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creepycrawliesanonymous · 11 months

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To All The Boys I've Written About Before - Beige Flags

In my never-ending quest to make things that appeal only to me, here's a little exercise for all the boys in my arsenal.

Angel Torres will always help you out around the house, no question about that, but boy will he act like he's a hero for simply loading the dishwasher. I'm talking wiping his brow every time you walk into the kitchen, grunting when he puts a plate on the drying rack. You offer to help but he flat out refuses, and will probably say some shit like "My hands look like this [soapy] so yours can look like that [slightly dirty from repotting your plants]."

Jesse Pinkman will call you "dude" until the end of time. It doesn't matter what stage of your relationship you are currently in, you will always and forever be "dude" to him. "Yo dude, do you want to grab Wendy's on the way home?""Dude, you look pretty today." You could be at the alter and it would be a "Dude, I do." He also 100% buys in to the "glasses make you smarter" myth.

Lemon bought himself a label-maker, and that man LOVES makin' labels. All the drawers in your flat are labeled, so are the spices (even if they already have labels), he labels which food belongs to who, all the wires/cables have a label for what kind of wire/cable they are and what they're for. You told him that you could probably remember which clear jar holds the salt and which holds the ginger-snaps, so he made the label "fuck off" and stuck it to your forehead.

Tangerine refuses to call menu items by their proper names, especially if they're stupid. A matcha latte is "green foamy shit, you know." If the dish is named after someone, this chicken shop you frequent has an Ike's Famous Wings Bowl, he will call it "that bloke's chicken thing, the one with all the spices and shit on it." The worst was when he wanted to order the Foxx on the Roxx Boxx from TGI Fridays (yes that's the spelling, I looked it up), he straight up would not say its name, he just kept pointing at the menu and saying "fucking- this one."

Harvey SDV, sweet man that he is, will always sign off his text messages. It doesn't matter how long or short the message is. There's the standard "darling, I'm running a little bit late, would you like me to pick up something for dinner? Dr H" but there's also the "okay honey (: Dr H" or the "[insert picture of flower] Dr H". You've tried to explain to him that you know that it's him, that he doesn't need to sign off every time he messages you, but it's no use.

Andrew Neiman loves to collect random bits of niche trivia, but will straight up forget incredibly basic things. You two were out at a live music venue, sipping on your tasty little beverages, and he'll just bust out something about the similarities between jazz and Indian music, and while he's expanding on the influence of Ravi Shankar on Coltrane, he'll flip through the menu in front of him and ask you what margarine is.

Carmen Berzatto, common knowledge at this point, always keeps a book on him, which on its own is a very good thing. It keeps him from getting bored, you think it makes him look smart, it's a win by all accounts. But, save for when he's at work, he will whip that book out whenever there's any sort of lull in a conversation or if he's not physically doing something. You were talking to him about weekend plans, and he'll be listening intently because he's a good boyfriend who cares about your thoughts, but as soon as you go quiet to turn around to grab something he's flipping open his copy of The Reivers to quickly read a sentence.

Randal Graves loves to fake propose at restaurants for free shit. He makes a big thing out of it, will pull you aside before you enter Olive Garden and show you the tiny plastic ring he's used about three times already and whisper about the ruse he's about to pull, and all you can do is nod along with him. He's gotten more elaborate each time, from the basic garden-variety proposal, to putting it in your water, to asking to have it put in your Chipotle burrito (you had nearly swallowed it that time), managing to score a few free desserts and, at one point, a bottle of cheapo champagne that he got so incredibly slurshed on at home.

Warren Rojas has this game he likes to play whenever you two go to bars or nightclubs where he will pretend like you two don't know each other just so he can hit on you in the most cheesy ways known to man. Asking to buy you a drink, dumb pick-up lines, saying shit like "My name is Warren, but you can call me anytime." It's so incredibly dumb and he gets the biggest kick out of it. One time when you and Eddie were having a conversation at a party he totally pulled out the "Is this guy bothering you, babe?" He thinks he's so funny.

Jimmy Bartlett, whenever you two are cuddling, will set a timer so he knows when to switch from big spoon to little spoon. He'll bring up the egg timer from the kitchen and set it to 20 minutes before he joins you on his bed. You'll be half asleep after a long shift from work with his head buried in the back of your neck, and the next thing you know he's shuffling around while tiny beeps are sounding and he's somehow got your arms around him before you even realize what's happening, before drifting off again. He says it's only fair.

Miguel O'Hara is like a big dog with the temperament of a house cat; thinks he takes up less space than he does and always at least slightly grumpy. He'll get confused when he goes to put on a sweater that was originally yours (the communal wardrobe holds no prisoners) and finds it tight around his biceps. He knocks his forehead on low doorways constantly, you've taken to shouting 'duck' whenever you see him about to go through one. Watching movies on the couch with him, during a rare moment of peace, can be an ordeal because he always wants to lie down on top of you and you don't have the heart to tell him that he's crushing your lungs.

#angel torres x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #lemon x reader #tangerine x reader #harvey sdv x reader #andrew neiman x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #randal graves x reader #warren rojas x reader #jimmy bartlett x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #the gang's all here #multifandom preferences

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thesandwichdaddy · 12 days

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Drumsticks

{Andrew/Rebecca-Whiplash}

(TW: substance use, smoking)

This is not proofread at all 😭. Rebecca is an original character. I will make more parts to this. Not really proud of this but ily 🫶🏻

3.2k words

Rebecca’s first week at Shaffer was really disappointing to her. Still, though it wasn’t the best, she appreciated the small gym and tennis court they had. It seemed like there was no one who went to Shaffer, all the students being quiet and distant.

She did manage to make a friend, though, a small preppy girl at the tennis court who just hit the ball against the net by herself. So, Becca, being the nice person she was, offered to be her partner and even her friend. The girl was thrilled, and so they often played tennis together when Becca wasn’t drumming away, with Fletcher giving a new piece every week.

It was hard to keep up with, but she managed. She didn’t let the class consume her mind, not like Andrew. Andrew was quite the character for Becca. A tall, awkward boy who would die to be core drums was a constant battle for Becca. At first, they were too awkward to even talk or complain about who was playing that day. It was painfully awkward for Becca.

The first day Andrew was moved into Becca’s music class, afterwards Becca swore he had been following her a bit. She felt his eyes on her, glaring as she left for her dorm. Then, once she was on the tennis court with her friend, she noticed him walking past, his eyes meeting hers, and then quickly looking away.

A few weeks later, the arguments between her and Neiman became frequent. They were almost like children fighting over whose turn it was and who could get the attention of Fletcher more.

“What did I tell you about adjusting my goddamn seat?” Andrew said with a scowl, leaning down to push down the seat to the drums as they set up for the day. “It’s not my fault you're huge, dude. I can't even see past the drums when it’s like that."She retorted as she set her water bottle down next to her, sitting in the seat beside the music stand. “I’m not huge; you’re just small. And weak,” Andrew said as he sat, not bothering to give her a glance. Becca shook her head a bit, annoyed, as she just ignored him, grumbling under her breath. “And it isn’t your seat..." Andrew ignored it, practicing as he tried to drown out her presence beside him.

Most days were like this: constant bickering and insults being thrown left and right. But one particular day, it became worse—way worse. Fletcher made the decision to make Becca the core drummer, thus giving her the spot to perform at their upcoming concert. She was happy about this and pleasantly surprised. But not Andrew. His eyes burned holes into Becca as he glared her down. It was the breaking point for him. How could she just steal his place that he worked so hard for just like that? He despised her nonchalant attitude about it as well. She didn’t know how badly he wanted—no—needed to play. This was his life, his everything.

As Becca walked out of class, Andrew was quick to rush over, walking with her. “What the fuck was that?? What did you do??” He immediately questioned her, which earned a confused look from Becca as she kept walking. “What do you mean, ‘what did I do’? I fucking earned that spot; that’s what I did.” She retorted, not in the mood for his fits. Andrew harshly grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to stop and look at him. “You had to have done something. He wouldn’t just replace me like that,” he said, his brows furrowed as he looked down at her. He was breathing hard and really worked up about this. Becca looked at him in disbelief, giving a slightly amused smile at this. “You sound crazy, Andrew. Just accept that I’m better than you.” She said, his large hand still on her shoulder, holding on tightly. This made Andrew even more pissed, his jaw tensing. “You’re not better than me. You know what? I bet you fucking opened your legs for him, didn’t you?” He said it harshly at her. Really, Andrew didn’t mean it, but he was too mad to stop himself now. Becca looked at him in disbelief, beyond anger, as she shoved his arm off her. “You are disgusting, Andrew.” She growled, going to walk again, but was stopped by Andrew once again turning her around, now with both of his hands tightly on her shoulders. “You haven’t earned shit, have you? You slut—“He was cut off by a harsh slap from Becca, making him back off and hold his face in slight shock from it. Becca looked at him in disbelief and anger. “Fuck you, Andrew.” She said that before going to leave, Andrew was just watching. The slap hurt, but in the best way possible for Andrew. He caught his breath. He didn’t actually mean what he said, but that slap was definitely deserved. For some reason, his focus now wasn’t so much on the drums as on Becca. He sighed, his face red from both the slap and his feelings. He had really messed himself up this time.

——

It was weird after that—quiet. Andrew didn’t talk to Becca, and she didn’t talk to him either. She played and practiced while Andrew turned her pages. It would feel rewarding for her if she hadn’t felt bad about him not playing. She had to admit that it got to her.

Andrew was caught in his feelings, confused. While a big part of him was dealing with the disappointment of not playing, the other part couldn’t stop thinking about Becca. It wasn’t just envy this time; this was a crush. He scowled at that thought. How childish of him to have a crush, he thought. Now that he thought about it, the last crush he had was in high school, but even then, it was nothing more than the usual teenage boy hormones. This was different; this felt real. Too real. He was a mess.

——

Becca was slacking. Her drumming became sloppy as her mind was ridden with the guilt of taking Andrew's place. He was a much better drummer; she knew that. Was this what she wanted? She didn’t think so. So here she was, standing outside of Fletcher’s office after class with her sticks in her hand, mentally preparing herself to talk to him.

She gave a soft knock, wincing as she did. She started to think that he didn’t hear until she heard a deep voice boom on the other side. “Come in.” And she did, nervously closing the door behind her. Fletcher looked at her with intrigue; his brows furrowed as he gestured for her to sit. Becca took a seat on the other side of his desk and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure how he’d take this, but she hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. “Mr. Fletcher, I was hoping you would reconsider who’s on the core drums for the concert.” She said, ripping off the bandaid and being straight forward. Fletcher put down whatever papers he was looking at and crossed his arms, leaning back as he looked at her and thought to himself.

“So did you feel bad about your boyfriend, or are you just pussying out?” Fletcher asked, obviously not pleased. Becca slightly winced at his answer, half expecting it. She ignored the boyfriend's comments at this point, being used to them. "No, uh," she sighed, not knowing how to put it. She sort of did feel bad for her boyfriend—no, Andrew. Becca looked at Fletcher, thinking. He waited with an impatient look on his face. Becca continued, “I think Andrew deserves this more than I do.” She said finally, earning an interested look from Fletcher. It was hard to decipher his emotions most of the time. It was odd to see him so interested, though. Becca was prepared for worse. It was almost like he had expected this, oddly enough.

——

As promised, Andrew got the core drums again. When Fletcher said he had just changed his mind and wanted Andrew back, he looked to Fletcher with shock, feeling like he had found purpose again. Becca was thankful that Fletcher didn’t say anything about their talk. Andrew glanced at her briefly as the news was told, trying to get a read on her emotions. But he was met with nothing but a neutral expression on Becca’s face. He assumed she would be upset. Or maybe she was, but she was good at hiding it? Now he felt a bit bad. Just a little thought, it was nice to finally get a distraction from his feelings now that he had something to work on. Why was she so quiet? Did she hate him? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her.

——

Andrew was going insane. The concert was tomorrow, and he couldn’t focus on anything. Andrew was pretty sure he was having a panic attack, and it was nearly in the middle of the night. He hated when these would happen. He was overwhelmed and more stressed than Elvis Presley. There was so much to think about—too much to think about. His mind didn’t stop, tormenting him with thoughts of the concert, his family, and Becca.

Andrew had to do something. He was pacing around his dorm like a tiger in a cage, his anxiety gnawing at him underneath his skin. He needed someone, his mom—god no, a friend. There was only one person he could think of, and that was to see Becca. It was late, and he had no idea how she even felt about him, but he needed this feeling to go away. Andrew thought he was the biggest creep for this, but he knew what dorm she stayed in because he happened to watch her walk in. He also happened to know that she played tennis on the court right next to her dorm. And he also happened to know that every morning she got a cream cheese bagel for breakfast at the campus cafe. God, maybe he did have a problem. Andrew prayed that she wouldn’t be asleep as he quickly stepped out of his dorm, marching over to hers, which was a whole building away. It gave Andrew time to think as he felt the warm air against his face. He was walking way too fast for anyone to think he was just taking a casual walk. His breaths were short and his chest felt tight as he walked, eventually making it to her dorm, where he repeated the door number a million times on the way there so he wouldn’t forget.

Andrew gave a knock, softer than a pounding but loud enough to come off urgent. Despite his prayers, Becca answered, obviously just having woken up. Her hair was so beautifully messy, and a baggy t-shirt almost covered the shorts she wore underneath it. He wondered if he had a shirt that size; maybe she needed one of his—he needed to stop. Becca looked at him with surprise, rubbing her eye a bit as she held the door open. “Andrew?” She asked, her voice a bit groggy. “Becca,” he said, looking at her as he breathed hard, trying to get out his words. “Please, can I come in?” He asked with a bit of desperation in his voice.

Becca knew something was off with Andrew, and she was worried. She nodded, opening the door as he came in, and she shut the door, looking at him. Andrew quickly looked around and then turned to her. His voice panicked as he started to feel that anxiety again. "Becca, I’m freaking out about tomorrow.” He said, his voice shaking a bit as he swallowed. It was mostly true, just that he left out the part where he also couldn’t stop thinking about her. Becca gave a slightly thoughtful look, still a bit surprised that he was here. The question of how he knew where she stayed didn’t seem to cross her mind just yet. She saw his desperation, feeling a bit sorry for him as she spoke. “You’re having a panic attack?” She asked, which Andrew thought about for a moment. “Yes.” He said it softly, his hands shaking. Becca motioned for him to sit next to her on the couch, and he did, looking forward as he focused on his shaky breath. As Becca woke up a bit more, she glanced at the clock across the room, which was reading 1:15 AM. This had to be really bad for him to be over at this time.

Becca thought about what she should do. She was never good at words, and comforting Andrew seemed like the most difficult task at the moment. Andrew sat there quietly, trying not to look at her beside him because he knew once he did, he’d crumble and try to latch onto her. He didn’t want to do that just yet; he wanted to try to have some sort of self-control for once in his life. With a sigh, Becca finally moved across the room to grab a small metal box, bringing it over. Andrew glanced over with confusion at it, and she opened it. “Have you ever smoked before?” Becca asked, moving the small grinder out of the way to pick a blunt. Andrew looked at her a bit apprehensive, surprised she even had this. “N-No, why are..." He trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. Andrew had always been a good boy, never finding the need for things like this. Maybe occasionally a drink, but he didn’t have a problem. “It helps me when I’m freaking out and can’t sleep.” She answered his question, looking at him. Her expression seemed much softer than before when she looked at him. She waited for him to verbally consent; she wasn’t going to pressure him into anything. She just wanted to help. He gave a nod, sitting up straight and looking at her. “Okay.”

——

So here he was, his lungs slightly burning and his pupils blown out as he lay next to Becca on her humongous couch. “Becca?” Andrew's groggy voice spoke as he turned his head to see her, breaking the long silence between them. Becca met his gaze, her eyes red and slightly lidded. “Yeah?” Andrew swallowed hard, his nerves calmed way more than they had earlier. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, studying her face. “For saying that stuff to you, and for taking the core drums.” Becca turned on her side to look at him, her head propped against her arm. He really did mean it, and he needed to get it off of his chest. He wanted to fix things between them funnily enough. Becca bit back on the urge to tell him that it was her decision to get him on core drums again, but she decided it would be nicer if she didn’t. “It’s okay, Andrew; don’t even worry about it.” She spoke softly, her eyes tracing his jawline. Relief washed over him as he stared into her eyes, calm and high. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve kissed her over and over right there and run his hands over her skin for hours, but he didn’t. “You’re still in your clothes from this morning.” Becca said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Andrew snapped out of his trance, barely hearing her. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He said with a slight smile, looking down at his wrinkled dress shirt and slacks.

There was another silence between them as Andrew looked up at the ceiling, his breaths slowing as his body finally calmed. He was tired, not wanting to worry about anything at the moment. Becca was still observing him, moving her hand to brush his hair slightly out of his face. “You’ll do great tomorrow, Andrew; don’t stress.” She whispered to him, meaning it. Andrews jaw tensed, his breathing starting to become hard as he refused to look at her. One look, and he’d break into tears. He knew it. Becca noticed this, moving closer with a soft look on her face. “Andrew,” she whispered. He shook, a small, painful whimper escaping him as he finally took a breath after holding his breath to stay quiet, something he learned from his childhood. “Hey.” She said, reaching to touch his shoulder just before Andrew sat up sharply. “No.” He said, pained and surprisingly stern. Becca sat up, confused and worried. “What’s wrong, Andrew?” She asked, looking at him as he hunched over and shook slightly. He shook his head, refusing to let his tears fall as he silently panicked. This was the worst thing ever for him; he didn’t want to cry in front of anybody, especially Becca.

He couldn’t speak, his throat and lungs burning from both holding his breath and holding his tears. He ruined the moment. He ruined everything. He should just go. Becca was silent, standing once he did, and she tried approaching again just for Andrew to hold out a hand to stop her. “N-no, please don't..." He said, making it to the door. Becca was beyond confused; a million questions were going through her head. Did she do something wrong? “I’ll see you tomorrow, Becca.” He says, not wanting to face her as he leaves, closing the door. Becca was left silent, looking at the door. She was really worried.

——

Andrew made it to his dorm, immediately going to his bed as he covered his face, finally letting out the cry he needed. He felt pathetic. He hated comfort. He needed comfort. He wanted to stay away from Becca. He longed for Becca. He hated this. He hated his stupid parents and the stupid trauma that made him this way. He wanted so badly for Becca to forgive him and his ways.

He eventually fell asleep, his tear-stained face buried in the pillow that he tightly clutched. He just hoped he was ready tomorrow and that Becca didn’t hate him.

#whiplash #original character #whiplash x reader #andrew neiman x reader #andrew neiman

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extremelyboredandanxious · 2 years

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Curiosity Killed the Cat (2)

Andrew Neiman x Figure Skater!reader

R U MINE? "I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be; and satisfaction feels like a distant memory"

a/n: instead of blushing when y/n gets embarrassed or flustered , I used "invading eye-contact" as an alternative. + sorry this part might seem really long, might not be able to update for a while

Every other Friday, Andrew and his father either went to the movies or a random restaurant Andrew's father was dying to try. Although, this night was a bit different. His father wasn't able to make it, and instead sent Andrew money to buy take-out at the restaurant his father had been rambling about. As he entered the restaurant, he took a second to check out his surroundings, it looked like a combination of a bar and an 80s restaurant. He took a mental note to check out the Jukebox.

"Didn't think I'd see you here, you're stalking me now?" A familiar voice said, "y/n? you work here?" he asked. "Been working here since the beginning of the year, what brings you here?" she asked. "I'd usually be here with my dad but he wasn't able to make it" he explained, "there goes your partner in crime" she said, earning a small chuckle from him. "Anyways, you ready to order" she asked, "surprise me" he said, "if you say so" she said, relaying the order to chef.

"Didn't know you had a boyfriend y/n" her coworker, Nikolai said, causing her to lightly shove him. "He's not my boyfriend, I just met him last week" she replied, "but you think he's cute?" Nikolai questioned, "yeah, a bit" she admitted. "So do something about it!" He exclaimed, "Jesus, keep your voice down!" she said, the duos conversation was cut short by the chef handing out Andrew's order to y/n. "Orders ready" she said softly, observing his concentrated face as he skipped through each of the songs on the Jukebox. "Thanks," he said handing her money.

It was like a lightbulb flickered over her head as she had most brilliant idea. "Are you free Monday night? There's this movie I'd think you'd like, and I happen to have the blu-ray version of it" she asked. Andrew's mind went blank for a second, "Yeah, I'm free" was all he managed to say, mentally cringing at how he sounded. "Can I get your number then? In case anything comes up" he asked holding out his phone. The duo exchanged numbers, Andrew putting his contact name with a ':)' at the end. "See you Monday" Andrew said, internally celebrating, "Cya!" she said as he exited. "Real smooth, you're gonna have to teach me that line one day" Nikolai teased.

MONDAY (italics = text messages)

Andrew stared at the numbers "511". He debated if he should wait a few more minutes before knocking, or if he should just get it over with. He knocked on the apartment door, and soon y/n unlocked it. He stared at her for a few moments, taking in her appearance. "Hey! you made it" she said with a small smile, as she let him in. He looked around her room, her many skating and academic awards were on a shelf on the left side of her room, along with a small desk with a sewing machine and what looked like a costume. On the wall behind her bed, there were posters of her favorite music artists, as well as figure skaters he didn't recognize. Lastly, the desk by her bed had a bunch of family and baby pictures, followed by cheesecake sleeping on the edge of bed.

"Make yourself at home" She said as she put on the movie, and grabbed a bunch of snacks from her snack drawer. "What's the movie about anyways?" he asked as he laid on the bed, "If I told you, it would be a spoiler" she said as she awkwardly laid beside him. Both of them struggling a bit to lay on the twin size mattress, "for the price we pay for these apartments, I'd think the beds would be a bit bigger" Andrew commented. "You should've brought your mattress over and combined them" she added. Eventually the two settled on a more comfortable position, y/n rested her head on his chest, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "You comfortable?" Andrew questioned, "very comfortable" she said, breaking eye-contact with him as she played the movie.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked him, propping herself on her elbow, he nodded in response. "I'm going to assume you enjoy playing the drums, do you think you could live without playing them?" she asked. "No way, I've been playing the drums since I could walk, it would feel weird if I stopped, for whatever reason" he responded, "I got into Schaffer because I wanted to pursue it as a career" he added. "Holy shit! That's amazing, you should give me your autograph, I could resell it when your super famous!" She exclaimed, "Don't get me wrong, it's great school but I'm only an alternate drummer" he sighed. "I wanna earn my spot in the core band" he added, "and you will! Everyone starts somewhere, doesn't matter if you're an alternative or not, doesn't deny the fact that you're capable".

"What's the story with you and skating?" He asked, "Well, it was my mom's idea actually, she put me up for it when I was 6, won my first competition when I was 8, never stopped since" she began. She told him about how it expensive it was, but how much she managed to accomplish. "Sectionals are in 3 months, If I make it the top 4, then I move on to regionals" She added. "Would you mind If I watched you skate at Sectionals?" Andrew asked, now staring at ceiling. "You'd really come?" She said, excitement laced in her voice, "Of course I would" He responded.

"Only on one condition, I get to watch you perform on stage" she reasoned, "Deal" he said. Hours later, the duo finished the movie. "Are you free in 2 weeks, there's this really good pizza place, I'd like to you take you out to" he said. "I should be free," she said, "great, it's a date! If you want it to be, I-". "It's a date," she confirmed, a bright smile on her face, "good luck with drumming, don't overwork yourself!" she added as they walked to the door, "same goes to you, goodnight y/n" he said before exiting.

#whiplash 2014 #whiplash #andrew nieman x reader #andrew neiman #andrew nieman #miles teller #fanfic #miles teller x reader #andrew neiman x reader

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thecitysgraveyard · 9 months

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im gonna start writing for andrew neiman :) okay well you can request smut, fluff or angst

you can give prompts if you want :>

#kurt's daydreams #kurt talks too much <3 #andrew neiman #andrew neiman x reader #andrew neiman smut #<3

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lokis-army-77 · 2 years

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andrew neiman smut with him and another drummer threatening to take his spot ?

Come and Take Them

Andrew Nieman x female reader

Word Count: 3407

Reader and Andrew are competing with one another to become the main core drummer for Fletcher's jazz band. One day they have an argument when no one else is in the room, and hate sex ensues.

Warning: 18+ Literal smut. dom/sub dynamics, Sir kink, over stem, squirting. degradation, hate sex, use of the word whore.

A/N: I think I got a little carried away...

Masterlist (taglist linked here)

A month, that’s how long it had been since I joined Terence Fletcher’s jazz band at school. A month of subjection myself to unwarranted ridicule and harsh beratings all because I needed to prove I was the better drummer.

I have no conceivable idea as to how this competition started but it has been going on since I came to Shaffer Conservatory to learn. Andrew Nieman, whom I thought was a sweet, puppy-esk boy, turned out to be my arch nemesis.

We had both started off in a regular, first-year jazz band before Fletcher found each of us practicing one day by ourselves. I can still remember the look on Neiman’s face when he found me sitting at those drums when he walked into class. “This can’t be fucking happening.” He had muttered as he took the alternate seat beside me. From then on out our friendly competition turned into full out war and only one of us could win.

Setting at the drums as everyone packed and left the music room, I watched as they all filed out, going over the song in my head. So lost in thought, I had not realized that Andrew was still sitting beside me on his own stool.

Once everyone was out and the door was fully closed, he said, “You aren’t getting my spot you know.”

I swiveled around on the chair. “Your spot? I think you mean my spot. I am far better than you when it comes to drumming. It took you what? Two extra days to actually get the timing right on Caravan? Just admit it Nieman, you will never have the core spot, ever.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.” I watched as he fisted his hands atop his legs, knuckles turning white.

“Wow, real mature,” I scoffed, turning back to the drum set to practice some more before going home.

You could feel the tension in the room, like a thick fog swirling around. The sound of my hitting the drums didn’t help either. Andrew stayed behind me, I could feel his unblinking angry stare. I stopped my playing to turn to him.

“Do you fucking mind?”

“Yeah, I do you’re on my drum set.”

“The hell it is, go find some practice room to play in, I'm sure you still need help on your time signatures.”

“Give me the sticks.” He demanded, holding out his hand.

“No.” I snatched them away.

“Give them to me, now.”

“Come and take them.” I challenged, ready to pop up from my stool in a heartbeat. We sat staring one another down, the build-up akin to one of those old western standoffs. Then, Andrew did something I wasn’t expecting, he raced forward, causing me to shift back, and kissed me.

His lips were soft in contrast to the harsh, wanting way he was kissing me. I was stunned for only a second before beginning to kiss him back. It was all tongue and teeth, hate and loathing, there was no romance or love in anything we were doing.

I swatted at his hands as he pulled me up from my seat. He paid me no mind as he planted one hand on my waist, fiddling with the band of my skirt, and the other up on my neck, his long fingers trailing into my hair. To my displeasure, a moan flew through my open mouth when he pulled away to start kissing and sucking down my neck.

“I fucking hate you.” I gasped when he gave my neck a hard bite. I hated myself more for liking it though, I could feel the heat pooling between my legs.

He moved away from my neck only slightly to say, “Hate you more.” Then we went straight back to littering my neck with marks.

As the room became hotter, I moved my hands from slightly hovering over his sides to desperately pulling at his pale blue button-up. He understood what I meant as he pulled away from me to throw it off, as well as his undershirt. I followed him, quickly pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere about the room.

We met back together, skin touching skin, teeth clacking with teeth. He was rough as he pulled me with him on the back wall, practically slamming me against it. I was caged there between his arms. It was then, that I got a brilliant idea. Although I did want to get off, I was not going to be the first to lose myself. I had to win in all things and hate sex was no exception.

I pulled away from him, smiling devilishly and we watched me slowly sink to my knees between him and the wall.

“What are you-”

“Shut up Nieman.” I interrupted, pulling the zipper of his pants down, exposing his hard cock hidden beneath his plaid boxer shorts. Reaching my hands up, I rubbed along the hardness, grasping it firmly when I came along the base.

“Fu-uck.” I heard him gasp above me. I smiled knowing I could for sure make him cum in no time at all.

Taking a deep breath in, I finally pulled his boxers down, shimming them to his ankles along with his pants. His cock stood at full attention, slapping against his bare stomach. The tip was a harsh red in comparison to his overall pale skin. Just a little below average in size but he made up for it in what I could only describe as a god-like girth and a slight curve to the right.

My hand came up to give him a few experimental tugs and as I did so, his hips immediately started to buck. “Someones needy.” I laughed, only to have him yank up on my hair, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“You have to be so fucking annoying all the time don’t you?”

“Only to you.” I rolled my eyes and smiled sweetly before going back to pumping his cock. I watched as a tiny bead of pre-cum started to show itself on the tip, my thumb swiped over it, dispersing the substance around his head, causing him to shudder.

Slowly, I brought my tongue to his base, the trimmed hair around his cock tickling my chin. I swiped up, following along one of the veins which protruded under his skin. I could feel him shudder above me.

I licked and licked like he were a sucker or a popsicle until I felt I had had enough. Then, without warning, I took him into my waiting mouth. Saliva pooled around him at his taste, musk, and salt. The weight of him on my tongue felt nice, especially as he twitched against it in reaction to my pressing it into that certain vein along the bottom

My hands rested on his thighs as I started to suck on him, bobbing my head up and down his shaft. I could tell he was trying to keep his noises to himself, not wanting me to hear how I made him feel, but I could hear every muffled moan and deep intake of breath, especially as I brought him deeper into my mouth.

When I started to hum in satisfaction as I brought him in and out, I felt him lean forward, bracing the hand that wasn’t holding my hair in a death grip, on the wall.

“Ahh, shit.” He breathed out through clenched teeth as I pulled him almost all the way out and started to just suckle on his head as I teased his balls with my fingers. “Fuck, stop, stop, stop.”

I didn’t listen, I just kept suckling, throwing in my other hand to pump his cock fast. He was close to cuming as I determined to make him. My plan was ruined though when he used his vice grip on my hair to pull me completely off of him.

“I told you to fucking stop.” He spits down at me, I just smiled innocently up at him.

“What? Were you about to cum?” I asked in a pouty tone, as though I were talking to a toddler.

My teasing didn’t last long as I was yanked up to my feet and turned around to face the wall. I felt one of his hands on the top of my back and the other griping at my hip as he pushed me over into the wall and pulled my hips closer to him. I tried to brace myself on the wall, but his two large hands took hold of them and placed them behind my back. The only thing now touching the wall was the side of my face.

“You are so fucking annoying. Coming in here, thinking you can take my place.” He was seething as he pulled my skirt up and over my ass, fingers splaying on the smooth skin of my hips.

“Me? Annoying? Hardly, you’re just upset that a girl can do your job better than you.” I pushed myself back into him hard, feeling his cock against my leg.

He didn’t reply, he only took hold of my panties and pushed them slowly down my legs. When they hit around my ankles, he leaned in close to my ear, “Kick them off and spread your legs like a good fucking whore.” He ended his demand with a sharp spank on my bare ass.

If it didn’t turn me on so much to hear him call me that, I would have protested, but some sick part of me deep within went absolutely feral. I couldn’t follow his demands fast enough, he was huffing impatiently by the time my panties were over my shoes and flicked somewhere behind me. In his aggravation, he kicked my legs apart, causing me to gasp at the sudden feel of cold air hitting my moistened folds.

His grip tightened on my forearms as he started to slide his cock through my folds, movie around my arousal. “You’re so wet. Desperate for my cock aren’t you?” When I didn’t answer and only bucked my hips back into his, he gave my ass another sharp spank. “Good whore’s answer when spoken to.”

I moaned at the degrading name and bit my lip. “Fuck,” I thought, “I can’t just give into him like this.” So instead of speaking, I just nodded, hoping that would be enough to please him.

“Answer with your words or are you so eager for my cock that you’ve gone dumb?” I felt as his free hand trailed lightly up my back, over my restrained arms, and into my hair. His grip was tight when he pulled me up and back into his chest. His soft lips were pressed to the shell of my ear, “Fucking answer me, whore.”

“Yes,” I cried, feeling defeated on the inside. It was okay though, he won this battle, but I would still win the war. “So desperate for your cock. Please give it to me, please.”

I felt him smirk against my ear, “Well since you asked so nicely, I guess I can.” He pushed me back into position against the wall and held me steady with his hand on my arms. I shuddered when he swiped his cock through my folds again, this time smoothing over my throbbing clit.

“Ahh-” I bucked forward, not expecting the feeling of him against my most sensitive place to be so toe-curling. He hadn’t even really touched me yet and I was already coming apart.

He paid me no mind as he slowly moved his hips back and then placed the head of his cock at my entrance. Taking his time, he circled my hole, chuckling a little as he saw me clenching around nothing, wanting, needing to be filled.

Only after pulling back and giving my pussy a slap with his hand did he decide to enter me. His girth stretched me out completely. As he pushed in, the most wonton noises were erupting from my throat. Never in my life had I taken someone so thick.

“Won’t fit,” I whined when it felt like I was starting to be split in half. I tried to move my hands, but his grip held firm.

“Yes,” He grunted. “It. Will.” He was determined to push his way inside and as I panted under him, I wondered when this would turn back into pleasure.

I let out a cry of pain and relief when he finally bottomed out, hips coming to rest against the skin of my ass. My legs shook as I tried to keep myself from falling. Andrew felt my legs faltering and wrapped his arm around my hips, helping to keep me up.

“Don’t move.” I moaned out, “Not yet.”

We stood there, connected, for a minute before I would let him slowly start to pump his hips back and forth. The sting from the stretch had dissipated substantially and the pleasure of feeling his cock rub against me, in and out, in and out, was almost like heaven.

“That's it, just like that,” I relaxed my arms in his hold and tried to find a comfortable position to lean my head against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Lust was oozing from his voice. “The way you clench down on me feels so good.” He had started to gain speed, steadily picking it up when I showed no signs of protest.

Tears prickled in my eyes as our movements began to push me into the wall more. I couldn’t complain, it felt really good.

“More,” I command, voice airy.

Andrew’s hips started to go faster and harder into me. He used his hand around my waist to pull me back into him, burying himself deeper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He felt so good, especially as he kept hitting a spot inside me that had my toes curling in my shoes. "Feels so good Andrew." My moans were deep and almost guttural as my body was overflowing with pleasure.

"Oh, so we're on a first name basis now?" He asked, not slowing his blistering pace. "I don't think whores are allowed to call their masters by their first name."

How he was speaking so casually as he fucked into my cunt, I had no clue. I couldn't think straight with how he was talking to me. Slowly but surely, the resolve I had at the beginning of the encounter, began to flow away, leaving me wanting more of him, needing more of him.

“I’m sorry,” I pleaded as I moved my hips back into his.

He took his hand away from my arms, freeing them at last, and moved his hand down to where he slapped my ass. “That didn’t feel genuine.”

My hands braced themselves on the wall, trying to grip onto anything, hoping it would give me relief. “Please, I’m sorry. Forgive me, Sir, please.” My body warmed at the humiliation of begging, calling him Sir, letting him see this unfamiliar subservient side of myself.

“That’s better.” The praise was quick and almost not loud enough for me to hear over the rushing sound in my ears.

It was what he did next that really thrust me into the white-hot fires of my own orgasm. The hand Andrew has placed securely around my waist, moved closer and closer down my stomach and to the apex of my thighs until finally, he was flicking his fingers roughly against my swollen clit.

The room we were in was not well soundproofed and if anyone was walking past, or hell, even several feet down the hall, they would be able to hear every pleasured scream I let out as I unwillingly came apart on his cock.

At the moment, all I could think about was how good it felt to finally let go of the building pressure in my abdomen, but in the back of my mind, I was scolding myself for being the first to cum, after I had promised myself I wouldn’t.

“That’s it, that's a good whore. Cumming on my cock like that, fuck.” He growled out. His hips were still moving as well as his hand against my clit. “Let’s see if you can give me another, hum?”

“No, no, please,” I gasped as I felt myself clenching around him harder this time. I was worn out already, another orgasm right now felt like it would kill me. Andrew paid no attention, he just kept pumping himself in and out. His hand on my clit alternated between fast circles and stinging slaps.

When he would hit the sensitive skin, my right leg would involuntarily lift up off the floor, trying to stop him from stimulating me further, but it didn’t work. I was exhausted and he was stronger than me.

“Sir, please.” I cried, the building pressure becoming too much.

“Cum you whore, cum for me.”

With no shame, I did as he said. I let go, let the warmth flow from me. One hand quickly moved from its place to try and stop his movements, but all I could do was barely touch him with my fingertips.

I cried out in relief when I felt his speed falter before he finally stopped moving, pumping load after load into me.

“Thank you, Sir.” I babbled out as he slowly pulled out, leaving me to clamp down around nothing and whimper at the loss. If it weren’t for his hands helping to lower me to the floor, I would have ended up on the ground face first.

He gently turned me to lay on my back as he sat on his knees between my legs. “You can’t really think we’re done here.” He chuckled, looking at my worn-out form.

I was breathing heavily and my body felt like it weighed more than three tons. I was completely gone, totally having been devoured by Andrew and my own dark desires to have him fuck me until I was dumb. His large hands smoothed over my thighs and spread them out wide before he leaned down and placed his hot mouth over my clit.

The feeling was too much, I was too sensitive, I tried to squirm away from him, but he was holdfast. His fingers dug into the plush skin of my thighs, keeping them from enclosing him. I was sure I would have two hand-sized bruises there for the next few days.

His tongue flicked and swirled over my clit, making me feel hazier and hazier. I was too tired to keep my eyes open, to watch him, so I closed them and as I did, I swear his ministrations became ten times what they had been. With every harsh suck or nip to clit, I could feel a rush of pleasurable pain rushing through my nerves.

My back began to arch off the floor as I felt a third orgasm quickly build. I gripped my hands into his hair as I cried out to him. “I’m gonna cum, shit, I-I-I’m gonna,”

This orgasm was the strongest of the three, my head flew back against the hardwood floor and I swear my life flashed before my eyes. I could feel my arousal shoot into Andrews's mouth and begin to trickle down my thighs and ass and onto the floor.

When I came back to reality, Andrew has scooted back and was wiping his face off with his undershirt. “Fuck, that was hot.”

Dazed, I just laid there, tired and completely wrecked. Thankfully, Andrew helped clean me up with his already ruined shirt before helping to pull my bra and shirt back on.

“Come on, you need to stand up.” He helped me to my feet, but when as soon as all my weighed settled onto my two very shaky legs, I almost immediately fell. “Shit, okay, I'll carry you out.”

“You can’t do that, I have no underwear on.” I swatted at his hands weakly when he tried to pick me up.

“You caught that?” He asked.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t notice you stuffed my panties in your back pocket?”

He sighed. “Well, they're mine now, just like how the place in the concert is mine.”

“You fucking wish, Nieman.” I yawned, leaning against his shoulder. Slowly but surely, he held me as we walked outside to the busy mid-day New York street.

“Next time,” I thought to myself, “Next time, I’ll make him cum three times. See how he likes it."

Miles Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @babyhoneystvles @xelizabethvalentinex @xxhejsanxx @luckyladycreator2 @milestomaverick @ellabellabus07

#Andrew Neiman #Andrew Nemin x reader #Andrew Neiman smut #smut #whiplash 2014 #miles teller x reader #miles teller #Miles teller smut

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veiled-arkham · 1 year

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just found out onceler x reader fics ACTUALLY exists……….

#i thought it was a joke #why is it that there’s barley any andrew neiman x reader fics BUT A WHOLE ENTIRE STATE WORTH OF ONCELER X READER FICS

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okdeedee · 4 months

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help the miles tellerification of my Late January 2023 is NOT ideal

(know that i am not 21 now. i just went on a date with a 31 year old at 21.)

36 vs early-mid 20s is technically not the most age appropriate but it sure is more appropriate than the crush i have on pedro pascal.

#I am one maladaptive daydream away from writing rooster x reader and i’m not joking #miles teller #whiplash #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #andrew neiman #spiderhead

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stillstuckin2000spunkrock · 1 year

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Masterlist Of Characters I’ll Write For (All male characters) Requests Open! 18+ MINORS DNI ~2023 Update~

~By now I’ve realized I’ve said I was coming back again like 12 times now, and there was no updates. Sorry guys💀😭. I just feel like I’m not as into anime anymore and my past imagines were just super cringey. I will be deleting my least popular posts and the ones I’m personally not proud of, so I apologize if any of my followers saved those😬. I will however be trying to get into creative writing once more, as I feel like I am able to write about more mature topics now and other things. My Masterlist of characters has changed, as some I don’t feel comfortable writing for and again I apologize. I won’t do heavy smut, nor certain topics of self harm as I don’t want to write for something I’m not entirely familiar with personally (nor do I want to compare my personal experiences with it to someone else’s as it’s different for everyone). I will however cover certain mental illnesses, but they will not be romanticized but rather comfort fics. As far as writing occasionally fics relating to a slight burp fetish (I hate that word🤧 it just sounds weird lmao) I probably won’t do too many of those requests as I’m trying to move away from that type of content. I also will be changing my accounts lay out, so if you see some changes dw it’s still me😅 Thank you, and I hope you guys will send me some great requests!💕~

HAIKYUU:

Iwaizumi

Kuroo

Tsukkishima

Suna

ACE ATTORNEY:

Phoenix Wright (During the time period of the Justice For All saga)

Miles Edgeworth (During the time period of the Justice For All saga)

AVATAR (James Cameron’s)

Ao’nung

Jake Sully

FREE! IWATOBI SWIM CLUB:

Rin

Sousuke

AKIRA:

Kaneda

Yamagata

MARVEL:

Druig

LOTR & THE HOBBIT:

Legolas

Thranduil

RANDOM:

Felix (Once Upon A Time)

Riff (Westside Story)

Draco Malfoy (Hogwarts Timeline up until the Battle of Hogwarts)

Rooster/ Bradley Bradshaw (Top Gun Maverick)

Jake Seresin (Top Gun Maverick)

Alec (Two Night Stand)

Miller (21 and Over)

David Shreiner (Gross Anatomy)

Andrew Neiman (Whiplash)

Coriolanus Snow (The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes)

Peter Hayes (Divergent Films)

*I am okay with writing minor weight gain and burp kinks if that appeals to you

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SUBMIT A REQUEST OR DM ME. ID LOVE TO HEAR SOME OF YOUR GUYS IDEAS! 🖤😘

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moonpriincess · 2 years

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...evil, most definitely | chapter one

⇢ pairing: ateez x fem!poc!reader ⇢ rating: 18+ (mdni) ⇢ genre: coming of age (kind of…) psychological thriller, murder mystery (i guesss?), dark comedy, loosely based off and inspired by: If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio and Better Luck Tomorrow dir. by Justin Lin…+ ⇢ summary: He’d convinced himself a long time ago that what he was doing wasn’t as wrong as people thought. His love was keeping you safe and protected. Even if you didn’t know, even if you never knew, he’d continue to love you more than anything or anyone.

opening scene | prev | next

⇢ chapter warnings: cursing, it’s slow and random, probably inaccurate information, that should be it but pls let me know otherwise (also this is absolutely not beta’d someone pls help me)

♪ i can’t make you love me by KINDA BLUE, Hwa Sa ♪

The Obsessed Artist Trope Defined as - a character that strives to perfect their chosen craft and better themselves at it by any means necessary, which can lead to their own self-destruction in their pursuit of perfection. Term A: Obsessed - defined as (of a person) to be preoccupied with or constantly worrying about something. Term B: Artist - defined as a person who works in one of the performing arts, as an actor, musician, or singer; a public performer Term C: Trope - defined as a universally identified image imbued with several layers of contextual meaning creating a new visual metaphor

Examples: Tonya Harding (I, Tonya); Norma Desmond (Sunset Boulevard); Andrew Neiman (Whiplash); Rogan Thompson (Birdman); Nina (Black Swan)

3 Months Earlier - October 15, 202X KQ Conservatory of Musical Arts and Performance 5:45 am

Studio Hours - 600 am to 2300 pm. Please respect reservations. Please respect the space. Please respect your peers.

The numbers on Hongjoong’s phone indicated that it was 15 minutes before 6, meaning 15 minutes before the first reservation of the day. Maybe even less if they decided to come early. He struggled to tie the plastic trash bag into a knot, his fingers cold and rigid from the lack of heat circulating around the room. Even a hoodie, a jacket and the shorts under his pants didn’t help with the cold of the studio.

Sure he could’ve turned on the heat, but he swore he wouldn’t do anything that would make it obvious he had been working in the studio when he was no longer allowed to. At least not until he could catch up on his tuition payments (He was honestly lucky they hadn’t kicked him out of the school yet).

Even luckier for him, Mingi always reserved the same studio at the very end of reservation hours. Yet, instead of locking up for the night, Mingi allowed Hongjoong access to the studio so he could work. The plan itself probably wouldn’t have worked out if he wasn’t doing the maintenance man a favor. Clean the studio halls every Wednesday and Friday (without pay mind you) and he wouldn’t rat Hongjoong out to staff and administration.

Beep.

Hongjoong froze in the middle of the room, plastic bag full of trash in one hand and his other in the midst of hiking his backpack up to his shoulder. One glance at the clock indicated that it was 6:02 am, early, but too late for Hongjoong to be leaving. Hongjoong clenched his jaw and glancing around in a panic. There wasn’t anywhere to hide in such a small, closed off room. It barely fit a couch in the corner and the recording mic was a shove away from smacking into the wall.

The door creaked open slowly allowing light and the sound of murmuring to filter into the room.

“Shit!”

Hoongjoong jumped before sagging in relief at the sight of the building’s maintenance man, Mr. Lee, in the doorway.

“What are you still doing here?” the old man scolded, shaking his head as he pushed his way into the room. Hongjoong bowed half-heartedly as he moved around him and toward the door.

“I accidentally…um fell asleep,” Hongjoong tried to explain. Mr. Lee took in his ruffled appearance. Hongjoong’s hair was sticking up on the side of his head and his eyes looked bleary. His face was also red and puffy from both sleep and the cold, plus his clothes were wrinkled and looked slept in.

“Go home and take a shower before someone catches you,” The old man advised. Hongjoong only nodded, glad that he didn’t have to stay any longer than necessary. Sometimes Mr. Lee was an okay guy, most of the time he was a creep.

Hongjoong gave another bow, this one a bit more thoughtful, more respectful, and Mr.Lee only waved him off before turning back to cleaning the studio. He knew that there wasn’t much left to clean.

Stepping out of the studio, Hongjoong threw his trash away before he hurried through the building to the parking lot. Not that he had a car, but he did have his bike stored away pretty safely by a corner of the lot. The lot itself was practically empty, only a car or two parked closest to the elevators with the staff passes hanging from neck of their rearview mirrors.

He quickly hooked his other arm through his backpack strap and pulled his bike out of the wedge in the wall. It was a decently sized space, probably littered with trash and cigarette butts, but he could fit his bike in it without having to try and maneuver anything, and he could very well fit in it if he tried.

Hongjoong cleaned up his bike, kicking and wiping away as much dust as he could, before he mounted it and peddled off toward his apartment complex to take a much needed shower.

October 15th, 202X 7:50 am

To be honest, Yunho wasn’t an early riser or a morning person. If anything he would’ve slept for as long as he physically could if his schedule just, permitted it. But Tuesdays were his busiest day of the week and sleep was sacrificed for the sake of the dreams that he’d chased so far that it was too late to turn back now.

Not that Yunho didn’t love dancing. Matter of fact it was his biggest passion. He knew that even if he had nothing, at least he had dancing, and he was content with that thought. But there was something toxicly addicting in the air when it came to the competitiveness of the conservatory. It pulled his mind away from the art he was working to perfect and pushed it toward the need to be praised by teachers who could very well be his downfall in just a few words-sometimes even just numbers on a paper.

Yunho still had a blush across his cheeks as he walked into his first dance class, meaning he wasn’t even fully awake at this point. That and it was freezing. It was the middle of October and though it wasn’t as cold as it got mid-winter, fall had always been windy seasons, with cold air and dewy mornings. Not to mention the dance studio always felt like it was below 40 when he first came in.

He’d tried to grab his warmest sweater before he headed out but found it wasn’t where he left it by the door. He wouldn’t put it past any of his housemates to have taken it, but Wooyoung was the most likely contender. Yunho assumed that because of the amount of clothing the other male owned, he didn’t have time to check which ones were actually his or not.

“Hey Yunho.”

“Morning,” Yunho greeted politely, clearing his throat to ease its dryness.

The class was filled with the same Tuesday morning students. Either awake too early or hitting that mark where they’d been awake for so long, they were running on basically adrenaline and coffee alone.

Just a glance around the rooms would show how Yeji was already marking a routine that Yunho was unfamiliar with and how Seowon was knocked out on a pile of backpacks.

The dance studio was only a five-minute walk from his place. Sometimes it took him 15 minutes if he decided to get coffee or water from the café in the lobby.

Well it wasn’t so much a café but just a small store that basically only had water, coffee, salads, and sandwiches; all of it lined up neatly in the open display case that was kept at cooler than room temperature so that nothing would spoil. On Tuesday mornings he was usually met with Yena, who always had too much energy in the morning, and Sungwoo, who didn’t care about getting caught falling asleep at the counter. 3 years and two months at the same school and having essentially the same routines gave you nothing but time to get to know people.

“-but are you ok?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m not…like super hurt-“

“-I don’t even know why you’re in class today-“

“-Yeah you should’ve-“

“Hi Yunho.”

Yunho set his bag on the floor gently, turning his head slightly to nod at the group or girls stationed in the corner of the room.

“Hey-woah, are you ok?”

The girl at the center of attention, Chaewon, huffed as though exasperated but she rolled her eyes playfully, “I’m fine. Just a small scratch.” Chaewon was a pretty girl, but her features were marred with a large white bandage on her temple just above her right eyebrow.

“Chaewon, someone practically jumped you,” Nieun was one of the tallest girls in the class, nearly as tall as Yunho himself.

“Seriously?” the question slipped out before he could really think about it.

“No, not seriously. No one jumped me. Some guy was just running or something and he shoved me out of the way,” Chaewon rolled her eyes, blowing her bangs away from her forehead, “It was just…wrong place, wrong time.”

“Yeah, running from the police,” Marie, the final girl in their trio, rolled her eyes harder than Chaewon ever could.

“But…you’re ok, right?” Yunho’s brows were furrowed deeply in worry.

“I’m fine, no internal bleeding or emotional trauma.”

Yunho smiled though he felt a bit uncomfortable. There was an uneasy feeling in his chest, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was just the worry of knowing someone dangerous was running around near their campus or even just the knowledge that someone he knew had gotten hurt. Not that he knew Chaewon on a deep personal level, but he could say that they were friends. You tend to bond with people when they’re in the same stress filled environment as you. Plus Chaewon was your roommate.

“Well, I hope you feel better soon, and I’m always here if you need someone to walk home with,” Yunho offered politely and he ignored the flush of Chaewon’s cheeks. She straightened her back, nearly preening, as she flashed him a pretty smile.

“Thanks Yunho.”

Yunho only nodded back, turning away as he slid off his slides and changed into his studio shoes, indicating the end of the conversation.

3 Months Earlier - October 15, 202X 22:32 pm

You let out a sharp exhale as Chaewon pushed against your back, bringing your chest and torso closer to the floor. Stretching was always the way to end the day, even when you’d gone back to your dorm, taken a 3-hour nap, and ate dinner already, your day didn’t truly end until you’d finished your stretches. The typical day started with stretches and ended with stretches.

You shifted your hips, keeping your legs spreading as far as they could in your forward split.

“Try to push your torso forward a little more.”

“Ugh…”

One of Chaewon’s hands rested on your shoulder, the other keeping your hips to the floor. She pushed at your shoulder slowly, your hips and legs moving to accommodate for your torso flattening even more against the floor. You kept your body flexed, reaching forward with your arms and took short puffs of breath as Chaewon counted.

“-17…18…19…20”

You let out a sigh of relief as you eased your muscles, flopping onto the ground and moving your legs out of their split. You shifted to curl them underneath you, your heals touching your bottom as you kept your arms in their reaching position, your forehead touching the floor as though you were praying. After a moment you rolled over onto your back, spreading your limbs out as you took one deep breath in before letting it out slowly.

“You ok?” Chaewon giggled and you only gave her a grunt as an answer. You were fine. You were used to the splits and you were used to stretching, but your body had been through enough today and all you needed was rest. And a shower.

“I’m tired,” you commented and Chaewon hummed. You reached out and stopped her fingers from scratching at her bandaged wound.

“Me too…”

Despite it being nearly eleven in the evening, there were still a few people in the studio aside from you and Chaewon. There was still plenty of noise within the mirrored room, one or two students chattering and the other still practicing whatever routine they felt they needed to perfect. You’d stayed later before, but today you were tired, and you felt disgusting.

“Ugh,” You sat up from your laying position, “Let’s go home, I seriously need to shower,” you pushed yourself to stand, your muscles aching a bit more than usual due to such a hectic day.

As you stood you reached your arms up to the ceiling, linking your fingers and giving your body one more satisfying stretch before shaking off your limbs and then reaching a hand out to help Chaewon up from the floor. The other girl did the same thing as she stood to her feet, finishing off with a final shake of her limbs before she followed you to where you’d stored your belongings.

The two of you worked on changing out of your dance clothes, Chaewon occupying the single folding chair in the corner to pull her shoes and socks off. You fanned yourself a bit before pulling your sweater over your clothes. The cold dance studio was doing quick work of cooling down your sweat and despite how disgusting you felt with your hair stringy from sweat and your clothes sticking to your skin, you were willing to do anything to leave as soon as you could at this point.

The two of you gathered your belongings and bid the other students goodbye, everyone promising to see each other in a couple of hours. You made your way to the lobby of the building, giving the night receptionist a sheepish goodbye as you and Chaewon slipped through the doors and out into the cold air.

You rummaged through your bag, stuffing your large metal waterbottle into it to avoid carrying more than you needed to as Chaewon talked on how cautious she was about walking so late at night now. You’d been the first one she called when she got hurt just the night before and you had chastised her as soon as she told you, though perhaps that was just to ease your own worries. In the end you doted on her as soon as you got to the emergency room.

“And y’know, Yunho of all people offered to walk me home,” Chaewon looked at you with a cheesy grin.

“I mean why wouldn’t he? He’s a sweet guy,” your reply was muffled by the food in your mouth. You offered the granola bar to Chaewon, taking another bite when she shook her head.

“I don’t know, he’s never really…taken interest in me or anything, he was always closer to you,” Chaewon let out a deep sigh, you gave her a look and she only shrugged. Was she insinuating something?

“I don’t know if we’re really…close. We’re mostly just friends because of Jongho,” also because you tended to hang out with essentially the same people when your school’s population didn’t go past 400 students.

Jongho was your first friend on campus; the first person you ever got close to when you first moved out here. He became quick friends with a group of 7 other guys who were all older than the two of you, (Chaewon herself was a year older than you, and despite being her roommate you didn’t get close to her until half way through your first year) and you became quick friends with them as soon as introductions were made. You were sure that you would’ve met all of them at some point even if you didn’t know Jongho. Each of them were in at least 2 to 3 of your classes throughout the week.

“Are you like interested in Yunho?” you teased, hitting your shoulder against hers as you walked through the streets.

“I’m not interested in him,” Chaewon rolled her eyes playfully, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She shuffled closer to you as a cold gust of wind blew through your shivering bodies, “I mean he’s like…really handsome, and tall, and like those hands-“

“Yeah, ok not interested-“

“But I just broke up with Wooyoung and I’m not trying to date within the circle.”

You let out a noise as you nodded in understanding. Another thing that just came with being at a conservatory that had such a small population was the lack of dating pool.

Chaewon and Wooyoung had been together for a total of 2 months. Not super short but not entirely the longest relationship either. But sometimes it was hard to date, break up, and get over it when the person you were with was someone you saw practically everyday.

You were honestly a little surprised the two of them had even gotten together, because to your knowledge, or at least what Jongho had told you over the summer vacation, Wooyoung was going through some emotional shit at the moment that had to do with “getting over someone”. You put together that his way of getting over said person meant dating someone else.

“Wait, am I part of the circle?”

You laughed as Chaewon shoved you into the building, snorting in amusement as the two of you walked the halls of the dorms.

“To be honest with you, I think you are,” Chaewon answered, the two of you bowing to the RA in greeting as you passed by the front desk and the common area.

“Am I?”

You were cut off from an answer as your phone rang in your pocket. You fished it out and looked at the caller ID, turning it in Chaewon’s direction with raised brows.

“There’s your answer,” Chaewon laughed, though her eyes tightened with emotion. You grimaced slightly before answering your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey (Y/N)!” Wooyoung’s voice was loud enough to be heard through the speaker even as you pressed your phone against your ear, “Are you free tonight?”

“Um yeah, I mean I just got back to the dorms.”

“Woah, you just got back? Wh-why are you walking back by yourself so late? Yunho told us some guy was running around attacking girls!”

“Relax, I’m with Chaewon, and that’s…not even really true? They caught him already,” you laughed.

Wooyoung let out a deep sigh.

“Well as long as you guys are together…you never know what kind of weirdos are out there.”

You were rather content with not knowing for yourself.

“Did you call me for something?” You leaned against the wall as Chaewon unlocked your dorm room.

“Oh yeah! We’re watching some movies tonight at Jongho’s place, did you wanna come sleep over? Jongho was too busy to call you and ask.”

You groaned as you dropped your bag by your bed. You and Chaewon’s room was a bigger sized room, that was furnished with two twin beds, your desks, and more than enough floor space to have a table in the center of the room and some Ikea shelves pushed into the wall. The building itself was fashioned to look more old school, with its oak-colored walls and doors. The windows were arched at the top and the ledge part of your large arched window popped outwards so that there was a little window sitting area that you and Chaewon had designed with blankets and pillows. You still had a communal bathroom but that wasn’t too much of a bother.

Jongho and his friends, on the other hand, lived in the residence hall apartment buildings just across the street. With each apartment housing usually 4 students, it was equipped with two rooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a spacious living room. The apartment buildings were different in a way that they weren’t officially residence halls but more often than not KQ students lived within the apartments for the sake of cheaper rent.

Jongho himself lived with Hongjoong, Yeosang, and San. While Wooyoung lived with Yunho, Seonghwa, and Mingi just two floors above the other four.

Jongho had offered to be your roommate in your second year but at that point you’d gotten close enough to Chaewon to be ok with living with her again. Plus your scholarship paid for housing, which meant living in the dorms.

“But I’m tired,” you whined as you pulled off your clothes and threw them in the hamper. Chaewon was seated at her desk/vanity (she’d somehow equipped it to look more like an old fashioned vanity than just a wooden desk, with her own large mirror and everything) brushing through her hair and getting ready to go take shower. You’d put your phone on speaker, leaving it on the middle of your bed as you stood in front of your closet in only your underwear.

“C’mon! We’ll come pick you up and walk you over!”

“Ugh but I haven’t even showered!”

“You can shower at Jongho’s place! C’moooon!”

You turned and gave Chaewon an exasperated look and she mouthed a short “Don’t do it” with a shake of her head. She and Wooyoung hadn’t ended things on a bad note or anything, but it was still painfully awkward. They apparently still needed some time before they could go back to their original dynamic. But you knew she understood that Wooyoung had been your friend first.

“Is that (Y/N)?” You hear faintly and you sighed as Jongho called out your name over the phone.

“Yeess?”

“Are you ready? We’re heading out to your place right now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as Chaewon covered her mouth in shock.

“Um…why?” you questioned, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a large sweater.

“What do you mean? We’re watching movies tonight, didn’t Wooyoung tell you?”

“Uh yeah, like…5 minutes ago?”

Jongho let out a sigh and you snorted as you heard Wooyoung yelp.

“He was supposed to ask you earlier when I was busy, he told me you said yes already.”

“Well, I didn’t think she’d say no,” you heard faintly and you could imagine Wooyoung rubbing his arm. The two of them argued in the background, the phone picking up bits of their conversation but they didn’t seem to be rerouting or stopping in their trek.

You let out a loud groan as you glance over at the clothes you’d pulled out to change in after your shower. In a definitive moment you huffed before grabbing said items and shoving them into your bag. Chaewon shook her head as she turned back to the mirror. You really couldn’t ever say no to Jongho.

“I’ll be down in 5 minutes, just let me pack my stuff,” You told the boys and you barely allowed Wooyoung to slip in an apology before you hung up the phone.

a/n: this got posted late cus i didnt finish writing it💀. but anyways the first three chapters are gonna be pretty slow cus theyre mainly introducing the characters. Also i dont actually...know anything about conservatories or dancing 💀💀 but pls bare with me im trying my best with what little research material have. I watched whiplash and better luck tomorrow again and read if we were villains and had a bright idea. Anyways please reblog and leave your thoughts! my inbox is always open! Thanks for reading!

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greenorangevioletgrass · 1 year

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i really miss writing 🥺

i haven't been writing much these past few months for a bunch of personal reasons, but i really really miss it and im considering several ideas to start with... help me decide which one to write first?

Hangman x mechanic!reader, aka Hangman being a total simp and clueless about the vintage car he just bought on a whim lol

Andrew Neiman (whiplash) x actress!reader, some really spicy old-enemies-to-lovers shit sjkdhfskjfhd

or if all else fails, i can write more rooster x houdini as always...?

let me know, help a girl out 😘😘

#ava rambles #jake seresin #hangman #andrew neiman #whiplash #bradley bradshaw #rooster

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oncasette · 5 months

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More Andrew Neiman? Maybe like a "come to bed" moment. He obviously won't listen because sleep is temporary, drums are forever. Last resort: you end up sitting in his lap and persuade him in other ways... ending with cuddling? 💓💓

this request is soooo old and i'm so so sorry but i hope everyone still enjoys. i'm trying to go back through my ask box and write the ones that still spark joy :)

you were seconds away from walking out into the living room and just snapping drew's stick in half. it wasn't that you hated his drumming. far from it, actually, it'd been one of the reasons you'd been so interested in him to begin with. but you were getting a little sick of hearing it at full volume through the thin plaster of your apartment's walls in the wee hours of the morning.

"drew?" you called. nothing. or, not nothing. the incessant banging was something.

you grumbled as you pushed yourself up and out of the cocoon you'd constructed, keeping a single blanket wrapped tight over your shoulders as a barrier for the cold threatening to hit you. throwing open the door, you came face to face with your boyfriend. he didn't even spare a glance, winced eyes locked on the kit in front of him.

"andrew!" you shout in hopes that it'll break through his trance better than your regular speaking voice. he looks up quick and shakes his head. you hear his cadence falter slightly. he grabs the cymbal to stall its movement and gathers both of his sticks into one hand.

"what is it?" he asks groggily. the bags under his eyes beg for your further interruption.

"can you please come to bed?" you ask. you offer him your best pout in hopes that it'll sway him.

"i will soon, i've almost got this." he stretches out his back and resets his sticks.

"you said that six hours ago," you say. you shuffle a foot or so closer to him.

"babe-"

"c'mon, drew. you know i usually let you play for however long you want. just come to bed tonight. for me, please?" you ask as you come around the side of the kit. you drop yourself down into his lap, his hands instinctively coming around to hold your waist and keep you settled there. allowing the thin blanket to drop off your shoulders, you bring one hand up to force his gaze on you.

he whispers your name.

leaning forward, you slant your mouth over his. he hesitates at first and you know he's seconds away from pulling away completely to urge you back into your bedroom so that he can get back to work, but then he's melting into you. his hold tightens on your waist and his tongue slips into the gap between your lips and you feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he leans further in to capture your gasp.

he breaks away but he offer you no space. "only for you."

#andrew neiman #andrew neiman x reader #whiplash #whiplash imagine #miles teller #miles teller x reader

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creepycrawliesanonymous · 2 months

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Accidentally deleted a fic I have been working on for two months, so if anyone wants to help me stave off a mental breakdown tonight feel free to send in blurb prompts and maybe I'll get to them

#andrew neiman x reader #angel torres x reader #lemon x reader #tangerine x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #nacho varga x reader #adam stanheight x reader #jimmy bartlett x reader #warren rojas x reader #reader insert #requests open

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thesandwichdaddy · 7 days

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Whiplash

{Alice/Andrew-Whiplash}

(TW: smut, light oral (fem receiving), fingering, questionable scenario?, light mentions of blood, Teacher x student (CONSENSUAL AND OF AGE), sub! Andrew)

I would love feedback on all of my work ! I try to make the original characters non descriptive as possible. Alice is replacing Fletcher in this. Hopefully you like it LOVE YOU ❤

3.5k words

Pure hell was the only thing Andrew could think of to describe Alice’s class. She was a cruel, sadistic music teacher who no one ever dared to challenge. Only pure insanity and masochism could drive a man to take her class.

And that was Andrew, always craving the thrill of a challenge—something to make him feel alive. Maybe it was the pure boredom and constant pity he was raised with, or maybe it was his curiosity that made him make the decision.

Although this wasn’t the idea in the beginning, A music college far, far away from his family—that's all he wanted. And sure enough, in the usual college setting, boring bullshit came in the mail, and while looking through it mindlessly, something caught his eye. A request to Schaffer was hand-picked by Alice Lambert herself.

Maybe that’s when his ego grew. There was definitely a change in him at that moment. He obsessed over it, googling anything he could about the school and Alice, trying desperately to find a reason for them to pick him to join. Was it his gpa? Something that they were specifically looking for other than just his skill? There wasn’t any way that someone like him could actually be brought to Schaffer.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t find a single other reason than Alice simply liking his performance. Andrew laughed like a madman, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Now, though he didn’t really care too much about college, he wasn’t clueless to know that Schaffer was a big deal—maybe not to his parents, but who cared about them anymore? Andrew is an adult now; all that matters now are his thoughts about himself. Or at least that’s what he thought.

It wasn’t hard to imagine a skinny, awkward boy’s first day of college and his first day in Alice‘s class. Sure, he had heard horror stories about her, some classmates whispering to him about the outrageous things she’s done. He could even find pictures of her previous classes winning awards. It was hard to imagine that someone like her could do the things he'd heard, but he could see the intimidation radiating off of her through his computer screen.

Her eyes were sharp and analytical. She was an independent, well-dressed woman. She looked neat and professional in her photos, with the charming smile she gave as she looked at the camera and wore that casual blouse and suit. There wasn’t ever a bad angle with her; she’d probably kill the photographers if there were.

Something caught Andrew's attention about her, and it wasn’t just her looks. She hadn’t been teaching long, from what he’s seen, only around two years. And she didn’t look much older at all. It almost infuriated him that someone this close to his age had already mastered and earned a job he had dreamed of having.

When he saw her in person, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He closely watched her face, every small reaction to indicate any sign of emotion other than the cold that she gave usually. Though her face didn’t budge when he walked in, she was just introducing him and telling him where to sit. Something about her voice sent a chill down Andrew's spine. Maybe it was him just needing to get used to hearing such a woman every day, or maybe it was how she said his name, which he hadn’t heard from someone in quite a long time.

Andrew kept it as cool, distant, and professional as he could. Hell, he even bought new clothes just for her class; that black blouse she had on today put his white dress shirt to shame. But he tried not to get insecure; it was much too early for that.

Despite his ego, which he was very aware of, he thought he did very well. Until Alice gave him a certain unimpressed look and just moved on after his performance. He could feel the blood rushing to his face in response as he tried to hold it together. I mean, nothing? Even a nod would be appreciated from her.

He tried harder, of course, and waited and waited. One thing Alice did tell him was that he was off-tempo—not so great, but something—an interaction with him at least. But that repeated in his head over and over and over as he stayed up late at night to practice until his hands bled. The next day, it was his tempo that was wrong again. He swore it was fine, but he quickly adjusted his tempo. Alice walked over closer and asked him to try it again.

Andrew was starting to sweat a bit now, getting nervous as she came closer, but he tried again, looking up at her after he was done to watch her expression.

He envied how she could hide her emotions so well. She gestured for him to go again, a blank look on her face, and he went again. It turned into again and again and again. He thought he was going to go insane. Alice’s patience looked like it was thinning with every passing moment. Andrews hands started to hurt, crimson red smearing on his drumstick as he played. But she didn’t care, so he didn’t care, just listening to her tell him what to do, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong.

Three hours he spent at his drum set, endlessly repeating the same beat, trying to find the goddamn tempo. It was remarkable that Alice stood in the same spot the entire time, watching him. He didn’t stop, not until the blood caused his drumstick to slip out of his bleeding, agonizing hands, forcing him to quit. And with that, Alice stared at him and gave a simple

“Needs work.”

Andrew couldn’t believe it; he didn’t want to believe it. Needs work?! Before he could say anything that might cause him to lose his hands, he picked up his drumsticks and left along with the other class in a hurry to conceal the anger and tears starting to form in his eyes. That was just one of the many things he had to endure from Alice.

He tried reminding himself that he was here for a reason. He stared at the letter Alice had sent to him, which he kept on his dresser. The one thing that felt right. The only thing he cared about. He thought of all the possibilities of her being proud of him as he bandaged and wrapped his sore, bleeding hands. He let out a harsh noise of frustration as he felt the sting of his wounds and the thought of what happened today.

He hated her; he couldn’t stand her. He hated how she had so much power over him that he would do anything, as she made him rethink his view of his own abilities. He knew himself. He reminded himself again that the only thing that matters is what he thinks about himself.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months. He did feel like he was improving on his drumming, just nothing else. He couldn’t eat or sleep; his mind was always occupied with her class. Every fiber of him was filled with hate towards her, but that was drowned by a whole other feeling, a desperate urge that he craved more than anything in his life. He realized he needed Alice’s praise. Her validation. It didn’t matter what he thought of himself; it just mattered what Alice thought of him.

Andrew felt like he was going crazy. Maybe it was because he didn’t get it from his parents enough, but he couldn’t explain it; he had never felt this way before about someone. He spent more and more of his night’s crying into his pillow, desperate to get rid of his undying ache for her. How could he hate someone so much and need her at the same time?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up, tired of crying, and put on his dress shirt, jacket, and shoes quickly. He didn’t care if it was Saturday; he didn’t care if it was 11 p.m.; he needed to see her.

He knew that woman didn’t sleep; she would be there. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but it didn’t matter. He closed the door to his dorm and strode over to her class, wiping his eyes with his sleeve quickly. He ignored the cold and dark outside hitting him; the only thought was his aching.

After a short trip to her class, he threw open the heavy door, marching over to her side office, and just as expected, Alice was there at her desk, paperwork on the table, and a coffee next to her. Her eyes shot up at him in a questioning manner at his sudden burst into her office at this hour. Before she could argue, she stopped herself and looked at him. He looked like a mess, his clothes messy and his eyes red and pricked with tears, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, staring down at her with a desperate expression.

“Miss…”

He said, between breaths, and tears were threatening to fall down his face. Alice stood up, her expression turning into utter confusion as she came around her desk and stood in front of him.

"What's wrong with you, boy?”

She asked, searching his face for any indication of an answer and having to look up a bit at him due to the height difference. Before Andrew could even think about it, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and stuffing his face in her chest like a child. A choked sob was heard muffled from him in her chest. He wasn’t going to let go. Alice was utterly bewildered at this. How had she been able to push someone to this point? Especially Andrew, for that matter. With hesitation, Alice sighed and slowly brought one of her hands to his hair and her other to his back, making a desperate noise escape Andrew as he held tighter. He didn’t care about his dignity anymore; he just wanted Alice. His protector.

Nothing was said for a moment before Andrew slipped down to his knees, his grip on her still tight as he pressed his face into her waist, looking up at her with his red and wet eyes, making small hums and whimpers under his breath at his ache finally starting to soothe.

Though it was stern, Alice's face even gave away a slight blush as she held his hair in her hand and her breath hitched slightly at his closeness to her waist.

He took in her expensive scent, his cheek slightly feeling her cold belt buckle as he pressed against her on his knees. Never in this life had he felt so desperate or so excited from the moment. He started to breathe her in deeply, calming himself down as his hands started to travel from her back to her thighs, making Alice jump slightly. She gripped his hair, making him look up at her sternly, trying to regain any control over the situation she could.

"Speak, Neiman, what is the meaning of this?”

She said it in an authoritative voice. Andrew groaned as she gripped his hair tightly, his eyes lidded as he looked up at her. He didn’t care if she acted upset at him; if she actually was, she would’ve already gotten him off of her. But she didn't; he was still right here, and she was with him.

“Miss, praise me, please. Anything. Just tell me how to please you, and I will."

He babbled almost incoherently to her, her hands on her thighs gripping harder. Alice’s eyes widened for a moment at this revelation, and she couldn’t help but feel something inside of her fill with that feeling she had craved for a long time. A small breath escaped her, her stern expression starting to crumble. Andrew noticed this and immediately became excited, pulling back to press his face against her waist and his hands coming up to grab and massage her, his hands slowly kneading and groping her just like he always had dreamed of doing to her.

Alice was turning into a mess by the second, desperately trying to keep that professionalism, but she wasn’t used to this, not at all; no one had needed her this badly. And she didn’t hate it—not at all; it felt quite good, actually. She wasn’t sure what to do besides just let him, making eye contact with him, his desperate hooded and red eyes looking up at her, his tears stopping a while ago.

He saw her pleasure and immediately used it as a way to earn his praise. He wanted to please her so much—much more than just as his music teacher. His face trailed down, him kissing her over the fabric of her thin pants, making Alice gasp and take a step back, but unsuccessfully getting away because of Andrew pulling at her harder. Alice gave a grunt at him, Andrew continuing to kiss her desperately like a starved dog, and bit back any further noises at her sensitivity.

“Andrew”

She said it sternly, trying to keep her authority and control over the situation, but her warning fell on deaf ears. Andrew's hands are now coming to her belt, pulling at it as he kisses her. On one hand, Alice knew she should stop him, but on the other, she’s never felt this aroused before in her life. And Andrew knew this, a slight grin on his face as he started to see her giving in to her desires. Her firm grip on his hair started to slightly loosen, and Andrew took this as a chance to quickly pull down her pants, kissing over her underwear and the inner corners of her bare thighs.

Alice’s legs were starting to twitch at this point, threatening to give out on her as she sucked a sharp breath through her teeth. Andrew couldn’t wait; he seized his actions, standing and grabbing her hips, easily moving her onto the desk and towering over her. He pulled off her pants and held her legs, pulling them up and over his shoulders, giving her an almost predatory look. She realized in this moment how much power she actually didn’t have, and that thought excited her a bit more. He bent down to kiss her legs more, his hands running up and down the smoothness of them as he took his time, Alice leaning back on the desk with her hands gripping the edge for support. Andrew looked down at her for a moment, taking the sight of her in. The papers and coffee slipped their minds for now; it was unimportant right now; the only thing on their minds was each other.

He kept slightly tasting her, taking her time to lick, kiss, and nibble on her thighs, tightly holding them so she wouldn’t move. Soft groans and moans of satisfaction left his lips mixed with the sounds of Alice’s sharp breaths, her giving up on holding them back. He wanted more of her—so much more. His fingers slipped to the straps of her underwear, and he began to slip them off, his breath catching in his throat. The thought of him being the only one to see her was enough to drive him crazy alone. But this wasn’t about him; it was about her.

All Alice could do was lean back and watch him, her body almost overwhelmingly hot to the touch. Andrew wanted to tease her first, taking his sweet time to taste the soft flesh of her thighs, which earned a growl from Alice.

"God, Andrew, you really know how to get on my nerves."

She said it lowly to him, which caused him to give a chuckle against her skin.

“Not the right tempo?”

Andrew asked with a grin, and before she could answer, he brought his face down between her legs, firmly holding them open, shutting her up. Alice couldn’t feel mad, not when Andrew was pleasuring her like this. The sensation was almost overwhelming as a sharp moan tore from her, making Andrew moan himself in response to her wet flesh. She tasted better than he imagined, and he imagined more than she could ever believe. He just wished she would’ve let him do it sooner; whenever she yelled at him, it seemed to fix everything.

Alice held on to the desk like her life depended on it, each loud moan she made making her wonder about the possibilities of being caught, but every time she would try to think about it, she was brought right back to Andrew, pleasuring her.

Andrew knew what he was doing; hell, he had even studied before he came over, watching different techniques in porn and even going as far as to research the woman’s anatomy. He wanted it to be perfect for her; she wouldn’t have it any other way. And to Andrew, it was perfect. Every moan and gasp that she has made everything in his life all worth it for this moment right here with Alice

She was making an absolute mess on her desk, which he would happily clean afterwards. But for now, he wanted more—so much more of her. He brought two fingers up to her, pressing and entering her with ease, his greedy mouth working as well. This made Alice loose herself almost completely, her back arching and her squirming at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. Andrew was more than prepared, one hand busy fucking her and the other pushing down on her lower stomach, both to hold her in place and to add to the pleasure. He was used to multitasking. Drumming was so much more useful than he ever thought.

Andrew looked up at her almost the entire time, wanting to remember every expression and noise that she made from him. His tongue relentlessly flicked back and forth, tasting her as he fucked her with his fingers rhythmically at a fast pace, trying to send her over the edge. He could tell she was getting close because her moans turned into desperate whines.

“Andrew…please…don’t…I’m-“

She pleaded, only making Andrew push harder into her. He wasn’t about to take any of her pleasure from her; Andrew himself needed this. He wanted her to stop yelling at him and start yelling for him. She created the most beautiful music for him, something he would never forget.

Her orgasm hit her like whiplash. Waves of pleasure flowed through her arched and sweaty body as Andrew guided her through it, making sure she got every ounce of pleasure she could from it. His hand moved gently out of her, making Alice groan in the absence of him, which he made up for by massaging her body softly and bringing his face up to kiss her stomach.

After her climax ended, she relaxed, leaning her head back on her desk, closing her eyes, and breathing deeply, recovering. For a moment, they didn’t speak; they just enjoyed it. Alice leaned up to look at him, thinking about what they had just done.

“Andre-“

He cut her off, gently pushing her back down and moving to open her drawer, pulling out something to clean her with. He softly smiled, handling her with care. Alice didn’t speak; her face was a bit flushed, and she secretly thought that it was very cute and sweet of him. But she wasn’t about to admit that—not right now, at least. Instead, she cleared her throat and spoke softly, her voice a bit raspy, which delighted Andrew.

“Have you gone through my drawers before?”

She said it lightheartedly, which earned him a chuckle.

“Maybe once or twice.”

He responded, finishing cleaning her and her desk before grabbing her underwear and pants and delicately putting them on her like she was a doll. She nodded, grinned at the answer, and let out a breath at the sensation of her clothes coming back. Andrew gave her a kiss on the cheek before picking and standing her up. The realization of her work and coffee came to him as his face turned into worry and pleading.

"Oh, Miss, I am so sorry."

He said before she placed a hand on his cheek, looking at him with her usual sharp expression which prevented him from saying more.

“They weren’t important.”

She said as she felt his smooth cheek with her thumb. Andrew was completely smitten by this, closing his eyes and sighing in relaxation. She kissed his cheek, making him snap open his eyes in disbelief, blood rushing to his cheeks. That’s all it took. After all of that, her kissing his cheek made him blush. God, he was crazy for her. She backed away from him, giving him a last pat on the cheek, her eyes looking into his almost intimately.

“Get some sleep, Andrew; you need it.”

She said this before leaving, leaving Andrew with a lovesick smile on his face. He knew she cared.

Things would be very different between them now, and for once in his life, he knew what he wanted.

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