were drowning in, the ache of fear in your heart of the one person who always made you feel safe. You watched him speed around, fetching your clothes, fixing your hair and makeup. Looking right through you.

“Appa mad-“

“Y/n, we cannot do this right now. PLEASE.” He did look at you this time, right into your eyes. But you didn’t recognize this man. And that was all it took.

The makeup he applied streaked down your cheek, one tear, two, and soon your face was a streaky mess. Worse off, he took a step back when he realized his first thought was regret that he hadn’t chosen a waterproof mascara.

“SHIT!” He cursed, not sure at what. Not at you. But all you heard was your Appa yelling and cursing at you.

“I don’t wanna!!” Sobbing, you squirmed out of your dress, plopped onto the bathroom floor and just wailed.

He was on the verge of pulling out his hair, his mind whirring, messy, but the sound of your cry rang clear. None of this mattered at all without you.

“Baby-“ he sighed, softening. But maybe too stubborn or just plain distraught you continued to sob and fret.

“Baby, look at me.”, Jihoon grabbed your face in his hands, he needed you to focus even knowing it would be so hard at a time like this, “Appa is not mad.”

Blinking, tears still dripping from your eyelashes, how could you believe him? He only held your face like this when you got into trouble or when you had serious talks.

“I made Appa late…” your voice shook as you worked your little mind around the situation, each word threatening to turn into a cry and then a wail.

“No, baby.”, he did his best to fruitlessly catch your tears with his thumbs, “Appa made Appa late.”

Your sobs stopped in confusion. Eyes still blurry, you blinked away your tears until you could see him clearly. The confusion only grew seeing a soft smile, a sad look still in his eyes while he looked over your puffy, teary features.

“I got caught up in the studio. Same old story, right? I was thinking about you, about us. This is a big night for us, isn’t it?”

A handful of words could only do so much couldn’t they? But these words were pure and potent, a spell strong enough to calm your mind. They were true, he should have been home with more than enough time to wake you and get ready alongside you tonight. Jihoon continued, slowly working at your hair as he spoke.

“I was writing a song I want you to hear someday. Words and melodies that make me think of you. Once I started recording, I guess time got away from me.” Finished with your hair, he used a cotton pad soaked in makeup remover to clean up your eye makeup.

“That wasn’t fair of Appa, huh? This isn’t your fault, kiddo”, he gave you a kiss before tapping some pink gloss on your pouting lips. To his surprise, you took his hand in both of yours with the sweetest expression, your watery eyes big when you spoke.

“It’s okay, Appa. It’ll be okay.”

He could help but laugh and kiss your head. His lips pressed firmly against the top of your head, eyebrows scrunched together, he hoped you could feel every ounce of love he had for you.

“Okay, baby-”, he held your face between his hands again, serious time had returned, this time much less scary now that you’d calmed down, “Can you be big for Appa, tonight?”

Nodding as he squished your cheeks, you sat up straight speedily, letting him help you get ready for your big evening. The stylist would have to forgive him for being late this time. Everything would be okay as long as he had you.

🧸Endnote: was it worth it being so late? 🙈 I’ve been working on this fic since before Woozi day 💔 I really love it though he always hitting me with the feels 💘 I really wanted to take my time with this as well since it’s such a sensitive area, I wanted to make sure I portrayed how I view our Hoonie the very best I could ㅠ ㅠ somehow it feels a little silly but I wanted to express it in a way that shows him as a caregiver needing you as much as you need him AKA nellie is just a simp 😭💖 ~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

38 notes · View notes

andydrysdalerogers · 8 months

Text

Yours Submissively ~ Control

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos. And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N I can't decide which banner I like more. Let me know what you think

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Prologue

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Five years earlier…

Steve Rogers was tired.

Tired of the fight.

Tired of the demand.

Tired of the politics behind his shield.

Just tired.

Retiring was the right move.

But what does he do now?

“Hey Tony, can I talk to you?”

Present day…

Getting the loan from Tony was the best idea he could have had. Grant Industries was thriving five years later. Steve had built the business from the ground up. Sure it helped that he used to be Captain America but when his first successful takeover happened, people really started to take notice.

Making Sam his number two was the second best decision. He was savvy with the business and made sure that Steve kept on track. When Sam married Natasha, she joined the company as well. She was now his lawyer.

Bucky elected to be Steve’s head of security. Sure, he was a super soldier but as a businessman, the threats were more than before. Bucky felt better knowing he was close to Steve but at the same time doing something good. He wanted nothing but the best for his best friend.

Yes, things were working out for Steve in his business. At home, he had a beautiful penthouse. Bucky lived with him and his housekeeper in the staff quarters and he had the place mostly to himself. Except on the weekends.

On the weekends, he did have a guest who would entertain him. Because deep down, Steve missed having control. He had control when he led the Avengers. And it sated that part of him for the most part. But now, he needed it more.

Sharon had introduced this life to him while he was still avenging. Learning how to control and be controlled. Submitting and being submitted to kept Steve calm. Control was all he wanted.

Submissives weren’t hard to find in New York. But he hadn’t had one since Lizzy left. So boredom was starting to seep in. Boredom could be dangerous, expensive even. The last time he was bored, he bought out a publishing house. Granted it was making a profit now but Steve has learned, don’t be bored for too long.

“Devon, can we go through my schedule?” Steve called through the intercom to his assistant.

“Right away sir.” Devon walked in holding her tablet with Steve’s schedule. She has been his assistant since the beginning and ran his office like a fine Swiss watch. He appreciated her hard work and attention to detail.

“What’s on the agenda?”

“You have a meeting with Mr. Wilson and Mrs. Romanoff-Wilson in 20 minutes to discuss a new acquisition. You have a training session with Mr. Barnes right before lunch here in your private office gym. You have a meeting with Mr. Miller on the development of a tech piece he wanted to present. A Delilah Stevens is stopping by with a need for signatures regarding the new deal with Stark Industries. After, Mr. Barnes will take you home to prepare for the gala event this evening.”

“What gala?”

“It’s the fundraiser for the recovery efforts in Sokovia. You told Miss Maximoff you would attend.”

“Damn. Alright. I guess I have no choice in that one.” Steve sighed. “Am I seated alone?”

“No, Miss Maximoff and Mr. Stark are sending someone to be the liaison for you. Mr. Wilson and Mrs Romanoff-Wilson are also attending.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Alright. Have the intern bring me a coffee and let me know when Sam and Natasha get here.”

Devon left the office and sent her intern, Cindy in with the coffee. Steve rolled his eyes again at the little girl in front of him. She was a vapid girl, but she was Senator Ward’s daughter, and he needed the Senator in his pocket. She left after batting her eyes at him. As he read his daily reports, Devon called when Sam and Natasha were on his floor.

Married was a good look on Sam Wilson. He walked in with confidence, holding door for his wife, Natasha. Natasha Romanoff-Wilson, ex-assassin and corporate lawyer, was the best fit for Grant. She treated the opposition as she would have the enemy. They made a great team to get everything Steve ordered done.

“Hey Cap, how are you today?”

“How many times, Wilson, have I asked you to stop calling me that?”

“Old habits die hard,” Sam said with a laugh. He shook Steve’s hand and Steve kissed Natasha’s cheek before settling down to business. “Steve, as you know, the university in New Jersey is looking into funding for its engineering program.”

“Shouldn’t Stark be the more appropriate company to sponsor something like that?”

“You would think,” Natasha said, “but we need the exposure. Stark has a few interns but would need to lose one or two and they want us to take them on. So sponsoring the program would be a good tie in.”

“If it boosts our profile, I guess its ok. But can we also get another program as well. Something in education?” Steve wanted to be of service to all.

“We can, absolutely,” Sam said. “We can look at the background of some of the interns.”

“Perfect. What else?”

The meeting continued for a few hours until it was time for Steve’s training session. “I don’t know why you keep training Steve. You’re retired,” Sam commented.

“Because when you have the serum running through you, you have to burn out the energy somehow.”

“Then get a girl.” Sam smirked at him. “That will get you to burn off some eagerly.”

“Sam!” Natasha smacked her husband.

“I’ll work on that Wilson. Natasha, see you tonight? Save me a dance?”

“Of course Steve.” Natasha kissed Steve’s cheek.

“See you tonight Rogers,” Sam shook Steve’s hand. He took Natasha’s hand and led her from the room.

Steve headed into his en-suite to change for his workout with Bucky. Bucky was already in the private gym, lifting when Steve came in. “Hey Steve,” he said with a grunt.

“Hey Buck.” Steve took off his sweatshirt. “What are we doing today?”

“Just a spar. Let you go out full. I hear a little frustration today.”

“Just have to go to an event for Wanda and Stark and they are ‘assigning’ me a date.”

Bucky chuckled. “Why not invite one of the girls…”

“Because that is not why I have them there for.” Bucky was the only one who knew of Steve’s preferences. He made sure that the girls came and went unnoticed. “I don’t need them to think that I want something more.”

“But don’t you?” Bucky and Steve circled each other in the ring.

“No, they would just become a distraction or worse, a target.” Steve threw a punch. “Besides, all of these women only want the shield and not me. I don’t want that.”

“Maybe one day you’ll find someone who will like you for you,” Bucky said, jumping from the leg sweep. It is possible.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Buck.” Steve grunted as Bucky landed a punch to his solar plex. “I just want to get through this day.”

Steve went to shower and review the business for the rest of the day. Devon calls him, “I have an Isabella Davis here for signatures, sir.”

“I thought it was Delilah Stevens.”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“It’s alright. Send her in please.”

Steve looked back down at the report he was reading. His office door opened and a flurry of arms and legs landed on the floor. Steve rushed over. “Are you alright?”

Her face looked up at his to see the most startling violet blue eyes he had ever seen.

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @jennmurawski13-writes @firephotogrl74 @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim @alexakeyloveloki

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au

56 notes · View notes

bookishtheaterlover7 · 2 months

Note

Hi booky! Marketing anon here, just checking in on you.

I can see you are upset by what’s happened recently and I think you are very valid to feel how you feel. I will keep my own thoughts to myself.

That being said, I was kind of waiting for 🐟 to show her true colors for a long time and I think at this point it should be pretty obvious.

For these last years, CE’s angry haters/fans tore him apart (I’ve seen some very heavy hating posts lately) for this relationship but I’ve never believed what they said was happening.

People claimed 🐟 gave up everything and hid for 2 years so she could be a wife and perfect partner to his idyllic settle down in the woods peaceful life. Right? Isn’t that what so many ppl were screaming about and claimed he didn’t want a strong woman just someone to mold to him? It was what he wanted, not her. And people complained about this and called him every name in the book.

….let me ask some simple questions here. Since they got together, where has it been shown that she’s given up anything for him?

She is in PT all the time and her trolling friends continue to troll and be themselves 24/7

He is now being seen in PT doing restaurant tours for her/with her.

He is being seen in LA doing laps with her for the paps and somehow her style account gets updates on her all high fashion.

He attends some random industry parties and somehow is never seen outside of being pictured with her. And of course every event gets her outfits to wear that her style account can update 🙄

On Thanksgiving weekend, people assumed she would be with him in the states but it turns out she’s in PT with her soulmate walking a red carpet for no reason.

She’s seen in France skiing with her friends.

She’s seen in reels posted by her friends hanging out with them all over the last year.

The two interviews she’s gotten by PT spreads have her stating she lives in LA or LA and NY for her career and then goes home to PT to recharge.

Where in any of this is she giving up her life for him?

Are people finally waking up to realize, no, he is not making her do anything. She is doing what she wants and she has always been. If she hid herself for two years that’s her own decision. Nobody told her she had to attend any of these events if she’s so shy but clearly from her BTS makeup photos she’s very happy to pose for these big events (GQ, Paris fashion, VF)

Also, the VF red carpet.

She wants him to take photos with her so he stays back even though he tried to leave and let her have her own moment.

He’s seen on footage responding to her, and she’s asking, touching, and he appears on camera to be appeasing to her requests or whatever.

The latest post by her has her posting everything about her and her clothes, pics of herself, and not one mention of him.

He is the reason she was able to attend that party yet all of her friends and minions are giving her the attention as if she turned water into wine.

It’s very clear here to me what’s going on.

Why do you think Chris has virtually disappeared from his social media presence?

I’m not saying that he is a victim and to make her the bad guy. Obviously he is grown and makes his own decisions. But I’m not seeing this alleged “Chris being the one telling her to change her life for him because he’s selfish and blah blah”

I’ve never seen that all. The footage doesn’t lie. He wasn’t directing her around at all. In fact, it could be argued she was the one doing that. He likely wanted to let her have her own moment but it seems like she knows she needs him in order to shine.

Also, for those claiming he stole his brother’s thunder.

He didn’t attend the Oscar’s. His brother did and with his own partner. If Chris had gone as his brother’s plus one that would have been more attention seeking to me. Because if he shows up to the actual ceremony next to his bro, he WOULD be stealing the spotlight because he’s more well known. But he didn’t. People need to stop coming for him for that.

Him attending the after party had nothing to do with his brother so I also need people to stop with that. It’s clear to me he attended with her and this was an opportunity for her to get the spotlight.

I understand being upset at a celeb because some of you don’t like his decisions on certain things but to slander and spew vitriol at him and then photoshop him in disgusting edits is just. Well says more about some of you.

None of this is directed at you, booky. You feel how you feel. I hope you don’t take this too much to heart because like some others have been saying, it’s not worth the energy.

Be well ❤️

Hey, Marketing An🫶n!!!

I'm so glad you're back! 🥹 And thanks, it means a whole lot to hear you say that, and to check up on me. And if you're worried about the haters on whatever you're thinking, I don't think you should hold back. But I respect that.

Made some good points about Alba, and her not giving anything for Chris up. Because seriously, you're not wrong.

Basically, for me, they're both doing this. Chris isn't blameless in any of it.

But, he really was trying to get the attention away from him at VF. Scott went with Steve, and because of you Marketing An🫶n it makes better sense that he would. Because people watch for the more famous sibling. And I noticed that too! He left Alba so that she can have her star moment and have solo photos. But no, she decides to be needy, and force him to stay. 👸 even said she never had a photo at the last marker. 👀

No wonder Chris decided blending into the background was a good idea 😆 unfortunate color combo as it was.

No, it's okay. I've had a few days to chill. And feel it. And trust me, I get it. And I'm not offended.

Some fans just take it too far with the hate. Hell, they went too far with the signed bomb at the USO tour pics from years ago, so this is definitely not a surprise.

Thank you for dropping by again, Marketing An🫶n! A lot of us missed your insightful messages 🥹🤗

It's so good to have you here, and don't worry if you need to give yourself time. I know we all need that... ❤️‍🩹

P.S. I know I said I'd chill and stop answering for the night, but it's Marketing An🫶n. I couldn't not answer them 😆

#An🫶n asks #Hello Marketing An🫶n #Marketing An🫶n asks #booky reacts #booky answers #chris evans #chris evans fandom #Team Chris #seriously those edits are still going?#God!

13 notes · View notes

serene-faerie · 1 year

Text

RGG Ishin Actor AU

I've seen a few posts about an Actor AU for RGG Ishin, so here are some of my ideas about the cast of this AU.

Kiryu is the industry newbie, and a rising star. He's also a formidable martial artist who does his own stunts, and he's got some impressive acting skills, too. Up until now, he's mostly been in low-budget films and TV dramas as troubled heroes and occasionally as the romantic hero as well. He's also worked with Saejima and Ryuji in action movies, so he's on pretty good terms with them both. But now, he's finally landed his very first leading role as Sakamoto Ryoma/Saito Hajime, in his very first big-budget epic film. While a little nervous about working with a bunch of big-name actors, he's quick to win everyone over through his talents, his skills, and his genuine kindness off-camera.

Majima is an A-list actor, well-known for his impressive acting range. He's never been typecast in any single character type, and he's also a delight to work with. While Majima initially started out with acting in crime dramas and films, he has since branched out to other genres and expanded his horizons significantly. He's also won many awards for his films, and he's also done some acting in Hollywood films, too. He gets along pretty well with Kiryu on the set of Ishin, and he's more than happy to become sort of a mentor for the newbie actor.

Nishiki is an A-list actor and model. He started out his career as a model, then his acting career began with romance dramas. Now, Nishiki is one of the most bankable stars in the industry. While Nishiki does have a bit of a reputation as a diva, many directors would give anything to work with him, because having his name attached to a project will secure a film's success. He's widely considered a sex symbol in the industry because of his good looks and modelling skills. Nishiki's also got an impressive acting range that's won him many awards, whether he's playing romantic heroes or dark brooding villains like Okada Izo. On the set of Ishin, he and Kiryu get along surprisingly well, and eventually become pretty close friends.

Saejima is a former action star who's starting to branch out into dramatic films. Like Kiryu, Saejima's also a skilled martial artist who does his own stunts, and he's got the skills to be a dramatic actor as well. He's also close friends with Majima, since the both of them have known each other long before they entered the film industry. Sometimes, when he reads his scripts, he has his own ideas about his characters, and he'll always give suggestions to directors about certain things to implement. Ishin is his first venture into historical pieces, and if this movie is successful, then his serious acting career is all but guaranteed.

Shibusawa, Awano, and Kuze are all industry veterans who are particularly well-known for their work in historical films and in crime films, too. Kuze started out as a pro boxer before he switched to acting, but he's not the biggest fan of the industry parties and events. He plans to retire from acting soon, and hopes to run his own boxing gym as a coach after filming for Ishin is wrapped up. Awano is both an award-winning actor and a filmmaker, known for playing characters who rebel against the social structure. In his younger days, he was also something of a party animal, and he still enjoys attending industry parties even now. Shibusawa started out his career as an actor, but these days, he mostly produces films. He's exceptionally talented, and incredibly influential in the entire film industry, and he's also very well-known in the Western world, too.

Zhao is another well-known actor who started out in TV dramas before venturing into films. He began his career as a stand-up comedian and impressionist, but he's mostly been in dramatic films after proving his acting chops in his debut film. Zhao loves working on historical films, and he often takes great care to research the time period so he can apply his knowledge to the characters he plays. He's also a great chef, and he loves to cook meals for his co-stars during breaks in filming. He also owns a successful Chinese restaurant in Yokohama, which he runs with his close friend Tesso.

Joon-gi Han is a K-pop idol based in Japan, and he's also starting a film career like Kiryu. While he's already pretty popular in his native Korea, he's become a huge sensation and sex symbol in Japan, thanks to his modelling collaboration Nishiki, and his musical collaborations with several J-pop idols. Han initially started his acting career as romantic heroes, but he's since proven to be even better at playing sinister characters. He has an incredibly devoted international fanbase who have been cheering him on ever since he ventured into acting. He's also a skilled martial artist, and he does his own stunts much like Kiryu and Saejima. When he's not acting or singing, Han manages a super elite, exclusive nightclub in Tokyo.

Ryuji is both an actor and a professional wrestler. He actually started out as a bodyguard for a celebrity, then became a successful wrestler with the WWE. He also has some decent acting chops, though he's mostly appeared in action movies. Nevertheless, his presence never fails to delight audiences, since he knows how to make all his scenes memorable. Ishin is his first venture into dramatic films, but he's nothing if not dedicated to doing well in the role of Saigo Kichinosuke. His most favorite scene in the Ishin film is his homoerotic bathhouse fight with Kiryu, and he's not ashamed to admit this in promotional interviews.

Haruka is a J-pop idol who's starting a film career to shed her wholesome, cutesy popstar image. While she's only a teenager, she's got a lot of potential as an actress, and she gets along with everyone on the set of Ishin. She and Kiryu form a close bond that lasts even after filming is wrapped up, with Kiryu becoming something of a father figure to her.

Mine is both an A-list actor and a supermodel. Like Nishiki, Mine started out his career as a model before he made his acting debut in a historical movie. Since then, he's been in a variety of epic historical pieces with settings that range from the Heian period to the Meiji period. Mine's good looks and modelling skills have also made him a sex symbol, and his mysterious aloofness has only enhanced his appeal. He's particularly close to Daigo Dojima, who helped him get a start in acting.

This is everything that I have so far. What do you all think? If you have suggestions for other characters, feel free to add them on!

88 notes · View notes

perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

Cruel intentions | chapter four

summary: harry asks you to hurry up peter's sexual awakening and you really want to fucking ruin peter parker but sometimes you don't even know how to react when he tells you sweet things.

warnings: another chill chapter but like maybe insinuation to sex?

authors note: I WANT TO GIVE RAQUEL A SPECIAL THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FIRST SUPPORTER ON KO-FI!! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, YOU'VE MADE MY DAY. AGAIN ANOTHER THANK YOU.

listen to: Bad girls - M.I.A | Cooler than me - Mike Posner (playlist here)

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist + read next chapter early on ko-fi!!

You hadn’t expected to feel so uneasy at the thought of simply going out to a party with Peter Parker. Not in the sightless but you felt as if your stomach was turning around and twisting in the most unnatural ways just at the thought of what to wear.

Peter hadn’t told you how formal or not the party was going to be and you still didn’t have his number, nor you would ask for it from Tony or Harley, being aware that it might awake suspicion on their part, and although you could’ve just hacked the database of Stark Industries for his number, you knew that it might not have the same impact as if he asked for it.

In consequence, your room was a mess.

You’d been to parties before, hell, it was a rare occasion when you didn’t have someplace to go. You were often invited to events and parties since your incident when you started to be a little bit more outgoing after what had happened, and especially when tabloids and magazines named you the messy it girl of New York. The name was given after you’d attended a series of events that had ended with your photo plastered on every magazine. The photos were many, sometimes you were climbing into the stage of a club to dance, then a picture with you hand in hand with a young handsome actor that had been nominated for awards recently, then one in a very sheer and short dress.

You were never missing an invitation after the last one.

But now, you didn’t even know what to pick and Peter was minutes away. Harry had decided to go to a club opening that night and had decided that he was in the mood for FaceTiming you as you both did your makeups for the evening.

“Why are you calling me?” you asked vexed at him, as you tried to hold the phone so he couldn’t see the bra that you were wearing while you leaned forward as you fixed your eye shadow before applying mascara.

“Just wanted to see how the plan was going and I can’t call my best friend?” Harry asked annoyed as he placed some highlight on his already cut cheekbones, he was often told that his jaw and cheeks could cut ice and you agreed with the statement.

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want to know?” you replied while you took your mascara and waited for Harry to reply.

“I’m assuming you got invited to the party?”

“I did,” you muttered quietly, not wanting him to shake you off your game -at least not even more than how you already were feeling.

Harry smirked devilishly as he turned to you and gave you his full attention. “Are you going to do it tonight?” he asked, his voice sounded as if poison was rolling off his tongue and you recognize it from the many times you both had screwed someone over.

If it was any other time it wouldn’t have bothered you as much but you felt as if someone had thrown cold water at your back.

“No,” you answered sternly before throwing your phone -and Harry- to the bed. Not wanting to even see him anymore.

Harry chuckled when he realized.“You can get him drunk you know? I have a little thing to spike some drinks,” he answered nonchalantly.

You froze in your place and stiffened at his remark before you were running to get your phone so Harry could hear you.

“I will literary call the police if you use that on someone,” you growled as your eyes narrowed but Harry simply laughed.

“It was a joke,” he replied but you still felt nauseous at the thought of his words. “Just wondering how long would it take? I wanted a summer internship” he explained but you shook your head before leaving your phone again after realizing that Peter would be there in less than 10 minutes.

“Couldn’t care less,” you muttered as you walked through your room only to find in your desk one little black dress that had been in your closet for ages but that you’d never word for how short it was but right now it seemed like the only valid choice you had before you quickly took a cream oversize blazer and placed it on before listening to Harry speak again.

“You know, we are going to Ibiza in two weeks so I need you to speed up Parker’s sexual awakening,” he muttered softly, now his voice had changed and it was dripping honey, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin.

You turned softly to the bed and took the phone in your hand as you gaze at Harry. He was done with his make-up and now a cigarette hung loosely from his lips. “I just hate when things don’t go my way,” he whispered, only for you to hear and you knew he was doing it on purpose and you hated the fact that it actually sprung the tiniest amount of interest in you.

“Me too,”

“So, you think everything will go good with your boy?” he asked as he lit up the cigarette and gaze at you with a fire that you’d seen in his eyes before.

“Any day now,” you whispered as softly as he had and Harry smirked, but then you heard the characteristic sound of the elevator opening and your mind snapped back to Peter. “Until then, down boy,” you replied and quickly hung up.

You stayed still for a few seconds as your mind recalled the wager. You felt stupid. Silly. Completely unlike yourself. How many times had you done this before, how many times you’d conquered someone and then ruined them? How many times had you played with someone only to light up a fire that would leave them in ashes? The answer was many, many times you’d played this game and yet you’d never felt something like you were feeling right now.

You were usually detached and in control. You knew your next steps and could anticipate theirs but as you turned your head to see the mess in your room and how your hands fidget just at the thought of seeing those chocolate eyes you wondered if you were just helpless.

And you hated it.

Because being helpless means being weak and getting hurt. You were familiar with pain but god, this almost felt as if you were being thrown down again and again in the ring.

What were you feeling? The answer was still unknown but, you wouldn’t let it ruin you and you needed to be fast if you didn’t want it to happen.

And so you took some high heel boots and your purse and decided to go out and look for Peter Parker.

You decided that it was time to ruin him.

Peter was waiting for you in the living room as he talked with Pepper. Tony was upstairs reading stories to Morgan, as he used to do with you, so that time was always blocked for him.

Peter looked handsome, more than you liked to admit. He was wearing a grey sweater that fitted him nicely and a pair of black jeans, he wasn’t as formal as you wished he was because you now look a bit overdressed but then again, when does a guy actually gets as ready as the girl. He turned to you and his eyes seemed to widen a bit as you walked with your hips swaying side to side as you always did when you were out, as Harry would say it, hunting.

“You look…” Peter muttered, the words seemed to die down in his throat as he looked you up and down, and yet you interrupted him.

“Gorgeous I believe?”

“Y/N!” Pepper gasped as you smiled back at her while shrugging

“What Pepper? It’s true!”

Pepper shook her head and laughed before closing the book on her lap and standing up. “You are just like your dad,” she whispered before planting a kiss on your head and you squirmed under her touch as you’d always done since you were younger. “You kids have fun and be careful,” she said before climbing the stairs to the second floor.

Soon, you were left alone with Peter Parker, who seemed to always have pink cheeks when he was around you. You liked it.

“So, tell me how are we going to get to this fancy party of yours,” you asked him in a velvety voice as you walked towards the elevator, he followed you swiftly, and you felt his eyes burning your back.

“Just by walking,” Peter answered raspy as he cleared his throat as the elevators opened and you stopped midtrack as you turned to him.

Was he being serious?

“Oh,” you said as you both entered the elevator, your façade clearing up.

You realized soon that you must’ve been frowning because he broke the silence without any provoking.

“It’s close don’t worry,”

You stared at him with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m not worried about wearing high heels,” you replied as the door opened and you walked towards the main entrance of the Stark building, your heart beating a bit faster.

“What are you worried about then?”

You winced before saying it, hoping that it didn’t sound the way you imagined it in your head. “Paparazzi?” you muttered softly.

One thing you’d learned from growing up in the spotlight was that if you wanted things to go the right way, you didn’t want evidence of your wrongdoings on the front cover of Hola! And since one of your wrongdoings ended up on the front cover of multiple magazines, which ended up with a threat of sending you to rehab from Tony and Pepper, even though people knew it wasn’t your cocaine anyway, you’d decided to keep everything on the down-low.

“Oh, come on,” Peter said as he shook his head while gazing back at you, who was walking with reservation as if you feared the front door. “It’s Saturday night,” he said nonchalantly while the doorman opened the door for both of you.“I think people have better things to do than…”

As soon as the door opened, a roar of shouts drowned the lobby, and a sea of flashes blinded you on the spot.

“y/n! y/n!” people were shouting.

That’s all you could see, white pops of light that you tried to evade quickly as you gave a few steps back, hoping that they wouldn’t get a better look at you or Peter, soon you spun on your heels walking away from the entrance. There were many, many more than the usual three people that you’d already come to know, they were a group that was called the superhero crew, they were the ones that often were called when Thor was on earth. Part of you wondered if Harry had called them just to fuck with you, you knew that was the type of thing he would do. He was trying to sabotage you. Fucking asshole, you thought.

Soon, the doorman closed the door and you could still hear them shouting for you, you quickly took Peter’s hand -on purpose- and dragged him to the elevator, Peter simply laced his fingers with you. When you were back at the elevators you turned to him and raised your eyebrow almost involuntarily.

“So, you were saying?”

“I didn’t know that…”

“Come with me,” you said, pulling Peter by the hand, again, as you dragged him through the emergency stairs to one of the basements.

A few floors down you stopped by a door that had a small panel next to it. You moved your head forward as it scanned you and quickly HAPPY was online.

“HAPPY, open the door please,” you said before turning to Peter who seemed to be caught off-guard by the sneaking around. “I’m with a guest,”

“Done and done Ms. Stark,” the AI said before opening the door.

The 1956 Jaguar XK140 was in the same place you’d left it last time and you quickly climbed into it, the familiar leather smell clouding your senses. You loved it so much, the freedom that you felt on it. When you opened your eyes, you saw Peter awe-struck.

“This is your…”

“More or less,” you replied before you were opening the passenger's seat door. “Come on, you have to tell me where we are going because we need to be fast,”

Peter followed suit and in a matter of seconds, you opened the garage floor. The engine roared as you launched the car into the streets of Manhattan and although you caught a glimpse of the paparazzi, they weren’t close to the garage door, they were trying to catch you but you? You were faster.

You dodge them and in one swift engine roar, you were out of sight but before you truly left them behind and for good measure, you flipped them with a smirk. Soon, you were driving carelessly through the busy streets of New York as the wind made your hair move all over the place, you laughed at the feeling involuntarily. Soon, you were caught by a red light and you turned to Peter.

“So, where are we going?” you asked him with one of those charming smiles that you’d learned from your dad. Looking at him through your lashes and exposing your neck a little bit, hoping it would cloud his judgment, hoping he would offer just to go to his dorm room and get it over with.

But there was a long pause, longer than you expected it to be. Your breath caught by the way he gazed at you with a side-smirk that he had shown you many times but it felt different. He was staring, hard, his eyes were intense and impossible to read in the darkness of New York.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,”

You sighed as you gave him a soft and confused smile.

“Come on, Parker,”

He chuckled in response, he looked away for a moment but then back at you. Peter’s smile was wide and large.

“I just… I hadn’t seen you smile like this before,”

***

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll @hoetel-manager @pbeckerkn26

authors note: im actually floored that someone actually supported me on KO-FI!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH. i really want this to get spicy but we are still on the dark about some things. lmk what you think and I always always appreciate feedback. moreover i would appreciate a bunch if you supported me on ko-fi even one dollar makes the difference! thank you so much!

feedback is always welcomed

donate: help me with my laptop?

also maybe soon available on wattpad?

405 notes · View notes

reasonsmandy · 9 months

Text

Me, a coward?

Graham Dunne x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — a graham dunne request with prompt 22 please 😘

✧.* summary — You two were an interesting game, something that flared up as fast as fire flames on dry land, a specific kind of tension that was always good to relive and experience. And that's what you guys did at any opportunity.

✧.* warnings — jealousy

✧.* word count — 2.3k

✧.* 🪕 — Graham's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — hey guys, hope y'all are doing well... I've been thinking abt changing my prompt list, so if you want smt with any of those prompts pls ask it before I change it.

You were restless, it had been so long since you had attended a big event like this one, your excitement was growing by the second. As you rummage through the clothes in your closet looking for a suitable option, the hypotheses of what could happen tonight flit through your mind like migrating birds.

But you couldn't deny that your thoughts mostly led you to Graham Dunne, you guys had some connections in common, which linked you to the guitarist of the band every time you went to the same places (which happened with a strange frequency that made you question if it wasn't something planned by the guy). However, sometimes, fate simply sets up scenarios and, ironically enough, you were its main pieces.

The first time you guys met was at a record company event, which you ended up being invited to because they had produced the soundtrack for your last movie. During all the night you were exchanging curious glances, some unassuming touches where your hands “accidentally” touched, it was like a dangerous dance with the tension and yearning of the unknown.

And that kind of game and feeling remained between you during every date you had, playing with Graham Dunne became an addiction for you. That's what you wanted tonight, that energy that emanated between you with an exchange of glances or a touch.

…

“Can you stop moving for a second?” Eddie says rolling his eyes, nudging the man next to him with his elbow. “You are clearly invading my van space.”

“Eddie's right, no one can stand you moving anymore.” Karen says, her arms crossed as she tried to stop the younger Dunne from messing up her outfit. “Why are you so restless? I mean, not that I mind, but whatever.”

“Warren, do you know who will be at this party?” Graham speaks, his question is immediately directed to the driver of the van, ignoring the complaints about him.

“That's a very broad question dude, I know people from the label will be there, maybe people with associated projects there.” Rojas turns the next corner, his free hand adjusting his vest.

“Why the question?” Karen questions once more, her eyebrows raised trying to tease her friend. “Do you expect someone to be there, Peaches?”

“No no… just asking” His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide his other intentions for the blonde.

Karen already knew what went on between Graham and you, she was a very observant woman and she couldn't help noticing your closeness at all these events.The exchanges of looks between you, the unpretentious touches that triggered silly smiles and conversations full of interest and curiosity. She just didn't understand why you guys kept in touch only at times like this, why he never asked for your number or some other way to contact you after parties.

When The Six enters the party, they are invaded by that fraternization air mixed with the strong smell of cigarettes and drinks, their presence is notorious, after all, they were the most important figures in the music industry today. Warren doesn't take long to mingle in conversation, he soon finds himself among a group of people you weren't very familiar with, Eddie on the other hand immediately goes after a group of ladies and you can't help but roll your eyes at this attitude, Karen stands alone propped against a wall in the corner of the room, and Graham shamelessly watched you as he made his way to the food table.

You straighten your dress, like muscle memory getting your hands to your hair then unassumingly (or at least trying to be) you walk towards him, your gaze never meeting his, trying to appear uninterested. You pick up one of the empty plates that were stacked on the corner of the table, then scan the edible catalog in front of you for what to eat that night.

“Risotto sounds like a good option, doesn't it Miss L/N?” When his voice is heard by you, your body shakes, you missed that between you so much

“It does indeed, Mr Dunne.” Your voice sounds like a whisper amid other people's conversations. He smiles when your hands accidentally touch. “I saw that your brother and his wife did not come, did something happen?”

“I believe they'll arrive later, Julia was not feeling very well.” He explains while at one time or another he offers you some of the dishes served there.

“I am sad to hear this, best wishes for your niece” You smile, for the first time looking deep into his eyes feeling your heart speed up with this simple act.

“I don't believe it! Y/N?” A voice catches your attention from across the room, you turn, startled by the attention now focused on you.

Aaron Santana was one of the actors who made his most recent film with you, he played the role of your cellmate who later becomes one of the essential characters for the construction of yours. He comes towards you with open arms and a big smile, you hug him back surprised by his presence at the event.

“I didn't know you were coming, Aaron, how are you?” You say when he got rid of the hug, Graham is gradually excluded from the scenario moving away a little.

“I'm great, what about you? My god you look stunning…” He says holding one of your hands and spinning you around, you smile embarrassed, noticing Graham moving away from you little by little.

The younger Dunne was upset, he had been waiting for this moment for weeks, he was dying to spend time with you and this guy he didn't even know had ruined everything! He props his body against the corner of the secluded wall, watching you laugh and chat animatedly with the short-haired man, his arms crossed so tightly against his chest that they hurt his ribcage, but he doesn't care.

While his thoughts cursed the actor in different ways, Karen approached the guitarist, who was clearly too busy watching the scene in front of him to notice her there. She stays for a few minutes waiting for him to notice her presence, but when she sees that he isn't going to notice him so soon and snaps her fingers in front of his eyes.

“Is something bothering you? The blonde asks with a muffled laugh.

“No no, not at all.” It was funny how Graham didn't know how to pretend that the whole situation didn't bother him. “Why? Does it look like I'm bothered?”

“You're about to punch the guy in the face, yes it does.” The keyboardist adjusts her jacket, sipping some of the beer in her hands. “If you want to be with her, why don't you go there?”

“It's not that easy Karen, that's not how we work, okay?” The younger Dunne talks fast while not taking his eyes off you and the man.

“Dude, I don't understand you." she says laughing. “You've been dying all week to see her, and now you're just going to stand there and do nothing? Not that you have to hit the guy because he didn't do anything to you or her but, hey, she seems to like you too…"

“You think so?” His eyes shine with that said phrase by the blonde, trying to hold back a smile. “This guy basically kicked me out, who does he think he is?”

“For someone who wasn't pissed off, you're really caring, huh.” she teases and he grimaces at her. “Go there and talk to her, don't be a coward.”

“Coward? Me, a coward?” He sticks out his chest, snapping all his fingers. “I'll show you who's a coward…”

Graham makes his way back to you, losing his breath to notice the way the light made his hair prettier, he musters up all the courage in him to believe he would be an interesting point for you among all that was there. He takes one of the unopened drinks from the tables closest to him, approaching you he rests one of his hands on the back of your back catching your attention.

“Oh hey.” You smile widely, happy to see him again.

“I brought you a drink.” He extends it to you, who accepts it with joy. “Sorry to interrupt the conversation, but can I steal her from you for a moment?”

“Yeah man, sure.” He smiles politely at you both. “It was great to see you Y/N.”

You smile at him as he walks away from you, making his way to a table with some men unknown to you, you turn your entire body towards Graham, who looks at you with a very warm smile.

“What would you say to me if I supposedly offered you an escape from this boring little party?” He whispers in your ear, making you shiver.

“I'd like that very much.” You reply also in a whisper. Taking his hand and letting him lead you outside.

As Graham takes your hand in his, a thrill of excitement courses through you. He leads you through the crowded venue, making your way towards a less frequented area of the record company building. As you climb the stairs and reach the rooftop, you're immediately struck by the breathtaking view before you.

The city's skyline stretches out in front of you, adorned with a sea of twinkling lights that illuminate the night sky. The soft glow of the moon casts a magical aura over the scene, creating an ambiance of intimacy and serenity. The distant sound of music and laughter from the party below seems to fade away, leaving you and Graham in a world of your own.

Graham's eyes meet yours, and you can see a mix of nervousness and anticipation in his gaze. He smiles, a touch of vulnerability breaking through his confident demeanor. The way the moonlight catches his features only adds to his charm, making your heart flutter.

"It's beautiful up here," you say softly, still captivated by the mesmerizing panorama.

He nods, "I knew you'd appreciate it. I wanted to give us a moment away from the crowd, where we could talk without distractions."

As you both find a spot to sit, you feel a sense of ease settling in. The air is cool and refreshing, and the city lights create an enchanting atmosphere around you.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you share stories, aspirations, and dreams. Time seems to stand still as you delve deeper into each other's lives, forming a stronger connection with every word exchanged.

“He seems like a good guy.” He points out, you look at him confused, not understanding what he was talking about. “Your colleague downstairs”

“Oh you think so?” You smile, finding the whole situation very funny, since it was clear on the guitarist's face that he didn't like Aaron that much.

“Of course, he was just a little inconvenient... But it happens.” He shrugs, you arch your eyebrows at his statement. "You know? I don't mean to be annoying but he kinda interrupted us.”

“I don't think he did it on purpose.” You rest your head on his shoulder, and inconsistently he smiles.

“Well, whether it was on purpose or not, it doesn't matter because you're mine.” He kisses the top of your head tenderly. “All mine.”

You pull away a little, looking at him with a tiny smile, arching your eyebrows, surprised by his speech. “Oh am I? This one is new”

“But not in a possessive way, dammit, I sounded like an asshole, right?” He abruptly pulls away from you, searching your eyes for any sign of annoyance. “I was trying to be cute. Nevermind”

“It was cute, and you know what?” You move closer to him, holding her face in your hands, you whisper. “I like the idea of being yours.”

He smiles widely, "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?" you nod and he wastes no time in sealing your lips.

As Graham leans in to kiss you, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the soft touch of his lips against yours. It's a gentle, tender kiss, filled with the sweetness of newfound affection and the excitement of possibilities yet to come.

As the kiss deepens, you can feel Graham's emotions pouring into the moment. His hands hold you close, and you find solace in his touch, as if you've found a home in his arms.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath. The city lights continue to shimmer below, reflecting the enchantment of this magical rooftop rendezvous.

"I didn't expect this tonight," you admit, your voice tinged with amazement.

"Neither did I," Graham replies, his eyes locked on yours. "But I couldn't let the opportunity slip away. I've wanted to spend more time with you, and tonight felt like the perfect chance."

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your heart. "I'm glad you took that chance."

Graham brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and loving. "I really like you, Y/N. There's something about you that captivates me, and I can't ignore it."

"I feel the same way about you," you confess, your heart swelling with affection. "There's something special between us, and I want to explore it, even if it's just one step at a time."

He grins, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "One step at a time sounds perfect."

You lean in for another kiss, this time filled with a mix of excitement and the promise of something new and beautiful. The rooftop becomes a sanctuary of love and hope, and you both cherish the moment, knowing that this night will be etched in your memories forever.

As you sit together, talking and laughing, the night wears on, and the world below continues to bustle with life. But for you and Graham, time stands still, and you embrace the gift of this special connection, savoring each moment as it unfolds.

In the end, the night on the rooftop becomes a turning point in your relationship, marking the beginning of something magical and heartfelt. From this night onward, the bond between you and Graham deepens, and you both embark on a beautiful journey of love and discovery, one step at a time.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

taglist: @lantsovcolors @ariianelle @jaidaschampagneproblems @warrenrojaswife @hopelessromantic727 @eddiesaurora

#djats #daisy jones and the six #djats x reader #graham dunne #graham dunne x fem!reader #Graham Dunne #graham dunne x y/n #graham dunne x reader #graham dunne x you #djat6 #djats fanfic #djats fic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the 6 #daisy jones and the six x fem!reader #daisy jones and the six x you #daisy jones and the six x reader

48 notes · View notes

blurredcolour · 2 years

Text

Awarded

Summary: As award season arrives, you and Austin find peace in one another's arms during the whirlwind of celebration.

Part Six (Final Part) of Production. Read Stuck (Part One), Caught (Part Two), Lost (Part Three), Found (Part Four), and Reunited (Part Five).

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Wild Speculation & Starry-eyed Optimism About Awards Season, Intoxication, Anxiety, Tears, Mature/Explicit Themes [manual stimulation - m receiving, penetration] - 18+ Only

Image Credit - Unknown

Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based on fact. It is simply the product of my fevered brain which has finally allowed me to lay this story to rest.

Word Count: 5967

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

“So, they’ve sent me a plus one to all these things…” Austin speaks up from the other end of the long grey couch. The pair of you have your legs stretched out between you, alternating. His legs are so long, the sole of his right foot is nearly at the apex of your thighs, while his left leg rests against the outside of your right thigh, squeezing your leg between his. A book of poetry lies unopened on the back of the couch; his mind seems too busy to read properly.

You squeeze his right leg between yours as look up from your own book, blinking slowly as it takes you a moment to catch up to where his mind is at. Of course – awards season is upon you. You could tell he’s been preoccupied these last few weeks…well really, since the two of you arrived together in Los Angeles once his time on Dune was finished.

You are not sure how to respond, honestly. The two of you have been playing things rather close to the vest – eating in or only at places that respected your privacy, leaving and arriving separately, him attending industry functions on his own. The majority of it is happening naturally as you are working on a new film in town and your hours dictate when you have free time to spend with him. A quiet evening such as this, simply basking in one another’s company, is a rare treat.

Dishes from the pasta dinner you had cooked together are sitting empty on the coffee table beside you in your rented Los Feliz home. The mid-century meets west coast home is flooded with natural light, the floors are the colour of driftwood, the walls white. But truly, it doesn’t matter where the two of you are; it is always home when you are together.

“Do you have any thoughts about who you’d like to go with you?” You tilt your head not wanting to make any presumptions.

“Yeah. You.” He nods firmly without hesitation.

Your cheeks blush softly, always taken aback at how forthright he can be with his feelings sometimes.

“I…would love to be there with you, but are you sure? There’s a lot of press…” You reply thoughtfully, hesitantly.

“You don’t have to do the red carpet with me if you don’t want to, there are lots of people who take the other path inside and meet up after the circus. I…would really like you there, none of it would have been possible without you…” He looks to your eyes. You can see he is being earnest…and can also see the hint of anxiety there.

“Then I would love to attend with you.” You smile warmly, anxiety in your own stomach at the scale of the events – the Golden Globes, the Screen Actors Guild Awards…perhaps even the Academy Awards.

“Besides, not only did you work your fingers to the bone for Catherine, you’re in the freaking film so you have to be there...” His eyes twinkle with sudden mischief and you scoff in reply.

“Bullshit, Butler” You smirk and shake your head. “You don’t have to butter me up.”

His eyes widen and he presses an elegant hand to his chest in an affectation of offence.

“I would never…Seriously! You’re there. Around the 56-minute mark. You have to zoom in, but you’re there.” His hands busy themselves with pulling the film up on his phone before he carefully extracts his legs from yours, sitting up. He pats the couch beside him, and you sit up as well, shifting closer.

Austin lets about a minute of the Russwood Park scene play before smirking and zooming in. There you are, that look of awe and lust painted on your features. He looks quite pleased that he is right, a smug grin tugging at the right corner of his rosy lips.

“Baz said he just had to put this shot in the movie. You look like you are ready to unhinge your jaw and swallow me whole. Direct quote.”

You choke on your own saliva; disbelief mixing with mortification.

“Oh my god…I’m just going to go die in the corner if that’s all right with you.” You press your face into the shoulder of his soft, long-sleeved t-shirt, and he throws his head back, laughing richly.

“We thought we were so subtle, and there we are making eyes at each other on film.” He remarks ruefully.

You groan into his sleeve, not sure how you are going to face the director and his wife at all these events. He pats your head affectionately, kissing your cheek.

“I’m really excited to do this with you.” He murmurs gently and you finally look up, meeting his eyes.

“Me, too…even though it’s also a little intimidating.” You punctuate your reply with a soft kiss; gently brushing your lips against his.

Focusing on preparing you – hiring a stylist on your behalf, browsing through offerings from designers and labels you had only dreamed of wearing – seems to help Austin’s nerves. He is with you for every fitting, encouraging you to go with what you like, not just what the stylist might dictate. Even though you don’t intend to walk the red carpet with him, he’s thorough, ensuring your outfits for each event coordinate.

He practices acceptance speeches on you, though the presumption of winning necessary formulate them brings him obvious discomfort. He hones the words to capture all his gratitude in the brief time allotted to recipients.

Professionals arrive at your shared home in the afternoon before the first event and make sure you and Austin look flawless before you take a car to the venue. He’s seated on the curb side of the car, plump lips pressing to the back of your hand as it inches further ahead in line to drop you off.

“I’ll see you inside.” He smiles warmly, leg bouncing with nerves.

You squeeze his thigh encouragingly.

“You look fantastic…good luck out there” You smile, earning a quick kiss before he slides out of the open car door. You slide out after him and part ways, turning to walk down the quieter lane. You look back over your shoulder as he’s stepped onto the head of the red carpet and the screams from fans, from photographers calling his name in an attempt to get his attention, swell. He stands there, basking in their attention with a lazy elegance that is so hard to tear your eyes from, but staff are urging you to keep walking. After showing your ticket, you head inside pausing mid-step as you hear someone calling your name. You turn to see Baz and Catherine approaching. You cannot help the way your cheeks colour at the memory of Baz’s comment, but Catherine pulls you into a fierce hug and you forget to be embarrassed for a moment.

“Goodness is it ever good to see you here.” She is beaming and looking over your outfit, complimenting you warmly.

“You look amazing, both of you.” You smile brightly in response. “Are you staying in town for the next few months?”

You are so busy catching up with them, you don’t notice that Austin has finished with the red carpet until his arm snakes around your waist as he comes to stand with your group.

“Aha!” Baz declares proudly, earning an elbow to the ribs from Catherine as you flush scarlet.

He pulls each of them in for a one-armed embrace, refusing to let go of you while he greets them. One of the ubiquitous people in suits with headsets approaches the group and leads you to your table inside the auditorium, getting you all settled. There’s food, drinks, cameras. Catherine does a particularly good job of trying to distract you whenever they come close, but you are always very aware as you can feel the jumping of Austin’s leg pressed against yours.

It is a very successful night, both Baz and Austin win their individual categories, and Elvis takes Best Picture: Musical or Comedy. It flies by in a blur of applause, speeches, and toasts. As you circulate through the after party, Austin grips both your hand and the golden statuette. Everyone is so eager to celebrate him that you are happily unnoticed for the most part. There is speculation, some of it rather cruel, online the following day – wondering who that person at the Elvis table was, but it never really blossomed into anything problematic. Most likely because you refuse to let it affect what you have built with Austin.

The morning of Oscar nominations, you open your eyes blearily as his alarm chimes. He fumbles a little to silence the noise that felt just a little too loud in the pre-dawn January light of your bedroom. You push yourself up to lean against the headboard as he turns on the TV, hand clasping yours tightly as the announcements begin. The first nomination for Elvis is Catherine Martin for Costume Design, and you can’t help it as your lips are pulled into a grin of pride. She is also nominated for Production Design, and Baz for Achievement in Directing…Neither of you are breathing as Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role is announced – until they read his name.

“Austin!” You gasp and hug him tightly. He clings to you tightly, shellshocked.

“I…” He is grasping for words, but just shakes his head and presses his face into the crook of your shoulder.

His phone rings then, and hardly stops ringing for the rest of the day. He is restless – driven to distraction by the calls, the excitement, the anxiety, the fear, the pride. It is impossible to process it all, though he tries; tries going to the gym, tries writing, tries reading, tries cooking. By the time the sun sets that day, he is left both exhausted and wide awake.

As he steps out of the bathroom, flushed from a shower meant to soothe him, towel slung low on his hips, you can see the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders from your seat in bed.

“Come here…” You part your legs, patting the space between them.

He blinks a little as he surfaces from his internal tumult and sits between your legs wordlessly. Reaching out, you cup his shoulders, pressing your thumbs into warm skin on the back of his neck.

“Do you want to talk?” You ask quietly as you quickly find the first knot of muscle, pushing against it gently but persistently.

He shakes his head, and you press a soothing kiss against his spine, moving on to another knot as the first has surrendered to your insistent pressure. You work down either side of his spine before leaning back against the headboard. You pull his back to rest against your chest as you massage down each arm, working at the tension in his forearms and hands. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, breath evening out as you feel him slowly melt into you.

You smile a little to yourself in triumph as you lay his hands on his abdominal muscles, just above his towel.

“Sleep?” You ask softly into his ear, and he shakes his head again. You blink and tilt your head to the side to meet his eyes, the bulge beneath the towel catching your attention. “Ah.” You intone in understanding and shift to press your lips to his, licking into his mouth to meet his tongue. You are careful to keep your actions slow. You have worked hard to calm him down; you don’t need to wake him back up to make him cum.

As you kiss him languidly, pulling at his lower lip with your gentle teeth, your palm slides over the cotton of the towel to encompass, and apply gentle pressure to, his growing erection. You drink in his soft moan, pride bubbling up in your chest. You shift your hips a little as you tug the towel free, letting it lay across his thighs and onto your legs on either side of him.

You teasingly slide your fingertips along his cock, mapping every ridge, every vein, as he grows thicker and harder. Fetching the lube from the beside table with your free hand, you generously pour the smooth liquid over his sensitive flesh, making his hips jump eagerly. He groans your name raggedly along your lips and you smile softly.

“Good?” You ask softly, fingers wrapping around his length completely before sliding along his cock smoothly.

“Yes” He breathes, shifting back against you even though there is hardly any space separating your bodies. His hands rest on your bare knees, long fingers sliding along your skin affectionately.

Your hand glides down his cock before you bring your other hand forward to follow its path, making his head fall back on your shoulder. You lick your lips, swallowing tightly as his hot breath is caressing your neck with each needy exhale. Your hands continue the pattern, following each other downwards from crown to base.

You pause your sliding motions to circle to tip of his cock, collecting the beads of precum leaking from his slit, before wrapping just the thumb and forefinger of your dominant hand around his girth. With rapid strokes, you apply a little more pressure to his weeping length. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as his head lolls on your shoulder. He’s cursing and moaning your name and even begging a little.

“ohpleaseohpleaseohplease…” Austin pants.

His hips are floating, pushing up into your grasp. You press your free hand to his lower abdomen to push him back onto the bed so he doesn’t pull a muscle. You can feel the taught skin of his stomach fluttering erratically, see his heels digging into the bed. He is close. You slide your hand from his abdomen down between his legs to feel his balls have tightened and drawn close to his body. Without the gentle pressure on his hips, they begin thrusting into your hand in time with your strokes. His agonized moan floods right into your ear as you caress his hypersensitive flesh, and his hips snap up harshly as thick ropes of cum paint his stomach and your arms. Softly, you continue to stroke him to prolong his pleasure until his hips finally still.

He is boneless against you as you tug the towel out from beneath him, feeling his shiver as you wipe the cum from both of you. Tossing the towel aside, you reach over to his side of the bed and pull the inverted duvet over him. He sighs a soft declaration of love against your neck before his breathing deepens and he is finally able to rest.

Things only get more hectic after that. The wins rack up at the remaining ceremonies, though it isn’t consistent who takes home a statuette between Austin and Baz; sometimes one or the other, sometimes both, sometimes neither. He is out all the time, making appearances, having meetings, wining and dining Academy voters with breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.

The Oscar campaign is grueling. You support him as best you can, keeping the apartment chaos free; a safe space where he does not need to sell his talent or his wit. He can just be himself with you. You are grateful when the latest project you’re on wraps in February, giving you more time for the rest of the events and the multitude of fittings for what seems to be the most important outfit. At least that is how Austin’s agent, his stylist, Baz, Catherine, and your stylist are behaving.

When the date in mid-March finally arrives, it feels as though you have all run a marathon. It is reminiscent of the end of filming, now just shy of two years ago. It feels surreal as you put on your final, and most elaborate look of awards season. Austin is getting ready in the living room, several people fussing over him. You lean in the doorway to watch quietly, drinking it all in. To think that you would be here, experiencing this with him. You cannot help but feel like it is an out of body experience.

You blink your eyes into focus as he murmurs your name, holding out his hand to beckon you closer. You close the distance between you, taking his hand in yours warmly and lean in to kiss him quickly. You’ve come too close to the stylists and are pulled into your own chair to be fussed over. Trying to be patient, you can still hear him chuckle at the face you must be making from all the attention.

At last, you are both deemed acceptable to leave the house and have barely two minutes alone before the car will be there. You gravitate towards him, setting your hands upon his shoulders.

“However this night ends, I want you to know that what you have accomplished is incredible and I am so proud of you that I could burst…I love you.” He lunges forward, lips sealing yours in a tight kiss. You force yourself to keep your grip on the jacket of his tuxedo, to not muss with his perfectly styled hair. His phone chimes with the notification that the car is ready, and he pulls back with a sigh.

“I love you, too. I…would not have made it this far without you. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead before taking your hand. Your smile is watery as you look up to him lovingly, your chest tight with emotions. Before you head out, you do a quick check to make sure you have everything – wallet, keys, phone, lube packets.

After a heated moment in the bathroom at a Golden Globes after party, you had been sure not to attend anything without a lube packet tucked in your wallet. Condoms were no longer something you two used, taking other precautions instead. You nod that you are ready to go, and the pair of you head out to see what the night will bring.

The traffic is heavier, the line-up is longer, the stakes are higher, the sun is hotter, the nerves are wound tighter, the crowd is larger, and the screams are louder. Everything at the Academy Awards is just more. You part from him at the curb, as usual, taking the non-celebrity path as he steps out behind the curtain to a tsunami of noise. It is harder to see him with this set up, there is so much press and the security guards in your lane are constantly urging you all forward with shouts of ‘Keep Moving! No Pictures!’

Once inside the dark of the theatre lobby, you find a quiet corner to just take a breath, waiting for him. There is a warning call thirty minutes before show time to those on the red carpet to ‘exit immediately and make your way into the theatre.’ Your eyes scan the sudden rush of very famous faces, and you smile as you see him stride in with Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson, Baz, and Catherine. You take a breath to remind yourself that this is in fact your life, and weave through the sea of bodies to grab his hand.

His face is a bit flush, eyes bright from the rush of the circus, as he referred to it. He pulls you close to him, arm around your waist, as the crush pushes you all to your seats. You all share a look as Austin and Baz both have aisle seats. You and Austin are a row behind Baz and Catherine. Tom and Rita are seated to their right. Aisle seats were usually given to those thought to be likely winners. The rest of the rows are filled with studio executives and other department heads who were involved in the Elvis production, but you had honestly never met most of them in your life.

Sitting carefully, you put a hand on Austin’s bouncing thigh and smile encouragingly. He slides his hand down between the seats and yours quickly follows, fingers lacing with his and squeezing reassuringly. You take slow, measured breaths and he is watching your chest rise and fall, mimicking the pace until eases back in his chair a little. People are still milling about, and he stands every so often to chat with those who come over to offer compliments on his performance and the film, to wish him luck, to express interest in collaborating with him. You prickle a little, rather annoyed that the business never stops, even when he can barely breathe from the anxiety.

Catherine turns at this point to engage you in a conversation about your next potential project. You are both grateful and suspicious that she had felt the malice rolling off you in waves. The lights begin to dim, along with the buzz of the crowd, and everyone settles into their seats as the show finally begins. You roll your shoulders back, taking a deep breath to focus on being present. You were here, at the Academy Awards, and though you wanted to fast forward to the categories you cared about, who knew when, or if, you would be back. Soak it in, remember it.

The host is pretty fun, the production slick and enjoyable. You glance at Austin every so often and press your lips together as his own are looking especially plump with the way he constantly tugging and chewing on them. It was a delicious habit that you found both endearing and arousing. Your attention is drawn back to the presenters as Costume Design is being announced. You find yourself biting your own lip as they play the clips from Elvis, to enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

“For Elvis, Catherine...” You don’t hear any more of the presenter’s announcement. You are all surging to your feet, cheering and clapping.

Catherine is hugging Baz and then suddenly she turns and yanks you down in a big embrace. Tears flood your eyes at the recognition, and you do not notice the camera on you. It is the first, but not the last time you appear on the telecast. She makes her way up to receive her Oscar and you are watching her in awe as she so eloquently gives her thank-yous.

“I am, of course, but one person and none of this would have been possible without my incredible department.” Your eyes widened as she lifts the golden statue, pointing the head of it right at you. “Each and every one of you deserve one of these.” Your hands fly to your mouth, and you chew the inside of your cheek, hoping not to cry.

Disappearing for a while down winner’s walk (Austin had explained it to you – a drink backstage, the photo room, then the interview room before you decide to come back or go to the after party), Catherine returns in time to take Production design. She accepts alongside Karen Murphy, completing the circuit one more time. She rejoins your group just as Baz takes Achievement in Directing.

There are more hugs and cheers, the man beside you practically vibrating as he has now added the pressure of not letting the group down to the weight already on his shoulders. Your hand seeks his between the cushions as they present the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role. His grip on your hand is so fierce you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers. You find yourself more than willing to make that sacrifice. The camera is trained on his face, and you are careful to look straight ahead, at the presenters on stage.

“And the winner is…. for Elvis….” The blood is rushing in you ears, the crowd is screaming, everyone around you is leaping to their feet. His grip only tightens on your hand, rings biting into your skin as his other hand comes to cover his face. You turn to him at the movement, see the tears he is trying to wipe away. You swallow and reach out to squeeze his knee, trying to comfort and calm and encourage and congratulate all with one gesture.

His eyes meet yours suddenly, rimmed with tears of disbelief, before his hand reaches out to grip the back of your head and pull you in for a crushing kiss. The noise of the crowd is pushed out of the small bubble around you, tears falling from your own eyes as you return the kiss warmly. You pull back a little, forehead pressed against his. He looks to you, uncertain still…even as he’s just won. You smile broadly and nod encouragingly. You take both his hands and haul him to his feet, Catherine leaning in to help spur him on towards the stage. All of it, of course, is broadcast to millions of television and online viewers.

He makes it to the stage, manages to accept the award despite his shaking hands, and takes a steadying breath before beginning his speech.

“This one…this one is for my incredible partner. My partner who has done everything humanly possible to keep me sane, without whom I would be so very lost…”

You know the camera has stayed with you, can see it out of the corner of your eye, but force yourself to keep eye contact with him…pressing your hands to your chest over your heart as tears of love and adoration steal down your cheeks. It is a line that has never been included in any of his prepared speeches and it takes your breath away.

He manages to make it through the rest of the prepared remarks before he is whisked off backstage and you settle into your seat, glad Catherine has some tissues to share. While they are on a commercial break, someone with a headset creeps up to you, trying not to attract too much attention.

“Mr. Butler would like you to join him, please follow me”

You blink, uncertain if this is normally ‘the done thing’, but you slide to your feet and follow them quickly. They are walking briskly, and you push your legs to keep up with them as they lead you out to the hotel behind the theater. You are led through a maze of halls and velvet ropes, finally coming to a hallway with two large sets of doors on either side, a roped off walkway in between. That is where you find him, walking with Baz out of the room on the left. It is bursting with flashes and calls of his and Baz’s names. His eyes find you immediately and his long legs take him over the rope easily, closing the distance between you with two long strides. He pulls you close, the weight of the award pressing into your back.

“I’m so sorry, it just happened and I…” He is rambling, a ball of energy as all weight has been lifted from him and replaced with pure, unadulterated joy. You press a finger to his lips, smiling brightly.

“Congratulations Austin” You beam, and he takes a steadying breath, kissing your cheek.

“I am going to step through that door right there” He gestures with his Oscar…it must come naturally to anyone who holds one… “and three hundred journalists are going to ask me about you.”

Your cheeks bloom with crimson heat, but you nod to him bravely.

“I expected as much…I trust you…tell them as much or as little as you would like...I don’t promise I’ll be good at being known, but I promise I’ll be here.” You focus on the effervescent blue of his eyes. Just the two of you, everything else was just noise.

The breath is stolen from your lungs as he pulls you close in a crushing embrace, lifting your shoes from the hotel carpet, as he slams his lips against yours in a frantic kiss. Baz is laughing, saying something about how he will go on ahead, but you don’t really register anything until one of the headset wearers is coughing and repeating his name. He reluctantly pulls back, setting you down before smoothing your hair.

“Will you wait here?!” He is so amped up you just laugh and nod warmly as he is pulled inside. You hear a snippet of the applause and see just a fraction of the flash he’s assaulted with before the door closes behind him. You lick your buzzing lips as you follow the staff person around to the exit from the interview room. Everything has taken on the haze of a dream, the twinkle of star dust, at this point. It is utterly apart from any reality you had ever known. Hollywood magic…you snort at the cliché thought but shake your head as your minder looks at you questioningly.

The two of them eventually tumble out of the interview room and Austin seizes your hand as soon as he is able. By now, the last few awards have been given out, so Baz texts Catherine to meet you all at the Governor’s Ball upstairs. Apparently holding your hand does not bring you close enough and Austin’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against his side fully.

“You want to see it?” He holds out the golden statue to you after you’ve been loaded into an elevator.

You carefully take it from him, eyes widening at the weight of it.

“It’s heavy!” You exclaim, watching the way the light reflects off the curves of its surface.

“Over eight pounds!” Baz declares euphorically, quickly finding Catherine as you step out into a party that is well underway.

There is incredible food, an abundance of beverages, and hundreds of people wanting to congratulate him. Throughout it all, he is holding you close in a way that feels possessive, protective, and yet also support-seeking. He reluctantly releases his hold on you to stand at the bar while they engrave his name on the golden statue. You smile warmly, patiently waiting to the side, watching him bask in his well-deserved glory. His eyes glance at yours every so often and you nod in affirmation, as though to say, ‘still here’.

There are countless after parties happening around town, but the only one the two of you want to attend is at the house Baz has rented for awards season. The ride there is filled with companionable silence, both trying to process the night, punctuated with enthusiastic kisses.

As you arrive, the house filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces, all tied to Elvis, erupts in celebration. Fatigue is tugging at your eyes, but the whole night has been pure magic, so you push through your bodies demands to avoid missing a single moment. There are more beverages, celebratory toasts, delicious bite-sized food. Stories are told, songs are sung, dances grace the kitchen floor. Some people are swimming in their formal wear, others retreating to darkened corners to get closer. As the crowd thins, Austin pulls you upstairs to one of the empty rooms.

Fingers are barely functional at this point as you pull his bowtie loose, your progress on the buttons of his shirt is slow and cumbersome. His usual efficiency is lacking as your clothing seems to confound him in the cloud of alcohol and fatigue, in the glow of frenetic celebration. Eventually you are both divested of everything. You remember to pull a few packets of lube from your wallet, setting them on the bedside table, before you both fall into the bed. Sleeping washes over the two of you almost immediately, like a dark, warm blanket.

The realization that neither of you bothered to close the curtains sinks in as the early morning sun pierces through your eyelids. Consciousness is slightly elusive. The first thing you become of aware of is you are still definitely under the influence of…well who knew how many celebratory drinks at this point. It can’t have been very long since your last drink, based on the angle of the sun in the window overlooking the pool. Next, you become aware of Austin’s body pressed against your back, his arms around your torso…clinging. His erection is pressed against your butt, hips the softly undulating as his body is desperate to do something about it.

You lick your lips as your awareness shifts between your own thighs, to your own urgent desires. You reach forward to grab one of the packets of lube, coating your hand before reaching back under the duvet to work it along his length. He moans hungrily into the back of your shoulder, hips bucking to your grip needily.

“Fuck, yes…” He murmurs groggily and you are wondering how awake he is really. “Need you so bad…” He moans your name, and all hesitation is burned away by the flames of primal need. You need him inside you this instant or your body might just incinerate to ash. You shift your hips back against his cock, the head snagging on your entrance as you rock against him enticingly.

His hands find your hips and hold you at just the right angle as he presses into you slowly. There is a burn at the stretch of your unprepared walls, but the pair of you are still in the grips of sleep and intoxication and the slow pace allows you the time to adjust and accommodate his entire cock. His hips rock back and forth, stroking against your sensitive flesh before he begins to thrust in earnest. You are both too far gone to be quiet, to consider how loud your exhales, moans, whimpers, and cries are. Your being has been stripped back to nothing but raw need, and right now you need more. Before you can even think about reaching back to grab a handful of his ass, he is rolling you onto your stomach. His hands find yours, pressing them palm down, fingers laced, into the sheets.

He can apply a lot more force in this position and he wastes no time, hips snapping forward against yours, fucking you into the plush mattress. Your cries are someone dampened in the soft fabric, but his grunts and curses sound freely above you. Each thrust drives the source of your pleasure into the sheets, dragging the sensitive skin along the silky cotton. Your eyes are rolling back into your head, your legs beginning to shake.

“Close?” His voice is gravelly from sleep and lust. It is half statement, half question.

“Yes!” You manage to force the word out of your throat before it seizes in a silent cry as your orgasm blinds you, turning the room into a bright white light as you convulse in ecstasy.

Austin’s hips somehow find a faster pace, beyond your comprehension, driving into you wildly before he howls your name in the sweet agony of his orgasm. You feel the hot ropes of cum as they spill into you. He collapses to your side, and you manage to turn your head to look at him. He is still breathing erratically, his plush lips parted, cheeks flushed, blue eyes sparkling in the morning light. He manages to give you a lopsided grin, which you echo lazily. The shifting light catches the golden statue on the bedside table behind him and your heart swells with pride yet again.

“I love you, Austin Butler.” You slur, afterglow now added to your list of impairments.

“Mmmmm…love you more.” He sighs your name reverently, pressing his lips to yours lazily.

You shift to your side to face him, and he pulls you into his warm embrace. There was an entire world outside, waking up, soon to be clamouring for both of you. But for now, for always, it is just the two of you, together. Home.

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

Tag list: @jazmin2211

Author's Note: Thank you all very much for coming on this journey with me! It honestly started with the intention of a one-shot but somehow turned into all of this! It's been a lot of fun but now it is time to move onto other ideas that have crept into my mind.

#austin butler x reader #austin butler x gn reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler x you #gn!reader #austin butler #elvis2022 #elvis 2022 #austin butler!elvis #blurredcolour #productionfic

260 notes · View notes

micaiahfalkov · 7 months

Text

starter for: @emreakbar

location: mansion somewhere in the scottish countryside

In all honesty, Micaiah had never attended an event like this. He'd seen it in movies at most, on the few rare occasions that he decided to watch any. So, seeing this happen in real life felt almost surreal. Like a fantasy world. He let his eyes wander around the room, trying to figure out where, among the masked figures, Aleksander Malkin was.

Micaiah had never returned to his home commune of St. George, but the Eyes of Eden had spread all over the world, smaller and bigger communes taking foothold in every place they could. When the teleports had opened up, after a period of cowardice, they had finally mustered up the courage to visist the chapterhouse and London - and had found it intact. Ever since then, the few trips off the island Micaiah undertook where to the remnants of the communes. Micaiah couldn't visit them as often as they wished, though they had managed to hire Orion to deliver messages for them.

And that was why they were here. His legs had been troubling him for a while now. The pain had gotten worse, especially if he wore his legs for too long. He knew the prosthetics were a little bit ill-fitting, needed adjustments, new casts. And he still couldn't run with them. He had a wheelchair but that felt... limiting. Frustrating. So, when one of his followers had caught wind of a gathering of former tech-industry giants, Micaiah knew it could be a chance.

Their target was Aleksander Malkin, a genius inventor. And one person who might be able to help Micaiah. He specialized in all kinds of things but one of them was prosthetics. Micaiah knew it was a chance - so they'd not spared any effort. Even asked Tamyra for a suit - and here they were, black suit with a black undershirt and equally black, gold-tinged mask covering their eyes. Visually, they fit in. Now, they just needed to do so socially.

Having held back for now, they finally took a deep breath and pushed away from the shadows below the mezzanine and finally made their way into the main floor. Just to almost run somebody over who'd been jostling by. For once they didn't stumble, instead having to steady the other person by the arm so they didn't fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't look where I was going. Are you alright?" Micaiah offered an apologetic smile as they looked at the man they had almost run over. Despite the mask, something seemed... familiar. Too familiar. After a few seconds, the realization hit. They spoke, forgetting the implicit etiquette of a masquerade ball.

"... Emre?"

#with: emre #pn: emre002 #I wanted this to be shorter #I did not suceed

11 notes · View notes

insu-be · 6 months

Text

·͙⠀⠀hi there ! i'm em { she/her | +21 } and i'm excited to finally be back here at wannabe ( for like the 4th or 5th time?? idr ). i bring to you a new muse that i've been wanting to have for a little while now that has been super loud in my head for at least the past 3-4 months. kang insu. he's my sr media wannabe who comes from a wealthy family ( his father isn't very approving of his 'dream' and refuses to really acknowledge any of it while saying that insu will only bring shame to the family if he continues being 'stubborn' ). he's currently in a band which is a secret from his father ( basically insu has made it seem as if he gave up on his dream of being an idol, planning to really hit his father with the news if he ever debuts, sort of like an 'in your face' moment of sorts ).

i know this is late for an introduction, i usually have one up within an hour of being accepted, but i've been tired from work the past few days and decided to hold off until i was really ready to get things rolling. c: below i'll be listing a few 'fun facts' about insu ( some of which can even be connections/plot ideas and will be labeled as so ). so, if you'd like to plot and get something going for insu and your muse, feel free to like this post and i'll slide into your dm's ! ( also, i apologize for having it set to where he can only receive dm's from those he's following, i forgot to turn that off but it's open now )

insu can come off as the 'i can't stand you' or the 'i don't wanna be here right now' type of person, though really he just has resting bitch face ( only because he lacks the 'fatherly love' and was forced to keep up 'appearances' due to his family background ). very deep down he just wants to be acknowledged and told he's doing a good job... just don't pat his head or anything of the sort because he'll glare ( if looks could kill..... )

when it comes to his mother, she the more supportive out of the family due to having once been a famous pianist. she retired from the industry though after having insu so that she could focus on being a mother and taking care of the family. you could say this is sort of where insu gets his love for music from.

when insu is around his closest friends, he still has that same 'resting bitch face' but he will crack a smile ( and even laugh ) at times when he feels like it. though, only one person has ever really known why he's like this and that's only because they've been best friends since they were little. ( cue childhood friends plot here ! )

from the moment that he joined the band that he's currently in, he's managed to keep his identity hidden with a black facemask and caps/hats ( kinda like how superman can 'hide his identity' with just a pair of glasses? ). this makes it even easier for him to hide this from his father for a few reasons: firstly because his father doesn't listen to music. secondly because he plays the guitar so no one has ever heard his voice besides his own bandmates.

his daily style is a bit more laid back and casual compared to when he's either performing with the band or having to attend the occasional events that his father forces him to attend. gotta keep up with the 'loving' father-son appearance. right?

he's only really ever had a couple ex's which most likely ended due to his 'lack of affection' or lack of being able to really show how he's feeling ( thanks a lot 'dad' ) so he doesn't really bother with beating around the bush now when it comes to rejecting anyone who approaches him. ( open for both ex's and any crushes on him ! )

insu did have a childhood crush long ago when he was a lot younger ( think elementary school/first 'love' type of thing ) but it was probably one-sided and never known to the other person ( another open plot idea to work with ! c: )

he not only wants to be an idol to show his dad that he can do what he loves and can make it on his own. he honestly wants to make music, sing/dance, and just be in the spotlight while receiving love from fans for what he does. it's not just some silly dream for him, it's his passion and he's more than determined to make this his future career if ever given the chance to do so. ( me being the mun that i am, i hope he fails a few times just to torture him a bit hehehe )

other than all of that, or rather those basic facts, insu is pretty much an 'open book' that i'm ready to develop over time and have him go through the ups and downs of going after his dream. this means that i'm open to any and all types of plots/connections whether they're cute ( or at least as 'cute' as they can possibly be with this rbf boy ), angsty, etc. so feel free to hit me up any time because i'm down for getting him out there and even having him ( eventually ) open up more. if you can get him to smile/laugh more? well, that would be greatly appreciated !

#be:intro #｡ﾟ･　✘ 𝐝𝐢𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 ( ooc )#｡ﾟ･　✘ 𝐧𝐢𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚 ( plot call )

6 notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 2 years

Text

Let’s go hard

How y’all been? Y’all still out there? I’ve been kinda busy, hence absent from here, but I’m always watching... waiting... where tf is that Jimin photo folio??? PJMs are MAD I tell you! Phew! I am excited to see something too but the timing is probably tricky with the Busan concert weeks away and all the “pre-show” stuff going on.

Talk about going hard though: a bunch of content was dropped today/tonight/last night. Jin’s Bangtan Bomb of him attending those movie premiers... I really loved seeing how he handled all that. And it still surprises me how uncomfortable he is even though I know this would be in-line with his personality. And now that I think about it, I have never before been exposed to these intimate behind the scenes details from such a global superstar being so candid about such things. It is new and refreshing and makes me love Jin and BTS in general even more.

Hobi’s Crush collab, Rush Hour, is killin’ it. So far every single 2022 BTS collab has been fire. Rush Hour is on all my playlists as is Sexy Nukim along with Bad Decisions (especially the acoustic version), Left and Right, That That and of course With You. Am I forgetting any? Anyway, the choreo pays heavy homage to BTS choreo and at the end of the Rush Hour MV, Hobi does a little bow out/salute while the lyrics are “get up, give it to, this is Crush Hour”... I am not familiar with Crush but they say this is his comeback after being discharged from the military.

[Mic Drop amongst the several BTS choreo that make an appearance in Rush Hour MV]

I love the way every single collab allows the presence of a BTS member to lift up the other artist to the world like a once hidden gem, now shining bright for the entire planet to take notice. I love that so much! BTS STILL doing for the South Korean entertainment industry what no one else can do!

Really, the only one that might be an exception is the PSY/SUGA collab, PSY led the way for BTS. That is my personal opinion. Though PSY was already known outside South Korea, SUGA on That That expanded that audience by millions.

And now to the main event of this post:

FINALLY! English subs are up on Jimin’s WeLive. Of course I’ve already read other translations but it’s nice to finally see the “official” subtitles (whether they are entirely accurate or not) and I like to actually see his facial expressions and body language as he says what he says. That important context is totally lost whenever you just read the translations on Twitter.

But the general vibe is that Jimin is fine. He says he’s been living an emotionally even-keeled and peaceful existence, working on his music and then vegging out as his lazy-couch-potato-self at home.

From some of the things he said about his state of mind in the past, he had some anxiety going on back then, we’ve known that, but now he really seems to have that under control. He made a wavy up and down motion while he was talking about “before.” He has said in the past that when he started running back in 2021, it helped him a lot mentally. My takeaways: 2020 did a number on him mentally. He struggled mightily. In 2021 he discovered running helped his anxiety and he has since changed his lifestyle for the better. Then he made a straight-line motion to show us how he feels these days. All good things. I am very proud of him.

He mentioned several times that he wants to be pretty for us all the time and for a long time in the future and this is why he takes care of his body and appearance. He’s been eating healthy and working out. He said: “I am an idol.” So, please understand that Jimin takes his vocation seriously. He lives to be an idol and he does what he feels he needs to do in order to maintain the level of “idol” that he wants to be. I know his constant talk about his weight and appearance don’t always sit well with some. I think it is just Jimin reassuring us that he knows what he’s doing and not to worry about him and this is why he cares so much about his weight and appearance.

But he is concerned that he’s not danced in a while and says he needs to get back into that. I have zero doubt he’ll have no problems brushing off the rust. He mentioned maybe dancing or dance lessons being the focus of his next WeLive. HELL YEAH! Bring Jungkook with you, Jimin! and have one of y’all’s late night dance practices like you used to do! Seriously though, I would love to see them do various dance styles and moves and then talk about the differences and their thoughts about doing them.

And the pole dancing... I’ve seen a few videos of a male pole dancer and it really is very graceful and lovely and omg the strength required to be able to do those moves...just wow. I hope Jimin somehow sees these videos and really does consider trying it because if anyone can pull it off, it would be him. I would love to see his spin (har har pun) on pole dancing.

He talked about getting braces (and that he is sort of over it) and that he has another wisdom tooth to get out but also, being at the dentist gives him “out of body experience” anxiety (cries).

He read one of the comments during the live that was something about the commenter being only 5 years old when BTS debuted and though Jimin questioned that a 5 year old could understand the deep lyrics of their music at that time, Jimin did the math, determined the commenter’s age (about 14) and him being 28, he said 14 years is not that big of a difference. Now, I’ve seen a few people raise an eyebrow at this (putting that mildly, it was antis looking for anything to latch on to in order to be hateful) but when I saw Jimin say this, my interpretation was that he meant the young Army’s age was not out of line for being a fan, just like someone who would be 14 years OLDER than he. Armys are ALL AGES and he knows that.

Then Tae hops into the comments and flexes his “I will make them update Weverse to have the ability to do simultaneous broadcasts.” I’m sure the Weverse developers shit their pants when they saw him say that. YOU GO KIM TAEHYUNG! MAKE IT SO!

Jimin said he wants to show us his music that he’s working on but it’s not a simple process. He said coming in to work really is his passion these days, as he put it... “coming to the company is like clocking out, not clocking in.” So that tells me he is really enjoying what he’s doing and to him, it’s not work, it’s his passion. I love that for him and I’m glad he said it out loud.

Then the whole moon tattoo “reveal/not a reveal” HAHAHAHAHA! Wow though, kudos to artist @ArizzoStudios on Twitter for being THE CHOSEN ONE that Tae showed to Jimin and then Jimin following through with the inspiration to get the other moons tattooed on his back. Just wow. I cannot wait to see them. I am also so thrilled that he is even bringing up such personal things like his tattoos. We’ve never heard such open talk about them before. We’ve come a long way from Jungkook hiding all of his tattoos with long sleeves and tape to now showing HD photos of them on social media and Jimin talking about them openly and how they came to be.

He tried to give us a peek of the moons. That’s when someone said “go easy, Jimin” and he laughed! “It’s my body so I will go hard if I want to!” HA!

He talked about how long his hair had gotten and of course, that he had permed it supposedly right before he came on the live, and then he made the remark that last time he cut it short (right before the Las Vegas concerts), he had some self reflection on why he did that, but he didn’t share why, but sounded like he was going to try to maintain it at a longer length for the time being. I love long hair Jimin.

He gave us some insight into how he feels about Instagram versus other social media like Weverse. The difficulty for him with Instagram is that he feels like he is just uploading images into a photo album because he gets no feedback on it (since comments are turned off). We know its possible on Weverse for him to have real communication with Army and on Twitter, he can see comments on his posts. For us, we like that he is shielded on Instagram from the toxicity that exists, but at the same time, he is prevented from seeing anything positive as well. Maybe he will learn how to write captions for his IG posts or post stories and therefore feel like he is able to communicate a little more there. My other takeaway from this information coming from him is that Park Jimin has no need for social media. Only Jimin of BTS needs it. If he was using social media for his own personal use on accounts that we no nothing about, then he would be more at ease and fluent using them.

He promised he would come around again this weekend, maybe we will see him again in a few hours!

Also. You know...Jimin saying he will get Tae to come on live with him and also ask Jungkook as well. I’ve been thinking... I want to try to express my thoughts on how I see he and Tae relate to each other versus how I see Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. Both very different relationships. But has it all been said before already? Is it worth another post?

Something random that caught my attention: Jimin absentmindedly hummed 7 notes of a tune and then later 5 notes of something… clues to new music he has floating around in his head maybe? I guess time will tell.

#park jimin #weverse live translations #kim seokjin #crush x jhope collab #jimin #hobi #jin #someone please give jimin some hair clips #kim taehyung

28 notes · View notes